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werewolf
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the signs say open road.
ball bearings twist around themselves,
like intestines, and the electric force
holding them can also has the emergent qualities we call motion.
the signs says it's an open road,
but differences matter.
a song spirals on, it's beginning catching up to its end.
"roll up that window,
breathe in that stale air,
now passerbys don't have to understand or even worse
pretend to care.
i'm a turret, i'm a gunner,
i'm a million in oner
those whom i fight for
i don't love no more,
no likely gain or loss of me
will leave them different than before,
but i'm the open road baby,
i'm the open road."
deja vu is always an illusion. deja vu is what we count on everytime we think we've learned. and if it worked then will it work now? will the others really stop at that red light ahead?
and what would they do if i got out and stripped naked and tried to touch as many of them as possible.
or maybe just keep driving, close my eyes and keep driving. and not being adaptive isn't a great idea in this world they say. but we protect our freaks don't we? we like it when people seem slightly off with the envoirment. we like watching spiders swim and fish flop around on pale white tiles like neil armstrong on the moon.
we love our freaks. they say, it feels good for a reason, they say...our reason is gone, they say, it still feels good. violence without context, sex without context. we can change the channels now before the moral is shared. isn't that wonderful?
to see the witch pushed into the oven by hansel and gretel those incestous brats over and over again, and not know that she's a witch not know why they're doing it, only see that she's ugly or dressed funny. or that her house is made of candy.
take it apart bit by bit, and you'll see that more than anything, it's the candy that stands out in that story.
and so religion pushed us away from sex, even violence was at least escaping our purpose, our reproduction, jesus made his accidental existence purposeful, he was a man without children, but had a million disciples.
and so those male ceo's have power over everything but they still don't have eggs, they have sperm. and sperm is a cheap resource. eggs is oil. eggs is gold.
and it must be controlled. so violence is what we've got. violence is science is progress. but as much as we've progressed the game is still the same. and the power is in the chooser not the choices. but let's associate all of the progress we've made for the sake of this game with what it feels like and only that...warmth, comfort, accesible stupidity. you can be stupid if you're safe. you can pretend that everything in your life isn't part of something you don't understand. you can pretend that it's just as simple as it feels good.
let's let's.
but what of this open road? what of our mothers? or our fathers, beleagured and insecure to the point of belligerence? all of those figureheads marching along proudly carrying flags and banners, while all the while looking over their shoulder for approval.
must we look at warmth, and security, and the savagery of trying to be nice when the way it could be, the way it should be, when all those possibilities, when all of the empathy we feel doesn't match what our bodies tells us is going to happen, must we look at it all and say, that is not us?
admit that it is us. admit that violence is a reaction to perceived cruelty. admit that there's not enough for everyone. give me a gun. give me a turret. give me a plane. let me for a moment stand at the highest point of our civilized world and say, this isn't what it's all about.
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021001
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