on playing Sims in Ocean City and being a reverent humus (dedicated to Falafel)

by Feng

I think today was the end of my life as a zombie. Sims gets boring after the certain point, when you have reached the one goal that was supposed to make everything awesome. I was trying to get the Goth’s to move in with me. I managed to get the woman and the child, and became substantially richer. But then I didn’t want to do anything with the money. This could serve as an analog for real life, except that if I had as many dollars as simoleans, I would still definitely not be set enough to not struggle interestingly through this dream. However, I do know that if I landed in big money, I would not know what to do with the money, except go to school indefinitely or until I feel like “giving back”. Maybe I would try to do something good with it, or maybe I would be selfish and buy a mountain cabin and raise goats by hiring a goat herder and learn how to make goat cheese.
Sometimes I think about how “lucky” I am to have been shielded from extended menial labor. Well, other than my string of secretarial and library jobs. Is being a TA menial labor? It does feel very much so, at times. But I doubt that it would make me “appreciate” anything more. Would I like this vacation more? I don’t feel like I am liking it more. Would I be rendered speechless at the sight of the endless sea? What is Wonder? I do appreciate humility. The word that brings one closer to the lowly and the earthen, that makes us into a small humus secreted by the globe’s moist and pungent genitals, overwhelmed by the mass of our own bacterial overpopulation and the grand rashes of natural extravagance. I think this is my place. Perhaps this is why I feel comfortable being a poet, one of the most invisible and repugnant races. I am most honest as one smear of the world’s smegma, prey and beholden to even the smallest, microbe encrusted piece of sand in the toenail of the breathing corpse of Greater Being.
One of the dangers of being a reverent humus is the withdrawal of one’s humanity. I feel like a terrible citizen. Or does this have something to do with reflexive impotence? What does it mean to be a selfish selfless (as in attempted ego-denying) person? I hope I never go on extended vacation again.