Sunday, September 11, 2005

9/20/7 AM on the ferry
Reading Howard Zinn. I keep thinking the only solution is a reduction of American power. More than a comeuppance, a division. I know I fixate on secession, but what the world needs is a dramatic display of the powerful ideals which made this country. They may have been just words (just been words – just words) yet they exist and if they spurred action then they can spur action again. It’s the aftermath that will reveal the truth. Let’s give it another shot. Take those words and reapply them. Put a line in the sand (or down the middle of the country) and see who crosses over it. Stop paying taxes, stop funding the war machine. Look around, we’re not free. We owe the banks, the credit card companies, the insurers (who don’t insure anything) – we are morally, fiscally, spiritually indebted. And they are constantly imploring us to spend more. Buy this, buy that, your need is insatiable, gluttony avarice vanity, our worst attributes are played upon (until we accept the ending of sentences in prepositions). Say enough. Tell the banks our mortgages are modern day feudalism. They are the lords and we are the vassals – we pay and pay and if there’s a chance too many of us won’t be able to pay they lower the interest rate and tell us to refinance. If we don’t we’re out on the street or, god forbid, renting and missing out on the American Dream – that carrot before the stick. It’s one big Company Town. We buy and buy and by and by you’ll have happiness. Rubbish. It’s all rubbish the things and the images the flash and the fun – fleeting feelings void of meaning. We’re trapped and we don’t even know it. The only difference is the quality of our cages.
I have to go to work.

Fuck you fuck you fuck you
I’ve got a pretty poem for you
Fuck you
Flaming flowers and flowing grass
I’d rather see a nice piece of ass
Voices whispering hallowed memes
This banal beauty is not what it seems
Desperate tries to shield our eyes
From the filth and scum
Of some other some
Not me

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