Too Horrible for Words

Things are rolling around out there, outside the window, or in the next room which aren't to be chattered about. Things that are too horrible for words. Now that's a concept for you to wrestle with isn't it? If you are one of those who constructs their life out of syllables and sounds think about this. Some things are just too horrible for words. Meaning show some reverence in its presence, know your limits, and if that is not possible just leave it alone, walk away. It's not an idle subject to be batted back and forth like a ball. But what would you want to do with it anyway? Bring it forward on the stage, discuss it, look it over, lick words like stamps and stick it all around the surface? Say, "There, I think that does it." No, I am sorry. This thing isn't for your amusement or curiosity. It won't bend over and squeeze out a stool specimen for your benefit. It is too horrible for words. So you will need to experience it in a more direct way if your curiosity can't be satisfied. 1

There are such unbelievable things that can happen. Things which break our necks, steal our bread and butter, do harm to our children, and make us sleep uneasy all the nights we have left. It makes you wonder doesn't it? What are these events, possibilities, and realities that we can't talk of, can't look at, and can't examine with any success and certainty?But more to the point, that we can't control?2

Too horrible for words comes without back doors. Most negative encounters allow you to rationalize, to swallow pride, change sides, project failings, hide in apparent compliance, move and pretend it didn't happen, laugh and say 'to hell with it'. Too horrible for words doesn't play that game. It turns you into a broken shell, eyes left staring at what can't be seen, teeth whacked crooked for all time in a real socially unattractive way. You can see its footprints clearly. It doesn't fuck around. 3

A common question is 'If I walked by one such thing too horrible for words, say in the middle of the street, it driving in a car and looking out the window at me, sizing me up for a victim. Would I recognize just what it was I was dealing with? Could I run away? Dropping what I had in hand, no doubt losing that, but at least saving my own soul and self?" 4

No, I am sorry. Too horrible for words sneaks into you like a germ, comes on you like a shadow, moves steady and sure as nightfall, is heavy and real as the moon. It comes and touches that part of you which seems to know more than you understand. You may have no arguments left in your head once it has you, no last words that sit like soldiers in your mouth prepared to come out and fight.5

It comes natural, this disaster, powerful, is everywhere. Not a minority with a club, or a majority with robes. That is only form, it goes much deeper than that. It flows like a stream, sits like a forest, changes appearance like the sky. When it is done you are done. You are nailed to the wall, left to jiggle about like scrap paper caught in a dead branch. And you are a signpost after that fatal meeting. A ghost that haunts anyone glancing in your direction. It will be there in your walk, in your broken pursuit of the most meager of survival, in your face that hangs like a broken door. And when people see you and hurry by one phrase will buzz about like a fly, hang over heavy like a dark cloud, then drop and touch you. " Too horrible for words."6