that it looks exactly like what you picture in your head,
because ancient temples are so typical.
There are things I can’t read written on the walls,
but of course, if I were in a movie,
there would be someone with me
who somehow does know how to read this obscure text.
They would translate by moving
the flaming torch slowly along the walls
as the enigmatic carvings tell of something truly ominous
(because ancient temples always have
ominous things on their walls).
Anyways,
let’s say I manage to unlock a secret chamber
in this already secret temple
by putting together
the Shrine of the Silver Monkey
(which,
for having only three parts,
is so much harder than it looks,
and I regret yelling at those kids on TV
for not being able to do it faster),
and in this chamber there is
a jewel-encrusted box.
Well, one would hope that this box contains
the Crystal Skull or magic lamp or whatever,
but deep inside I have this nagging fear that
the jewel-encrusted box does not contain what I seek—
that it will instead hold a riddle or clue as to the real location
of whatever wonderful artifact I am questing for,
because ancient temples are disappointing in that way.
And it’s probably laden with traps
and this temple is probably going to implode
as soon as I open the box,
because
temples are made by really sadistic assholes
who seem to get a real kick out of knowing
that thousands of years later,
they’re gonna squish some unfortunate adventurer
by dropping boulders on him
or
something.
So why am I even here? Why am I buying into this cliché?
Ever seen Indiana Jones?
He didn’t give a shit
about rationality or survival.
He just went with it.
And if a boulder came rolling his way,
he ran.
I wanna live like that.
I want to suspend disbelief
like the hopeful rope
that suspends an unlucky explorer
over
a pit of snakes
or
lava.
I want to live like that.
