April, 1933

This is from a National Geographic magazine from april of 1933. I don't want to read too much into this, but it is astounding that manufacturers were courting laziness at such an early date, and not even trying to conceal it by naming this thing the lazy-x. I wonder what the 'x' is all about (and where did those lazy-boy chairs go anyway?) I mean, this is a remote control for radio! This is 1933, the western world is in the grip of the Great Depression! Almost every other person is out of work and you can still adjust the volume and tone of the Rin Tin Tin and friends adventure hour (...brought to you by the makers of heinz 57 tomato sauce, always uniform, always the finest) from the comfort of your chair!

Why move? why care?

I was also struck by this ad too. It is, after all, a National Geographic magazine.

Round the world for 500$ eh? not bad... considering the average Canadian household made about that amount in a year if they were lucky enough to be working.

One class ships too...I wonder if that was because everyone was still talking about that Titanic movie.

....and WTF is up with those swastikas!!!

Prison...

I have a new thesis on life.

Here it is, the best prison is the one in which the prisoner does not want to escape.

Of course there have been many variations on that theme in literature, especially sci-fi (where all of life's truths can be found), where the prison in question is surrounded by inhospitable and unsurvivable climates (ice-Star Trek V, Fire-Crematoria from Chronicles of Riddick, inhuman and desolated wastelands-Australia). However, the prisons I had in mind were a little more close to home.

There are no wardens and the prisoners lock the doors from the inside. They even get to fill their cells with contraband and the lucky ones can choose their cell mates. The exercise yard is pretty big with lots of interesting stuff to do, but work needs to be done to get any at any of it.

Alright, this metaphor is getting painful...but by thesis is this is no metaphor. The last free human died hundreds of thousands of years ago. Not once then, in all existence has anyone lived completely unfettered by any restraint. This is rudimentary social philosophy, we all need some contract or agreement to ensure mutual social benefits. This must entail some forfeit or limitation of freedom. But what has arisen from this is something few if any will acknowledge. That we have physically imprisoned ourselves within prisons that we have not only worked and paid for, but that we continue to provide to others for the right to be there.

In other words, we are continually supporting a system that makes us fear the outside of our prison walls.

But what do I mean by all of this?

more cereal and coffee are required before i am able to illustrate

under

The doctor stood back, admiring his office around him. There were pictures and certificates that lined the walls and filled the cracks of dark wood paneling. The desk against which he leaned was neat and contained few items that were need for deskwork, few items at all. The doctor looked every where but at the patient who sat in front of him. He reached behind him and pushed a button on his intercom. Moments later, a woman entered and handed him a thin manila folder. The doctor opened it and leafed through it absently. He seemed happier to have something to focus on. The patient looked at the ground near the doctor’s feet. He was young, thin and scruffy. He seemed to be in his late twenties but when he looked up, his eyes seemed like those of one twice his age, but with half the experience. A dark line appeared between his eyes and furrowed in worry and concern.

“There seems to be nothing here that explains it.” The doctor said with some cheer. As if the absence of bad news was good news in and of itself.

Moments later, the patient was standing on the roof of the clinic. The tips of his shoes hung over the edge of the red brick precipice that bordered the rooftop. The terrified murmurs and calm, too calm, urgings of the doctor and the small group of on-lookers behind made up for a small chorus. Like white noise from a late night TV left on, whose white static snow cast shadows on the sleeping face on a sofa, the chorus washed over the patient’s shoulders and fell unheard eight stories to the street below.

It was like plunging into a cold swimming pool. The air rushing to splash his face and beat his hair and clothes back. The chorus died in a rush of wind as his heart leapt to the top of his head and pulled him up. He rose higher and faster as the ground dashed towards him.

It was soon only cool and dark.

“Wake up”, a damp breath whispered.

Love Anachronisms

“All I ever learned from love was how to shoot at someone who out drew me”

“you think I only think about you when we’re both in the same room, you think I only here to witness the remains of loving you, you think we’re only here to play the game of who loves more than who.”

“Here I stand, head in hand, turn my face to the wall. If she’s gone, I can’t go on, feeling two feet small.”

“If you don’t want him to cheat you have to be there … where? … There! Every time he’s thinking about fucking. And even then …”

“People who are in love can’t write anything.”

"At the touch of love everyone becomes a poet. "

"Love is the triumph of imagination over intelligence."

"Like the measles, love is most dangerous when it comes late in life. "

"Love seeketh not itself to please, nor for itself hath any care, but for another gives its ease, and builds a Heaven in Hell's despair. "

"The hottest love has the coldest end. "