A random bicyclist looks on on the fourth of July, Golden Gate Park, S.F.
A random bicyclist looks on on the fourth of July, Golden Gate Park, S.F.
"Why do you want to have a baby with me? You can’t stand me."
"That’s not true!"
Awkward silence — Meryl’s eyes light up with an idea as she turns around
(in a peppy, contrived voice)
"Why don’t you let me fix you some of this new Mococoa drink? All natural cocoa beans from the upper slopes of Mount Nicaragua, no artificial sweeteners!"
"What the hell are you talkin’ about?" Looks around incredulously — "Who are you talkin’ to?" Truman asks deliberately as his eyebrows shoot up and his irises dart left to right along with his head; Truman suppinates both of his palms — almost begging that she present some person, some reason for her spontaneous incorporated plug
"I’ve tasted other cocoa’s; this is the best," Meryl says as she taps the lid, a pasted on smile stretched across her lips.
"— the hell does this have to do with anything," Truman enquires as he spreads out his arms, looking around the room — almost inspiring the question of the bigger picture. He advances toward her, and nearly yells the end of the sentence "Tell me what’s HAPPENING!"
"Well, you’re having a nervous breakdown, that’s what’s happening." Meryl says this with fear in her eyes, a failure to understand what Truman seeks — an inability to give it to him or even comprehend its importance.
Truman’s eyes squint and his finger pointedly, accusatorily enforces his question “You’re part of this aren’t you?”
Meryl pulls out her consumer product threateningly. The “Chef’s Pal”, grater, dicer, peeler. “Truman.”
Truman gasps, “Meryl!”
"You. Are. Scaring me." Meryl swings the tri-pronged Chef’s Pal from left to right, at the level of Truman’s neck.
Truman just shakes his head, “You’re scaring me Meryl.”
Truman jukes left, “Dice me! Slice me, or peel me. There are so many choices!” Truman yells the last word as he grabs Meryl’s outstretched right arm and pulls her into him, like one would apprehend a hostage in front of a gunman.
Truman struggles to pull the utensil from her hands, and as it jerks free Meryl yells, “Do something!” Her eyes go fearfully vacant as she realizes what she’s said, what she has given away. The epiphany, for Truman, causes him to furrow his brow in disbelief — his mouth hangs slightly open, speechless. He looks beyond her, not at her.
And, with the film paused, you’re surprised to realize that this crucial moment, this climax, is not being directly portrayed. You’ve been put into the position of another spectator. We subjectively watch someone else watching television. In other words, you’re not watching the moment, you’re watching another television depict the moment. Beyond merely being removed from the moment, you are subjected to the point of view of a spectator living in the world in which The Truman Show exists as a form of entertainment — a mixture of advertising, life, and supposed genuineness.
Even as children we vaguely understand the purpose and raison d’etre of a corporation; and so, when we observe a brand name that produces divers, and greatly disparate, designs, we doubt. For example, the company Yamaha, I first knew, produces motorcycles; Living in China, though, I noted that the drums and cymbals in our music rooms were also Yamaha. I think the abnormality that we experience — “Oh, Hyundai also produces computer monitors?” — in incredulity is indicative of a more acute understanding of what corporations ought to be. They’re not meant merely to promise professionalism, but to ensure experience. A brand name ought to convey some sense of strong familiarity with the type of thing that they are peddling. Would YOU want Pepto Bismol to begin selling you potato chips? Or how about Coca Cola determining what is healthy for you? Sure, these examples are paradigmatic of opposing worlds, but the point being made is clear enough, I think: that corporations specialize in specific products, and deviating from those degrades the identification of brand names with certain sorts of things — suddenly brand names become something more, they become wealthy conglomerates capable of creating and distributing designs to which they claim no connection other than cash moneyz.
The question that presents itself is: does pecuniary worth really prove itself to be a commendable testament to quality, to experience and intimate knowledge?
More exemplary, would capital, alone, convince you to trust someone in the production of food?
Now, I don’t intentionally mean, here, to be referring to Monsanto, but I do believe their model to be perfect for the question that I am asking.
So, again, more specific and down-to-earth: do you trust a company, who started out by producing pesticides, to determine what your food requires to be healthy, merely due to their enormous coffers?
"Ain’t nobody got time for that!" is the new motto. Only memes embody the desirable level of simplicity now.
I don’t typically prefer video, or photography for that matter, to words. I must concede, though, that video is far more accessible, regardless of the fact that even video is receiving less and less attention in an age where brevity is boasted.
I was told I should start a video blog. I think this is due to a combination of reasons; it certainly renders my thoughts more able to be apprehended. I think one reason is that my thoughts, informed by a variety of cultures and peoples, are encompassingly sensible, for the most part. The other part, the intellectuality of my thought process, is impermeable; enigmatically dense, I have trouble connecting my diction to anyone unfazed by ebullience.
On what would I even begin a video blog?
Well, I find it maddening that a greater portion of our population is content with inaction. Thus, I believe a video blog of mine would be focused not centrally on politics, but on the innate power of informed citizens, what it takes to be an informed citizen, and how glorious autonomy stems from duty, not freedom.
Grasping our power consists of many steps, and requires the ecstatic release of triviality. This includes adamantly asserting that you are not a consumer, that you may not deserve freedom, and that you have the power to be anything. Pledging allegiance to anything less is selling yourself short.
So, while the blog would not be on politics, it would often touch upon the subject due to the fact that nearly everything you do is political. This is power. When you realize that someone tracks your cellphone when you walk into Safeway, that the Mac and Cheese you buy motivates corporate entities to market to you, or that even your Google searches for “what is the difference between organic and conventionally grown food?” motivate business men to cater to your desires.
Let me say that again: Businessmen cater to your desires.
In other words, you can manipulate them.
Imagine if you desired to use that power. Imagine if Americans actually desired knowledge about political issues and a manner in which to effect their preferences.
Currently, we don’t elect the president; you’re misunderstanding the electoral college if you think your vote really counts.
My ideal situation is this:
What would happen if all the citizens in our country voted for a third party presidential candidate and the electoral college put a Republican in office? Is that Democracy?
Is there such a thing as quick wisdom? Could I offer small snippet posts that encourage people to be better, to be greater, to be more dedicated?
How short would wisdom have to be grasp our attention — to arrest those living within an age of “Now…This”?
Back to you, Reddit.
Game of Thrones.
16 and Pregnant, South Park, Pinterest, The Bachelor, yada yada yada
Wait…you’re still here. Why? Because you’re something different.
What would I need to do to hold your attention for just five minutes? Would I need to use small words? Should I craft some elaborate story that, by its action and intensity, arrests your attention? No. That wouldn’t do it.
It would, I think, only be by an appeal to a strong interest of yours that I could hold you being me. I find you odd, in light of that, since we do indeed connect on something, but something which might be more universal than you’re used to. …we’re both American.
Sure, this applies to both of us, but it doesn’t seem to provide any suitable topic for five minutes of thought. Politics is boring, and current events often take a backseat to those stronger interests mentioned above.
So what, if anything, is worthy to be thought about that strikes the chord of our national identification? How about your power?
Sure, sure, I don’t know you, but I do know your power. This I know by virtue of your being an American. You come from a tradition of power, of freedom and duty. And, cousin, that power is beyond anything you could imagine. Consider, especially, that you have the world at your very fingertips in this instant.
In a moment you could travel to Greece (Google), or check on your fantasy football league. You could message your friend in England and even motivate people in China to build something. Okay, okay, due to your age you may not have the funds to order something elaborate from China, but you get my point: your power is not limited by borders or geography. Anyway, it is you younger citizens, my peers, to whom I wish to connect, and it’s not as if I’m swimming in cash either.
Besides the very machine at which you sit enhancing your power geographically, you have, also, the force necessary to make both lawmakers and enforcers scramble — scramble to detain you, or scramble to change for you. This doesn’t even touch upon the grasp which you have over corporate entities.
There is a danger: you were never taught to use this power. Nor were you ever told that you had it. Ignorant of its capabilities, you have been living under the yoke of those who have figured out how to use this power, and how to use it over you.
This power is called becoming, because it is by becoming your imagination that you can externalize it, that you can change your environment. It is only by truly imagining it that runners complete 26.2 mile marathons, or that actors embody the character of another.
To actually accomplish anything, all that fate requires is a determined process of imagining that that something is already complete. Becoming anything requires the acknowledgement that we already are that thing.
The imagination is connected to the will. Using them together is the way to get stuff done. Imagine the kitchen clean, will it so and it will be so. It is almost as if you’re dedicating your mind to occupation. One idea dominates it, imbues it, becomes it. Cleaning the kitchen requires becoming a clean kitchen. The becoming is within as well as without. It is by the acceptance of the self becoming something else that the will may be exercised.
You want to become a fireman? Become a fireman – and all the little pieces, even those that are dictated by placements in a sequence, that belong to the them. Find the common little pieces and anything can be yours.
The ability to become anything is directly correlative to the ability to get a six pack. If you want to know how to get that, stay tuned.
The incendiary passion which engulfs my soul is restless, motivating me to motion. I can no longer silently and passively absorb the apathetic acceptance of the state of affairs we have sanctioned as a state. In an age where technology puts every other citizen mere inches from another, it is preposterous that we have not reached out in every single way possible to voice our discontent, a discontent which connects each one of us. This insanity is programmatic: it is by the triviality of television that the truth does not arrest us.
I should expect that the truth of a state transgressing, going beyond, its declared foundations would furnish citizens with such anger that they would recognize their own power: the law is ours. Should we determine G.W. Bush to be a war criminal we need only gather a group large enough to imprison him. A citizens’ arrest, it seems, is becoming the only true avenue.
In a nation that truly valued freedom Edward Snowden would not have to hide, such a man would be protected by every nearby neighbour. Surely we must agree: any level of secrecy sanctions unchecked secrecy, for how would secrecy be regulated? Such a thought is contradictory. To regulate secrecy is to know the content and thus render it public. Secrecy will never find transparency — it will wriggle out from under the thumb of any regulator.
I hope to connect to every American. It is you who holds my future. When we cease to see each other as Democrat, Republican, feminist, jock, consumer, Marxist, Italian, geek, and begin to apply the label “American” liberally to all who are — only then will the divisions that deter us from excellence melt. It is only by the thought that we are separate that we disagree, and lead ourselves into an abyss of apathy, of failure.
Just care. Start there.
We stand stark naked in a moment that will forever be recorded; the Allies allowed Adolf to cross the Rhineland and what proceeded from there, we all remember. Now, Israel has become the first state to abdicate a UN human rights forum…about them! What comes next is sure to be recorded; though as to the solidity of that record I may not speak, only its enormity. https://rt.com/news/israel-human-rights-boycott-032/
Fulfillment or satisfaction is not a goal. In and of itself, it a by-product of a goal, a work we perform, it is what is derived from what we do well during that work. Fulfillment is not permanent, it can be persistent and long lasting, yet it can be fleeting if not cared for tenderly and…