176. And so I sing...

Happy half birthday to youu,
Happy half birthday to youuu,
Happy half biiirthday dear ashley, kaitlynn, and william shaaakespeare,
Happy half birthday to you!


Six months exactly tick tick tick....




I'm reading a book for class called "The Saturated Self - Dilemmas of Identity in Contemporary Life". It's dense but intriguing. The book as a whole is surprisingly good. I read a part tonight that struck me a little. It's a hypothetical conversation between a feminist and a post-modern man (the generality of a person in today's living society...I say that loosely) Here it is:

F: Who are they trying to scare off? Full of power and manipulative control, abundant resources, speed, complete management. The new army, complete with portable zenises. Pulling the rug out from under the old guard. (Didn't we all want to run out of the stands and..cheer!!!?) Down with the old order...foundations, split into gravity's rainbow/rules shredded ribbons adorning the may pole, wavering in the breeze of breathtaking words/absolute-ly nothinged by the shock-ing post-modern troops/wreaking con-sense with non-sense, parading, pandering, paradoxing, playing. What fun...London bridge is falling down. (de-constructed) My Fair Lady. Where can we jump in? Shall we form around a circle? Can we dance around the fire? The pole? The falling bridges? Give us a hand? Give us a hand? Give us a hand...

PM Man: (All they ever want are hand-outs...give em an inch they'll take a mile. How many inches do they think we've got?) Besides can't you see we've got play to do? It's not easy just going off to play each day you know. It takes practice and dedication and grace. It's not something that you can just join in like that. We've got our ways. Can't you see you'll just muck it up? We're in the wrecking business. What business is that of yours? "You make, we break": We can write it on the truck. Next thing you'll want us to settle down and play house. We've got to be movin' on. It's part of the code. Besides, John Wayne doesn't talk to girls, so adios. "Don't call us, we'll call you."...That's another thing. We don't make promises. Just another word for commitment (the really big C word, the one that gets you behind bars, and I don't mean mixing martinis). Let em eat cake, as good ol' Marie put it. She had a feel for our rap. French of course...Post-modern life is, as Deleuze sez, nomadic. We are all homeless wanderers on the featureless, pos-industrial steppe, tentless nomads, home packed up...Baby, the revolution has just begun. I mean the trashing is in dis-progress. Garbage cans full of rotten fruit, it is child's play. Disciplines to dismantle/Methods to maul/Truth to trample/Origins to emasculate...we're a-dispersing...






Ridiculous, crazy, truth...

Read it a few times and it will come to you. I'll let this one be up to interpretation. Kind of a...choose your own adventure book. I always liked those.