I recently watched a french doco on the fanatical attacks on the cartoonists in France that happened… what… a year ago now.
Je suis Charlie.
Coco, a worker for the company left at 11.30 or so, to go and pick up her daughter, was abducted, a gun pressed to her head and told to let the bad guys into the building. She opened the door and they began firing. They killed a bunch of people. Then left. She survived. Others did also. It was like an assassination really. They wanted to kill the chairman? The lead cartoonist? Anyway, tragic. Its strange how she opened the door and more people died.
People blame her a little. She could have prevented this completely tragic almost unreal situation. Anyway my point isn’t to talk about this so much.
Imagine what they were all feeling the day before this happened. Some were tired, others hungry, dealing with your day to day. Good stuff right. Challenges, mundane, ordinary, set.
Then in marches all this bad shit. People’s lives Ka-put. Ended.
Reaction. Negative. Powerful. Mortally wounding cartoonists. People that ask questions, entertain, illicit responses with images. They don’t wage wars with violence. They point out and question ideas and ideal; religion, notions, norms, actions with pictures. Its basic. Its primative. Cave man drawings. Cartoons. Charicatures. Some coloured. Others black and white.
The repercussions. Violence. Pure. Life ending. Over the top. Unexpected. Tragic. Evil. Un-provoked. Imbalanced. Unjustified. Mad. Malicious. Unhinged. Dangerous.
So, were the people that got killed doing good?
What is good? Who goes out every day and tries to rescue 20 people from terrorists? Who can do the opposite to killing someone?
A doctor? Aren’t we all dying? A doctor can delay. Can spot a symptom.
Where do these symptoms come from? Are we part of a system that creates symptoms? Who wins. Who loses. Is evil violent change? Is good the smothering of such evil? Why doesn’t superman use his powers to make the world perfect? Why doesn’t he remake the world? Why must we suffer and he only saves the day when evil raises its head.
Can’t he come up with something better than Capitalism? Democracy? Communism? Dictatorships? What kind of philosopher in Superman? What are his ideals?
What were the wars waged over that destroyed his home planet? Why am I using this as an example… Every hero, is just an embodied erode-er of evil. A fire blanket. Before there was evil there was just a system. Halfway controlled, as best we humans could. Toward’s what? Who knows. Don’t ask the heroes, they only arise to stifle the bad guys. The antidotes for change.
What are the drone strikes about?
Is Obama doing his best work in his last term?
Why don’t I have a valid opinion on so many things.
Politically void. I am nothing.
No, no I won’t jump into your bear trap; yes I know you have an opinion, that’s why you’ve sculpted this into your chitter chatter.
Drone strikes, they could be talking about people not buying drones.
Or people at airports striking over the danger of drones…
Or a guy on stage cutting his hand when he tried to grab a drone.
Blah. Drone strikes, must be sinister.
So, I think symbols are problematic. And like a web they stretch out. Their meaning’s tied in with all things.
Like, you fell off the high-wire, into the net. Then you get the giant mechanical pincer that gets toys in that see-through box, and it comes over… It plucks you off the net. But you thread your arms and your legs through the net and hold on for dear life. You pull the middle of the net with you. Every fibre of you and the net stretch. You are the idea. You are a symbol. You are resistance. The symbol.
Avatar. I think that is what has spurred the all-too common “Tree of life” symbol that is SO in vogue right now. Everyone has noticed it. Don’t pretend that you haven’t. I have, you have. Your mum has that shiney necklace that looks like it came out of a yoga studio. Fresh un-tainted tinfoil sheen to it. Matching earrings too. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes yes. The tree of life.
So, lets say we were all wandering around like Avatars. Is that an aspirational goal? Living off the land. No problems. Completely open. Hammocks in the sky. Big fucking trees giving us life and energy and all that goodness. Life changing. (haha right?)
So, instead right. Picture this. Instead of going on some freakish sideshow 15 minutes of fame rampage. Doing evil. Performing violence. Killing someone. Destroying a life. Poisoning a stranger. School shoot-out sort of crazy. You do the opposite. You go out and you try to save people. The only example we could come up with was “Jesus”. Which is a cop out right, he saved people… from themselves. A straw man argument. “trust me you’re a sinner”. Ok, so how do I fix this? You don’t you just need Jesus, this real good character-hero-guy, to die for you and you’re saved.
Now isn’t that just a story.
I’ve noticed how a good story is so important for people.
The boy in the corn field. He’s allowed to walk in, but he may only take one corn. As he walks in they are small, the deeper he does they grow and grow and grow. Until the corns are too big to carry, he continues on and the corn begin to diminish in size, quickly he notices the corn are going black, they are dying. He snatches up the best corn he can find. It’s puny compared to the others he saw earlier on his travels. -Now apply this to anything.
Like marriage for me I suppose. Hey, i’d be happy to get married to a corn.
Digest that. Atleast i’d get one ear. Nibble-nibble. Corny joke.
So i’ve noticed in the t.v show West Wing and the recent movie Lincoln; great leaders are depicted as anecdotal idols. They seem to have the perfect story to analogise the situation, to diffuse fears, calm the minds into passive obscurity. “I understand this, you don’t, let me tell you a bed-time story”. Isn’t that strange that story-telling is a huge part of our history. Pre-dating the technologic age, before we raised our fist with writing on paper and parchment, stories. Good ones. History, retold, blurred and bragged. Said aloud, by the fire, over a meal. Informed. Spoken.
That old part of the mind. Developed. Perhaps underdeveloped, underexposed. Underused these days. Asking to be lit up. To be entertained.
Isn’t that just what life is?
Our system. Our need for cops, is because of robbers.
Keep the peace. Our complex minds expressing themselves. We don’t walk around like avatars because some minds grow to want to harm other minds. Not all, its just how people are raised. Or how they are born (broken). And the greater tribe. The majority will pacify you. It is because of this that we lock our doors. Its because we can imagine the evil in everyone else, that our day to day is trying to attain ideals. Modes and levels of satisfaction, security and acceptance. Meeting our needs, being healthy, so that we can wonder at ideals.
How could that be. How could WE ALL make it there one day? Should I go to the doctor for a checkup? They sacrifice their own life to save yours… I reckon you should go and have a chat? Can they tell a good story? Engage you? Save your life? You haven’t treated your mind or body as well as you should have been; recently. Its a bad system. You were way up there, crest of a wave, peeking.
Now, the dip. Surf’s up dude. Trough time. You were so high. So good. You had to go out, experience. But now, looking back, heck even being that far up gave you vertigo. You felt ill. Feeling so good. How could you maintain that. One late night. A woman involved (no doubt), god- how much did we drink.
I don’t know man, a lot I suppose. Yeah I alotted a lot of time to that.
Shit i’d do it again too. What’s wrong with me.
What a strange feeling. I miss feeling that good.
Shit remember all that bad stuff?
Remember when dad kicked mum. And she tried to let herself into your room and you just cried quietly. She wept. She barged on the door, she tried to get in. It was so bad. Where was the hero then?
When extremist feel like their god is family.
I get it. Family values. You defend. With extreme force. Mum said that today.
The french are highly evolved, culturally, the posit and pose and posture themselves to be anyway. I get it. I think I get it.
Remember that girl you saw, you dodged a bullet there.
Calling her a crazy cat lady silently to yourself and then she hung herself a year later. That’s pretty grim.
Remember when you had to share your bike with your cousin and you headbutted that window? Remember when you king hit Brady Bennett in the back of the head for slamming a Piano on your fingers? Remember ragging on Michael because his dad was unemployed? Remember ripping that bogan to shreds for not being able to read? Remember that kid that opened up a sprite can and attacked your friend, so you jumped in and choked him out until he passed out? Remember drinking in north hobart, play fighting and it escalated so far you nearly killed your best friend at the time? Remember him pressing your buttons, taunting you and your girlfriend one night naked in the hot tub so you flipped out and screamed and screamed, it was late. So you let it all out. It carried. You said nothing matters, life is on repeat. Nothing new will be explored. You trust no-one. You’re heartbroken, afraid, angry, hollow, shivvering, shaking, blubbering, belligerent, mad as hell, marrow deep, rage, gravel for skin, your brother spits in your face, you strangle him too, matias throws a ball at you, you strangle him too “there is nothing there”, you let it all out on Travis, you go deep down, you cry, you run and run and run, you apologise the next day, like it wasn’t even a close call, like destruction hadn’t called your name. The teeth grinding agony you suffered at mike fuller’s taunts “you’re the king of draws”, you will only ever match a person in strength, you lack killer instinct. Perhaps a compliment. All I felt was failure to win a fight. Another draw. Adrenaline pumping, fists, teeth, eyes squeezed shut. Sock in my throat, biting my hand until i bled, sweat pouring, tears streaming, down my neck, face upturned to the light in the bathroom, chipping my tooth, that sickness like vertigo, why did I bit that pen, that guy, complete stanger punching me, 3 of them, jumped me in salamanca, asked for money, bastards. One hit me, a passer by rushed to even the odds, they scrambled “Look what you have done”, I felt like I was turning into the hulk, a hero? no, just a mutual evil, I was ready to draw, at soccer, a young man stormed through a door and ogled a friends girlfriend, “what are you looking at”, he hit me before I answered. K.O. Punched my head into the wall, out, any time on the punching bag, kick kick kick kick kick. AHhhhhhhhhhh, punch until blood. Marco’s birthday, his wife, house shared lady to be, I judged her, saw the future, lost it, punched a wooden fence until my knuckles we bloody, rage, splinters, my brother came to my rescue, dislocating my knee, ACL torn, gone, rage, losing soccer, drawing soccer, giving my all, falling on a rock, losing Luke Cripps, death, My nana Wyn, the last thing I did was avoid her, guild wracked. Tears in England, when I broke my finger, it was a cold night, I fell awkwardly on my hand, we lost badly, silent, fuming, not the best, a loser, getting caught peeing on a fence by my uncle, his anger, my fear, gritting my teeth through the pain of my knee, running laps, my girlfriend cheating on me with my best friend, the distrust, the anger, the want to kill, the “never speak to me again”, the jogging, the running up that hill mentality, the stupidity, the repetition, the weak feeling, “I can’t make it better”, the advice, the hearsay, the words of comfort, the idiots, my brother, father, friends, me; a storm cloud, fighting, training, mouth guard in, pushups, situps, drinking, smoking, stupid, drinking, stupid, wasteful, uneducated, strange, taxxed, system, mating, children, rubbing up against eachother for pleasure, insignificance, tolerance, evolution, progression, for what, will we see results, bacteria, stars, real power, entertainments, strange untold weakness in our anger. Extinction.
I am spent.
I wonder, are we all suppressing?
Dips and troughs.
Waves or stairs?
Fear of falling. Or just a steady decline, towards our deaths.
Age with good grace.
Be my avatar for my ideals Patrick.
I am brain, you are pinky, the body.
I have wants. Take time to think on my needs.
other’s will distract you, if you let them, let them into your life.
Hermits are unsavoury.
There are so many quizzes and questions.
people with their own answers. Greet them.
Sort the good from the bad, knowing that time will kill them all.
Karma answers to someone just like you and me.
Silence is its own violence.
The sirens come, lock you away.
Jacket that’s one size fits all.
A free, bit of verse.
A terse bit of bee.
An F in the V.
The jest is on me.
I tried to-
get it out.
One day at a time.
Try as I might.
THE Weather man’s fine.
Isn’t what you mean.
What you say is a squiggle.
Life’s circle, your version.
Means the great leveller.
Will be seeing you sooner
Rather than later.