Dilogy: Discussion with Satan (part 2)

Dilogy

Dil´o`gy    n.    1.    (Rhet.) An ambiguous speech; a figure in which a word is used an equivocal sense.     

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"Nothing exists; all is a dream. God - man - the world - the sun, the moon, the wilderness of stars - a dream, all a dream; they have no existence. Nothing exists save empty space - and you!"

"For a million years the (human) race has gone on monotonously propagating itself and monotonously reper forming this dull nonsense-to what end? No wisdom can guess! Who gets a profit out of it? Nobody but a parcel of usurping little monarchs and nobilities who despise you; would feel defiled if you touched them; would shut the door in your face if you proposed to call; whom you slave for, fight for, die for, and are not ashamed of it, but proud; whose existence is a perpetual insult to you and you are afraid to resent it..."

Satan from Mark Twain's  - Mysterious Stranger

"Now for some music,"  Satan looks around at a singer, female, shapely, wearing a long skirt, her dark hair pinned up into a beehive style.  She smiles at him and begins to sing - there is background music, but no band.  Just the woman standing holding a microphone.

"I started a joke, which started the whole world crying,
But I didn't see that the joke was on me, 
oh no.I started to cry, which started the whole world laughing,
Oh, if I'd only seen that the joke was on me."

  "I know this song!"  Gilburt says, as he also looks over at the woman singing, her eyes closed as she sings the song's chorus.
 Satan turns to Gilburt. " It's the Bee Jees!  From the  1968 album Idea...This is why I like man...on a good day.  Sometimes you..."  Satan pauses, sips from his drink and looks back at Gilburt.  "Nail it...excuse the pun, but you and all your emotive and passion, and yes confusion, you do have these moments of clarity.  This song, in fact this particular album by the Bee Jees was one of those moments."
 Gilburt enjoying this vivid dream, the rum, his tuxedo and sitting with Satan himself, he sits back listening to the song.  He ponders.
  "It's about you right?  This song?"  Gilburt says
  "Yes, well, from your perspective, sympathy for me.  Like maybe you all got it wrong?
  "Wrong?"
  "Well, you chose rule, actually you chose enslavement...I just offered you much more.  More than what you have now."
 Gilburt still ponders.  "But you said one of our flaws is that we want it all and we want it all now."
 The song continues on, Gilburt also notices the faces of the other patrons in the bar becoming more clearer, as though they are coming into focus.  All look content, happy, smiling, drinking, laughing. An equal mix of men and women.
  "Wait,"  Satan holds his left hand up.  "I didn't say 'flaws', that wasn't my word.  What I said was, is that you want it all...but you don't know if you should have it all, stuck between points.  An indecision, frustration, you deny your own desires.  But at the same time committing to them...in most cases in a distorted way.  Man is so curious, to be ruled and to self oppress your true greatness.  A fascist reign over the consciousness.  And what does it end in?"  Satan chuckles, leaning back looking up briefly at the beautifully designed Art Nouveau style ceiling.
 He looks back at Gilburt.
  "War.  It ends with war, like little crazy ants, stuck in a little hole.  Devouring each other while being laughed at by the universe.  That is your predicament."
 Gilburt rolls his eyes, takes a gulp of the remaining rum in his glass.
  "Thanks for the positive reinforcement," he says sarcastically after Satan's depressing reminder of the human condition
  "Hey, like I said, it's not my thing.  You can break this, but...reality, truth is such a refreshing slap."
  "Ok, well, you know.  I am just trying to do my thing, I don't want to save the world.  I'm just a nobody...I mean, if the humans are so fucked up.  What is the point?"
  "That is the point,"  Satan replies, smiling.  "You give up too easily.  Look, you want to be a writer, work in the movie industry, right?  And by the way forget the world, I can't stress that enough, trust me, if humanity decides to go out of existence.  The world will still be here.  In the meantime..."
  "I see your point, but yeah I wanna do something, I got ideas for movies...Like now, this would be a wild fucking scene.  Talking with Satan.  So basically I want success, direct, write some movies...I mean some of the shit out there at the moment."  
  "Ah, you want me to answer that?  Success, in your case, wanting to be a film director.  Lets see, circumstances.  So what is yours?"
  "Man, I'm stuck...Like I said, I am have crappy job, barely cutting it day to day...Life is passing me by."
 Satan points his right index finger down, Gilburt looks down in front of him, replacing the rocks glass is a small elegant styled glass, there is a smoky looking mixture that has filled the glass.
  "Absinthe!  Drink! Or as the Germans say, Prost!"
 Gilburt lifts the glass and sips, a crisp tasting flavor, with a herbal tinge, similar to mint, but with a slight tingling on the palate.
 Satan smiles, as Gilburt enjoys the drink.
  "The finest wormwood, first produced bottle of Absinthe, Switzerland in 1825.  Enjoy!"
 Gilburt holds up the glass, even in this apparent dream, he begins to feel slightly drunk.  "Not bad, right what was I saying?"
  "Your circumstances, you were talking about your victim circumstances...and the perpetrator of your victimization?" Satan looks up a the ceiling raising his hands as though imitating a revelation. "Long behold is thyself."
  "Huh?"  Gilburt says.
  "You!"  Satan says.  "You are both the perpetrator and the victim of this hopeless circumstance you talk about."
  "Yeah but how do I make it?"
  "Make it?  Lets see, you're in the late 30's now, 5 years of hard work preparing, add another 5 of solidifying that base with the final products. Very important.  So I'd say 10 years from this point, subtract maybe an accumulated 3-5 years of distress, pain, loss, heartache.  Add back the 5 years, all up around about 15 years.  So when you are 45...or older, is your 'make it' age."
  "Oh man...too long," Gilburt says looking depressed.
  "Of course!   Waiting that long for fame and fortune!  I am following that stupid 10,000 hour rule, which is a masochistic bad joke.  Thought up by some frustrated egghead.  I like science, but academia becomes easily corrupted with arrogance, interesting paradox for the so called freethinkers.  Oh also, I just added an extra five years for effect,"  Satan says smiling.  "Relax, I'm just messing with you.  I'll tell you how to make it."

To be continued

(c) Adrian Glass