Summon Philips

In a perfect world, I imagine an elfin-like creature would come to my side every time I needed a tool. I would name him Philips and he would live under the stairs… if I had stairs. Not having stairs I suppose is another sign that this world isn’t perfect. An elevator would be better, but then my Philips would probably get squashed living underneath it. So I have neither stairs nor an elevator and I’m forced to accept my mundane flatness as best I can. Stupid uppity stairs going up and down. I can only imagine what’s up there, at the top of those stairs.

I think it was Forrest Gump who said, “Life is like a week-old biscuit. Hard, but you can still manage to eat it.” Yup, there are pretty things here. But this world is an imperfect place, flawed and crippling. A million Philips couldn’t fix all the screws that are constantly falling out. For one, our communication is very limited. It is very hard to understand other people, even close-ones. I imagine communication might be better if we were telepathic and could read minds. Misunderstandings would still exist by the very nature that our language is not perfect, but maybe that could be improved too.

I guess my point is that even though Philips doesn’t exist, physics does. Physics is the way the world works, and everything boils down to it. Magic or the “unexplainable” (or even the “imaginary”) is the opposite of physics. I suppose magic has the potential to make us a perfect world, just as physics does. But physics tends to fuck us… fuck us as just as much as it helps us. And as long as physics exists, magic cannot exist. Plain and simple. It would seem my Philips has already been squashed…. and the screws are continuing to fall… down, down, down everywhere.

Maybe it is the screws that fall down the stairs, the ones I have the most trouble anticipating and understanding, that are the ones I want to fix most of all. But maybe not. I think I’d just be happy understanding the screws I’m familiar and struggle with everyday-to-day.

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