April 6 (elegy)
The fortress of Man
has fallen
and left behind
rust above,
roses atomic in clay.
Hemoglobin Heaven
precipitates
repatriating matter
to Western fathoms
then
sleep.
...
The fortress of Man
has fallen
and left behind
rust above,
roses atomic in clay.
Hemoglobin Heaven
precipitates
repatriating matter
to Western fathoms
then
sleep.
...
What grace breathes the form of a bird
that so fleeting sketches its wisp in the sky
and leaves to a boy
but the weight of a feather
finding its rest?
***
He watched the dawn chirate
like a hybrid fruit
as it listed into being
ferrous timbres in just resonance
breathed by the crest of his propagating being.
...
We came wearing dreams
of the California Coast
the grace of a rose
naked in the sun
the sigh of the dew
afraid of the morning
We bore in Our breath
the weight of Our world
the whisper of a cloud
lost grey in the wind
the laugh of a flame
singing for being
We found Ourselves
Taking Our Time
as We gave to the sea:
a wine drunk sky
crying
goodmorning Goodmorning.
Autonomous Selection #1 from Cosa Nostra
...
You have a warmth
not just excitations in a field
but a feeling
like the palm of a hand
in a hand
that for rubies sell the hearts of men
who hope to share in some way
but can't.
You have a warmth
that took the November air
and sewed strength into the night sky
for soldiers marching on.
You have a warmth
that has me.
...
A few weeks ago some friends of mine and I gathered at our friend Connor’s sparsely furnished new apartment for what would be the last formal drug binge before Finals Week officially set in. From a night that would end with more than two people christening Connor’s new bathroom with vomit, I find myself reflecting on a conversation that was had before the festivities began. I am about to write not of the epidemic of underage drinking or how marijuana works like none other to alleviate next-day nausea but rather the role of Television-with-a-big-T in modern society, how I have come to demonize it over the years, and what that really means.
As we first entered Connor’s spartan abode, my friends, a group of females (if gender gives any context), unleashed the usual comments and compliments one does when inspecting a new habitation. The spirit in the air was of hope; jealousy, perhaps, was also present as we truly became aware of what the future held before us. Connor was the first of our lot to tack forth into the world of independent living and all that came with it. That is to say autonomy over ones domain. We waxed on about the color of the walls, furnishings in the living room, an awkwardly placed shelf and the absence of a television. It was suggested by more than one person, if my memory serves me, that my friend should purchase a television. To this I countered adamantly that a television would define the space, direct attention to a wall rather than on social conversation. Connor responded with trademark apathy, differing the matter for his soon to be cohabiting girlfriend to decided at a later date. But those abstract socio-architectural arguments, while valid, were not the true motive behind my opposition. In reality, it came from a part of me that has come to associate, rightly or wrongly, Television with what I see as the disintegration of society into a thoughtless consumer hoard, bound by media and constant stimulation by novelty into an impotent mass of proletarians working for a capitalist elite. Okay. That was pretty harsh but hear me out.
When I was younger I spent a great deal of time watching television. I remember well co-piloting the couch in my basement with my older brother as we navigated amongst Pokemon and Dragonball Z, the typical fare of a child born in the Nineties. And why not? Television, I am well aware, is an extremely pleasurable activity. I was given the privilege of allowing some manufactured media to occupy my thoughts, relieving me of any obligation to think, in exchange for some of those thoughts being well crafted psychological appeals for me to spend my parents money here or there. And this system worked well for me. School was easy and unimportant to me, time had little value to me, and my sense of virtue did not involve any notion of being productive – the latter being an unfortunate element of my current disposition, one which I am trying to shake or at least co-opt for my own purposes.
I cannot remember exactly when, but I experienced in my high school years a kind of Hegelian antithetical reaction to the idea of television. It began with a transition to cable news. This, I thought, was a more virtuous thing to consume. But even news I would determine to be disvirtuous as I fell into an apathetic mindset where nothing mattered but sticky buds and the music I was writing. It is this antithesis that presented itself at Connor’s house in the pre-sloshed banter and, while I am coming to realize that the sentiment is irrationally resolute, I think it does have some merits.
Here are some statistics. The common one, Americans watch four hours of television a day on average, as well as one out of the University of Maryland stating that people dissatisfied with their lives spend thirty percent more time watching television that those who do not. These statistics paint a pretty unbiased picture. Television is a great escape; its funny, sad, thrilling, compelling. And if your life sucks, television will be there to help you out. Why bother getting to know your fat boring wife when you can wolf down Lean Cuisine and watch Divorce Court? This is how the world lives right now. I can imagine most people are not happy with their jobs, or at least most people are not doing the job they wish they were. But there is an economic reality. People need to be fed and, while four hours of labor could produce enough productivity in a free market to feed oneself, people want families and a big house nested comfortably in the sprawl away from dangerous minorities and abortions. So they work longer. Kids go to university to protect their privilege, study to become engineers and get a cushy starting salary crunching numbers at Cisco. And when they get home they do not want to think because all they do at their job is think and they would rather just crack open a beer and sit in front of the tube. From the perspective of a political scientist or the collective conscience of the bureaucratic political machine this is a great innovation. People get work done, keep the country moving, and aside from that live quiet, non-disruptive lives using their discretionary income to buy the things they are convinced will finally make them happy. This keeps the economy moving, the rich get richer, and the status quo is protected. Even though this picture is rather gray it is hard to see anything necessarily wrong with it. There are great shows on television. Many find a way, even amongst the corporatized studio structure, to produce works of actual artistic merit. Shows on PBS can actually be a fantastic use of time. I have learned a lot from NOVA specials and I most certainly have not gotten around to reading Agatha Christie on my own. And why should I have a problem with it? Nobody is forcing me to watch television and the current system in place keeps my streets paved, my water sanitized, and my military-industrial-complex oiled and ready to go.
It is true that the status quo is great for the status quo. The reality is that I am a clever boy and I could find a way to make the status quo work for me. If I work hard enough I can get a job that I like, unlike most people. I can afford to shelter myself in my own home and choose not to have a television. But it scares me that television is so satiating in a world that is so unsatisfying. I am wary of this next argument because it is often used against my favorite herb but television alleviates the need for all ambition. If people could not be satisfied simply sitting on a couch they might decide to explore the world outside and they might realize how terrible it is that our landscape is dominated by cars where pedestrians have been marginalized because “what are you doing outside anyway?” They might care about our environment because they will have to experience the effects of climate change for longer than the minute that they have to lower their window at the drivethru at McDonalds. What concerns me is that the world is going to shit but people still find a way to be happy about it. That is why the reaction was there. That is why the venom is so strong.
But the truth is that it is not for me to impose my conception of virtue on others. What is virtuous for me is mine alone and what I see as the crumbling of what is going to soon become the second classical age of human civilization, if not the last, ultimately is my burden to bear. If other people have found a way to be happy in such a state of things, so be it. I should be happy for them, right?
All said and done, Connor should probably get a television. How he places it in his apartment is up to him, or more likely his girlfriend and I am sure it will not preclude us from having fantastic conversations there in the future. There is no reason to watch it all the time and demonizing a utility because of its potential for abuse is what a lot of people would do to the bong that I have been telling him he should buy and I would not want to set a precedent that could jeopardize future fat rips.
I think when it comes down to it, my aversion to the institution of television is a self-centered one. Surely the world sucks. That is no surprise. My cynical outlook has dehumanized most people into moronic zombies. It has been this way for a while. At its heart, that dogmatic opposition that presented itself in Connor’s apartment came from the fact that I am unhappy with society, the state of things, the income disparity between rich countries and poor countries, and the income disparity between rich people and poor people in those rich countries. I probably will not be happy until the world magically changes, until aliens come to rescue us from ourselves, or there is a bloodless anarcho-communist revolution. Or more realistically until I can occupy myself with a music project long enough to distract myself from the problems of society. And me being unhappy, I want other people to be unhappy too, to share in my suffering. But while that emotion, that craving for empathy, is unmistakably human, it is not fair for me to expect that of others. Maybe there is justice in it somewhere. They can distract themselves into being impotent consumers and I will drown myself in cynicism and blame myself for the folly of mankind and we can all get cancer while the world burns.
...
With an afternoon awakening
as the sun fell down
the air was still with the density
of a well worn sound
and I stood amongst it listening
as the sun fell down.
With a hope described as dangerous
by the letter of the Gods
we could make the story change for us
if we look upon the stars
and proclaim the mountain stands
because of love not law.
and proclaim the mountain stands
because of love not law.
...
I was sitting outside, between the afternoon traffic and the sound of my thoughts, when it all just stopped.
They don’t make them like this anymore. I kept telling myself that, not sure what it really meant.
I took a moment to look at the cars, stalled masses of metal. At any instance in time, how can you tell if something is moving or not? I guess you’ll have to ask Heisenberg.
But reality set in pretty quickly after that and I realized that any chance I had to be a better man would not let itself hide in just the plane of an instant. I realized that That Better Man would need more than just three dimensions to make himself real.
I realized that momentum was more fundamental than mass or velocity alone.
...