Latent Meaning

Leafing through the end of Flowers For Algernon so one may note how novel a description. To be fully aware of each step toward an abstract and familiar prison.

By Serendipity I’m surprised to find how disjointedly connected it is to a theme I often stumble through. It is the dominant theme of many peoples, probably even you.

My favorite manifestation of the theme is the inability to express, the lost in translation. Where you’re vaguely stumbling through the cloud and fully give into the fact you are completely powerless to your experience and even a close ability to express how twisted your insides, how strange the world, how frustrated. You are put up upon the stake and humbly so reminded how stupid your expressions and mullings could be.

A contemplation of limits. That’s all the book’s ending is. The same as the Book of Job; the vexation of existence: you’re this uncomfortably frail creature somehow tunneling along even though a slit across the cartoid, or an unfair projectile, slight turn car veering and a thousand other things taken-for-granted, cancer uncertain, here you’re still living.

But I’m not even talking about the physical suspension. It’s the glass and scanner darkly: how foggy and half-reaching one’s perception could be. You laugh at the alcoholic and yet pace around the same. A block instead of bottle. Was it ever in your hand?

And while I have this dull thud through each pulse by a Devil’s Hand Tree flourished and wrapped about the arteries and chambers, so the same one can wonder how inexplicably dim-witted and repulsive one’s perception can be.

How maybe it is said if one could truly understand how the world machinates it’d be so overwhelming it’d turn one catatonic.

Alas, so haunted and misguided and all the while the world is flushed with so much meaning but you can’t make any sense of it. You can’t see it. Invisibly known.

But I do think there is latent meaning everywhere. In a grain of sand.

The tragedy is the inability to see it. Everything is centered and congealed by one’s stupidity.

Too stupid to enjoy and make sense of things.