i've been reading a lot of political and social criticism lately--chomsky, mailer, vidal and the like. it's got me to thinking about my own views, as murky as those may be. i definitely feel passionate about certain topics (personal freedom, equality, fair distribution of power, etc.) but i wouldn't identify myself as one group or the other. i guess, for lack of a better term, i'm a libertarian, though conservatives have recently pretty much corrupted that word, as they do with so many other things, so i'm a bit hesitant, as you might imagine, to throw it around without first considering my audience--that is, assuming anyone gives a damn (and they don't).
one of the things i've been thinking about is the idea of power. furthermore, how it is often, if not always, misrepresented in every political system. it's terrifying, not to mention, fundamentally wrong, how accepting we have become of the current system. we elect officials, other human beings masquerading as moral demigods, to police our own private affairs--to govern our world and enact principles which we are forced to believe in. i say "forced" because, if we had it our way, things like taxes and legislation on certain issues wouldn't concern us in the least bit. they are government-made ideas, yet they affect us, because we let it. we allow the government to play the role of mommy and daddy anytime we run into a crisis. rather than solve it ourselves, we rely on our leaders to decide what is right or wrong in each particular case. to me, that is a very scary notion.
what would happen, i wonder, if we all just stopped participating in elections and so forth? like a child, if we stopped encouraging the government by paying it attention? would this empower them stop performing for the people and decide things amongst themselves, no longer having to prance around in their little game of magical pr theatre? or would it dissolve altogether, become obsolete, finally restoring, and forgive the cliche, power to the people? i don't know. and part of me really, genuinely doesn't care.
thus far in my life i've managed to avoid politics on any direct level, that is through actual participation, and it's resulted in no great loss on my part. i pat attention, of course, watching the constant political metamorphosis unfolding all the time, always in flux, and i sometimes offer critiques, generally accepted by my like-minded, similarly-oriented friends, but i never get my hands dirty in it, so to speak. i just let it happen. and, honestly, it's never affected me in any tangible way. i've never felt the long dick of the law first-hand even when so many others have. it makes me wonder if it even matters at all. i'm sure it does. but until i experience it, bodily, personally, i will never know. then again, we all know what happens when you tempt big brother. we all know what happens when you direct your frustrations at god and start to question his existence. you get struck down. by lightning. maybe just a little taste of electricity, a little spark, is all i need to fucking rail.
the point is: i know i'm getting screwed. i can feel it. something's not right. something in my mind tells me i'm getting hosed. but i don't know how.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Saturday, June 26, 2010
vague projection for the not so distant future:
a world in which it had exceeded high-fashion, becoming the norm, for men and women and everyone in between and off the grid to make routine visits to the personality modification center for some fine-tweaking of their less than charming intellectual and idiosyncratic make-up. a world in which people paraded around stupid and proud of their mutant genitals, balloon size tits and farm animal dicks, prolapsed labias, unfolding like exploded cauliflower, cruelly subjected to the microwave, statuesque gods and goddesses with cut abs and high foreheads and broad pecs, a cartoon world of likable/fuckable walking advertisements, pornographic souls, fucking without purpose.
a world in which it had exceeded high-fashion, becoming the norm, for men and women and everyone in between and off the grid to make routine visits to the personality modification center for some fine-tweaking of their less than charming intellectual and idiosyncratic make-up. a world in which people paraded around stupid and proud of their mutant genitals, balloon size tits and farm animal dicks, prolapsed labias, unfolding like exploded cauliflower, cruelly subjected to the microwave, statuesque gods and goddesses with cut abs and high foreheads and broad pecs, a cartoon world of likable/fuckable walking advertisements, pornographic souls, fucking without purpose.
Monday, June 21, 2010
well
there's a widely accepted belief, outside of the church, that in order to be a christian one must believe the creation story literally as it is ostensibly documented in the bible. in fact, as a christian myself, i even believed this. which, for me, was always pretty problematic as there are a number of obvious glaring inaccuracies in the biblical account.
after reading the first two chapters of genesis tonight, however, and doing some additional research, i've come to accept the view held by the catholic church that the creation story is nothing more than an anachronistic interpretation presented by people (both the author of genesis and the latter translators) with a very particular and limited notion of cosmology and science. the original text, or the earliest known source, alludes to a firmament (heaven) dividing what was believed to be the "celestial waters," probably what they believed to be something akin to a leaking river--the source of rainwater--and the terrestrial waters (i.e. seas, oceans, rivers, etc.--bodies of water found on earth). when i first read the passage i was confused. obviously, we all know, now anyway, that there is no celestial body of water--and that rain is a product of condensation. but this was as of yet undiscovered in the time genesis was written.
equally problematic is the notion of "the firmament," which most sources define as a dome or shell. this is what the author of genesis believed to make up heaven and, furthermore, to divide the two bodies of water. perhaps this notion still holds up and heaven is unable to be seen. maybe it's its own invisible atmospheric structure, containing undiscovered matter which exists in some other dimension or what-have-you--matter which makes up its very physical (or something other than physical) structure and the inhabitants therein. maybe even, in a eerie instance of prescience, whoever wrote genesis knew about the atmosphere and this is what he means when he says "firmament" and that heaven itself is not visible to the naked eye, like i said, it could be composed of some sort of strange physical make-up. who knows? it could be made up of anything. either way, the important thing is that the catholic church, as i'm sure other churches do as well, openly acknowledges that the creation story is nothing more than some old dude's best guess at how things actually happened. it is not to be taken literally. they even say, on the website i found, that, in the vulgate interpretation of the text, at the time the bible was translated into either latin or hebrew and greek (i forget) it was believed that the stars were hung from the ceiling of this massive dome-structure (the firmament) and strung all around the earth. we know though that this is not true and that the stars are far more vast and reside in a realm far beyond our solar system. therefore, we are able to disprove certain historical interpretations of the creation story and also the primary text, as it does not align with scientific fact. that's not to say, however, that the entire bible is completely false or that christianity is wrong because inaccuracies can be found within this primary text. we have to understand that the bible was written by humans, restricted by their own time-particular worldview with their own notions of how the world and universe operate and that they were only trying their best to make sense of what they felt compelled to write. what they were trying to communicate, the spirit of the text, is essentially rigid and unable to be scrutinized, not unlike a poor adaptation of a very complex script.
anyway....
after reading the first two chapters of genesis tonight, however, and doing some additional research, i've come to accept the view held by the catholic church that the creation story is nothing more than an anachronistic interpretation presented by people (both the author of genesis and the latter translators) with a very particular and limited notion of cosmology and science. the original text, or the earliest known source, alludes to a firmament (heaven) dividing what was believed to be the "celestial waters," probably what they believed to be something akin to a leaking river--the source of rainwater--and the terrestrial waters (i.e. seas, oceans, rivers, etc.--bodies of water found on earth). when i first read the passage i was confused. obviously, we all know, now anyway, that there is no celestial body of water--and that rain is a product of condensation. but this was as of yet undiscovered in the time genesis was written.
equally problematic is the notion of "the firmament," which most sources define as a dome or shell. this is what the author of genesis believed to make up heaven and, furthermore, to divide the two bodies of water. perhaps this notion still holds up and heaven is unable to be seen. maybe it's its own invisible atmospheric structure, containing undiscovered matter which exists in some other dimension or what-have-you--matter which makes up its very physical (or something other than physical) structure and the inhabitants therein. maybe even, in a eerie instance of prescience, whoever wrote genesis knew about the atmosphere and this is what he means when he says "firmament" and that heaven itself is not visible to the naked eye, like i said, it could be composed of some sort of strange physical make-up. who knows? it could be made up of anything. either way, the important thing is that the catholic church, as i'm sure other churches do as well, openly acknowledges that the creation story is nothing more than some old dude's best guess at how things actually happened. it is not to be taken literally. they even say, on the website i found, that, in the vulgate interpretation of the text, at the time the bible was translated into either latin or hebrew and greek (i forget) it was believed that the stars were hung from the ceiling of this massive dome-structure (the firmament) and strung all around the earth. we know though that this is not true and that the stars are far more vast and reside in a realm far beyond our solar system. therefore, we are able to disprove certain historical interpretations of the creation story and also the primary text, as it does not align with scientific fact. that's not to say, however, that the entire bible is completely false or that christianity is wrong because inaccuracies can be found within this primary text. we have to understand that the bible was written by humans, restricted by their own time-particular worldview with their own notions of how the world and universe operate and that they were only trying their best to make sense of what they felt compelled to write. what they were trying to communicate, the spirit of the text, is essentially rigid and unable to be scrutinized, not unlike a poor adaptation of a very complex script.
anyway....
Sunday, June 20, 2010
omg
Dear Walt Disney Pictures and John Revolt-a,
Please cease distributing intellectual smut to Baby Boomers.
Thank You.
http://www.warpigsmovie.com/about.html
Please cease distributing intellectual smut to Baby Boomers.
Thank You.
http://www.warpigsmovie.com/about.html
shadow
well, admittedly, she said, it is thrilling to see how far or detached from yourself you can get and still manage to return. i guess that's why i do what i do. that's why i drink and that's why i smoke.
pot? he asked.
yeah. pot. cigarettes. i mean, i'm young. i'm carefree. so why not, right?
she took a drag off her cigarette. he watched the thin smoke escape from her dry lips and into the dry air, getting tangled in the simple design of the gate. he adjusted himself to a more comfortable position on the bleachers and tried to make peace with the sun which was bearing down on them now, in the middle of the afternoon, in full force. he tried to convince himself that he was benefiting from its cruel heat--that, if nothing else, at least he'd walk away from this a little more tanned--worked over/upon just as a grunt is subjected to many grueling physical challenges upon entering the service and enduring boot camp. it was a rite of passage, in a way. but to what? and for what? he didn't know.
so, tell me about literature, he said. do you like it? i mean, what are you hoping to do with such a--.
but the words did not come. they rarely did. it could have been the heat. it could have been any number of things, relevant, causal or otherwise.
with such a ridiculous major? she asked. i'll tell you what, i don't know. i really don't. i'll probably wind up at a burger joint or some crappy entry level whatever, but that doesn't really bother me. the time came for me to choose a major, a life path, one that would determine the direction of everything for me and i choked. i chose literature. because i like to read. if you ask me, it's too much pressure, you know, for someone to just sit down, especially so young, and decide the rest of their life depending on how they feel on a particular day when they're eighteen.
yeah. he said. but you had a few years to think it out.
true. but, all the same, how the hell am i supposed to know what kind of job or, heavens, career, i'm going to find rewarding or fulfilling or distracting enough when the only jobs i've worked are shitty waitressing jobs. how am i supposed to know, to just know, when i'm 17 what i'm going to find enjoyable at 27 or 37 or 47 and so on and so--.
i don't know. that's a good point.
...later....
pot? he asked.
yeah. pot. cigarettes. i mean, i'm young. i'm carefree. so why not, right?
she took a drag off her cigarette. he watched the thin smoke escape from her dry lips and into the dry air, getting tangled in the simple design of the gate. he adjusted himself to a more comfortable position on the bleachers and tried to make peace with the sun which was bearing down on them now, in the middle of the afternoon, in full force. he tried to convince himself that he was benefiting from its cruel heat--that, if nothing else, at least he'd walk away from this a little more tanned--worked over/upon just as a grunt is subjected to many grueling physical challenges upon entering the service and enduring boot camp. it was a rite of passage, in a way. but to what? and for what? he didn't know.
so, tell me about literature, he said. do you like it? i mean, what are you hoping to do with such a--.
but the words did not come. they rarely did. it could have been the heat. it could have been any number of things, relevant, causal or otherwise.
with such a ridiculous major? she asked. i'll tell you what, i don't know. i really don't. i'll probably wind up at a burger joint or some crappy entry level whatever, but that doesn't really bother me. the time came for me to choose a major, a life path, one that would determine the direction of everything for me and i choked. i chose literature. because i like to read. if you ask me, it's too much pressure, you know, for someone to just sit down, especially so young, and decide the rest of their life depending on how they feel on a particular day when they're eighteen.
yeah. he said. but you had a few years to think it out.
true. but, all the same, how the hell am i supposed to know what kind of job or, heavens, career, i'm going to find rewarding or fulfilling or distracting enough when the only jobs i've worked are shitty waitressing jobs. how am i supposed to know, to just know, when i'm 17 what i'm going to find enjoyable at 27 or 37 or 47 and so on and so--.
i don't know. that's a good point.
...later....
hunched up in a blanket with a coffee and the tube for society
it's comforting
to leave the tv on
it's not just familiar voices
but the images
millions of scrambled images
waiting to be half-digested
as i'm dozing off
the best way to learn anything
about yourself
or the world
is to write about it
to think about it
and thereby define
your limitations
i wonder if anything
is truly inexpressible
to leave the tv on
it's not just familiar voices
but the images
millions of scrambled images
waiting to be half-digested
as i'm dozing off
the best way to learn anything
about yourself
or the world
is to write about it
to think about it
and thereby define
your limitations
i wonder if anything
is truly inexpressible
Sunday, June 13, 2010
an unfortunate way to die
when they found her
her skin hanging loosely
from her skeleton
her bones wrapped
entangled in the steering wheel
her brain had been
punctured
by her index finger
which was lodged crudely
through her right nostril
i don't know how it happened
they said
but she was definitely
digging for gold.
her skin hanging loosely
from her skeleton
her bones wrapped
entangled in the steering wheel
her brain had been
punctured
by her index finger
which was lodged crudely
through her right nostril
i don't know how it happened
they said
but she was definitely
digging for gold.
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