THE GREAT GADFLY:

Matrix, Schmatrix - I Said I Wanted More Ham



I feel like I'm trapped in a society that prizes the length of process over the quality of the end product, which might be a great philosophy if I were a priest or a monk or some shit, but I'm not. I work in a world with deadlines and status reports and productivity quotas and blather blather blather, and I can't help but feel that to be an effective "professional", it is necessary to fetishize stress by way of cramming as many steps as possible into a process so you can create a photo finish moment for yourself - simplification of any given process is not reflective of the appearance of working hard, you see. And we must maintain a sufficient appearance of toil at all times, because we take pride in our hard work...uh, whatEVER it is we're doing....

Here's another thing I'm tired of: the either/or mentality. Black or white. Hot or cold. This or that. My opinion or your opinion. East or West. Hawk or dove. Pro- or anti-. Has existence become so digitalized that the way we form thoughts has been reduced to binary strings of ones and zeros? This made me crazy earlier in the year, when that whole war thing happened. Which, um...we DID, like, go to war earlier this year, didn't we? Or did I dream that? I dreamt this morning that I was in the back of a bus with Moby and a 400 lb. Samoan drum-n-bass DJ, and we were getting rear-ended on the highway by a bunch of apocalyptic rednecks in a beat-up monster semi. Moby tried waving the cover of a thrashcore CD at them to attempt some kind of alliance-in-musical-tastes, but they weren't having any of it. I mean, you know. He was MOBY, for Chrissakes. And that's when one of them got out a gun and fired and when I woke up this morning, my first words of the day were OH SHIT, HE HAS A GUN.

So anyway, yeah. Maybe I dreamed that whole "war" thing, or else they managed to sanitize the American social consciousness with more quickness than it took the city of Chicago to put all the pieces of last Sunday's Pride parade neatly back into their boxes and shove them ever so gently back under the bed. Two hours after this parade ends, the straggling throngs are virtually the only evidence one might notice as evidence of any form of public spectacle having happened. And so maybe the war happened after all. Maybe it was all a very well-orchestrated parade.

At any rate...I think it was around the time of the whole war thing that I noticed a trend of polarization among just about everyone. I think in most of the so-called "political debates" I had with folks during that time, I frustrated more people not because I was a blathering peacenik or a flag-waver with nostrils flared, but because I wasn't willing to agree or disagree with anyone 100%. I feel like when that whole war thing happened (I should just refer to that Whole War Thing as "WWT"), we formed two very clearly-defined schools of thought, built two very large and easy-to-read signs, and people filed under each of the signs as was appropriate to the views by which they could come together and feel secure in whatever direction their fears took them - because after all, look at all the people around me who agrees with me - it makes me feel safe.

I think it's dangerous to subscribe to an easy either/or mentality during a time of war, or in just about any other situation for that matter. If you honestly, truly, in your heart of hearts and soul of souls and mind of minds, can look in the mirror and tell yourself that you believe the concept of war is as simple as "either/or", then what can I say to you? Except for maybe, "I disagree with you, but I'd like to understand how you came to that decision."

Now that the streets of our modern media-driven culture has been swept free and Lysolized of nearly all traces of militaristic naggling, I can't help but feel as if the stubborn odor of the "pro-/anti-" mentality still lingers in hard-to-reach areas, like a stale fart you can't shake out of your sleeping bag. (As you can see, I continue to suffer from Weakness of the Analogy - thank you for your patience.)

I don't understand how it's desirable to take a bunch of thoughts and put them in a big box labeled "A", and take another big bunch of thoughts and put them in a box called "B", and then say you can only have what's in one box or the other, and you must embrace with consistent verve the total contents of the box which you ultimately choose. Who was the superior being responsible for separating all these thoughts in the first place? Give me names. Why do thoughts need to go into boxes? Who owns these thoughts, anyway? Aren't we the owners of our own thoughts? Maybe we're not. Were we ever?

William Burroughs was famous for saying "language is a virus from outer space." Actually, I think he was paraphrasing Buddhist philosophy in his own tweaked-out style. In his own language. Manifesting his own strain of the virus.

Laurie Anderson quoted William Burroughs' quoting of Buddhist philosophy in her song of the same title, "Language Is A Virus". She began and ended the song with this line:

"Paradise is exactly like where you are right now, only much, much better."

SO. Having said and quoted all that, I'll bring this hellride to an abrupt stop by proudly proclaiming I don't know jack shit, and that for all I know Moby and I were involved in a violent highway auto chase this morning, and as a matter of fact, I had a really annoying dream about war last night. I mean, who's the wiser anymore?

Moral of Today's Story: Passion Fruit Gatorade is much better than I thought it would be. No, really.

PS - To C. in Bal'mer: Stank is sweet.


2003-10-14 - Last Haiku
2003-10-09 - Don't Cry Out Loud
2003-10-09 - Sit Down, You're Making Me Nervous
2003-10-08 - I'm Sure Miss Thing, I'm Sure
2003-10-07 - Carbonated Water, Caramel Color, Aspartame

index
archives
profile
Uffish
Jonno
Kiera Bombshell
Wonderboy
Dogpoet
email
notes
design
host

chicago blogs