I was walking through a residential neighborhood that had artificial streams and ponds the other day, when I saw a bridge that crossed a two foot wide stream. The bridge is about 3 feet long and the same wide, with handrails and a nice non-slip walking surface. This bridge perplexed me, why build a stream just to force yourself to build a bridge? This bridge really goes nowhere, just stained planks laying lifeless over this artificial nature. I feel just like this bridge over the fake stream, I’m a piece of nature, born by man, and forced to connect these other pieces of fake nature together. People walk all over me just to go nowhere and lay over other pointless streams. These streams are beautiful, but it’s all a trick, those fish were put there by a guy named Greg and the crayfish by his son John, those rocks eroded off of a mountain one thousand miles away and the fountains are just PVC piping connected to a hose. Beauty is often a facade, concrete caked over the plump face of the hill and eyelined with black tarps and stones. This conglomeration of fake lakes and sham streams was once just a small hill populated by it’s aboriginal inhabitants, living without a care in the world, until one day the hill was told it wasn’t what man wanted it to be, so it was made up with cookie cutter houses and holes dug into bodies of water, raccoon replaced with house cats and Red-Tailed Hawks replaced with Golden Retrievers, mostly.
The bridge across this false watercourse reminds me of my burning struggle with technology, I know that I came from nature and that I feel like I belong there, but then I realize I’m laying over a stream that didn’t erode over thousands of years, it was sculpted with a backhoe. I’m surrounded by invasive foliage not seen naturally seen on this continent, let alone hemisphere. I find myself feeling like a pointless bridge when I sit on the computer for 5 hours and I don’t learn or accomplish anything except for informing my Twitter followers of how much I love punk rock and assorted cheesecakes. I am in a perpetual state of hypocrisy with my technology usage, I am relentlessly connected to it and I know it, yet I often get enraged by it and I abhor my overuse, like an alcoholic who knows exactly what’s happening to him, but doesn’t know how to get away from this life because this is all he’s ever known and he is cemented over this piece of shit stream. I hope that after years of pedestrian traffic and harsh weather, I will rot away from my foundation and Greg will throw me into a wood chipper to become mulch for a tree much closer to nature, as I know I’ll never fully return, if I was ever there in the first place.
On my way out of the neighborhood, I noticed an in-ground swimming pool filled with dirt with a nice little lawn growing on top, ladder still intact and fenced off. I feel sorry for the chump who writes an article about how relates to that pool, I’ll take my pointless bridge any day.