so you've done most of what you think you've needed to do
and what you haven't done, you've read about or watched in the movies
And you're waiting for some great like ... revelation
some redemption in embossed lettering
Hoping that as you walk through the streets something
may just catch your eye, instead of everything seeming like pirated re-runs.
As you roam the bookshelf you hope to find that masterpiece that will just inspire
But all you find are rehashed ideas and stunted ideals.
And you're waiting for the great reformer or charismatic revolutionary,
the noble saint promising deliverance ... from yourself.
Everything has been overused,
music overplayed, innovation overdone,
technology overworked, labourers underpaid.
Moments are grey
Movements cliched
Quick highs
Eternal lows
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Saturday, April 10, 2010
fact is stranger than fiction
Perhaps some classics have made it to the fiction shelves because had the philosophies of social structure been purported as factual projections and analysis, the authors might have been proclaimed heretics.
Two works 'Brave New World' (Alduos Huxley) and '1984' (George Orwell) are largely seen as prophetic, but the timelessness of their theories centers around an accurate analysis of human nature.
Orwell outlines a sense that human nature is constant and that there is a longing to return to an original form or state of consciousness. Huxley focuses more on conditioning. Each of his central characters, even though momentarily restless with the status quo, longs for that environment of comfort that comes from their respective conditioning.
The theme which was of most interest to me was the concept of 'mass control' and the instruments used to achieve this. Dumbing down of a 'higher consciousness' is achieved through controlled dissemination and promotion of base indulgence.
Both works had a strong emphasis on the sexual nature of man. An overindulgence in base desires is seen in both works as a distraction from self actualisation and the realisation of intellectual potential.
Pornography is seen as a tool of subversion.
Interestingly, music is seen in both works as a means of mindless preoccupation – the type of music being churned out in those respective societies. Meaningless rhyming sentences, repeated often enough entrenching meaningless phrases into the psyche. I wondered about the foresight of these authors and whether Orwell did in fact have a time machine that stole glimpses onto the present Billboard hits.
The mood in '1984' was a darker, more suspicious form of control – this is more honest, I believe than the superficial 'joy' described in 'Brave New World' which was a measure of entrapment too.
An analysis of present day would reveal a combination of both forms of control – the structured 'state apparatus' and the subversive indulgence in smaller distractions so as to avoid applying the mind to a higher purpose.
Are there obvious 'architects of control'? Conspiracy theories ( eg.youtube:the arrivals) would have us believe this. Or is it that when man functions outside of a paradigm of absolute values, he tends to head down a familiar pattern of destruction.
There is a sense that both authors are unraveling their personal theories and end off in a somewhat sermon-style conclusion – these are fascinating conclusions though.
Orwell's novel, true to its realistic but morbid temperament ends with the independent, thinking voice being silenced and suppressed. Although Huxley's voice of reason (in the form of the Savage) comes to a chilling end, there is some honour in this as he has tried to remain true to his ideals.
Sometimes facts are so strange that they can only be safely passed off as fiction.
Two works 'Brave New World' (Alduos Huxley) and '1984' (George Orwell) are largely seen as prophetic, but the timelessness of their theories centers around an accurate analysis of human nature.
Orwell outlines a sense that human nature is constant and that there is a longing to return to an original form or state of consciousness. Huxley focuses more on conditioning. Each of his central characters, even though momentarily restless with the status quo, longs for that environment of comfort that comes from their respective conditioning.
The theme which was of most interest to me was the concept of 'mass control' and the instruments used to achieve this. Dumbing down of a 'higher consciousness' is achieved through controlled dissemination and promotion of base indulgence.
Both works had a strong emphasis on the sexual nature of man. An overindulgence in base desires is seen in both works as a distraction from self actualisation and the realisation of intellectual potential.
Pornography is seen as a tool of subversion.
Interestingly, music is seen in both works as a means of mindless preoccupation – the type of music being churned out in those respective societies. Meaningless rhyming sentences, repeated often enough entrenching meaningless phrases into the psyche. I wondered about the foresight of these authors and whether Orwell did in fact have a time machine that stole glimpses onto the present Billboard hits.
The mood in '1984' was a darker, more suspicious form of control – this is more honest, I believe than the superficial 'joy' described in 'Brave New World' which was a measure of entrapment too.
An analysis of present day would reveal a combination of both forms of control – the structured 'state apparatus' and the subversive indulgence in smaller distractions so as to avoid applying the mind to a higher purpose.
Are there obvious 'architects of control'? Conspiracy theories ( eg.youtube:the arrivals) would have us believe this. Or is it that when man functions outside of a paradigm of absolute values, he tends to head down a familiar pattern of destruction.
There is a sense that both authors are unraveling their personal theories and end off in a somewhat sermon-style conclusion – these are fascinating conclusions though.
Orwell's novel, true to its realistic but morbid temperament ends with the independent, thinking voice being silenced and suppressed. Although Huxley's voice of reason (in the form of the Savage) comes to a chilling end, there is some honour in this as he has tried to remain true to his ideals.
Sometimes facts are so strange that they can only be safely passed off as fiction.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Dead man walking
you know it's there
just a-stalking every person
who's a-walking
but we'll just pretend alright?
hush ...
just a-stalking every person
who's a-walking
but we'll just pretend alright?
hush ...
Friday, March 12, 2010
staccato
A disjointed post to re-activate my blog brain and to stop my mind from going down a path of pure empiricism. What does writing do for me? It pushes thoughts out in a format that isn't lazy. Seeing thoughts in concrete lettering makes me scoff at the gaping holes in them.Now poetry (or my version of it) is easy. It's not meant to have structure. It can be as fleeting and tangential as I sometimes feel. Prose, prose... the nemesis ...
Current philosophical dilemma:
The elusive nature of time and life has been firmly established.Where is the balance between maximising the present and being prudent about 'securing' for the future. In a time when the present life is seen as the end in itself, securing security at every point seems to be the overwhelming pressurising thrust. This tends to make one insecure (oh great irony) and selfish in a way. Gathering enough so that you may always have enough. But is enough ever enough? Planning , building, securing ... for a later that may never come.
While 'peer pressure' was once written off as a challenge of teenagers, I wonder about the pressure to 'succeed'- to have tangible accolades as a medallion for efforts put in.
I realised that you can't run away from 'pressures', they will follow you or you will return to them. The solution, i know (with my mind, not heart) lies in creating a space around yourself. An impenetrable fortress of determination (the magnitude of that statement is enough to put me off striving for this).
If these thoughts seem staccato,then it's a perfect manifestation of me right now. I know that cohesion is a process. Patience,patience... the nemesis.
Current philosophical dilemma:
The elusive nature of time and life has been firmly established.Where is the balance between maximising the present and being prudent about 'securing' for the future. In a time when the present life is seen as the end in itself, securing security at every point seems to be the overwhelming pressurising thrust. This tends to make one insecure (oh great irony) and selfish in a way. Gathering enough so that you may always have enough. But is enough ever enough? Planning , building, securing ... for a later that may never come.
While 'peer pressure' was once written off as a challenge of teenagers, I wonder about the pressure to 'succeed'- to have tangible accolades as a medallion for efforts put in.
I realised that you can't run away from 'pressures', they will follow you or you will return to them. The solution, i know (with my mind, not heart) lies in creating a space around yourself. An impenetrable fortress of determination (the magnitude of that statement is enough to put me off striving for this).
If these thoughts seem staccato,then it's a perfect manifestation of me right now. I know that cohesion is a process. Patience,patience... the nemesis.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
shutting out the noise
when thoughts suffocate in exhaust fumes
and time can't keep up with itself
as though the hour hand is chasing the minute
hand's tail
when emotions spell
fatigue
in neon lights
and Originality is a name brand perfume
when spontaneity needs to be scheduled in
then it's time to take myself to the mountains
while this body may be pummeled
into shape
by the city and all it contains,
my heart lies buried on the river bed,
dancing in the directed current
it rides the tide of the ocean's breath
as it heaves and sighs to the shore
my heart edges on the mountain's cliff
to greet every sunrise with a prayer
and it knows that there will always be
a disconnect unless
this stubborn trunk
decides to uproot
and time can't keep up with itself
as though the hour hand is chasing the minute
hand's tail
when emotions spell
fatigue
in neon lights
and Originality is a name brand perfume
when spontaneity needs to be scheduled in
then it's time to take myself to the mountains
while this body may be pummeled
into shape
by the city and all it contains,
my heart lies buried on the river bed,
dancing in the directed current
it rides the tide of the ocean's breath
as it heaves and sighs to the shore
my heart edges on the mountain's cliff
to greet every sunrise with a prayer
and it knows that there will always be
a disconnect unless
this stubborn trunk
decides to uproot
Thursday, March 26, 2009
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