small things changed

have sometimes large benefits

these trying

times call for a drastic action, a chosen and radical trial by fire designed to reshape the inner models into forms more inclined to bring about Happiness amongst the fragmented shards of the soul

an opinion

the only two ways to stop being part of the system are to remove oneself from it, or destroy it

last full day

this is my last full day in Cali, and so far I've eaten cereal and sat around contemplating doing yard work and laundry, both of which I have postponed until later in the day. huzzah, but I don't want to leave here

on velocipedal locomotion

Moving the body from place to place on a velocipede has many advantages over using a motor vehicle, or walking. To ride bicycle, to mash velocipede, is to issue a clear and open declaration of one's physical exuberance, hurtling, sweaty proof that one is in both good health and high spirits. During one's travels, one learns the rhythm and character of a region's unique micro-climates, so that the brow gets cooled by a secret breeze and one can weather the noon-time heat in a cool and shaded grove. The bicyclist searches without pause for routes he can ride that lack cars, whose roads are newly paved, or those that are superior to the traffic-choked byways frequented by slave's charioteers, the drivers of cars; so long as he keeps looking, his town provides unique views of treasures previously overlooked and beauty previously ignored. He explores secret places he would likely never chance upon in a car while covering more ground than if he were traveling on foot, and the smogsled requires neither metered parking nor paid attendants. The only exhaust vapor created during cycling is one's own vital breath, and the only waste heat produced drips as sweat from the ruddy and invigorated skin. He sleeps well at night knowing that he dragged himself across the phaltscape burning only the fuel found in his tender guts.


As a silent propulsion system, bicycling resembles the Russian caterpillar drive of Hunt for Red October myth but where the Commies used fusion-powered, the velocipedist puts to work his piston-like legs and stout heart. To move the body from place to place without a nuclear reactor takes time and effort, and bicycling is time spent in honest effort. Dust off your wire donkeys, ye lazy carbuncles, and display your independence from want one pedal-stroke at a time.

mentiri factorem fecit – 場黑麥

a bogeyman lacking

For a good portion of the second half of the 20th century, the United States had a clearly defined bogeyman, fall-guy, and nemesis: the pinkie red commies of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (CCCP). Then, in the early 1990s, the CCCP crumbled, unable to keep underwriting the avarice and greed of its ruling class, unable to keep enforcing its will upon a weary populace, and unable to keep up with the sheer might of NATO's consumption-centered capitalism and widespread industrial automation. All of a sudden, after decades of silent struggle against a highly demonized foe (see the inclusion of the phrase Under God in the pledge of allegiance that was added to show what godless heathens the commies were), America found herself without a clearly defined enemy.

Into this void came the 11 September 2001 attacks, after which the branches of the U.S. government that were charged with defense and intelligence focused their various highly-sophisticated covert surveillance, espionage, murder, and sneak-thievery apparatuses not onto external foes but onto the very individuals whose Safety and Happiness they were supposed to bring about: the American people. We, the People, are now the enemy. We, the People, are now spied upon, listened to, and watched more closely than any terrorist or friend-of-terrorist foolish enough to still be using means of electronic communication such as radio, cellphone, or Internet. Worst of all, however, we, the People, as a whole, do not seem to mind this oppression, preferring rather to walk the walk we have always walked, dutifully participating in presidential elections (over which, because of the electoral college, we have little power and less influence), dutifully watching five hours of television a day, dutifully reporting to work, and then, as if we were mindless automatons hardwired to strict obedience, spending our hard-earned cash on superfluous bullshit we were instructed to buy during exquisitely-crafted television commercials which we payed good money for the privilege to be exposed to.

There is a balance that the federal government must strike between keeping us, the People, Safe and Happy; since the Bush2 presidency and continuing into that of Obama, however, this balance tilted drastically to the side of Safety at the cost of Happiness. We, the People, must find a way to regain the balance that our nation has lost, but we choose instead to rot our minds watching TV and to rack up consumer debt because we cannot control the knee-jerk drive to impulsive and conspicuous materialism, and there is little hope that we might accomplish much of anything beyond become fatter, lazier, sadder, and less free. With Osama Bin Laden dead and the regime of the commie bastard long since withered away, our worth as a People is plummeting daily; perhaps we deserve our status as the new bogeymen, as the new whipping posts of the power-hungry plutocrats who punish and imprison us for daring to pursue Happiness.

mentiri factorem fecit – 場黑麥

oscar mike

(pencil on paper)

dream-shape

where's the door

a heraldic owl

sketched on paper using charcoal in 2002, Herald Square, nyc