For as much use as the term gets in social discourse, the concept of freedom is deceivingly simple. Freedom requires oppression in order to exist: if we did not have enslavement, we would not yearn for freedom.
Which is to imagine that perhaps the people who care most about petitions and organizations and benefactors labeled as freedom-loving do so because they see that oppressor as one thing. Others who may see freedom as their own as opposed to a shared concept then will disagree on some aspects. Some will see certain freedoms as choice and others as not due to teachings from the family or church or other influence outside of the state.
When you have a nation founded on freedom and liberty, but no common definition as to what that actually is—as our own ‘definitive’ document has its obvious flaws—at a certain point interpretation will degrade the union as representation yields less.
I have a conflicted relationship with a lot of things in my life. One who lives largely for the experience of living tends to find themselves on the journey alone for most of the time. Many great stories, but each tends to have a more ambiguous personal nature that tends to get left out.
Heavy is a good description for these days.
Automation and processing are a strange parallel to human creativity and advancement. Humans are still quite primitive technologically, and so with images and the internet this is really the first time we’re seeing mass processing of an intellectual construct as opposed to physical need.
(Thus, the over-hyped “creative class” is really just the modern version of a labor force assembly line. It’s directions with a board-approved result: there is nothing creative about following orders unless you have a luxury of narrow focus.)
Processed foods and automation warped our concept of food to such an extent most of what we consume comes with a list of chemical ingredients. Our nation is fat and broke and Nestle is buying up the world’s water.
Processed art, the explosion of ‘creativity’ being witnessed on teenage blogs, is nothing more than an amplification of automation when budget is no constraint. There will always be those that stay above the waves, it’s just difficult to tell who the survivors are when a cruise ship is sinking nearby.
Checking settings—must log in to Tumblr—and realize,
I have not done this in quite some time as the sign-in form
asks me for a password.
I hesitate and wonder, When was I last on Tumblr? it must have been weeks ago
I couldn’t remember and you know what I missed? fucking nothing
How much of our dialog persists on a switch?
When you can take what matters so much to a vast many with such ease
then you are dangerous
People volunteering social regularity of life to corporations
less than selling out more than
acceptance of place lost in a chasm between sadness and wretchedness
filled with the illusions
I want to preface this by saying my exclamation is not out of some sort of first-world-problem outrage, but rather of genuine surprise. I know it would seem like a relatively Portland thing to do, to bitch about a lack of coffee choices.
However, it is absolutely crazy to me that my studio happens to be in the one part of town where I can’t walk under five blocks to get a mocha on a Sunday morning.
(J&M isn’t really a coffee-and-go place, and the rest are closed. Crazy.)