I just wanna be

A deeply shallow manifesto

Words & images © Paul Ransom

Does life really have to mean anything? And what’s the big deal about depth? Maybe there’s something better waiting in the shallows.

When I was in her care, my mother used to say: don’t go out of your depth. She said a bunch of other crap too, but she was right about the drowning.

I did the ‘depth’ thing. We are divorced now. I returned the ring. All that substance weighed me down. Heavy, heavy shit.

You know the drill: I believe everything happens for a reason. What, I now wonder, would that reason be?

Don’t tell me…life (and everything else) arises from and is wedded to an overarching narrative. It is a journey, a prelude, etcetera. To what and where exactly? The grave?

Maybe everything is meaningful; evidence of a beautiful purpose that only a loving god could divine. So what if it is! I still don’t wanna be deep. Point schmoint.

Spare me the incessant faux-metaphysical musing of the click/share symposium. Mute the self-righteous psalms of chain-store spirituality. Burn the self-help manual.

Give me the meaningless void. Fetch me the teaspoon. As I accelerate towards either oblivion or a post-mortem state, I think I would prefer to be happier than wiser – especially since any so-called wisdom is highly likely to be partial and rooted in anthropocentric delusion.

Indeed, even if none of this is real, it is something. Dream, simulation, miracle? Not sure, but I suspect that it is all I have. And anyway, who gets to say what is real? And who cares?

Happy is fun. Light, flexible, thankful. Miserable is a drag.

Therefore, in order not to drown I am heading for the shallows, where the kids have wings to help them float. Does it really matter if my buoyancy is artificial? Not drowning is not drowning.

So, rather than bore you with a gymnastically argued scree about the fundamental contradictions embedded in the very fabric of existence – yawn – here are a few cheap shots.

Pointless is the new profound.

Wisdom is meaningless.

Immediacy is everything.

The truth is neither here nor there.

If it matches my outfit, I’ll put it on credit.

NB: Any hint of existential humour or cleverly disguised philosophical content is purely coincidental. This is exactly what it is – a glib encapsulation of modern vacuity, a flippant nod to the virally vain and see-through.

Rise up against your higher self. You are allowed to believe nothing. Easier that way.

Which is where I come in. Because I did not get here by accident. I arrived with a broken heart. Too much pain by half. What a pathetic cliché.

I thought, what is the point of all this cleverness if I still feel like shit – if it makes the ache even worse? So I dropped it. Just let it go, like so much out of fashion furniture. Kinda like de-cluttering the soul. Minimalism for the mind.

You see, I am not really a hard surface. I just wanna be.

Okay, enough already. No more seriousness. From now on, ankle deep. Actually, maybe groin deep. Might be more fun. And really, that’s all I ever wanted.