Existence is on loan, our bodies belong to the Earth.
I don’t identify as straight because it implies that everything else is crooked.
I can’t wrap my head around people who won’t vote. Right now, various officials of our government are plotting on the best way to keep Americans from the ballot box. Countless men and women of all races gave their lives so we could vote. The vote is the revolution. It’s beyond imagination that anyone say they don’t vote in a nation so thoroughly, grossly, controlled by unchecked corporate power. We’re dominated by an economy built to keep the majority poor, tired, and sick. So, please, if you’re a citizen that’s not dying, oppressed, or in solitary confinement—get the fuck out and vote.
Being alive doesn’t imply living, atoms dance but not to music. “Baby Theresa” is the philosopher’s go to on this issue. Born with anencephaly, a terrible disease that results in enough brain tissue to keep the heart pumping for about week before it dies. It’s typically caught early and the baby’s aborted.
We do have special brains but they’re not as unique as the passages of antiquity would have us believe. Many creatures recognize themselves, paint, plan, feel, fuck for fun, and mourn their dead. Does a dining Dolphin ponder itself as a future entrée to a bigger fish? Perhaps, but I really don’t know.
But we resist this too, knowing we’ll most likely end up tossing through another night, and waking to the same awful alarm. Each day we learn (or we don’t) how to live with ourselves, our friends, lovers, assholes, idiots, and psychopaths. And we have to make the most of everyone’s lives to maximize our own.
Power is a thin glass top spinning on a needle’s end.
At any moment, we have the power to choose between endless choices: red undies with the green tank-top? black pants or blue shorts?–cheeseburger, chocolates, or cake. Raise kids, or buy a house? No. Adopt a cat. Vote. Hike a trail or fly to a friend’s. Fly to the moon.
Obviously, we can’t just leave Earth on a whim. But we still have many choices. We have to eat and often, grocery stores aside, there are chains of previously frozen mediocre meal restaurants and secret eateries reserved for elite foodies. But you have to the have the money. And you might be lactose intolerant, or have a gluten allergy. But they make substitutes and with a simple pill, you can drink milk until you puke. Unless you’re on chemo.
We really can’t know what illnesses wait, and like numbers on a padlock in our DNA: when the right combination is in place diabetes, dementia, and diseases of all nature burst in and hold us hostage in our own homes.
But perhaps I’m being too extreme. It’s clear that we do not have endless choices, or even a hundred, perhaps none if we consider that we never asked to be here. We never begged, please give the condoms a rest—we never had a choice—freedom is an illusion.
Some say guns aren’t the problem, that it’s mental health which needs addressing. In order to wear a badge one must pass a mental heath exam, plenty of people join the army or some other armed force every day–and they kill people. I think that makes the mental health argument completely bogus, at least in the way we currently frame the issue. Besides the mentally ill being far more likely to suffer abuse at the hands of the “sane”, anyone can become psychotic, angry, and depressed. If this didn’t happen, we wouldn’t have news. The brain changes, sometimes it deteriorates, and people will do things they wouldn’t normally do and having a gun available definitely won’t help. The real problem is that me, you and everyone else doesn’t want to believe we’re all susceptible to fault. We don’t want to believe we’re capable of picking up a gun and doing terrible things, but we are.
This year, while shopping for Turkeys and Christmas gifts, wandering aimlessly down grocery isles and shopping malls, please understand, the advertisements about giving back and donating food would not have to play between songs we’ve all heard a thousand times if the companies who paid for the ads would simply pay us enough to eat and donate food that is normally thrown away.
It’ll get better when you stop caring.
The 30s are interesting because you find out which of your friends are alcoholics.