Sunday, July 29, 2012

Mean People Suck , but you knew that . .


                             

Yesterday there was a public massacre in Aurora Colorado, and this morning there were actually human beings calling for more guns. Albert Einstein, Rita Mae Browne, or some other very smart person generally described a tenuous hold on reality thusly: "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again but expecting different results." Those asking for more weapons in the wake of Aurora's tragedy are prime examples of that species of moron who still believe there is a legitimate war, anywhere. In the face of greater restrictions on personal freedom our handlers have hit on the brilliant, albeit bloody, solution of goading the herd into thinning itself. Though this is like most ingenious human ideas - warmed over gruel from some previous epoch. Today's handlers with superior communication and herding techniques have most people believing we are on the "brink;" exactly what we're on the brink of is never made clear, but something. So we strive to prepare while the hairs on our necks remain on end and our trigger-fingers become more and more sensitive. 

As with any violent population - someone has to be in charge, otherwise things spiral into wanton waste of personnel and ammunition which simply won't do, especially in this time of austerity. The grand puppeteers understand this principal all too well, constantly searching for the appropriate empty suit to project onto whatever billboard of whatever political spectrum the "media gang of 5" is goosing at any given moment. This competition to be "the" empty suit is how the 1% motivates the public, like David O. Selznick's search for Scarlet O'Hara in "Gone with the Wind;" except now we're looking for John Wayne; Colonel John "Hannibal" Smith from the "A Team," or whatever echo of America's greatness that fits the moral cavity left by empty shelves in this ravaged economy. It is not difficult to identify wannabes running for leadership roles in this leaderless culture, they have tattoos; shaved heads and pit bulls on their wrists like batons from a "Keystone Cops" comedy gone wrong; or "White Bread" with his manicured nails; Brooks Brothers Suits and best wines sipping from the balcony at the right zip code; or "Bubba" and his King Cab with latest labor saving tools and more free time with which to wage epic battles on his brand new x-box annihilating foreigners with high scores, or obliterating objects with NRA surrogates for his or her flacid phallus - free from finesse or craft.  

Appearances can be deceiving, for however sheepish we've become; remnants of gumption and independence percolate everywhere; individuals surface from the pack; especially ones that want to call the shots. Yet, how does one rule a people cued to each flashing new distraction flitting across the monitor? For students of media, we are fortunate to live in an age where examples of power are on display everywhere, though one must have an easy relationship with fear - not in the sense of being self-aware to the corrosive effects of constant dread, but an easy capacity for illiciting fear instantly, anywhere in anybody. Scoff, but how else could the leader of the "Free World" be warm and nurturing while targeting our weapons on the huddled masses yearning mostly to breathe the free air of a sacred homeland? This confusion about what strength is has come at a cost; we now wallow in an existential shallow; we become a mean people in nearly every sense of the word, especially cheap . .

adj \ˈmēn\


Definition of MEAN
1: lacking distinction or eminence : humble
2: lacking in mental discrimination : dull
3 a : of poor shabby inferior quality or status <mean city streets>
b : worthy of little regard : contemptible — often used in negative constructions as a term of praise <no mean feat>
4: lacking dignity or honor : base
5 a penurious : stingy
b : characterized by petty selfishness or malice
c : causing trouble or bother : vexatious 

Mean seems to have become the elixir of choice for adapting to a world gone haywire, nations daring to challenge this former bastion of democracy, or at least the most highly developed example of democracy; well maybe what had once been a "good idea until greed got in the way" as Bob Dylan pointed out. We seem to have lost generosity of spirit, confusing material generosity with which consumer coercion lines the pockets of the "Royal" 1%, sacrifing the nobility of character which rejoiced when Nelson Mandela gave the world a new definition of moral courage, or the kid with brass testicles in Tiananmen Square facing down a tank - that used to be us. Now we are fat, slack and lazy; allowing ourselves to be ripped-off by the "in crowd" from high school - and I liked some of those guys. But today they are not content to be popular, they have taken what had been a juvenile capacity to zero-out your self-worth and now zero-out your net worth as well as that of your children, their children and their children's children .  .  .

The average shmo on Main Street USA was at one time a pretty savvy character - savvy enough to demand and receive a weekend; a living wage; and a place at the table. "Working stiffs" didn't get the seat at the head of the table, but the-powers-that-be were forced to keep their attack dogs on a leash. Today those attack dogs have become the ministers at the Ruling Class Church of Hate. We are now so effectively polarized we cannot accept or even entertain valid points the "other side" makes. This unwillingness to concede a position is at the heart of our breakdown as a civil society. We have given so much credence to the 5 corporations controlling 96% of all U.S. media that we no longer seek knowledge from each other, much less learn from our "bitter" enemies. Rather we more and more resemble the Taliban with our assault on women and our slavish adherence to the rigid ayatollahs inhabiting our spiritual vacuum. It is all illusion; the guy at the local market or woman standing across from you at the gas pump has more understanding of your world and its challenges than any talking head, newspaper, or big shot demanding, and getting your fear and obedience. The people in our daily lives are not the enemy, we must stop treating each other as disposable waste and learn to cherish our common history of overthrowing tyrants of all stripes, scale and stature. Like the old adage, please keep in mind "there is no such thing as gravity - the earth sucks;" so too, my friends, do mean people.


Monday, July 16, 2012

pain





I caused my mother pain before i knew
i’d be delivered folded at the waist.
My lungs filled with fluid before age two;
the one thing i wanted, i got no taste.

Bob Dylan - “behind every beautiful
thing there’s been some kind of pain.” he is right.
If i could have chosen what kind of school,
I would do the same, even with foresight.

To see beauty is good use of my being;
to not hurt others, would be beautiful.
If not me, others will be born in pain
Mother and child, with or without prayer pull.
 
Maybe in time, with love and tenderness,
we’ll find beauty sweet minus bitterness


jts 19 July 2012
hbd ma

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Watering the Fountains



At 57 I have made the leap into my future in such a way as to prevent any real escape, as though that was possible. My early life was spent in service of the practical measures of making my own way as we all must. I was armed with self discipline as my grub stake and an exaggerated belief in the force of my talent. My great good fortune was to have been the child of cogent parents along with all the misfortune that comes from learning - doubt/certainty, fear/arrogance, strength and frailty. Now that these qualities have been beaten to a mash that nourishes the simple hope for a future for our species, I am no longer thrall to the illusion of significance, yet I have become acutely aware of the importance of doing something - anything. It will not be enough for me to live out my days knowing if there is cosmic royalty, I am the fool for that court. The outside chance that I will leave something other than dust from this rich human experience compels me to reach beyond my convictions to that intangible intersection of human understanding and the void in which we are suspended.

The future in which I have landed consists mostly of work, a deliberate move on my part; it seems to me that of all the improvements to our human condition, none has "manifested" without effort. I also accept my position flies in the face of conventional wisdom where labor saving has brought us such innovations as efficiency without a love of the craft; jobs that we pay to have; communities to which we must have an internet pass, and ideals that are only honored by donation. Nor does my future align with consensus; generally if agreement is the cost of admission it becomes more of a spectator sport. My thinking is if I am to spend so much of my distant future as scattered remnants of the rumpled eccentric who conjures these ideas before you, then I'd better get well and accustomed to being in the elements as they say. It is not a real problem, for my learned parents also imbued me with a warm affiliation with the earth, digging and rolling around in it comes quite naturally to me, far more so than the contortions I need to go through when in society.

So, though I have lept into the path of my rapidly onrushing future like some game of urban chicken with the subway trains, I've allowed for the remote possibility that my buffoonery for our celestial deities is more pointed than simple humor - that there may even be a higher purpose for my fixation on things creative - carved icons of an age gone by. Nor have I limited my existential product line to high art. During the financial rigors of my last marriage I assembled the principle parts of a small fabrication shop in which I could build stacked rock water fountains. People being comprised largely of minerals and water seem mollified by water cascading over stone, whether this novel product will ever rival the hula-hoop or the NBA for the elusive consumer hunger which so effortlessly finances the conspicuous consumption of our new earthly royalty - the 1% - that will just have to play itself out. My responsibility is not to change the course of human history, but to change the course of my own life. To that end, I have removed myself to a remote location at the southern foot of the Sierra Nevadas, and am in the process of casting my lot with the vagaries of chance, rather than remain on a path of incremental security and it's incremental death.

This choice serves multiple functions; I am well aware of my special place as fool to the g_ds, for without their laughter my tenuous position, only becomes serious. What could be funnier than an old man taking a run at the profile necessary to sell high art in a low world? Not only making a claim for significance of an art that heretofore consisted as an aside to the important conversations of the inner sanctum i.e. "yes, well you know, he carves stone," or "yes, but he iscreative," and the ever useful "I like it, but not for my house," but throwing my lot in with the characters living in the margins outside the easy urban containment of modern culture. If I am the only one who sees this as funny, it won't be the first time that has happened, nor the last. But I have done something, I am not waiting for the noose to tighten slowly innervating my belief in a better world; strangulating every better impulse I have used to slog my way through the decay and misery of a collapsing culture. I have only myself to blame for any misery I find, and if there is no moisture, no wellspring or g_d forbid no energy left in my arm to search for beauty - who wants to live like that?

So my days are spent shedding the notion that creativity is for others, the anointed. I must continually correct the language which castigates my higher inclination to find beauty through my own efforts rather than subscribe to the special approval of the teacher, the market, the gang and even the exalted opinion of one's parents. Nor do I have the luxury of turning my back on the very good intentions of my upbringing, for it is that upbringing which has allowed me to arrive at this happy junction in my life. The nexus of my history and my future which includes the abandonment of hope that there will be someone, somewhere that is more important to me than I am to myself - an elusive concept which brings us full circle to the contradictions of most thought. For though there is no one single person as important to my interests as myself - all people are vastly more important to me than I could ever be to myself (regardless of D.E. Tuppins' admonition" after me, you come first.") For just like my fountain; once it is made; once it is on and the water begins to work its magic for all, the entropy of the void prevails and the water is returned to its source. We humans for all of our hubris, for all of our weakness, for all of our ignorance remain the only ones able to replenish our own wells.

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