Wednesday, February 20, 2013


I think I'd listen to capitalism advocates a lot more if they could acknowledge that the faction advocating relatively unfettered flow of wealth won the great conflict in human history.

But I'm digging the bumper sticker, Galt fans.  I guess I need to say I'm a Robin Hoodist and expect people to take me very, very seriously.

Sunday, January 20, 2013

Fresh and Vacuum-Packed

Two months.

I made a fucking Pinterest of MLK and a quote.  I really did.  It's the utmost lifestylist shit on one level, but hey, hey!  Forgive my bourgie-ness because I used the one where he calls the US government the biggest killer on the planet.  That'll triangulate neatly to offend both the libs and the rightwing faux-bertarians I know.

And what of my own position of power?  It seems like a big hypocrisy to some of my close friends; work has been kind to me and it only operates arbitrarily, right?  It chose me, they chose me because of my talents, because they trusted in my abilities.  But I still distrust the system, so where does that leave me?  I say revolution and act servant-leader horseshit.

But it's made things better for some people.  Within a context.  It's made things better for people even as we live in a world soaked in crime and injustice.  I throw water on people in burning buildings.

I write fiction and it seems to say what I can't or won't with my life's effort.

I play along to feed my kids.

Or so I say.

Why don't I say as much these days?  I feel a sense of grim understanding, of settlement without conclusion.  I feel wise?  And so I say less?  Or wise enough to feel ignorant, to feel profoundly unknowing, to not venture forth and say "this is so," "that is thus," all the crap.

I don't know what's missing.  I do so much and something's missing.