(no subject)
Für Elise, da da da da da, you know the rest.
The piano is one of those instruments so many people
learn to play. But not me. Ten fingers are too many
to use independently. I can only play dolphin-style.
But what about you? What turns your screws?
What is your passion? Someone told me once that
the first thing you think about when you wake up,
your first waking thought, that is your passion.
At the time, I said "my friends." He'd never heard
that response before. He gave me a free button.
But now my answer has changed. Now, I think about
how hungry I am. How tired I am. How much I wish
that G-d damned alarm clock would
just
shut
up.
What does that say about me? I know, you're not
a psychoanalyst. But let's pretend, shall we? Nobody
pretends anymore. Nobody plays games anymore. They
don't like to guess, they don't like surprises. Nobody
sees the beauty in putting on your coat, grabbing your
camera and a sawbuck and going somewhere you've
never been before. It's enough to sit in a room and
stare into a box. That's not to say that nothing
good has come of that, quite the contrary. But
this has allowed us to forget so much that used to contribute
to the human experience. So many of us have turned
to zombies. Oh no! Don't say the "zed word"!
What used to be taboo is now given free reign.
And those who wonder what happened to our values
are sometimes the same as those who wonder how a
civilized country can rightfully impose censorship.
Until they have children, that is.
Then, after they have the children, they get married
(for the children's sake) and then divorced
(for their own).
The first reasoning: "I don't want our kids growing up
in a split household."
The second: "I fucking hate you."
This will surely garner strong, confident adults in the
future who know exactly what they want--
But also know there's an easy way out of it if they
only forget about the feelings of everyone else involved.
Once in a while, two people do find each other
who love each other for who they are. They
want to get married, not only for the sake of children
(down the line), but for themselves as well.
This is progress. When standing atop a steel and concrete
structure 15 times taller than the average male, and you
look around and see black, solid rivers and tall, grey
spikes cutting up the earth around you,
You are supposed to say to yourself: My, how intelligent
we are. When you look at someone's color or religious
paraphernalia, and watch others with those more similar to
your own pushing them down (both physically and figuratively),
You are supposed to say to yourself: My, how advanced
we are. And when you look around yourself every day,
and you see people killing because of a vocalised idea, a highly-
praised square mile left of what was here before us,
and through it all have someone else ask you for a spare
penny or a cigarette, you are supposed to say to yourself:
My, how fortunate I am, to be from where I am with all
that has been given to me.
But what do you really say?
The piano is one of those instruments so many people
learn to play. But not me. Ten fingers are too many
to use independently. I can only play dolphin-style.
But what about you? What turns your screws?
What is your passion? Someone told me once that
the first thing you think about when you wake up,
your first waking thought, that is your passion.
At the time, I said "my friends." He'd never heard
that response before. He gave me a free button.
But now my answer has changed. Now, I think about
how hungry I am. How tired I am. How much I wish
that G-d damned alarm clock would
just
shut
up.
What does that say about me? I know, you're not
a psychoanalyst. But let's pretend, shall we? Nobody
pretends anymore. Nobody plays games anymore. They
don't like to guess, they don't like surprises. Nobody
sees the beauty in putting on your coat, grabbing your
camera and a sawbuck and going somewhere you've
never been before. It's enough to sit in a room and
stare into a box. That's not to say that nothing
good has come of that, quite the contrary. But
this has allowed us to forget so much that used to contribute
to the human experience. So many of us have turned
to zombies. Oh no! Don't say the "zed word"!
What used to be taboo is now given free reign.
And those who wonder what happened to our values
are sometimes the same as those who wonder how a
civilized country can rightfully impose censorship.
Until they have children, that is.
Then, after they have the children, they get married
(for the children's sake) and then divorced
(for their own).
The first reasoning: "I don't want our kids growing up
in a split household."
The second: "I fucking hate you."
This will surely garner strong, confident adults in the
future who know exactly what they want--
But also know there's an easy way out of it if they
only forget about the feelings of everyone else involved.
Once in a while, two people do find each other
who love each other for who they are. They
want to get married, not only for the sake of children
(down the line), but for themselves as well.
This is progress. When standing atop a steel and concrete
structure 15 times taller than the average male, and you
look around and see black, solid rivers and tall, grey
spikes cutting up the earth around you,
You are supposed to say to yourself: My, how intelligent
we are. When you look at someone's color or religious
paraphernalia, and watch others with those more similar to
your own pushing them down (both physically and figuratively),
You are supposed to say to yourself: My, how advanced
we are. And when you look around yourself every day,
and you see people killing because of a vocalised idea, a highly-
praised square mile left of what was here before us,
and through it all have someone else ask you for a spare
penny or a cigarette, you are supposed to say to yourself:
My, how fortunate I am, to be from where I am with all
that has been given to me.
But what do you really say?