John Wise

Nothing is perfect. The conversations are about survival, dreams, religion, education, and politics. There are the meth-addicted here, plasma donors, students, and people trying to save their financial footing. I’m on the edge of an area known as “The Square,” which has the reputation of being a high-crime, impoverished corner of Phoenix, Arizona.

A Tesla leaves the drive-through as a couple pushing two shopping carts straggle by, one drawn by the brand and the other by toilets and ice water. A drug deal has been going on where a woman left her van to sit in another car before exiting to rejoin the person in the van who’s waiting on her. But the business is not done as she stumbles back to the black car. This time, they drive to another spot in the parking lot; maybe they think they won’t appear so obvious that way. The guy in the van works his pimples while the girl is likely hand-jobbing her dealer to make up for the shortage of shekels the couple has access to. Having probably run out of zits worth milking, the van driver has taken to compulsively picking his nits; he’s almost frantic in his determination.

The police have shown up, and after a second unit joins the first an officer approaches the car. The van driver remains cool, and after only a few minutes, the policemen leave, and the couple continues. Shortly after that, the party breaks up, with the woman going back to the van and everyone going their own way.

Some guy at a nearby table finally emerges from an extended stay in the bathroom where he’d gone nearly 30 minutes ago. He doesn’t look like a junkie, so I’m left thinking he’s incredibly constipated. Less than two minutes out, and he’s gone back for round two; I listen for the telltale signs of explosive diarrhea.

There’s a near-constant amount of foot traffic from the blood plasma donation center in this parking lot, but they walk on by instead of stopping in today. Within this coffee shop, there’s a diversity that’s missing from yesterday’s location. People from various countries, including China, Mexico, and/or other points in Central America, India, and Pakistan, black, white, young, old, thin, and obese are all represented. On the other hand, most of yesterday’s clientele were between 35 and 65,  of average weight, and predominantly, maybe even exclusively, white.

Are we segregated? In many ways, we are, but it’s not necessarily forced by cultural convention but by class and opportunity that are silently imposed. America favors a homogeneous structure and does its best to tamp down diversity. While America may be the leader on some fronts regarding personal freedoms, there is an undercurrent of intolerance even from those that often fain openness and inclusivity.

Against this backdrop of reality, we are shown an impossible dream of happiness through endless happy consumption where we are all just a latte and 64-inch TV away from nirvana. The truth, on the other hand, is something more akin to accepting your series of personal failures and perceived opportunities that proved to be dead ends. At the end of the day, far too many will try to assuage their pain using the crutches of food, drugs, alcohol, pets, and various other surrogates on their path to futility.

Fortunately for the masses, there isn’t much thinking that goes along with the grind. There may be a general dissatisfaction, but it’s misfocused on blaming some mysterious “other.” Accountability for one’s own intellectual progress is myopic at best, which blinds people to understanding their own complacency for how this state of affairs has come to be our status quo. There is no red pill, and there is no blue pill in a world where one’s trajectory has too much momentum towards mediocrity.

Everything is perfect. The talk is about business, construction, golf, travel, and stocks. There are no junkies here, no homeless people getting free ice water, the bathrooms do not have coded door locks. The world eight miles from here is in a parallel universe, for while the product and brand are the same, the clientele may as well be from an alien planet.

Here are the doctors, lawyers, managers, engineers, executives, travelers, and tech workers, while over there are laborers, students, alcoholics, the impoverished, and occasionally those from the former list who are lured in by the brand, unaware that only the name and product is the same. In between is the universe of the majority who, should they drop into either of these locations, won’t have time to sit there and busy themselves with these differences. I, on the other hand, have the daily luxury of choosing a coffee shop where I can go write without too many distractions.

Obviously, though, I’m a magnet for distraction, on the hunt for something to write about. Since I was an early teen, when I’d secretly spirit myself away on public transit for the hour-long bus ride to downtown Los Angeles, where I could spy every flavor of aberrant behavior and ailment I’d never considered, I was looking to witness the extents of society. Forty-two years later, I’m able to drive myself to the location of my choosing and I have to admit this has grown old as the cast of characters now easily fit in their box of stereotypes. Each plays their role and works hard to ensure they don’t deviate from the behaviors that ensure their brand of conformity fits tightly.

This reminds me of why I travel: it is in order to escape the predictability of people. True that the people out on these travels are often as prone to the same mediocrity and banality that I see in the city, but there are nature and history to take the edge off my antipathy.

Maybe this has you asking, “Hey John, is that a hint of animosity I hear?” I’ve met the rare person who has a legitimacy of character where you sense they are not playing a role but are genuinely comfortable in their skin. On the other hand, there are the actors who are trying to be a parent, a boss, a friend, someone with street cred, a sophisticate, a muscleman, a proper lady, and the list goes on, even though their facades are thin to the point of transparency. I hear you thinking out loud, “Wow, who gave you the superpower to look into the souls of humanity?” Experience and a lot of time out looking and listening to people have helped, but make no mistake; I’m been wrong plenty of times.

Why does it matter? My sense of the tribe extends far beyond me and those in my immediate vicinity. There is much to learn from those who have the knowledge of things that are interesting. I’ve always loved the stories of exploration and invention and so I keep an ear close to the ground for those occasions when I can meet an adventurer of life. This routine has brought me into contact with many a creative person where others’ timidity might not have allowed a conversation to develop.

Is there a downside? My network is elusive and mostly ephemeral. I drop into it while others skirt on the edge before jettisoning off in new directions. This transitory nature has had the effect of reminding me that I’m probably a nomad by nature. When the economic situation demands that I cannot uproot everything in order to head out on a new exploration, these constant new encounters help simulate the condition where one is wandering the earth and discovering new places and personalities.

So, is everything perfect? Well, that depends on who and what I listen to and what I’m witnessing. Writing among the depraved and impoverished can bring a kind of hostility and sadness due to the extent of how people have not cared for themselves, while at other times, I revel in the absurdity. Sitting among the well-to-do can bludgeon me as I witness the over-exaggeration of their own self-worth while they play with their own grandiose sense of importance. Truth is, though, that I need both extremes and everything in the middle, as my curiosity revolves around the entire human condition and the full spectrum of who we people of Earth are at this tiny moment in the history of our species. I guess then that things are as perfect as they can be.

What is the source of my visceral disregard and even agitation at times towards all things popular? Why, when a plurality of people finds joy in a thing, do I find the banality of that pleasure to be a bludgeoning device meant to wreak havoc upon my intelligence? I cannot enjoy popular songs, television, or works of fiction that the masses enjoy, as my bias has been skewed towards believing that the affinity for the popular is an indication of just how debased the thing must be.

The affected personas of those who have assimilated the influence of the media appear devoid of a true self and mostly reflect fragments of the zeitgeist. Visual externalities and displays of pop culture references don’t convey any deeper intrinsic values of who a person is or how they are developing beyond becoming a cartoon billboard of their superficial interests.

The intellectual playground can only be exercised by conversation, and far too often, I find that many people are playing in buffoonery and don’t have much depth to share. This results in my own isolation and feelings of alienation, where I grow hostile at the status quo. A contradiction arises here where, on one hand I want to belong, but on the other, I don’t want to lower the expectations of myself in order to find common ground with the masses.

Why do I believe I’m so different that I proffer this elevated image of who I think I am? I am curious, but not as much as I would like to be. Every day, I attempt to learn something or express myself, hoping to discover a thought I hadn’t previously known. This isn’t enough, though, because I sense I have more to gain if I could muster a better focus to channel this curiosity into more refined skills. Though I see myself having this curiosity, I fail to glean even a hint of that spirit of exploration in most others that I casually encounter.

Read one of the most devastating ideas I’ve come across in a long while in Michael Lewis’s book, “The Undoing Project: A Friendship That Changed Our Minds.” In it, the author writes about Daniel Kahneman and Amos Tversky’s studies about decision-making. Along the way, they observed that when people see things, they develop a bias that skews their opinions towards a different likelihood of occurrence compared to if they’d never seen something that created this situation. The specific example that struck me was how if someone sees a car accident, they are more inclined to perceive something similar happening to them.

If this is true, then if I look at people who play video games that allude to a bleak future and they go on to be worried about the zombie apocalypse, or I consider those who spend a lot of time star-gazing at celebrities only to join the selfie world of social media with the idea that they too will famous, then I have to realize it was I who was asleep in not recognizing that these trends are driving us into ever-increasing herds of smaller sizes that may never be rounded up again.

When we are having our senses bombarded by influencers we are being nudged to be biased for or against brands and products, as though they have greater value than things that are not hot topics. While virtual reality was hot, it paid to release a product for that space at that time when it was on everybody’s minds. Likewise, with Bitcoin, for a couple of years, it was the word everyone knew, and just as quickly, it has moved out of favor and lost its shine. Marijuana is the current buzz that is only gaining credibility and drawing everyone in.

These implications are mind-boggling to me because this implies that if I stop paying attention to politics, my bias for seeing them through my filter of panic will subside. Worse is the suggestion in the back of my mind that I either choose to go along with every new trend that comes along so I remain socially relevant and in the now, or I risk not knowing what is important to the flavor of the day social group I happen to be encountering at any given moment. Mind you, I’ve long been aware that moving with the trends meant walking with the in-crowd, which was anathema with my existence, but there was a time when we were more human in a common cultural sense than the nomadic trend whores we are becoming.

So if I’m interested in my own education, travel, and complexity, pastimes of someone with an inordinate amount of free time and latitude to explore the more refined arts, then I’m probably out of sync with the masses who prefer television, absurdity, tragedy, and hedonism a.ka. the in-crowd.

What was I thinking that led me to believe that the majority of my peers wanted to see their situation improve in life? What they really want is to have enough food and bullets for the apocalypse, enough selfies in the best locations to win at Tinder-wars, to be rich as soon as they flip a few homes or sell their holdings in some hot startup, to be famous for nothing, or healthy without effort all because their bias has been triggered by whatever they are choosing to witness and listen to from among their peers or from the media be it television or the internet.

Why was I thinking that all we were missing was a charismatic leader who could unify our efforts to better ourselves? The old school I grew up in is the most likely answer, and being too aware that for the past 2000 years, we’ve had charismatic people who inspired society, though on occasion brought it to its knees too. Instead, today, we are guided by idiots who need to milk their 15 seconds of fame.

This portends seriously horrid things for the future of humanity as we are on far too many divergent channels, building hostilities towards the things we do not agree with. The tribal ties that bound us together as nations and states are being torn apart by individuals intent on defining their reality by biases ingrained by repetition to affirm and validate one’s own brand. Sanity is for the delusional who want to believe we still live in a society.

How could I not see that the glue that binds has grown brittle and is flaking away?

The people of our planet range from barely human murderers to artists and inventors. We represent the gamut of what is possible in our species, from great to horrendous and everything in between. I once entertained idealistic thoughts that we were ascending in our intellectual evolution toward something profound, but here I am, checking that off as possibly a silly thought. True, I’ve always felt the majority of humanity followed a herd instinct, but I’d never considered that a vast number of people may not ever be able to embrace improving their situation.

When I was young I was restless and yearning to know and see more; I thought this was a basic human instinct. Maybe it was dormant in others, but I was sure it wasn’t something unique in me. Most of who and what I am are attributes shared with the rest of the animal kingdom, such as sleeping, eating, procreating, defecating, looking for shelter, and remaining on the lookout for danger. Our ability to communicate, enhanced by curiosity, is what distinguishes us from animals – or so I thought. Many of the animals in my species are apparently happy to live passive lives that afford them some creature comforts, but curiosity and the progress that comes from an exploration of the internal dialog are of no interest to them.

How does this change who I am or want to be? A part of my life path has been trying to discover what it is that nudges people to awaken their curiosity so their paths might grow more magnificent. If I want to believe I already have some of those rare qualities and my goal was to kickstart that instinct in those who likely do not desire such a thing in their lives, then why continue hoping there might be a key that will open that door for them?

I do not have an answer, as I’m at a crossroads. I fear that I am accepting pessimism and futility, which then makes me question if I’m being co-opted by the American zeitgeist. I cannot let go of optimism as it has been my constant companion for nearly 30 of my 55 years, and I believe I have enjoyed life all the more because of it.