trying to flag a ride from some cowboy with shit on his boots who says he knows where he’s going, but I’m not so sure. The future is pure mathematical probability, clean and pristine, equations on a blank page. The past is a pool of blood, god-forsaken and friendless, nothing but a mother’s love, until someone came up with the brilliant idea of what the world might be like if everyone treated each other like brothers and sisters, choosing to acknowledge our commonalities more than our differences. The rest is history, extended families united by religion, safe and secure within the commonly acknowledged borders, part of something even larger beyond those borders. A devout Muslim is friend and brother to any fellow Muslim regardless of country, just as are devout Jews and Christians, particularly those of the same sects. Same-sect marriages work well where many others fail. Communism used to be the same, camaraderie across borders. This is where capitalism falls short. You just can’t get that excited about something ‘trickling-down’ to you, no matter how much better than everything else it might actually be. It’s just not inspiring. Equality, justice, peace, and abundance are inspiring.
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holding up the gawk-box and the scanner, the spread-sheets and ledgers, the ash trays and paperweights, the right angles and the wrong height, the calendar and the deadlines, all the anxiety and my drawers full of shit. It all just keeps piling up, stuff that I’ll never use but can’t seem to get rid of. For me a desk is a place to stack my feet so that I won’t forget them. A desk is a place to have creative sex. A desk is a monument to the ingenuity of the Western imagination, cubism transferred to the study instead of the studio, on carpets instead of canvas. It’s all part of the human dimension- memory, causality, and isometric projections on to the blank stage and the blank page. We live in three dimensions of length width and depth because that’s what we are, square pegs in a round hole. I don’t even like sitting in a chair. I’d rather lie down or stand up. If I had my way, every office in the world would have a bed and a kitchen. This is the stuff of life. Writing is like sex; you try different positions. A desk is not for writing. They’re too square. A desk is for lines and rulers, scholars and schoolers. A bed is where the action is, the alpha and omega, a laboratory for experiment.
just waiting to see what my other half will do. One more and I could be a trinity, the Triple Gem, pontificating endlessly on matters of no importance. As it is, I’m reduced to endless duals with my self, a triple Gemini with the head of a bull, debating all the great issues and fighting all the important wars of history right here in my inner chamber of secrets. The president in me is an asshole, stern and overbearing, a national socialist to the core. The congress is chicken shit, scared to death of the unknown. To be “of two minds” about something is a way of life for me. Sometimes the bill never gets out of congress due to the filibustering activities of one party or another. Somehow the two houses of congress agree to disagree and we manage to wobble forward on all fours plodding our way through life.