Somehow, people always see spring as an opportunity to make plans. Plans, however, like Tolkien’s ring have a mind of their own. It’s sunny day here in the backside of the world and people are in their T-shirts, eating ice-creams and kissing on the street. Backside, when one thinks about it, doesn’t smell so bad in the spring. Shampoo could be a different name for our reality in the weekend days like this. Everything seems to be possible, nothing stands in our way while afternoon tea or coffee pours down our throats with nothing, or very little, to worry about.
Then, there is time. In days like this one, you always think you have enough time to conquer the world of fears, disappointment, incompetence and lies. Time, is at the end, all that matters – someone said. Time is something that people will always need just a little bit more. Problem is, that the fact of it is realized just when time runs out.
It’s spring here in the backside of the world. Another sports season is coming to an end. Another championship is won or lost, depending on the perspective, and another fans are cheering or crying because this year is so different than the last one, and/or in so many aspects so exactly the same.

Somehow, people always see spring as an opportunity to make plans.

Problem is, plans are rarely executed. Plans tend to stay on some other plane of imagination. Reality is… something, as Pythons would say, completely different. I remembered a dilemma from one of my favorite SF series.

– I don’t know which reality is the real one – one of the characters said – this one or the other one.
– Well, you’ll see. – said to him his companion – You’ll see when you die. If you die in fake reality you’ll wake up in the real one.
– And what happens if I die in the real one?
– Well, if you die in the real one you die stupid. This is why it’s called a reality.

That’s more like it, I thought. Reality is another bag of weeds. It never grows where we would like her to grow. Yes, I do think reality is a woman.

Only woman would be so creative and revengeful at the same time. Spring is very weird bloke. He always courts the reality, but they never check out. After every spring there comes…

Goon squad of news bulletins is attacking our imagination. That’s the reason we live in the backside of the world. For God sake, who in his right mind would live in the backside of the world and live in the reality in the same time. No one. That’s who. You can’t live here and live in the reality or there would be very possible that you couldn’t cope with the stupidity of the decision makers and newspaper reporters. So, you calm yourself down and take a sip of schnapps. Start to write. Then you too, just like the football fans start to cheer of to weep, depending on the situation. Guns’n’Roses in your head are screaming “Welcome to the Jungle” and you just at the end of the post and the sentence alike admit yourself…

Jungle is my reality. But I don’t know where are my chimpanzees. Monkey says, monkey sees. “Welcome to the jungle”, welcome to reality. Plans are like the ring /Ring lost in the fires of deceiving Mordor and nobody is Frodo or Gandalf. We are all Sean Bean in best case, and its only a matter of time in which minute of the movie will we die. But hey, everything dies. Jungle becomes paper, paper to books, books to words, words to the brain, and brain to the jungle again. Circle is unbroken.

Women won this fight again, as always. It’s spring. Time to make plans. Time to put new make-up on. Time to court the reality.

But when reality’s innocence is lost, then we’ll have to watch out. Spring will become summer, reality will start to bleed, that blood will paint the leaves, world will go into fall, and their relationship will become winter. And after that, all over again.

“Welcome to the Jungle”, welcome to reality (and reality is a woman).


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