The Faux Pas Press #75
By Jason Fresh
Not even the best of our elderly have seen the end of envy. Not even when death meets them, not even when dust becomes them will they see the end of envy. This, of course, is a deadly sin according to the nail-biters all waiting to hear the words, “Well done thou good and faithful servant. Through your life I have worked miracles.” No man knows the end of envy. Those who claim enlightenment know it even better than those who do not. Not even the dead are free from envy. “What a sad proclamation,” you say, “a despairing and weak way to go through life! Envious of my fellow man? What has my neighbor got that I don’t?” All that you have was obtained is because of envy: the smug yet flippant look you throw at those boys by whom you’ve been previously rejected, the car that adds value to an existence you view as otherwise valueless, the suggestions you spout on your girlfriend’s appearance, the clothing you parade – all of it, a partition from the Kia that flows freely through all living, beyond good and evil, is a product of envy. Yes, I speak of real, juicy, Cane-like envy. Oh, that first and most clever of tricks the old rascal-chaser employed. Oh, the fat and succulent jawing you’ve done against it. Oh, the great sins you have committed in the name of envy.
Not even the dead have seen the end of it. It is there, ever-present, waiting to remind us. You’re life has been a speck in the weaving of an ever-expanding, infinitely present web of experience. Your fighting, scheming, fucking, and dancing have occurred because of envy. “I envy no man,” John Fitzgerald Gilgamesh screams to the rooftops. What about the Self, John Fitzgerald Gilgamesh? What of the gods? Even after your gleaming goals shine from the number one slot on the sales floor, what will be your greatest victory? It was never there, was it? Sure, sure. Thirty or forty others envy your number one spot, the treatment, the accolades, and the attention, oh, the attention. But after the dust settles from yesterday’s victory, you begin to feel a little, shall we say………
I heard this song in the liquor store the other day (don’t go thinking I’m not a functioning adult because I reference a liquor store in my shit) talking about ‘big wheels keep on turning and Proud Mary keeps on burning’ or some shit. The song addressed a problem I have with the idea of ‘no regrets’. How can a human being say they have no regrets – or even if you were talking about a meticulously constructed Ego – how a can human say they have not thought about what might have been. “You know, I just live my fucking life, bro. No envy, no jealousy, no regrets, bro.” Jay-z, oh fucking Jay-z says, “Jealousy is a weak emotion. You’ve got to conquer that shit.” It is easy to say that you are free of envy when you are on the top. Easy to say you’ve not thought about fucking Kelsey Grammar’s Ex. For some, heavens to Bedford, for all!! Envy is the only thing that keeps the churches full, the money flowing, and the economy from falling into complete ruin. “I’m not envious. Jealousy is a weak emotion.” Horse shit! Fuck you. Envy is my greatest strength. Envy is in you and it is in me. Let’s go a not-so- careful step forward into the light (or darkness – which ever suits you).
Envy is you. Envy is me.