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“The Boredom Interest Rate” (A Poem)

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by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

Over the last year or so,

The Boredom Interest Rate has been climbing dramatically.

Note: In my future formal reports, for simplicity, I shall refer to it as the acronym ‘B.I.R.’

When the B.I.R. rate was low, I could pretend I wasn’t actually bored as heck.

I could do this by putting on a CD, reading a little, or some casual Internet-ing.

I could use this slight-of-hand, because at low B.I.R. the increase in the principal amount of Boredom,

Stayed roughly the same.

Now with the B.I.R. rate skyrocketing, my brain sees these the smoke & mirror tactics for what they are -quant self-serving illusions.

Now I sit amongst that un-working chicanery, realising just how bored I have truly become.

Is this simply the inevitable curse I put on myself in training my mind so heavily for at least thirty years straight?

Is this the pain I have to endure for reading so many books?

For thinking so much?

Have I simply unwitting turned day-to day life into a prison for my mind?

With this boredom biting, I’m starting to see God’s warning about the ‘apple of knowledge’.

For ultimately it creates a shroud of isolation that wraps you in a cocoon of loneliness.

Unless of course, you are one of the lucky ones.

The lucky ones that have many others sitting around them in the same mental boat – or straightjacket – to readily share ideas with.

But even then, I’m not so sure those types are happy anyway.

At current, I have perhaps only a thin almost imperceptible sliver of that collegiality available.

I guess where their is a sliver, their is hope – so I should pray that the sliver is more than that.

Perhaps the sliver is the thin end of the wedge.

Perhaps the fat end of the wedge is hidden by perspective,

But is holding open the door to some kind of intellectual paradise,

To which I will soon be able to able to walk through.

But as I just alluded to, with the already collegial types – I am probably deluding myself – stupidly romanticising the so called intellectual life.

Yes, to be intellectual in nature is more likely a curse in an unthinking world –

And probably rightly so.

But would an intellectual trade their life for a surface-ly happy rich nouveau riche type without a bookcase?

No, this would not ever happen in a quadrillion years.

You see there’s another strange thing about intellectuals:

Don’t tell anyone this,

But we kinda love to be miserable.

Call it an inherent feature of intellectualism: self hatred.

Though in theory there is utility in this (so we tell ourselves anyway):

For some reason the right dose of misery works well for ideas & writing.

Perhaps that’s why we are loathe to trade the misery away.

Or perhaps I’m over-dressing it all –

Perhaps all it is is just plain comfort.

Plain run-of-the-mill, garden variety, predictable old comfort of knowing tomorrow will be much the same as today.

It’s a real psychic internal wrestling match:

The Comfort of Misery vs The Stress of the Unknown.

And the wise voice in my head is now telling me this:

Your problem with boredom is that you have an imbalance. You need a balance of the two to feel ok.

Wow that wise voice in my head, sure does know a thing or two.

If only I’d follow their sage advice more readily.

But if I did that, on top of not being bored, I also wouldn’t be a self-sabotager.

One day I hope I’ll finally let that Quinella come in a winner.

Surely one day in the distant future, I will allow myself a few small wins to creep into my life again.

The wise voice in my head has piped up again:

This is because your subconscious is still punishing you for supposed past misdeeds from decades ago, perhaps even way back to minor childhood.

The wise voice has some very good points.

I don’t know why I never force myself to truly take on the sage advice of the wise voice.

The BIR rate would become massively negative,

So, my boredom would evaporate almost immediately.

But I’d also be a different person overnight.

And I guess right now I’m not ready for that.

And so after all this self-conjured psychic appraisal – what of it all?

At least, if nothing, I suffer no delusions as to my current state.

For surely with a morsal of Truth lies at least a token of chance,

To someday throw at the wheel of (mis)fortune?.

For If I was also without Truth,

Surely what I’d have would be identically zero.

So yes, while this existential crisis continues,

There is still hope for me yet.

For one day someone might read these words and think to themselves:

“Wow he’s completely right”.

Here’s hoping.

“The Speech” (A Short Story)

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by Martin Anton Smith

The other day I went & listened to an anonymous someone.

Beamed in from somewhere & someplace.

For it was a blue plasma ball that snapped into human form –

Right before our incredulous eyes.

Yes, it was quite the speech.

As I listened I had the thought:

“Were they wise or just mad?” –

Alas as to which one I still cannot be so sure.

But I can at least tell you his words verbatim,

For I recorded them while I listened along with everyone.

Something told me this is what I should do.

.They went as follows…….

Greetings oh people of the past,

Forgive me this interruption –

But the exigencies of your situation have forced my hand.

Your blindness has conjured my departure from my time.

For I came from a time where perfidious petty battles have been long since mastered.

We roundly squabed our decks free of your current squabbles, to use ye olde maritime lingo.

I must bust you out of your wide-awake sleep-dreams.

My goal is to have you reconfigured – renatured if you will.

And so my message can begin.

“Hell is other people”?.

Hell. Is. Other People.

This my friends & adversaries in the gallery, this is perhaps the most true statement ever.

Far truer than Paine’s “These are the times that try men’s souls”

More propitious than Patrick Henry’s “Give me liberty or death..”

And robustly in line with Bukowski’s maxim about spiritual death before actual death of the everyman.

Yes, you may be surprised to know that in the future we value Bukowski right next to Paine.

And so, we must thank Jean Paul Satre for coining the term “Hell is other people”.

According to your own words:

Humans have apparently been ‘civilised’ for a long time.

So, some of your Anthropologists say.

But of course, even your Geologist’s & Physicists would gaffaw at this statement.

For is Is ten thousand years a long time?

Not really.

You think this way because you cranial Lilliputians still think time “flows”.

You think the future is burped from the past,

And its quality determined by whether the menu had Spaghetti or Steak.

But I digress.

Back to the topic of civility.

Yes, ladies & gents – the experience of your life life tells you civility is a rare cultural ore.

Perhaps even as rare as Tritium 3.

Although incidentily this is not rare where, I mean when I come from – we harvest it freely from the moon.

Statistically we are lucky if perhaps 1% of your current Humanity is civilised.

But the number is of course much much lower.

Now as the 20th Century Americans liked to say

“let’s now have a Pop Quiz:

Were you teachers civilised?

No they were lazy bufoons, desperately afraid of the real world.

Were your parents civilised

No – they worked at jobs they hated.

Were your friends civilised?

No they wanted you to get nowhere in life – just like them.

Were your workmates civilised?

No they were on the modern day slavery hamster wheel & didn’t even know it!

Sorry pals – your early 21st Century indubitably not civilised, at least beyond a wafer thin veneer.

We in the future define basic civility broadly as this:

“Those non-roboticised or non-cyborg-ised human beings who on the whole are in control of their emotions, & not the reverse. Those who work to improve the welbeing humankind”.

Oh I see a few raised eyebrows – yes sorry to let you know of this but in the future the Robots & Cyborgs have the numbers over the humans.

I don’t think I’ll get in trouble for confirming that – after all you people are already half way there nowadays.

On the subject of 21st Century Civility, we notice there are many false alters.

Your leaders need to know that Civility is not really anything to do with advancing technology.

For the caveman simply had less shoulders to stand on than Dirac or Ford or the Wrights or Gates, Jobs or Musk.

If I can talk like one of you let me summarise this by saying:

What good is it if a man knows the secrets of the universe but is a social ogre out to destroy?

Perhaps he knows so much he plug into “free zero point energy” or spaceship to “Zeta Reticuli”.

Yet no one can stand to sit with him in a room for more than 1 to the minus 34 femtoseconds.

Oh dear – another cat is out of the bag! – Yes you have people harvesting free energy & travelling the cosmos.

That was the next project after Los Alamos – held in secret from the public.

I ask all of you people here – Is man in the 21st Century really civilised?

Were the men who worked on the ‘Manhatten Project’ civilised?

There is a clear argument against this despite the accolades, they were the reverse of civility.

Boldly our view in the future is this – this passage is written on a monument to your era:

The men of Los Alamos rode their low EQ all the way to the gates of hell,

Jumped over those gates unannounced,

Shook hands with the Devil & proclaimed:

“Our leader we have done your bidding & created the Hell Weapon”

To which the evil one could have replied

“I am happy with your anti civilisation you are all my fat men & little boys,

you have followed my will perfectly”.

Mmm hmm, that’s right, yes my 21st Century sir & maddam – you usually confuse status with goodness & decency.

We in the future cannot understand you adoration of unneccesary social hierarchies.

These Los Alamos types are the anti-lords of earth & you blessedly boost them in the echo chambers,

By medallion bearing Machiavellian monsters all riding the optic fibers & satellite feeds.

So the wielding of High tech & high tech weaponry & social climbing is not proof of your ‘Civilisation’.

But the garden variety of Human Un-civilisation is galactically even more common.

And excuse me if I again adopt 21st Century lingo.

The guy that loses his sh*t at the cashiers coz he hates his job, that’s uncivilised;

The Karen that rings the cops on a neighbour, thats uncivilised;

The office narc who engineers someone out of their job, that’s uncivilised;

The bogan who kicks his dog because he can, that’s uncivilised;

This is the walled garden of your un-civilisation – the wild flowers of 21st Century discontented daily life.

I contend you 21st-ers (that’s what we call you) are at best like the contradiction of the nuclear power plant –

one part alien technology & one part steam age,

For it is simply Einstein’s brain crystallised by the equation e – mc squared,

Strapped on to an essentially 19th century steam turbine,

Which turns a coil on a axl around a magnetic housing so to make electricty for us all.

I think your Homo Sapian brains are just the same –

Your best human brains are still as a ‘Einstein strapped to a Lizard’.

And that is the core problem – BOTH your Einstein AND the Lizard brain need to be tamed.

Tamed to be civilised.

Tamed to be civilised.

Tamed to be civilised.

I said that three times for effect – for you people don’t understand your ally cat wild-ness.

For all your anthropological, Physic-o-Technical, Spiritual & Artistic efforts have so far failed.

That rogue Einsteinian Lizard in your brains, is the eternal monkey on your back.

And so you yet remain uncivilised in according to your media – the very futuristic sounding year, of twenty twenty four.

And in closing, let me regale you a tale.

This is a popular tale from 21st Century, written by one of your own only one year ago.

It goes as follows:

I was one day walking along the riverbank,

& I saw something from the corner of my mind’s eye.

It was a shining resplendent floating dictionary,

I believe it fell from an angel’s pocket.

Anxious to know what they thought of us, I flicked to the word.

Humans (n). Mostly Uncivilised bipeds of Planet Earth holding poorly designed bootstrapped brains. Prone to emotional outbursts & non logical reasoning. Live in an oasis of plenty yet choose to hide under rocks. Biggest ritual is to sling their own shit at each other while screeching loudly. Slated by the Galactic Council to soon to be totally reconfigured as to be totally unrecognisable from their present state.

I felt warm inside as I thought to myself “See I was right after all”.

I went & ate a sandwich & drank a coffee at the cafe, feeling mighty proud of myself.

I sat & waited for something to happen.

I got bored & went home & cracked open a beer.

I sat & waited for something to happen.

Nothing happened.

I cracked open another beer.

I waited

…nothing happened

I cracked open another beer.

I was now 3 am.

I looked around for the angel’s dictionary.

I couldn’t find it anywhere.

I’m such a dolt –

Why didn’t I look up the angels definition of ‘soon’?.

As I’ve always said.

If you’re going to be wiped out, it’s nice to know when.

Oh well, what can you do?

I cracked open another beer & drifted asleep.

I don’t know if it was part of the dream or not but an angel floated in the room.

It said nothing & simply reached under my seat,

I heard the rattle some empty cans being moved out of the way.

‘Aha there it is’ I telepathically heard the angel say.

I saw it float towards the door.

“Wait” I said.

The angel turned around.

“What is it?”

“When will it all happen” I said strangely confidently.

“When all your beer tastes sour, it will be so” said the angel.

I nonchalantly took a swig & replied.

“I knew you’d screw me around with an answer I couldn’t rely on”

“What – you think we’d tell you guys what’s going on? You’re far too uncivilised for that!”.

“Fair call” I said & cracked open another beer & watched it dissipate like steam.

I know what you’re thinking.

“Was the beer sour?”

Well why would I tell you that?. . .after all it’s a stupid question.

I mean, are you still uncivilised poop flinging screecher-er?

Of course you are!

It was then we saw the man from the future return to his blue orb state & shoot off into nothingness. All at the meeting thought it was a great performance. We all wondered which amateur dramatics troop was responsible. We loved the special effects – both the blue orb & his holographic appearance. We couldn’t allow ourselves to publicly think otherwise. But at least I recorded it – for future posterity.

The End

“Fat, Aging, Bald Ugly, Recently Divorced With a Shitty Job – We Got This”(A Poem)

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The heat was searing & so a swim in the nearby river was mandatory

I prefer to swim alone, I enjoy the amplified solitude of the cool rippling water

There’s nothing like jumping in & floating downstream for extended few minutes

If you get your float technique right, it’s as close to a “floating in space’ feeling as you’ll get.

Of course, the enjoyment is guaranteed to dissipate as you pass by the townsfolk.

The first townsfolk are teenage boys by the waterside trees – the yell “what are you doing”?

I say nothing but think “What do you think I’m doing – baking a cake?”

Next townsfolk – a fat guy with jet boat & three under 5’s with a big soda bottle

Nothing says townsfolk than having & using a jetboat over – regularly

Good on them for having fun, I’m just pointing out their extreme lack of originality –

But then again if they did something with original thought – they wouldn’t be townsfolk.

I’m guilty of sounding like a total snob here, so shame on me – let’s all agree on that.

And I have to also Posit that it is probably residual ‘worldliness’ that has still contaminated me.

That said – Now let me continue – where was I? Oh yes – the Townsfolk/Normie nexus.

Of course – I am also to blame for being in normie habitats –

Yes – you get meat from the butcher, Milk from the milkman & NPC crap from normies.

But wouldn’t it be cool if one day a normie on a jet boat picks up his beer-

swigs it down whole & then picks up Bukowski’s ‘Ham on Rye’?

If I ever see that I know that I must be dead already.

By now I sit on the seat in the public boat ramp area.

I’m nicely cool but am quickly drying out.

There is car with 2 guys wolfing down fried chicken like it’s their last meal before the gallows.

I thought to myself – why don’t you at least sit on the nice sunny empty picnic tables?

I guess it’s a sign that they are SSYFTNPC’s

STOCK STANDARD YOUNG FOREIGN TRAVELLING NON-PLAYING CHARACTERS

Time to leave – I do the town circuit home – by foot.

I get Fried Chicken & a Coffee on the return trip to my typewriter, which is also a computer.

If Hitler loved Fried Chicken no one would stop eating it – before, during & after the War.

Yes, It was a nice hour & a half or so – you don’t want to do these things all day –

It’s best as a refresher, as an antidote to anxiety or worries or boredom.

This town don’t have much social life – but it does have the outdoors & good weather.

Even the NPC’s know that enjoying the outdoors & good weather is a no brainer.

You’d be a fool to refuse it when it’s served up to you at no price.

A shitty town with great nature attractions is by definition not a shitty town.

In fact I should mount a campaign to make last line as my towns new slogan.

Said three times & plasted as the arrival sign for incoming travellers.

So back to my main theme…I guess I now have a title for this Poem:

“Swimming, Beer & Sunshine – Loved By Hack Poets & Bogans Alike”

Sorry – I forgot to tell you that I chugged some cold beers before & after my soiree.

If a man has nothing – at least he’ll always have some beers.

Now that’s a good advertising slogan.

or the more particular version:

“Fat, Aging, Bald, Ugly, Recently Divorced With a Shitty Job – We Got This”

But then it will never catch on – after all the World hates the Truth doesn’t it?

But it’s certainly good enough to make it to the new title of this Poem.

Now It’s Time This jaded old fool had a beer.

“Overcoming Early Year Writers’ Inertia & some biographical data & musings about life (a few thoughts about the page & me)

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2022 was the second year of published work on this page, & the first full calendar year of posts (The page started posting in Feb 2021).

In order to keep writing during the dry creative spell that naturally occurs during summer (in southern hemisphere) I will write a really easy post about this blog page.

Last year was a good year for this page. The views/hits were up about 30% and the followers up about 50%.

I posted 62 Posts vs 58 in the prior year. Outside the numbers, the highlights of the top of my head were

  • I wrote about 7 short stories & I think I have enough now for an ebook
  • The Poems could also be put into an e-book.
  • I made progress on my Novella “Marcell Atkins the 21st Centuries Brain Chip Hacker” (then half way thru I got into writer’s block as I realised my idea to finish the book was ‘too stock’. But luckily, I think I now have a solution – the main character will turn to ‘the dark side’. This also sounds a bit ‘stock’ but trust me it is less ‘stock’ than the first idea train. So now I must try to finish that remaining 20 000 words or roughly 10 chapters. I’m dreading finishing it. I’m afraid that it’s really really crap. But I must force myself to finish it anyway. I’ll go by the adage “All turds can be polished, and today’s turd may be tomorrows fertilizer”.
  • I wrote a few good songs some were derived from some of the poems, although some were from scratch. This page isn’t a music page, but I thought I’d mention that.
  • The podcast associated with this page was fun, but traffic slowed to a crawl. I think this is because the podcast platform was free & I was supposed to “upgrade to a paid plan” but I didn’t. Or it was to “Whack” and so people dropped off listening. Either way it was great to start a podcast & I have almost hit 50 Episodes (I think we are at Ep 48).
  • Regarding my writing – I am wondering if my depressive ways are a positive or a negative. That dark cloud hovers but I fear that I might be making the world a “worse place” for putting darkness onto a page. If the answer is “Yes” then the only right thing to do is delete everything. That would be hard to do. This is why I realised a good strategy is to always add a “silver lining” of sorts to writing. Perhaps that’s enough to save the writing & my sorry ass.
  • I live in a small town where nothing happens. Of course, that can be good – as this can in theory help production of work due to the ‘lack of distractions’ – but after 6 years of being back here I am worried I have become like a giant elephant attached to a tiny peg in the ground. I want a real friend who also likes writing and flinging ideas around. Not being neurotypical it is very hard being surrounded by ‘normal people’ who only want to talk about house prices all the time.
  • You might want to know I am 45 years Old – I guess this makes me ‘young middle aged’ or an ‘old young person’. I think I have reverted to being 27 since the age of 35. Prior to 35 I tried to be ‘Normal’ & have a ‘career’ etc – this resulted in burn-out & my current state of awareness which is to shun that fake world of false material promises. It’s a lonely existence but at least I’m not living in a cubical battery hen room any more wondering why things never come together. I wouldn’t say I’m happy but for a depressive I think I’m happier than I was back then. I think my life is productive in its own way & I am more content. I think I have got to the point where I could in theory attain something really good with my work.
  • My life is now devoid of women & I am like a monk. This is because women around here don’t really like arty types, & there is no women my age who are into the ‘alternative scene’. If there are – they are more likely that not to be ‘flakes’ that are faking creativity. Oh well, just as well I had a vibrant party life when I was in my 20s & 30’s. It’s ok to be shunned into ‘forced romantic retirement’. I can survive & it is better than a series of insane girlfriends.
  • You might not know it but I lived in Australia from 2005-2016 – I returned to my home town & I feel like that old life in Melbourne is like a ghost that haunts me. Not because it was ‘bad’ but because it is an ‘entity’ that still exists in my mind. I miss a handful of people from those years, & I kinda regret not making some ‘smarter moves’ – ones that would have set me up better. I know regrets are bad, & admitting them is worse but that is the truth & truth is important & powerful on the page. Unfortunately, errors & bad choices in anyone’s past, especially while they are inexperienced in life’s ways – happen because they were always going to. An adult must accept learning comes with failure & vice versa. But early mistakes & their first cousin regret still make poor dinner guests – you accept them politely but this doesn’t mean they don’t annoy you & overstay their welcome. These things that annoy us are a part of our sentence as human beings on this planet. I am no different than anyone else.
  • The above point makes me think how ‘individuality’ is kind of a con – ultimately are we not programmed in only a handful of ways? There is a theory that there are only about 20 different types of people. But we like to think we are ‘one in a million’ – it’s an ego thing. Our parents, classmates, teachers & physical environment (for they are the most important) can only screw us up in a few different ways.
  • I spent 11 years of my 44 in Australia – & I feel at least 25% Australian (adding as an aside).
  • I am annoyed I do not get any feedback from viewers of my page – one day someone will email me at martinantonsmith@gmail.com & tell me either my page ‘sucks’ or “is good”. I’d actually be happy if someone messaged me & said my stuff ‘sucks’. It’s better to have you work insulted than totally ignored. Hopefully this year more followers will happen & more work done & more real-world events I will attend & this will happen.
  • You might be interested that my bike rides in the country help me attain well-being enough to have the motivation to write poems etc. I think arty people ignore their health too much as if it is independent of their ability & longevity to create work. No wonder arty types die early – you can’t ever fool your body’s thermodynamic properties – it needs negative entropy supplies to thrive. Being a ‘stick figure clad in black’ is favoured for an artist, followed a distant second by the ‘pudgy dishevelled look’ – but that’s confirmative bullshit. You can look healthy AND do great arty things. (Clive James is an example that springs to mind – he looked like a rugby player & was well known in the 80s – I struggle to think of other ‘healthy looking well known arty types, which underlines my point).
  • as a “P.s.” to the part where I was talking about “ghosts of the past” – I wonder if the people that haunt me are also haunted by me as well? Mutual hanting seems to be a welcomed thought but also pretty sad as it suggests both parties were never mature enough to tie close ends. We humans can’t handle rejection & it corrupts us no ends – we torture ourselves for it. how ridiculous that is. I’m trying to get better at that. Honesty & forgoing ego should be practised as we age. But I guess the question that revolves in my mind – “Am I a good or bad person” won’t die down any time soon. Sigh.
  • Thank you for reading – attached below is a pic of me taken only a day or two ago. Take care & I hope to write something good soon. (Ah it feels good to have written the first content of 2023! I will celebrate with a beer & 90’s Rock. By The way – I wrote a Poem just after I wrote this so this blog entry – so it doing it worked wonders – read it here if you like https://martinantonsmithart.wordpress.com/2023/01/09/percy-mcwhirter-on-the-margins-of-life// )

(Picture: Scruffy Scruffy Me in 2023)