Pineapple on Pizza

[comfortable silence]

I think I’m done. Sorry Rachel, I know it isn’t much, but I reckon this is as good as I’m going to get it.

[response]

I wish I could. I’m just not really much of a painter, you see. As much as I’d like to be one. For me, inspiration refuses to manifest in shades and tones. I can never visualise the minute details and subtle brushstrokes that elevate watercolours from the status of a blank sheet to a single interpretation of life. I’m far more of a bigger picture kinda guy.

[pause]

It’s really cool that you can, though. It's incredible to watch you work! I mean, this isn’t the worst way to spend a lockdown, is it? Just the two of us, hanging out and painting our own masterpieces.

[silence]

I love how secretive you are of your work, it's so delightfully childish.

[response]

No, no! I think it's fantastic! What is it you’ve created anyway? Let me see.

[quiet]

Oh yes i see it clearly now. I love the way you’ve been able to blend these colours together with such delicacy and precision. Hang on. What’s lighting up the rabbit?

[response]

Really? Oh no that's terrible! The poor thing. Will he get hit?

[response]

Hmm, yea I suppose you’re right. The point isn’t to know what happens, rather to appreciate what has been presented. Tell me, did you draw this from memory or imagination?

[anecdote]

Makes sense. I love how you’ve juxtaposed the bunny with the looming headlights, it's a perfect metaphor! The natural and urban diametrically opposed; fleeing, hunting, locked in a transitory moment of peace before the inevitable point of fatal convergence. I love it. Hah. Listen to me prattling on like some kind of art critic; you must forgive me.

[question]

What?

[question]

Oh this, it's quite embarrassing really. I tried to capture this image that keeps recurring in my dreams. It's little more than a vague idea right now, like a reflection in a lake. I really put a lot of thought into it, but it's like as soon as you try to grasp the reflection in your hands the calm water becomes grey and frenzied and makes a rippling retreat. It happens every single time. That’s what annoys me about painting.

[response]

Yeah, you’re right, I shouldn’t get mad. I guess you must find it quite therapeutic. Frankly I think I find it more therapeutic to just watch you as well!

Yeah, no, I’m serious. I guess I’m just taking it too seriously. But I simply can’t get over the fact that something’s been lost, or maybe added even, some distortion occurs somewhere between conception and execution that totally corrupts, actually I would go as far as to say perverts, the very idea itself. All I can try and do is attempt to express it through this medium, even though I struggle and get so mad. Personally I consider myself to be more linguistically minded. When images flitter across the mind’s eye it is only by breaking them down into fully digestible nouns, verbs and adjectives, that I make these things tangible. Make thoughts known, and find comfort in understanding.

[response]

Do you ever feel like if you can’t do something perfectly the first time, then what's the point of even trying anyways?

[response]

Yeah I know, I know. I suppose it is a pretty unpopular opinion to be fair. I’ve noticed the growing trend for unpopular opinions across the internet. It seems to be like one of these social media buzzwords; all these personal quandaries and hot takes sparking virtual debate and twitter frenzies, ultimately feeding the algorithm. I wonder how unpopular an opinion has to be to be classified as an unpopular opinion, rather than instantly labelling a thought as unpopular just because it isn’t your own. It would be funny if there was some kind of objective categorisation. What if we made one, right now?

[puzzled smile]

Because the most confusing thing, I think, about unpopular opinions is that there seems to be two contradictory types following inverted logic, so that you never know if it's a good thing to have one or not. First off you have the collectively unpopular opinions which, rather than seeking to remain isolated and ugly, instead aim to win the approval of as many people as possible. Usually they’re trivial and rather inconsequential, with the paradoxical outcome being that these so called “unpopular opinions,” are held by the witty, the contrarians and the majority of the population, each smugly impressed with the originality of their own personal philosophies.

[silence]

The second type though, these are the truly unpopular opinions. I’m talking about the views expressed by the bigots and misogynists. Hideous and greasy thoughts left to fester at the back of the mind for far too long. The bad thoughts that make people turn away in disgust or sit smiling politely, wondering how they ever agreed to spend time in such company. Having a truly unpopular opinion is a sign of either the brash and vulgar or the master rhetoricians.

[strained silence]

Hey can you pass the paintbrush quickly?

[response and action]

Thanks.

[statement]

Yeah it is ironic. Speaks volumes about us as people, it really does. Say, do you have any unpopular opinions? Anything amusing I could relate to? Maybe something that would really make me squirm. Or at the very least just to pass the time. Go on, I’m sure you have something.

[statement]

Okay, hang on, so you’re telling me that you think pineapple belongs on pizza? Hilarious! I love it! I’ve actually never considered that before. The funny thing is that It's surprising how strong my disapproval for something so mundane can be, especially without any real reason as to why. My brain just tells me it's wrong, and I agree. What exactly is it that makes you like it so much?

[pizza]

How steadfast do you reckon you are in this opinion? Like if I revealed that the pizza from earlier did actually have pineapple on it but I deliberately removed it would that make you mad?

[pizza?]

No, of course I wouldn’t, could you believe how much planning that would take to pull off, for a 10 second joke? I wish.

[uncomfortable silence]

[statement]

I mean, I don’t know if you actually could, what with it being lockdown and all that. You might have to get used to good old fashioned pizza for the time being. But hang on, stay a bit longer. I want to probe this issue further, delve into the real crux of the matter. I mean, is pineapple the only pizza topping that you despise so strongly?

What about anchovies? They’ve been on pizzas for as long as time itself, and are well established toppings but i can’t stand them for the life of me. They’re too salty. What about sweetcorn or peas then? A weird choice or sure, but i doubt they would elicit in you so strong a response as pineapple clearly does. Maybe it’s because they’re also savoury items as well.

[response]

And then that brings me on to those newfangled sourdough pizza chains. Have you ever been to one?

[affirmation]

Did you know that some of them don’t even put the tomato sauce base on the pizza? That’s right! Just cheese and topping. I don’t think disliking sourdough pizza chains is particularly unpopular though because they taste so dry it's horrible. Surely everyone agrees! Tomato sauce is an absolutely essential component to the pizza, I would go as far as to claim that without it you are consuming little more than flatbread! Y’know what, I’d never considered that something so well established and widely accepted could be wood fired over such fragile and doughy foundations. And that’s just pizza!

[giggle]

We need to move on, before pizza toppings give me an existential crisis, for goodness sake!

[question]

Hmm. What would mine be? Okay I’ve got it.

I hope this doesn’t sound too pretentious, but my unpopular opinion is that it is absolutely imperative to think before you speak.

[smile]

Okay, I’m pretty sure I know what you’re thinking right now. Your thinking hey, get a load of this guy, he doesn’t even know an unpopular opinion from a sable brush.

[Small giggle]

Nah it’s alright, you can laugh, i wasn’t too sure of it myself, to be honest. But if you’ll permit me to elaborate, I’ll explain as best I can. I just want to make sure you won’t judge me or anything, by the time you realise why it's so vulgar. Can you promise me that?

[small nod]

Surely it’s a good thing, right, to be able to pause, reflect and contemplate before any small idea is conceived in reality. At the very least you avoid looking like an idiot, perhaps even avoiding something you may live to regret for the rest of your life. I think it was Rumi who said that silence is the language of god, all else is poor translation. Rumi really demonstrates the lasting effect which your words and actions can have on others. It seems like it should be a very good thing to be a rational person with a rational mind, to live life without fear of punishment for the impassioned act of a single moment of imbalance. People no longer forget nowadays, the rise of social media has led to expert chronicling. In order to be safe, one must be completely inscrutable.

[disagreement]

That may well be true, but there is a small occupational hazard involved with trying to be polite, good natured and fastidious. An obsession with placating the desires of others may result in the dilution of your own sense of self. Selfless Living is an act of personal neglect, rather than altruism. All these small sacrifices, extensions of vulnerability and words of kindness go largely unnoticed at the end of the day. People don’t notice, or if they do, they don’t really care.

[disagreement]

You could quite literally set yourself on fire for someone and your errant martyrdom would receive little more than cool criticism. No. I came to the realisation that I must be the most important person in my life because I am me. The same must also be true for you, by virtue of also being yourself. This philosophy may sound infantile, but you can clearly see it reflected in all the wellbeing movements that have become so popular recently. Healing must start off as an introspective process, the ego must be prioritised before these good deeds can be radiated outwards toward others.

[interrogative]

I mean, I suppose it does mean that a discord emerges between what is right and my own personal agency. I don’t think it's anything particularly to worry about, though.

[disagreement]

No I disagree, I would call it solipsistic rather than selfish. I’m badly paraphrasing, but Nietzsche once claimed that before man can venture out of his cave he must be content with his own secret citadel. The argument I present is well supported and logical to a fault. When the safety masks dangle down from the airplane you are always instructed to secure your own mask first before helping others, even mothers to their own children. Yes. Self preservation must precede altruism.

[criticism]

What do you mean I’m misquoting Nietzsche. That isn’t the point!

[sigh]

What I’m saying is simply logical. After countless hours locked in inner struggle, I finally realised that what I want- no actually what i need is genuine human connection. That spark, sense of binding as a shared experience pulls down the barrier that encapsulates us all and I can look you straight in the eyes, see the beauty of a soul willingly offered.

[interrogative]

Well not you personally, I mean more in general, like, see what I mean?

[response]

I don’t know. It’s one of the few things I struggle to describe. But it’s definitely a noble desire, neither selfish or materialistic; it does feel a bit portentous though- saying it out loud.The feeling of two people, locked in a single gaze, bound together, for an instant being one. That’s what I want.

And this leads me onto the crux of the issue. The immediate problem is that spontaneity is blocked by such careful and reflective tendencies. As brevity is to wit, so too is spontaneity to passion. How can you possibly be expected to speak with sincerity if you’re always slightly outside of the moment, too busy rehearsing the correct lines to actually experience life. It was at this point that I realised a more primal, instinctive approach was necessary. I tried to follow the impulses of an unrestrained creature, without any hesitation.

[interruption]

What’s that? Hmm yes i suppose you’re right. Speaking without thought does sound like a better unpopular opinion. I’ll give you that. Until you pause to give the matter some more consideration. Speaking without thought is closely related to the popular idiom that ignorance is bliss, which if not popular, is certainly a widely subscribed philosophy. And who can blame anybody for feeling that way, especially when we live in such a terrible and unpredictable world. Nothing is real. Nothing makes sense. If you try too hard to think you’ll end up destroying your creations or tearing an ear off. Being obnoxious and loud brought me quite close to finding a genuine human connection, right in the heat of the moment. That’s the thing, see, even conflict, anger, violence, lust are human connections. They may not be good connections but they are certainly genuine. And again we have to remember what is the most important, not necessarily what is right.

[grimace]

Oh don’t look so shocked, you’re far too pretty to be self-righteous. Have you ever gotten into a fight before? Have you ever had the shit kicked out of you?

[murmur]

If you ever do, perhaps you’ll realise that in spite of this illusion of freedom, you are still bound by the laws of reason and the rules of the people. Something remains still missing. These connections flittered on the edge of authenticity, but in truth were animalistic and frenzied. Barely human. I felt like some wild animal or monster.

[response]

I said I felt like a monster.

[ignore]

And that’s the problem. Being ignorant is boring. That's the simple underlying issue right there. When you're as intelligent as me, it's just boring trying to stoop down to the intellectual capacities of others. It's just one repetition after another. Same conversations. Same interactions.

[question]

You? No no no! You’re different. I wouldn’t just be sharing this with just anyone you know. You're sharp and original. I like that. Where was I again?

[reminder]

Oh yes. With repetition comes familiarity and following that, the loss of meaning. Have you noticed that words are beginning to devolve?

[shake]

Take love for example. I love you. I love my friends. I would love to tie you up. I love this slice of pizza. I would love to listen to that song. What does it even mean? Nothing really.

[disagreement]

Well that’s simply not true. Overuse has rendered the actual meaning inert. We are entering a period of linguistic austerity. It's not the words that are important, rather their intentions and predicted outcomes. And all these repeated greetings, complaints about the weather, the news, the discussions of last night’s reality tv episode; all achieve absolutely nothing.

[smile]

Do you ever feel like you’re following this unwritten script, y’know, except no one else has bothered to read it. Right at the end, just out of reach, is the genuine human connection, the potential outcome if you follow the right social cues, and can detect the visual stimuli that tells us how to respond. A laugh, pause, a frown perhaps. Maybe even silence. But conversations never turn out the way they should, not like in the movies, people never say the right thing, no matter how much prompting you give them. All these perfect moments, all these potential connections are ruined. It annoys me so, knowing that the potential for this connection would manifest if only a few actions were performed correctly.

[question]

I mean maybe it could be, y’know, just chilling here, painting our minds, talking about life. Almost perfect. Well not quite but i mean definitely salvageable.

[elaborate]

Well I mean, the thing is…. Pizza? Really? I reckon you can surely think of a better unpopular opinion than pineapple on pizza. I mean c’mon, it's not even remotely original. I’ve seen that plastered all over Facebook. So, what is it then?

[silence]

[pizza]

[apology]

Wait, really? Nothing? Not even a single thought while I've spent the last 10 minutes monologuing? Nothing at all?

[escalation]

Sorry for putting you on the spot like that. I think I’m getting a bit carried away.

[reply]

No no i understand how it is, all of a sudden being forced to think originally, to rack your brain for some essential sense of self that also happens to be unpopular for some silly thought exercise. Especially when we’ve been engaged in such a visually stimulating activity.

[agreement]

Yeah it is quite hard to jump between those different mindsets, as you can probably tell by now. I hate that feeling, y’know, of being caught off guard by an unprepared situation. The blank desperation of a frozen mind scrabbling in the dirt blinking and stupid; unable to search or grasp at transitory thoughts and beliefs that flowed so easily just seconds before and are now suddenly dammed up, clogged.

[pause]

I bet you feel just like that rabbit you’ve been painting, stuck under the enervating glare of rushing headlights, unable to urge yourself to roll out of the way of oncoming danger. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel weak. Weak and vulnerable and I hate it. Who knows, maybe it is some biological fault that afflicts us, some evolutionary shortcoming that centuries ago would threaten to completely eradicate. An artwork is how the situation must be viewed. Delicate and sublime. Not like my poor excuse of a painting.

[pause]

But that doesn’t matter. Again I’m sorry. That was totally uncalled for. I understand how difficult it is to think on the spot. It feels good to be able to open up to you. It’s an incredible moment, I hope you’ll agree.

[murmur]

Actually, this leads me quite nicely onto the rest of my so-called unpopular opinion; if you’d like me to continue.

[hesitance]

I finally realised that the issue is sincerity. It is not enough simply to be sincere.

Reality is so fractured through the many perspectives that people will never be able to experience the true you. And why would they waste a lifetime trying to divine these small secrets anyway that are completely inconsequential. No. it is far more important to appear sincere, to build the trust and rapport of your peers and acquaintances. It can only be done by taking a careful and premeditated approach; probing, analysing, responding.

[confusion]

And that you see, is exactly where the thrill of it lies. Not the genuine human connection itself, not at all, but the process of reaching that culminating moment, the emotional climax, steadily creeping closer to that dream you’ve sought after for so long. Anticipating exactly how someone will respond, and then using these clues to mould an encounter.

[question]

It all depends on the person really. The complex web of human interactions is so delicate, but it can be carefully deconstructed. With the right brushstroke any situation can be manipulated and those moments can be experienced freely. Soul to soul. Without the threat of forgetting, or omission, or breaking character.

[interruption]

No of course I’m not! I’m genuinely trying to tell you how I feel. Just stay and listen for a little bit longer. Please. I want to share this with you. I absolutely abhor the person I am. I despise myself. Believe me when i tell you i want to care about other people, I really do, but I simply can’t. I've always been this way. How can you adapt to something you’ve never experienced? Ever since I was young I’d always thought that these kinds of enlightening moments always came as a form of esotericism, free from the coercive practises of a corrupted exterior. One needed to undertake some quest or demonstrable feat of strength or force of character to become the true version of yourself. I now know that there are other ways of doing this. It's not just an isolated vision. It can be experienced together.

[pause]

This reminds me of this dream, i always used to have… maybe not, but at least that's how i always remember it. I am standing in a crowd of everyone I have ever known, or ever will know. There’s so many people, and right there before us there is a large chasm, a gaping void, mouth open yawning a lazy scream. The thing was i knew all these people so intimately, all these shadows of conglomerations of faces i may know dearly or briefly or would perhaps gance at in many years time. One of us had to jump into the hole, it was to save the others. Or maybe it wasn't but that’s just the way i’ve always viewed it. I had a great sense of connection to some unknown energy attached to a particular mood, as is common in dreams. I felt the people around myself so intimately and deeply I felt like a god. But the mood is stilted, a heavy burden threatening to collapse amongst angst riddled uncertainties.

[interruption]

Hey now listen here! You’ve said you wanted to hear the whole thing and you're not leaving until I tell it you. You can’t leave anyway because of the quarantine! Look at you, always trying to act without ever thinking! My painting is so close to completion. Look at all these colours, wildly slashed across the canvas, bright and dirty, smudged into a greasy simulacra by the black underneath. That's the point of this, this is the dream, this is the final moment.

[apology]

... Everyone I knew or might have known or just a complex amalgam of familiar features condensed into one stood around the hole soberly, not wanting to peer into the black chasm. That’s the thing about my dream world, or myself I suppose. That’s weird. For such a morose population nobody is able to commit the act. Life must be too comfortable. Death doesn’t take lightly.

But anyways right, as everyone’s there standing around i know that it's gotta be me. I’m the one who’s been chosen for this and it's my actions that will save them all. I can just feel it. I’ve never been so certain of something in my life. And you know what the funny thing is, right. I’m twenty seven years old, this dream has been recurring since around the age of eight or nine or something like that. What’s that, something like nineteenish years? My point being that it's only very recently occurred to me that the chasm is no longer completely void. I fall through a place where the vanta black dream walls have been scrubbed away, it seems, through each connection I have made and with each connection I continue to make will scrub away this thin line that separates dreams from reality. I will be able to grasp at it with two separate persons and all this falling will finally make sense. Always falling.

[response]

I have an artistic eye. I can see the end, or at least I almost can. Flashes of fir trees flicker by, vermillion and hazel, dappled in the rays of the morning sun, meld into the icy dull bronze steel of train tracks that occasionally, exploding with a burst of white blue electricity that just as quickly changes into an orange ball that grows and forces the tracks, once parallel and ordered to split, trailing off in two separate directions cold metal becoming soft pink flesh, legs spread seductively, a colour so warm and inviting but then it snaps shut like a trap, some alligator’s jaws and there is only the steel grey blue of the towering skyscrapers the new ones made of glass, not the horrible old concrete brutalist ones standing tall in the golden hour. And it is when I gaze into the glass, almost conscious, almost lost, as the dreams grow heavy and distorted, that I see it. The most beautiful thing. The light seems to bounce and refract differently across every steel girder, every single shining pane of glass until I am completely surrounded by every colour imaginable. Crimsons, violets, cyan , orange all seem to consume me as they grow more intense and unbearable. They burst and decay, trickling and breaking upon one another, not light on or energy but liquid. And as these watercolours begin to settle and realign it is there that

I begin to see a shape forming. It is the answer to everything I have ever wondered about everything I have ever needed. It is so beautiful so subtle and brilliant. Just within reach. But then it's over, I lunge forward and grab with as much force as I can but I realise I am awake, jilted and sweating and incredibly upset but I don't know why. Grounded in the murky darkness of the room as the grey light from a clouded sky gradually seeps through the blinds.

[enraptured]

But here it finally is, this is it. I can finally reach out, smudge my finger with damp ink, and finally feel the shape of my dreams. It is perfect. Because I mean honestly everything else pales utterly in comparison. I don’t care about your rabbit in the headlights. I don’t want to hear about your pineapple pizzas. Does Not keep me up at night. I don’t care, plain and simple. I mean come on! I know I'm not the only person who sees things this way. It’ll all be worth it when I finally touch the painting.

[anticipating]

But I’m not going to.

[no longer caring about how she may react]

Actually now that I think about it you’re right. It is getting pretty late. I’m tired and I think maybe you should go. Nah don’t worry about the quarantine I always sneak through the roadblock by taking a detour through the park. I couldn’t care less.

[pizza]

Well to be completely honest I just realised that I can’t do this. I had you here, right where I wanted you but there just isn’t any point. No genuine connection will come from this? How could it? You fail to even think. There’s no way I want to create a bond with you. Imagine. Pineapples on a pizza. Its funny actually, I suppose I do find it to be quite an unpopular opinion.

[pizza]

Hmmm. Too aggressive. Not the outcome I had anticipated. Should try and be more coercive. I should practise again, she’ll be here soon.

[question]

Oh I try not to think about it too much. It’ll drive you crazy.