Rad (Old) New Article...an oldy but not much has changed...

I support the ideas behind the liberal project. Human lives can be better, fuller; hunger, alienation, need to be overcome. But how, and by what, and in what manner? I know I have come too late but the time to act is always the present. I like to dance but generally by myself because I don’t know if I’m good or not, or what they think, or when it matters. They say that power never moves down once it has gone up. Unless you want collapse into… horror. But such spokespeople are dead, or old. And nothing is ever the same. Besides maybe mustache styles, which, generally speaking are timeless.

They say if unregulated, humans are like locus, and that they too, will leave everything dead. But that is an argument for their type of regulation, a mask to prevent change. They say that laws, and statues, and bureaucracies, and the 1,138 rights a couple receives on marriage can bring about paradise…we just need 1,138 times more rights, and laws, and statues, and bureaucratic mechanisms then we have now, private or public. This is offensive and disgusting like shit on a wall. We live in a world where no one understands their needs and everything comes from somewhere else.

The only people allowed into our current system of power are those who have no power in it: politicians, bureaucrats, PACs, the media, corporations, small groups who parade for Santa Claus in the streets…

What do I mean? Aren’t these the only sources of power that exist today? Or are you building up to the solution, to THE source of power, THE PEOPLE? But what is this people that melts into this system, which melts over into…that stirs like a pot of boiling water till all is gone? What do I want? True love, a nice house, a lifelong, meaningful job, good friends, pleasurable pastimes, and a family. Don’t you? Is there anything else I am allowed to want? Photographs of riches, power, your breasts? But I don’t want any of these things, the American dream or those photographs. Not like this. That is not to say they don’t ever invade my dreams, but only my waking ones. Freud says dreams are more real. Lacan says the I in the mirror is not me. I say I have recently enjoyed ginger beer.

Americans are fat because they are helpless, because there is no war worth fighting, because running a marathon won’t get you far enough to overcome the necessary bureaucratic formulas, because fitness means you have more energy to throw away. People get in shape because it feels good, because it is attractive, because it might mean something. Such people have hope. Offensive linemen don’t, and what are American bellies but a futile offensive line? What is education but a long path through which hope is created and utilized to maintain a system of hopelessness? To train one to accept and value as necessary all those invisible structures that need not be there, to put oneself over some and under others, to be indebted to this process that has trained you, blindly, for some blind reason…To enshrine your trust in the hallways of knowledge and not in that delicate space between people of which they can share.

I would love to see a class spent on an Anarchist Cookbook. It seems that one could start in kindergarten. “Ok children, A was for Anarchism, and now we’re going to learn how to Bake Bread, and Create Cheese.” Children need to become adults, but for the most part what that means is not reading, writing, or arithmetic—the ability to practice, and make, to discover when to listen, and when to be careful with their love…how to grow well…for themselves.

I have become more radical lately, since I began to lay my experiences and feelings against the world of words, abstractions, promises, and quests. They are different. I have experienced dirty underwear.

I don’t like the mentality ‘human rights’. But lets us not demand a perfect world, an end to history, or catastrophic structural changes. These are sad things. Let us talk today. I would like to see new mentalities, new culture, more fruitful ways of approaching living. I would like people to throw their selves, like bodies against another, towards the symbols that make up their world as I have described. And see which body is bleeding now. And wonder how much blood could be saved on the same streets tomorrow. Like next Tuesday. And then, thank God Almighty, no one would be afraid of ketchup.

For these reasons I hate television. And the mentality of inability, of doing one’s job, enforcing the Rulez, on blacktops or schools, or sinning or owing or flicking off God. And I would really like to know how to make ginger beer. Or pollinate sassafras. Or find out which tuxedoes the penguins are in.