Monday, February 06, 2006
This Is Life
Evidently, my search for the inevitable came at its due course and clasped its grimy fingers at my throat and pulled me down, rather quickly, into its cave of oblivion. I don't remember if it is called the act of "individual revolution" or rather "cultural evolution" when one realizes that these memories and feelings of hopelessness are continuous, they are eternal and have been carried for thousands of years on the shoulders of other human thinkers, striking at random and leaving it up to the humans to blink and then collectively gather their hopelessness into strands of DNA and pass it on to the next of their kind.
A gift, the observer would say, to ease the pain.
It seems to be interrelated, that the objects of our concerns and desires are of enough importance that they occupy space and are labeled with yellow post-its that say "Important" and that we carry with us in our handbags while we climb and dig and grapple for an exit; ultimately, ending up on our backs (like cockroaches when they are found in your kitchen sink)
and having lost the post-its that we so interestingly pinned to our foreheads hoping that others would see that my "Important" is bigger then their "Important'.
Somehow, the great order of information ravages the people's minds, headlines settling into the creases of their cerebral cortex as they try and sift through the importance of language, as language occupies the very axis of the society. They struggle to understand simple reasons for religious cartoonists and mockery( for reactionaries, haters, lovers), for schoolchildren shot, for spaceships launched into the darkness, for endangered species, and new shampoo brands for family pets, for happy endings and sad endings, for Prince Charming and Beauty;
But, the observer will not move, not for the dying and not for the rich, not for the crazy nor for the simple-minded...The people will continue to staple their foreheads and the people will continue to struggle to say "I love you"....and the billions of dollars will keep coming, and they will keep going. Just as the ocean tide comes in at night, and leaves early in the morning.
A gift, the observer would say, to ease the pain.
It seems to be interrelated, that the objects of our concerns and desires are of enough importance that they occupy space and are labeled with yellow post-its that say "Important" and that we carry with us in our handbags while we climb and dig and grapple for an exit; ultimately, ending up on our backs (like cockroaches when they are found in your kitchen sink)
and having lost the post-its that we so interestingly pinned to our foreheads hoping that others would see that my "Important" is bigger then their "Important'.
Somehow, the great order of information ravages the people's minds, headlines settling into the creases of their cerebral cortex as they try and sift through the importance of language, as language occupies the very axis of the society. They struggle to understand simple reasons for religious cartoonists and mockery( for reactionaries, haters, lovers), for schoolchildren shot, for spaceships launched into the darkness, for endangered species, and new shampoo brands for family pets, for happy endings and sad endings, for Prince Charming and Beauty;
But, the observer will not move, not for the dying and not for the rich, not for the crazy nor for the simple-minded...The people will continue to staple their foreheads and the people will continue to struggle to say "I love you"....and the billions of dollars will keep coming, and they will keep going. Just as the ocean tide comes in at night, and leaves early in the morning.
