My ego was feasting away on my newfound glory. Boy was it ever feasting! It was feasting like there was no tomorrow. It was actually kind of sickening, now that I come to mention it.
Feasting on my newfound glory, huh? What a to-do! Only it wasn’t what you’d call ‘real’ glory of course – it was fake glory. It was glory that I had made up myself. So that I would have something to feast on. I’d starve otherwise, if I were to be honest about it. I would have starved to death ages a long time ago..
My ego is a nervy, furtive, suspicious kind of a critter – in my mind’s eye I see it as a quivering, twitchy, whiskery opossum-like thing. It’s nosy and deeply avaricious and yet at the same time nervous and fearful, knowing that there is a whole world out there just waiting to squash it like a bug, if the chance arose. No one likes a greedy self-serving ego, after all! No one likes that kind of shit.
“Damn Satan and all his works!” I piped up, hoping thereby to throw folk off the scent. Hoping thereby to distract people from looking too closely in my direction. The crowd – some great beast – growled its approval. Everyone was just as keen to point the finger elsewhere as I was. That’s the way it is in a crowd, of course – everyone in it is always super keen to deflect the blame onto someone else. To deflect the blame on ‘the others’, as we like to say…
“Damn bad people for being such dirty no-good shits!” I yelled out defiantly, looking around me to see if I was getting the crowd on my side. Looking to see if I could use them as my shield. “Damn those sad losers for being so fucking pathetic!” I squawked indignantly. Faces in the crowd turned slowly to regard me, uncertainty appearing there for the first time. For some unknown reason I was starting to lose them and the situation was getting decidedly dicey. Dicey Riley. I knew I had to think of something in one hell of a big hurry or else it was going to be all up with me. The crowd would tear me to pieces.
I have a special place in my imagination I go to when things get tough. The same as most of us, I’d say. The same as us all, the same as us all. “Go to your special place”, I ordered myself, “go to your special place and don’t come out until I tell you it’s safe to do so…” I was frozen to the spot, however. I couldn’t move a muscle – all I could do was to look on, frozen in a state of horror as my doom unfolded in front of me.
Sometimes that’s all we can do, wouldn’t you agree? Sometimes the ability to deflect the blame fails us when it’s most important that it shouldn’t. It lets us down in our moment of need and we find ourselves unexpectedly exposed, unkind eyes turning to look angrily in our direction. Naked malice hanging in the air like an actual presence. We all know that one, of course. There’s no one here can pretend they don’t know this one!
My ego had at last finished feasting and it had entered what looked like a period of prolonged inactivity. It had gone into a slump. It had entered into a somnolent state, slumped over in an ungainly fashion on the sofa, a look of coarse satisfaction evident on its blotchy face. You can’t imagine how revolting it looked, you really can’t. It’s a sight you’d wish you could forget, to be sure – you’d find yourself wishing as hard as you can that you could manage unsee this particular unwholesome sight but you just won’t be able to. No way will you be able to. The image is indelible I’m afraid. That’s my take on the matter, at any rate. That’s my thoughts on the subject…
