Cars + Emotion

"Someday, I'll think of all the things I could do" --The Car Song, Cat Empire

Have you ever had a car ride home, after something particularly nasty, that you wished the car never stopped? Wished that you didn’t have to enter that ruled world again? That the world would keep whizzing by; deifying the normal laws of human physics.

The road is a place of simple rules; be courteous to others, don’t step over the line, do what you are meant to do. There is no emotion on the road, and it creates almost a perfect society. No real interaction, just doing what you are meant to be doing. Everyone is equal (although some are more equal then others; in respect to trains, buses, trucks etc.).

When the world is flying by, your mind gets time to slow down. The world becomes a hypnotic blur; and it calms you. You don’t have to think of the world, you don’t have to think at all.

Maybe its teaching us that there is no way to fix society (if indeed, it is broken) unless we eliminate all emotion from the world. People whinge and whine and cry out “the world is a terrible place! Why don’t we fix it?! Why are we so selfish?!”. Obviously, selfishness has nothing to do with the case. The world is the way it is because of emotion. Plain and simple.

Emotion corrupts the most basic equations. How can 2 + 2 equal 4 when the 2 doesn’t feel like being a 2? When it doesn’t want to join with 2; maybe it wants to join with 3? Then 2 + 2 would equal 5, and the world would REALLY be in a state of discontent.

Emotion complicates things; makes everything a problem, a struggle. Ironically, it is the building block of civilisation itself. How could the first spaceship be created without somebody looking at the sky and yearning? How could the first car be created without somebody being sick and tired of walking? How could the first weapon be created without one man looking at another and wanting him dead?

Yeah, I think im done with that spiel…

The World is Irony

The Psychologist looked over at his patient and put down his pen. “So you say that laughter is the voice of the soul?”

The Jester settled himself better on the couch, the bells on his head jingling noisily. “Well I guess so; I do happen to be experienced in this field” he said “I mean, most people think that laughter is just happiness coming out, but that was never the case; never is”

“Interesting” the Psychologist lied.

“You see, laughter can be for fun. Laughter can also be angry, laughing at somebody to cause pain”. The Jester looked at the roof; suddenly it seemed constricting.

“Laughter at you? So it’s like teasing?” queried the Psychologist

The Jester screwed up his face. “No, not really”. He sat up in his chair, bells jingling boisterously, creases appearing in his loud costume. “you see its more of laughing because of anger; and it goes from being a ray of light into the point of a spear”

“Mmm” said the Psychologist, thinking about the pub.

“And then there’s the laughter you have when somebody makes a bad joke, and you feel you have to laugh so as to not hurt them. That’s more like a suffocating fog; constricting them and making them feel terrible (because its obviously fake)” he whispered the last part, making sure to accentuate the brackets.

“Of course” said the Psychologist, wishing he still laughed.

“But the most beautiful of laughs” said the Jester, going glassy eyed “is the laughter at irony. It’s the most painful, the most desperate, the most cutting laugh of them all. It can shatter iron, bring tears to the face. It’s the laughter of God himself, coming through humans. It is the laugher of somebody who has lost such a large part of him that he wants to break down and cry but then realises the STUPIDITY OF IT ALL!!!”

The Jester gets up and paces.

“She’s gone from me! It’ll never be the same!! How can I live in this place?! With this ironic laughter?! DRIVING ME MAD?!?!?!?! $^(%eugh$%^dgfdg (the Jester shouted a string of computer symbols and babble, which is very tough to pronounce, so the psychologist was quite impressed)”

The Jester, having exhausted himself, sat.

The Psychologist put his pen and notepad down, and reached out to the Jester (physically, not emotionally. The Psychologist had never emotionally reached out before and this was no acception)

The Psychologist reached over and took the Jesters hat off. The bells jingled, as if saying their last words. Plastered on it was the word ‘MELODRAMA’. The Psychologist said “here, try it now”

The Jester calmed down. “Yes…yes that’s much better”