Recent Entries Garion born; thinking of doing video logs - 2012-09-01 I'm married, I'm a prospective father, wow I never update - 2012-05-22 Got the job at the NIA; mother complicates wedding plans - 2011-10-13 Scrawl - 2011-08-05 It's never been better - 2011-06-02
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Fortune cookie manifesto 2003-09-07 - 4:37 p.m. 
I woke up yesterday morning. There was an uncommon decency to it, where the post-apocalyptic construction of large buildings is topped by straight, smooth pylons of concrete and glass. It was grainy like the sunlight.I felt more normal somehow. My usual carry-on baggage of worry and pressure had been exported to Bermuda, or seized as a terrorist and thrown out back with the dogs and irate patriots. It occured to me in wakefulness, this common but (until then) intangible idea that I got from a New Age fortune cookie: life is not a race; if it were, you would gain more by running faster..and that does not necessarily happen. The late teens to early 20's are the floodgates, where the reigns of your life are (for the most part) handed over to you. We gain freedom and the opportunity to fuck with our world as we see fit. Not long after that, though, we feel obligated and/or are required to restrict these gifts. That's the way of things, naturally, but then you forget that you were ever given these gifts in the first place; you forget that at some point you consciously made a decision--however stupid it may now seem--to go along with this corner of the peep show of mortality. We're altogether a curious thing. So I nibbled at my metaphorically low-carb fortune cookie in the daze of just waking up. I not only remembered my gifts, but actually had faith in the bitches. Suddenly I sincerely could say fuck you to popularity in art or social circles, or fuck you to petty social problems (or petty social people), even a sincere middle finger or two to being a scientist and the house of white bourgeoise pain. These are all important things, I grant you, but they are not a part of me. I grew them and if I wanted to I could destroy them given enough time. This gives me a whole new feeling of control and purpose. As post-modern segue, I think Swingers almost captures the whole idea just right: Mike and Trent are at the Treasure Island Casino at night, setting up shop to tap some ass and score some cash. Trent has just made a pass at a cute waitress, making an ass out of himself. The dialogue thus follows: " MIKE Cut that shit out. TRENT She smiled baby. MIKE That's not cool. TRENT Did she, or did she not smile? MIKE It doesn't matter... TRENT I'm telling you, they love that shit. MIKE You're gonna screw up our plan. TRENT We're gonna get laid, baby. MIKE First let's see what happens if we play it cool. TRENT What? You think she's gonna tell her pit-boss on us? MIKE Don't make fun, I think we can get some free shit if we don't fuck around. TRENT Who's fucking around? I'm not making fun. Let's do it, baby. MIKE The trick is to look like you don't need it, then they give you shit for free." Trent proceeds to lose all of their money at blackjack by constantly pushing to keep doubling-down. To me, Trent is the voice of progress without purpose, trying to constantly get at something. Even if he fails or succeeds--like Mike mentions--it doesn't mean a damn thing. For Mike, it's just about being there and possibly getting some shit, possibly not, but not worrying and pushing for the outcome. I was getting to be like Mike too often. I was obsessive, dangerously obsessive. I was constantly tired with fear and paranoia. I was constantly wishing death on anything that interrupted me when I didn't want it. Speaking as a psychologist-in-training, I think I was fucking nuts. As of now, I just feel like having some coffee. ---- So, photography... Comment: I spent the better part of an hour getting the lighting just right. This was the culmination of my near brush with the surprisingly tolerant Sheriff's department a few days ago; it's near toward the bottom. |
