Tag Archives: Facebook

Bigotry and Tea

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Bigotry is not a conservative’s disease. Liberals wear its pustules too. The virus lives in lines we draw–in sanctimonious snares we cinch ever-tighter around our communities. This is a disease of paradoxes and ironies thriving in the same constitutions that seem to admonish it. It blooms in technologies broadcasting to billions the thoughts of frightened minds retreating to their caves. We grow smaller as we grow larger. The proper pill–bitter apparently–is education and critical thinking, which we ignore. When the two are co-opted by politics and ignorance, we let the devil win. But maybe that’s his right.

In my tea leaves: 
Expect nothing; keep your promises; hope for the best.



Aug 10, 2014



My Hat Your Hat Ass Hat

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About Facebook. At this point I don’t think I care much about right or wrong.  Not sure that’s ever been my point to begin with, or ever should have been.  Maybe I’ll just stick to watching.  What else is there to do here?  And anyway, if we do treat each other like crap it’s only because we can.  If someone objects, well fuck them.  It’s a school yard, ass-hat.
We hang out here for ourselves, for personal reasons.  Don’t be fooled.  Just because this is social media, that doesn’t mean there’s a social contract.  We pretend there is, we leverage that (the spider always calling to the fly), but we’re just being ourselves: just fresh and natural, real.  We leap from virtue to virtue – snatch them up and wear them like holy t-shirts, one at a time.  Catch us if you can.  If you don’t understand that, you’re just wrong, just stupid, a loser.  You don’t see the webs?  You didn’t read our rules set in six-point Wingdings font?  It isn’t like marriage.  Hell, even marriage isn’t like marriage.
Idiot.
Wait!  Where are you going?  We don’t hate you; we love you.  Be our friend.  Learn to be sung to.  Come back!
Moron.

Rub lemon oil on shit and voila: everyone walks away. Then there’s no shit!

Gavin W Sisk
Jan. 2014

Chime Runner

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Tonight I watched Blade Runner, the sci-fi classic and E-Ticket ride through metaphysics & epistemology. This was the ‘Final Cut’ version I hadn’t before seen. I couldn’t figure out what was different about the sound track until I realized I was also hearing the wind chime on my front porch. The chime had been quiet until recently, when I rehabilitated it by adding a shiny hard-disk platter as a wind-catcher.

The irony was hard to ignore: a metal disk comprising thousands of visions, thoughts, and memories–unverifiable except for the seemingly disorganized notes it beat through the screen door.

There might be a strange Cartesian circle somewhere here to consider. Just as likely, there is a good ghost story, which would be easier to write. Maybe Stephen King is just a frustrated existentialist.

 

Sept. 4, 2011