This is what the girl with the seemingly sincere eyes at the pretentious New Gotham cafe, had said a few nights back.
I thought about what she was trying to say, and I thought what a terrible idea. If we leave ideas unchecked, dire decisions, terrible treatments of others not discussed because of the current standing of the perpetrator being low in the eyes of society, we have already lost.
Well this is perhaps what happens, no good deed goes unpunished perhaps, but these people with these poisonous ideas, if they rise to their top, their ideas will inseminate into all those around them, if they continue to grow in the eyes of others treelike and fruitful with reward, and people can taste the palpable fruits from these peoples rotten ideas, the ideas may be rotten but as long as the rewards are sweet people will see only the result, sweet fulfillment of a promise kept.
And thus Hitler rose to the top in Germany, a failed artist, so then he sought the transformation of a nations psyche into his image, promising reward, sweetness, the good life for all those strive towards it, it was a hugely grandiose performance art project, it required others to be sacrificed, somebody to be blamed for it not being achievable, so he blamed the Jews, the gypsies, the others.
Once people are fully up the tree of life, all you can do at most is rattle the tree trunk and deposit more fruit for others to eat from the bottom, or attempt to climb to the top to see what, and how they see.
Funny how you get to think about things when you spend so much time alone.
One father in the clink, the other in the nut house, one more in the ground.
Robin told me not to go, that no good would come of this folly of mine, Cat Woman just purred while I rubbed her feet, and my damaged sister would not see me as she was in surgery tomorrow to fix her face, I told her it didn’t need fixing, that she was the most beautiful woman I had ever known, it was everybody else’s perception that was at fault, but it was her body her choice. I would love her forever regardless of her choosing to change herself, ultimately we are all changed in some way by the world around us, beware those people who claim not to be, they are not strong, they are close hearted, although we still have need of these people in the world.
I would rather be a fool full of good intentions, ones that I am punished for, than a snake in the grass, full of the right words but the wrong attitude, the butler brings me a drink and I smile at the irony of a former Butler having a butler.
“Thank you, when will he see me?”
The man holding the drink could only open his mouth and showed me a gaping absence where his tongue used to be. I understood, why have someone who could speak out near you, just surround yourself with people who agree with you, who only confirm what you think you know. I see them everywhere they are churches, though they often have other names, and they all claim to offer alms for the needy, but yet they squander the power offered to them on grandiose building, catherdrals, places to offer the awe of the divine to the ordinary people who make pilgrimage to them, it’s their only opportunity at above the tree line whilst they are kept rooted at the bottom.
The butler is gone and I am halfway through the drink he left me, before I realise Alfred will not see me this night, nor any other night I care to turn up and wait. I am in his exclusive club, I have paid for its membership, funny how exclusivity comes at a price, I am not one of them, because there is no them, or us, just people being shitty to one another at every level.
I suspect if I was a true vigilante, a true justice warrior for society, I’d be dressed up like a fool running around hitting ‘criminals’ over the head, but why do people think crime exists, it is simply one of the most tangible response for the uneducated, for the poor, for the desperate.
To just grab what you want in life, take what you need, to hell with everyone else, like the fit and able racing to the life boats on the Titanic, it’s meant to be woman and children first, but it rarely ends up this way.
You are not truly human if you always put your needs above all others all the time, you are something else, something else that has been produced along the way, some deviation of our own intelligence. In social groups even alley cats will let female cats and kittens eat first, in Lion packs everybody gets fed in the pride most time a kill is made, in grazing herds the young are often protected in the middle, the infirm are vulnerable when the herd runs from a threat, but there is always sacrifices to be made. We are all offered up to the platter of fate.
However perhaps genocide is a step to far, perhaps.
Perhaps Fascism starts with people being told what to say, what to think, what to feel. You must not laugh at the wrong line in a play, for fear of being made a social outcast, as you haven’t read the script, you haven’t followed the structure of the night, how it was meant to be, how somebody laid it all out.
Time people stopped believing lies, others, their own, their brothers, and stood up and made their lives count for something other than themselves.
The best thing people can do in life is find the one thing they can do in life really well, and then let it slowly poison them, kill them, destroy themselves through their own passion for the thing they now are.
That won’t always be easy, peaceful, or seem respectful, people won’t always agree with you, conflicts always arise when passions are high as the stakes themselves.
You respect people by not pandering to them, by not molly coddling people whom are adults with their senses and perceptions more or less intact.
For are we children?
We are only children if we allow someone to control our destiny, other than ourselves.
Are we children?
We are only children if we allow our fire to be extinguished in place of total obedience.
Fascism can only exist if people from all walks of life fail to speak up, speak out.
Some of us will flail and our kicks will land in places not intended, it just means we are not willing to go down without a fight.
Are you with me New Gotham?
Money talks, but I do not care for the language it uses.
Are we ready to fight crusty rich old fools like Albert, with all his power through money, are we willing to stand up and be counted against injustice wherever we see it for if not, then everything is already lost.
All fights are tiring.
Get ready to be exhausted.
I stand up a little wobbly from sitting down rather than the booze, glass still in hand, people will think I am drink and lost.
I walk to the room where I know Albert is because I watched his butler come from there with the drink for me.
I rap my knuckles on the door, the voiceless butler appears again, the door is chained, I throw my glass tumbler, and it smashes beside Albert and I watch in slow motion a small shard of glass, nick his arm I see the old man bleed, he is mortal yet, I shoulder barge the door, I’m in luck the door flies open, and there he is. I manage two steps before two large men get up on either side of me, and begin dragging me out of them room, I look the old fool in the eyes and see his fear, its exhilarating for me.
I drink it in.
It feeds me, the men deposit me outside, the tongue less butler gives a little nod at me, it’s a warning of what is to come, don’t always go by what you can see, not everyone can fight in the same way, it doesn’t mean their desire for change isn’t there.
My father’s taught me well, all three of them, I duck the first swing, from the bigger of the two a beautiful Nubian man in his 20’s, they are the tools and not the machine, but still they have been re-purposed by the game, to hit someone weakly shows no respect, it shows no admiration for their power, not matter how they chose to spend it, never underestimate an opponent, Gordon taught me that by example, because he did. The second smaller white man comes at me with a knife.
Kicking up, not down I kick the blade from his hand, it goes spinning into the night, perhaps there is something in what she said, even if it is not the thing she meant.
I get clocked from behind, and I am spinning down to the ground.
If you don’t have to, never fight alone, because the cracks in you will show faster if you do, of course some fights can only be won alone, and the only thing we have to ever chose to sacrifice is ourselves, my other father the now Joker, laughing alone forever, trapped in the world of his own madness, I learnt the lesson because it broke him to be a single point in time.
I look up from the hard floor outside the club, and Robin is there and cat woman alongside, sinners and saints, we all need our friends, we are lucky to have people for whom when we look they don’t look away, they meet your gaze freely, sometimes with steel, sometimes with love there are not many people who will do that for you in this world.
I get up from the floor, the tide has turned in this small fight, the butler retreats into the club, shutting the fire door behind you, even when you can’t speak out, your actions can speak louder than words, hearing the noise behind them, the stooges, knifeless, beaten in number, but not stupid, just forced into a position of aggression by economic factors, factors controlled by the Alfreds of the world.
Dusting myself off I see Robin staring at the aggressors, cat woman pinches my bum and gives me a wink, and motions for us to leave, Robin begins to close in on them, I take him by the hand and motion for us to leave once again. Their aggression is not really theirs, it is them kicking out at an uncaring world, the world is not fair, the only privilege we all share is life, and even that is one that we don’t get to share for long.
The final lesson, the mercy I failed to show to one of my fathers, the rich Wayne, I cannot take back what is done, i cannot unmurder him. we cannot re-write the events of the past, only in our minds, not in actuality, but not in the real truth of our actions, or inactions, but then I was a child still then.
Sometimes we all must show mercy, no matter the extent of wrongs we feel have been done to us, or those we love.
As we turn, the smaller guy draws a blade from his boot, and throws it, it spins through the air in slow motion, I throw myself in front of its path.
I hear the slow steel pierce me as I block the shot from Robin with my body, the only thing that’s mine, a privilege that is being able bodied.
Sometimes we’ve all got to take a hit.
Hubris, intellectual arrogance, faux compassion, sometimes something has to take a knock before we can dust off and start again.
Sometimes that knock is a blade in between your ribs.
Call on me in the morn, and you may find me a grave man, that’s from Platos republic isn’t it…
Ah I like miss-quoting, misappropriating, it shows the hubris of others, their willingness to show off what they have learnt, nobody is perfect, to attempt to be so in anybody else’s eyes is the greatest folly indeed, but there is some power to be gained in knowledge.
I am a man, but what kind of man am I?
Fear is the mind killer, fear is the little death.
It’s amazing what you think of, before you pass out from pain, and bloodloss.
I AM HUMAN, I am man. Whatever that means anymore…