And I Can’t Wait to Leave Tomorrow
We Got Here Yestday
We’re Here Now
And I Can’t Wait
To Leave Tomorrow ~John Giorno
It has been a long time since I’ve posted, hasn’t it?
This proves that I am clearly not among the chattering class. I’ve often said that humans are a species of chatterers, and the development of man lies in learning how to shut up. This stems from my time among chimpanzees in Zimbabwe. They are nothing, if not chatterers.
Or it could also be a statement about my lack of discipline though I feel no need to consider myself a writer with a writer’s demands. Indeed I dislike writing and the product of writing, so I don’t regard this as a failing. I am not employed to produce words, so that helps too. My lack of discipline in anything, however, I regard as a failing.
Or it could be the depression. The sheer weight of dumb consciousness making it impossible to move. It is like Kitaro’s distinction between inert matter and biology; the former is acted upon and behaves according to its structure, the latter, life, moves from the formed to the forming in a constant process of becoming again, but not quite the same. The motivation of life is the desire to be something else. There simply has been no motivation in me.
The most I have been able to muster are some weak gestures with the robot fingers of the social media; a digital pointer at Spain and then Greece. Look at the Indignatos who are alive enough to be indignant. Or look! Cows in China that produce human milk! We must learn another way to value one another, or else! Our money and our mother’s tits are worthless.
I tire of making the same disjointed arguments over and over. I tell myself I’m going to organize the damn things, and write them down, and put them up as bullet points of facts in a framework, just to be done with them. But I know as soon as I do they will want to be sustained and defended. They will need to be fed with some kind of wordy supplements. They will become a something, yet another inadequate thing insisting on importance, another thing wanting to be what it is not, another thing trying to live.
Go away stupidity and shut up with your speculation. You control nothing. You know nothing except your paralyzed past and even that is beyond you.
There is nothing to do now except let the factories run out of gas and look for protein where we may find it; to watch as life becomes what it is becoming without regard for what becomes of us and to shut up about it. It’s not our business anymore.
(images by Rockwell Kent)
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