(no subject)
I could be anywhere tomorrow. I could be rid of my life's work, severed at the umbilical cord of life, and sent into the abortive vacuums of the American Interstate Highways. I could be anywhere tomorrow. I could be halfway to the apartment upstairs, trying to find an argument with legs and willing to persuade them that their most beloved ideologies are false. I could be anyone I want now. I'm wise enough to know that you're only noticed if you're loud, if you're quiet then you're nothing. You can dissappear into the wild mists of humanity with greater invisibility than ever before. As Thomas Friedman's world becomes flat, so many of it's fertile corners become rounder, more baring of quiet places for humanity. Nature may have lost the great war against broom sticks, and silicone; but they have savored for this moment, to become the insurgency. So to the extent that I can still wander into a thickened wood and never be heard from again is still a very entertaining prospect.
I'll look back on this period and laugh, for it wasn't an unproductive time. Many things were devised and designed if not completed. My 17-year-old self would appreciate the poetic irony. When I awake, God reminds me he's here to rid us of tyranny, the world's most comprehensive and mortal sin. I've always wondered why godliness wasn't written into the commandments, but I guess in so many ways it's there all along-- in all ten of it's charges.
A flood of refugees, children in hand, bloodied and revealed as subjects of their species; yet belonging to one who will still allow them to live. Does government not separate us from the greater animal kingdom, or is the ant-hill truly a regime? They sit there in their pin-striped suits, their perfect shoes and tailored cufflinks. When will they come around to the rest of us? When will they join the ranks of the poor in finding out the glories of sleeping on a sidewalk for a night? I drown in my own tears to think of how they sit on top of their tallest trees, and climb all the way odwn just to catch a taxi for two blocks in the morning.
I don't feel sorry for them at all.
Never, never, never, never, never.
I'll look back on this period and laugh, for it wasn't an unproductive time. Many things were devised and designed if not completed. My 17-year-old self would appreciate the poetic irony. When I awake, God reminds me he's here to rid us of tyranny, the world's most comprehensive and mortal sin. I've always wondered why godliness wasn't written into the commandments, but I guess in so many ways it's there all along-- in all ten of it's charges.
A flood of refugees, children in hand, bloodied and revealed as subjects of their species; yet belonging to one who will still allow them to live. Does government not separate us from the greater animal kingdom, or is the ant-hill truly a regime? They sit there in their pin-striped suits, their perfect shoes and tailored cufflinks. When will they come around to the rest of us? When will they join the ranks of the poor in finding out the glories of sleeping on a sidewalk for a night? I drown in my own tears to think of how they sit on top of their tallest trees, and climb all the way odwn just to catch a taxi for two blocks in the morning.
I don't feel sorry for them at all.
Never, never, never, never, never.