maybe not.
I'm listening to a Cat Power mix CD, and comtemplating freedom. I can pinpoint the exact moment I last had a major epiphany on freedom. I was sitting at the University bar in Dunedin, New Zealand, (yes, they have a campus pub in NZ) feeling sophisticated and self-important drinking beer and discussing political theory, but in that way where you know the political theory is closer to the people and farther from the philosophers. This moment may also have started my obsession with contrasts. Regardless, I think the reason it has been two years since my last real concentrated bout of thinking about such a highly touted subject is because I have slowly worn myself/been worn down (by whom? the media? the government? Can one really be worn down by such abstract concepts? I mean, how do I even know in my day-to-day life that these things really exist as large, overarching community-controllers?)
Anyway, so I'm sitting in this dark, smokey corner talking to an Australian-New Zealander about the origins of the USA and its heavy reliance on freedom in its self-image. How can you have freedom without slavery? Luckily (?) for the founding fathers, this was not a problem, because there most certainly was slavery, and continued slavery for nearly one hundred more years officially, but for more than two hundred years in reality, perhaps even still, some might argue. It's the same with what's going on now--terror vs. freedom. Switching labels. Communism vs. capitalism. Democrats vs. Republicans. It's completely arbitrary which label is assigned to which irrelevant team. I'm pretty sick of it, but even more sick of myself being sick of it. How can any one really be sick of it?! How long have I been living? Almost a quarter of a century. In twenty-some-odd years, have I really gone through that much that I can declare disgust? Can anyone really declare disgust and disinterest? Are we ever entitled to not caring--say, at age 85, if I am still relatively healthy and alert, even then, after (hopefully) living for so long, I think it is always the responsibility that comes with breathing to care.
This is why these lines from a Bill Knott poem scare me. They scare me because I am drawn to them--they remind me of how I sometimes feel sitting at my desk, staring at a computer, ensuring I sit for at least eight hours and accomplish something semi-measurable in that span.
"I don't use a pen-name anymore.
I don't use a pen anymore.
I don't write anymore.
I just sit looking at the wastebasket
With this alert, intelligent look on my face."
Am I numb to the mass production of this freedom and slavery dichotomy? I think that even in the blaring trumpeting of these "American qualities", I cling to my inner calypso. Because eventually your ears become deaf if you are subjected to constant beration.
Anyway, so I'm sitting in this dark, smokey corner talking to an Australian-New Zealander about the origins of the USA and its heavy reliance on freedom in its self-image. How can you have freedom without slavery? Luckily (?) for the founding fathers, this was not a problem, because there most certainly was slavery, and continued slavery for nearly one hundred more years officially, but for more than two hundred years in reality, perhaps even still, some might argue. It's the same with what's going on now--terror vs. freedom. Switching labels. Communism vs. capitalism. Democrats vs. Republicans. It's completely arbitrary which label is assigned to which irrelevant team. I'm pretty sick of it, but even more sick of myself being sick of it. How can any one really be sick of it?! How long have I been living? Almost a quarter of a century. In twenty-some-odd years, have I really gone through that much that I can declare disgust? Can anyone really declare disgust and disinterest? Are we ever entitled to not caring--say, at age 85, if I am still relatively healthy and alert, even then, after (hopefully) living for so long, I think it is always the responsibility that comes with breathing to care.
This is why these lines from a Bill Knott poem scare me. They scare me because I am drawn to them--they remind me of how I sometimes feel sitting at my desk, staring at a computer, ensuring I sit for at least eight hours and accomplish something semi-measurable in that span.
"I don't use a pen-name anymore.
I don't use a pen anymore.
I don't write anymore.
I just sit looking at the wastebasket
With this alert, intelligent look on my face."
Am I numb to the mass production of this freedom and slavery dichotomy? I think that even in the blaring trumpeting of these "American qualities", I cling to my inner calypso. Because eventually your ears become deaf if you are subjected to constant beration.
posted by eekbeat | 2:59 PM
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