I am surrounded on all sides by the detritus of my own failed attempts at communication, and there’s nothing sadder than that. Well, there probably is something sadder than that but this will do for now. There’s no sense in looking for trouble. I am surrounded on all sides by the sad detritus of my own failed attempts to exist and what could be a sadder situation than this?

All I can see is detritus, to be honest. Detritus in all directions and all of it is mine. No one else’s. All my own dreadful, terrible detritus but the point is (the point that I’m trying to make) is that I just never saw it accumulating. I never saw it accumulating but accumulate it did. That’s where the Very Terrible Shock comes in, you see – you’re always focused on something else, thinking about something else, dwelling on something else, and then – “Bang!” – the next thing you know you’re sitting all alone in a desolate plain surrounded on all sides by the detritus of your own failed attempts to exist. That’s one hell of a thing, you know. That really is one hell of a thing: just you and your detritus, which is also you. You and your detritus, which is also you. Which is also you. Which is you…

Communication has eluded me, but how hard have I tried? Have I really tried or do I only imagine that I have? Was I struggling in a dream? How would I know the difference? In my own terms ((however valid they might be) I suppose you could say that I have tried. I have tried to reach out. I have tried to reach out but what have I encountered? Was there anything real there or was it all just fantasy? These are the questions we all have to wrestle with, one way or another, whether we know it or not, and generally we don’t. As a rule we don’t.

“Congratulations – you are today’s Lucky Loser!” the announcer is announcing. Flashing red and yellow lights all around you, dazzling you. You’re on a stage and everyone is clapping. It’s your moment, evidently, but you’re not quite sure how you feel about this – part of you wants to go along with it but the other part doesn’t like what it’s hearing at all. “Things were better in the boom days”, your mind tells you, never missing a trick. It manages to make everything it says sound portentious. Things were always better in the boom times, we all know that. Things were always better. We all know that, but as the announcer announces it it’s as if it were the first time we heard it. We all know the things that we all know. It’s all detritus after all so of course we know it. It’s all our detritus the detritus of our failed attempts to reach out, the detritus of our own failed attempts to communicate. Whatever that might mean.

To communicate is to exist, is it not? Communication isn’t just communication, it’s all there is, and that’s a big deal. ‘All there is’ has got to be a big deal. It’s as big as they come. We exist when or if we manage to reach out but were afraid to do that. Who knows what we may find, after all? Who knows what will find if we reach out? “Things were better in the boom days”, your mind tells you portentiously. Always better. Things were always better in the boom years. You know this to be true. You know it to be true and so you nod in solemn agreement. It’s a solemn moment. It’s always a solemn moment. Things were better, always better. You know it’s a big deal. Who knows what we may find if we reach out? Who can say? Some say it’s all a set-up of course. Some say that it’s all a set-up but that too may be a set-up, for all we know.