Huns, Vandals, Goths, Gauls, Franks, Anglo-Saxons, Burgundi, and other Barbarian People

by dschapman

I spent the last days of civilization sculpting a herm of my patron saint Hephaestus as a ward against evil and transferring sand from the bottom of the Yocona river to the top of my hill in the valley. The river valley people, ancient as the cane brake itself, brought themselves here to sleep and relax by the water’s edge, chewing sugar and dripping coffee.

When the fires raged I stood dispassionately and waited to be ravaged, but no one disturbed me. I was grateful for my new hosts. They honored my customs and took their shoes off at the door. When they asked me for my Cheerios, I fed them, and when they wanted a drink, I gave them a drink. But soon they were drunk and they started raping, and if I didn’t take part then I would have been part of it anyway, and I was scared for my life. I thought of my gun hidden in my wall, but what could I do with it? I will die in three days regardless, without my medication.

This is the reason civilization is my favorite thing in the universe. It sustains me. I am buoyed. I exist on nothing of my own doing; everything I do is sanctioned by the social contract, paid for and sold. I work for the state. Any breakdown in civilization and I, like many others like me, will simply crack up and disappear within days of dissolution. It has happened before – entire cultures disappeared.

I don’t know what to do with myself. I do not know what to do with myself. I do not envy any other person because I do not understand them. I like what I do understand, but there is not much to like. It is an aggregation and a tautology, which is to call it sarcastic.