[Important People, 678 words, Genre: Experimental]
* Image courtesy of Dirk de Bruyn
Jed was now twenty-nine years old. For the majority of it, he had lived with his brother in a two bedroom apartment. The two of them could not take care of themselves. They let garbage build up for weeks on end without ever taking it downstairs to the rubbish bins. Over time what would occur was a large build up of trash, used Bolognese sauce containers, empty soft drink bottles and cracked egg shells. The egg shells would be left in the apartment and the residue egg whites would ferment in the heat and slowly a thick smell of rotten eggs would waft through the apartment. They were both bachelors and there was a smell of flatulence that lingered in the air. They esteemed themselves as intellectuals and would find themselves in pointless arguments, believing that they were using science and reason to substantiate their high claims. One of them was a personal trainer who attempted to run his business by procuring clients. His clientele were mainly made up of bored housewives who had cash to burn and time to waste. He spent his days sleeping, being obnoxious and imposing his physique to emasculate others around him. He lifted weights, he fucked women on dating sites and he made a below average wage creating some sort of identity as a fitness expert. He was not necessarily the problem. He catered to his clientele and built up his place in the world. He fulfilled a role within society. He had found his niche and was part of the world.
Jed on the other hand had an unearned ego. Sucking up at the welfare system for the past eleven years had driven him insane. He had gathered a group of friends. All of whom subsisted of living a life deeply built up in fantasy. The fantasy of being important people. The fantasy that their opinion mattered. They had spent their years drinking their life away. Cornered in a world of social politics that they had created for themselves. They made high claims as to their personal identities. They created a world of fantasy and illusion around them. Creating the belief that they were busy, creating the belief that they were doing something with their lives. They clutched onto outdated models of the class structure and believed that in society, they played some sort of aristocratic role in society.
People would buy into this illusion that they had created. Meanwhile, they would drink, they would do drugs and believe that they were living some sort of bourgeois existence. All the while holding onto no artistic integrity. Doing nothing, creating nothing and achieving nothing except some sort of illusion of ‘the life’.
Others got wrapped up in this illusion of ‘the life.’ They would listen to the unrelenting catering to the ego. The pampering of the idealic self. A self that often more than not, did not exist. And they would drink. They would drink and smoke and waste their lives away. Producing nothing, creating nothing… For the periods of time where they were questioned as to what their actual purpose was they would find themselves confronted with their identity being questioned. And so in those brief moments they would rush to create something. To prove that they had value. And so perhaps they created one piece of art every few months that required two days of work.
And others got caught up in the illusion. Only to find out that it was an illusion. Only to find out that these were a group of people who had set up a web of self importance in which they would lure unsuspecting individuals into idolization of themselves.
These were Jed’s friends. And when you asked Jed what it was that he did exactly he would state, “I spread ideas.” He was completely confident in his position in the world. He was so detached from the reality of the world, so integrated into an existence of dependence on the system that he had successfully convinced himself that ‘spreading ideas’ was his role in society.