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Life in the Empire

Because that about sums it all up in a 'nut' shell. And because I need a place to satisfy my misanthropic rantings and save funny videos.

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An Idiot in Augusta 3

"A hot mess"

by Stonefruit

October 14, 2014

 

the pain pill finally wore off. a few 100 ml of jameson's helped. it wasn't REM sleep but i'm half lizard on my uncle's side so anything helps. goddamnit that took awhile. i wasn't actually in pain. i took it recreationally. unless you consider existential pain, pain. in which case it was not recreational. it is in fact the worst kind of all. i am doing some work for all of us.

 

careerism and family and the delicious delight of non-stop satisfaction in the air-conditioned nightmare of amerikkka do not mask this fact. do not blade this tender green shoot of truth. people, people why did we fuck this up? goddamit we had a paradise so firmly, fairly and fully within our grasp. 1964 yo. everything was there. every hope, every dream, every possibility. now we fight for steps on ladders placed on cloud dreams, without foundation or firmament.

 

SNCC? JB? "I am - somebody!" anybody? scream! hello? do I have to go on? i can't preach to the choir. the choir needs to sing a joyful noise unto my earhole.

 

we did it. we screwed the pooch. there is no cavalry. the cavalry is us. wait, the cavalry killed all those plains indians. that is in no way helpful.

 

what am i trying to say? the french for essay is essay. look it up. i know i haven't. to try. to wander. to question. to wonder. to believe. to sustain that most dearest of all human aspirations - hope.

 

so let me circle around and come back to my target, which i won't shoot or eat unless they are total douchebags or really, really delicious.

 

less writing under the influence of pain pills may be a good thing because i don't want to take things that are good and holy like alcoholism and prescription pill abuse and make them dirty, filthy and sordid.

 

let us look back on 1964 again, people. that was 50 years ago. 50 years! why didn't we capitalize on that juicy goodness? can we still? i am tired of being an accurate human who is described as a cynic especially because i am an accurate human who is a described as a cynic! ok, maybe i need to stop channelling azis ansari but he has a dope persona and he is straight out of carolina. i just binge watched all of the parks and recreation tv show. because i can't find a job. but whatever. important points remain to be made. with words, here, now. which i can do.

 

we need to get right down to brass tacks and speak together in a language everyone can easily understand, to quote brother malcolm. we done fucked up mother earth in a way that is hard to believe, to somewhat paraphrase brother george clinton.

 

we don’t have a ton of leeway to make this right. maybe not enough. why did we put ourselves in this position? it is frustrating. we are majestic creatures. we are the universe knowing itself. isn't it obvious? it should be.

 

this is bigger than augusta, augusta. this is bigger than america, america. this is bigger than - ah fuck it - the sun is just going to blow our asses up in 4 billion years and fry us to a crisp any damn way.

 

think about it. i know i haven't.

If you haven't read it, I recommend The One and the Many: Contemporary Collaborative Art in the Global Context by Grant H Kester.  Project Row Houses in Houston by Rick Lowe described in the book seems like it is along the lines of what you want to create.

some really great lines, Doktor Fruit.  i am between crush and crash and don't know whether to shit or comb my hair.  ancient family conflict: garbage.  why should there be any garbage?  why did you fucking take it if you were not going to fucking eat it?  durrrr... "my eyes were bigger than my stomach?"  well- either get a bigger stomach or get smaller eyes.  

we got a bigger both... or so we thought... whatever... there is still garbage.  and it stinks.  and it draws flies and whatever.  and everybody complains about that.  so they spray sweet-scented poison... and take a dump on the floor.  toilets.  spent about 4 years trying figure toilets.  best thing so far is a tree-bog.  they take years.  like permaculture.  i got nothing.  

"careerism and family and the delicious delight of non-stop satisfaction in the air-conditioned nightmare of amerikkka do not mask this fact."  don't expect to get to get paid.  don't expect anybody to care.  they do care... about their "feelings."  aw... dey got dey pow widdle fweeings booboo.  aint sure how to deal with that yet.  Compost modern-- "no, fuckhead, i am not calling you names."  

that is your turd on the floor.  i saw you lay it.  i recognize the flower-toilet paper you hoard in what-you-think is your secret toilet paper stash... recognize the raw organic almonds from your not-so-secret food stash peeking out of your  turds surrounded by your own identity flowered ass paper.  addressing you directly, fuckhead.  Postmodern:  "I do NOT have a secret food stash... and stop calling me names."  

 

1964 remember it well.  I was a Junior in High School... 16 years old.  Going over the wiki article, remember I flew with a female flight instructor who knew Jerrie Mock personally.  Never thought about it until now.  We discussed the design philosophy of Piper vs. Cessna.  She (my instructor, MR) liked Pipers.  I liked Cessnas.  We met because she was teaching me how to fly a (I think) a PA-28.  Later I bought a Grumman because she convinced me a low-wing was ok.   God.  How I miss the days when you could discuss design philosophy instead of "me Colts fan."    

Same deal with motorcycles until a few years ago.  Most Harley riders were just buying an identity,   Got really sick of it.  But the Sportster was truly a wondrous machine.  They wanted to preserve the old and obsolete engine design because because they wanted to preserve the sound.  I still have mixed emotions about that decision.  But the Bernays-led identity boys figured out that motorcycle riding was a visceral experience and you could make money pandering to it.  

Having my own sweet boy on the back was one of the greatest experiences of my life.  

 

Watched a documentary on Netflix the other night about the Vignelli's -- Massimo and Lella. Both considered superstars in the graphic/environmental design community. Titled "Design is One" if anyone is interested. Unfortuntely, Massimo died earlier this year.
http://www.nytimes.com/2014/05/29/garden/massimo-vignelli-a-master-...

Can't say that Harleys do much for me. Too big, clunky, and have come to represent American idiocy. Sure riding motorcycles is fun, but I can think of much better bikes. Don't confuse engineering with design. Engineering makes stuff work. Design makes it elegant. There ain't nothing elegant about a Harley. Might as well be a motorized beer can.

Watched it and a couple of others.  Harleys ARE designed.  Their "engineering" was pitifully obsolete... and were museum pieces in the '80s when AMF wrecked them completely.  My 2005 Sportster 1200 (stage 4) was redesigned from the inside out to eliminate ignition, fuel, leaking, durability, and all other problems most modern motorcycles had resolved.  What happened was something that rode almost like an ancient Harley... but was a thoroughly modern motorcycle in every regard.  

Pretty much knew this was going to be my last bike... and had my heart set on a K-bike or a traditional boxer maybe... but I rode a BMW R-90/6 (The Duchess) for over 20 years.    BMWs were hard to get and expensive... and the k-bike really blew me away.  The Sportster (Zeke named it "Bluto")  WAY to heavy... BUT had a much lower seat height... and once I quit freaking out and looking at it... and started to actually feel it... I was hooked.  Not because it was better... just different.  Unique.  Rode a couple of Harley clones and... meh.  Really is a "designer" motorcycle.  If I had my younger frame back, would probably get a k-bike.  

Since that aint gonna happen.... glad I got to spend at least 5 years with Bluto.  

Pepe Escobar's biases makes it difficult to separate his rhetoric from the rest of the conspiracy stuff floating on the net.  If he would have stuck with the Saudi "stick it to all the other producers" angle without the gratuitous "Mother Russia is impervious to any damage" angle perhaps I would have been more open to his views.  Even so,the idea that the Sauds want to make enemies with basically everybody has to hinge on the belief that they think they are so strong as crude oil producers as to prevent anyone (the US) from finding an excuse to come up with a militaristic response to their economic war - and I doubt they are that naive.

I think Escobar is the one of the greatest living journalists writing in English. He always puts a significant amount of analysis in his pieces but I don't see it as conspiracy. And I think he is basically right about Russia-they have a pretty hot hand, especially supplying most of the gas to the EU. Read his recent stuff at Asia Times. His thesis that Germany is poised to look East and become a kind of silent partner with the BRICS and no longer an American client is very plausible.

hope you can see this fascinating exchange
http://youtu.be/h2fgIfwsa_8

Speaking of Europe,
our fundamental freedoms having slid into abeyance in England incidentally
Napoleonic Law takes hold
and we have lost so much already.

Rules and regulations everywhere over the years tying away the twitch, the random step, the deep sigh,
the songburst
forbidden.
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Connect Bayesian approaches to brain function to Magic for a chance to win the Matryoshka Doll with No known Ending.  

Barron years at school tell Sharps from flats.  Other Stars explain economic theory at the Taurus Club Witch Trial.  

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