"élőhal" - literally translates into "live fish" from Hungarian, "élő" meaning "live" or "living", "hal" meaning fish. Let's take one paranoid step further, shall we not? "hal" also literally translates into "die"; "halot" - further dug in - means "dead". and there ya have it: "living dead". sweet.
yesterday, after picking up Sy from school on a particularly upswing mood day, we passed the local hentes (meat shop) on our way, which that day, unusual from the other days, was donning a big sloppily hand-written sign over its door (it was BIG... and SLOPPY) that read "ÉLÖHAL" in block letters that looked as if someone had used a damn pencil to write this ginormous sign. I laughed to myself out loud as Sy and I passed it and he asked me what I was laughing about. "élőhal", I said and laughed again. "it's telling us that they're now selling live fish, but it also means living dead..." needless to say, Sy found this hilarious, too. And here I am, near one am in the night.morning.whatever.they.all.seep.into.one... fresh off of sleeping.notsleeping.scrawling this shit up above out at midnight (ok, just before midnight) in the midst of restless paranoid mind ramblings that kept me from sleeping (again). I could write more. ran out of paper. ran out of zip.xlurp.gzzt.juice. ran out of will. damnitalltohell. done and done. nobody gives a shit. this is just not how I want it to go down. so what? not so easy to unplug. how the fuck did I get myself plugged in plugged up like this to begin with? money? necessity? pragmatic thinking? nothing pragmatic about it. it's, infact, self-destructive. but you should all know that, no? but you don't. (?) or maybe you do, but 99.9% of you have learned ot somehow block it out. lulled into a pseudo state of zen by ipod this and facebook that and myspace what and American Idol thursday nights primetime. fuck. we're so good at making it all seem so damn livable. so damn ideal. we're so good at buying into whatever is fed to us via ones and zeroes, pixels and satellites. 180 cats dead from smoke inhalation in Toronto. TRAGEDY. all of mankind [cerebrally] dead from mass brain-conditioning. do you even know? and how do we escape it? we don't. it's inevitable. too much consciousness here to buy into it all. not enough booze and drugs out there to mince my mind into a mush (believe you me, I try). so what what? stop asking. maybe I'm missing something. maybe I just need to let it go. just dissolve into it all like the rest. surely there are many out there who are conscious, but look at you - I'm so jealous! you've learned to master this putrid stew with a very fancy wooden spoon from the Pottery Barn. scratch that. insert any trendy "independant" designer shop from Queen Street. that makes you feel better, right? gzzzzt gzzzt blrp... too much negativity, girl. just go lie down. maybe tomorrow... you'll find where x marks the spot. or you'll just eat spinach mush again. either way, tick tock. fizzle. slurp.
