Sixth of January twenty fourteen. All the pulp Science Fiction of the fifties had us either living in caves or in outer space by now. I suppose someone could write a dissertation for a doctorate in sociology about the changes in speculative fiction decade by decade. It’s one of those doctorates that comes with a “Do you want fries with that?”
Cold motherfucking winter this year. This little pocket of agro-tard is sort of in a bubble, so the winter is harder in every direction except center. I’m a bit lost; take that in every context you can imagine and then suspect you’ve overlooked one or two. But I’m fine with the cold.
I wrote this haiku play when I was an undergrad in one of my many Do You Want Fries with That incarnations (honestly I like working a grill). I was being a smart ass but the core of the haiku has been with me ever since I can remember, it was the business about it being a play that was the smart assholery;
‘We are free to love Or not.’ ‘No, never free again, We are aware, always.’
I think that is the real point of the parable of Adam of Eve, not that I think about origin myths often, but it’s not about the man or the woman or the serpent; it’s about awareness. On one side you have the happy horseshit about the Happy savage on the other the sadder idea that once you stop thinking of the garden as the prettiest place on earth it’s just a bunch of trees and flowers. This is ingrained in our histories and consciousness and comes out in hundreds of ways in thousands of directions.
That’s how we build the neural pathways that make up the world and make us consider ourselves as unique; ingrained perceptions, a premisis if you will, to construct our realities. Perhaps it’s true that we all die alone and all the adherent splinters to that cold thought, but we are a pack animal.
Oh, shit, sorry, I was going somewhere with all that, not trying to be crystal licking pedantic. It’s damn near the middle of the second decade of the 21st century are there are mother/father-fuckers arguing about global warming. I’ve actually heard the whole ‘There was no Holocaust’ speech from a baby skinhead. It didn’t take much restraint not to argue with him. I’m just saying there are local folks who are using it being in negative digits up in here as proof positive that not a god damned thing is warming.
One of the bazillion ways of keeping the garden beautiful is to shout down any mother/father-fucker who suggests it’s just some flowers and trees. I sort of envy them what can cut and dry their perceptions to fit. I think they’d do well to envy me; I like flowers and trees, they aren’t any less remarkable when I know that the green fuse that drives the flower is photosynthesis. It doesn’t offend my world view, just because I know which side of Occam’s razor my bread is sliced doesn’t mean you have too.
I like people best when their world view keeps them calm and they aren’t moved to intervene. Meaning I’d rather people working at cross purposes to mine were just observing and blogging. Humans are a lot like dogs; everything is happening right now and if the bowl is full and there’s a place to pee, a place to lie down and the occasional sniffing adventure than all is basically all right with the world. One of the upside to being human is that we are in heat year round; one of the downsides is that abstract thought leads to abstract anxiety. I would never begrudge anyone their personal cure for abstract anxiety. If no holocaust and no global warming and a second shooter on the grassy knoll keeps them from wigging the fuck out I’m all for whatever.
Yeah, ok, so you caught, I’m rambling aimlessly. I’m avoiding having to deal with how to get the can full of garbage down the deep snow of the driveway to the front walk. If the world had been given to the canines garbage would be a treat, winter would be for the long hairs and summer for the short, and snack dogs would disappear in snow drifts or be carried off by skeeters.
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