haiku 4 February 2019

We tell funny jokes

To each other and ourselves
And thus stay human

americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]

haiku 24 Jan 2018

From a few weak steps
We graduate to great leaps
Then falter, with age

[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]

troll we’ll too

It is swell to be troll whose words exact a heavy toll whose face is hidden from all lookers within online pressure-cookers. In these modern times of ours we don’t pay visits bearing flowers instead it’s mostly hatred cruel defining ev’ry social rule. Where’s it come from this foul habit? Voices screaming loud and rabid? It won’t take long wait and see until there’s talk of the Nazis. Where’s it come from but TV, especially ‘reality’ - it’s taught us to be loud-mouthed scum who hurl abuse at everyone. Such behavior runs against the lengths to which mankind has went to keep the peace within his ranks whilst dwelling next to riverbanks. Spam we will and troll we’ll too - this is just what we humans do - we’ve done it since the first guy laughed for sending a bunk telegraph. Mankind do what mankind want be it to peacock or to flaunt his ignorance as knowledge full oh what a giant heap of bull.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

on vegan killers

Over the weekend, I engaged with a staunchly vegan friend in heated debate about the taking of life. At root, my argument was that in order for us humans to stay alive, something else must die. Each living human sends tens of thousands of living bacteria to perish in a lake of his stomach acid every time he swallow. Each vegan takes the life of a broccoli plant when he lops its head off; he denies the soy plant the ability to live when he eats its beans instead of planting them; he kills countless bacteria every time he washes his hands with soap or spills a drop of vodka onto a wooden bar-top. Hence, the only thing a person can do to avoid killing other living things, every day, is to die.

In my experience, certain vegans rationalize their dietary and life choices according to the 'cute and cuddly' argument: since a cow can turn supposedly doleful eyes back at its butcher and certain emotions can be interpreted into its gaze, it should not be killed. Another is what I call the 'flight' argument: since a chicken can run away from a person trying to catch it (whereas an onion cannot), it wants to stay alive and must therefore not be killed. A third argument is 'it has eyes, and a mother, and should therefore not be killed.' My vegan friend made extensive use of the 'it has eyes' argument; indeed, it seemed to sit at the core of his very existence. That, and saying that since he can't see bacteria with his own eyes, I could not prove to him that they were alive, fled from danger, or even existed. Oh, and trying to shame me into admitting I would eat the liver of a human baby if one were served up to me mixed up in a bowl with the livers of other animals. (For myself, on the day-to-day, I choose to eat only plant products, but since I will eat whatever a host puts in front of me while a guest in his home, I without shame admitted that I would probably – but not willingly – eat a member of my own species...) When I made the point that potatoes have eyes, my counterpart argued that this was only a matter of definition, to which I countered with something like, “So, if we started calling the sight organs of animals something other than 'eyes,' would it be OK to eat them?” He responded by launching back into shaming mode and accusing me of wanting to eat babies. After nearly an hour of cyclical conversation and me admitting to being a monster and a (potential) cannibal, I brought things to a point, asking my vegan friend if he agreed that by eating a tomato, a soy bean, or an apple, he was a taker of life. A killer. He responded by saying that, according to what he referred to as the 'food chain,' it is natural for humans to eat not only plants but also the products of plants. That, for him, eating the seed of a plant is not killing. That, since plants cannot run away and he cannot hear their screams of agony (certain pine trees scream at frequencies inaudible to humans when they're dying of thirst), they're freely giving up their fruits, and their lives. At that point, we ended the conversation, agreeing to disagree.

In my opinion, since a chicken's egg can grow up to become a chicken, it contains life, or at least the potential for life. In my opinion, since a soy (or any other) bean can grow up to become a soy (or any other) plant, it contains life, or at least the potential for life. Therefore, for me, there's no difference between a chicken's egg and a soy bean. I am a vegetarian primarily because I like the way my body and mind feel when I'm vegetarian. Also, I do not wish to support an animal husbandry industry that causes undue suffering to the lives in its care, destroying Earth's environment, and overusing antibiotics. Plus. I find that eating a lot of meat causes my blood-chemistry to become unbalanced. Before each meal, whether it should contain meat or plant products, I try to take a moment to thank the food for sacrificing itself so that I might live. George Bernard Shaw once wrote: 'Animals are my friends... and I don't eat my friends.' Every time I hear Shaw's quote used by a vegan person to self-aggrandize his or her dietary and life decisions, however, I want to add this: 'But plants? Fuck plants – I'll kill and eat the shit out a fucking plant.' I will write more on this subject once my passions have subsided and my tone is more rational. Essentially, however, all life is precious, and we would do well to be thankful for everything that dies to keep us alive, no matter how stationary, unattractive, or small it may be. In this way, we can start to develop compassion for all things living, not just those we might want to cuddle.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

eyes in graffiti

Walk through Los Angeles, New York, Philadelphia, Berlin, Amsterdam, or Bangkok, and look in the forgotten, in the grimy, and in the underused places. With a keen glance and a bit of luck, you will witness the riotous beauty known as graffiti. Oh, what a profusion it is of style and color, of shape and size, of message and image, all blending into a whole that, if viewed from afar, resembles little more than clutter. Step closer, however, and trust your peripheral vision, and your most tender of sphincters will drink gladly of the intoxicating power of street art. Why, though, do we look? Why are we powerless against the urge to sweep our gazes down into worn and sticky curbs and up onto soot-stained poles? Eyes, my friends, we look at graffiti because it is full of eyes (and not just any eyes, but human eyes). They may have stumbled upon the technique accidentally, they may have copied it from advertisers, but, for whatever reason, graffitos exploit one of mankind's primal and deep-seated fears, using a time-proven method for getting people to look at something – giving it eyes.

Since our time as forest-creeping, prairie-running, skull-bashing troglodytes, the species homo sapiens has developed the uncanny ability to recognize the shape of the eye even if it should be obscured by layers of random patterns. Experts argue whether this ability is restricted merely to recognizing human eyes or if it applies to those of our former predators (i.e. bear, cougar, coyote), but I hazard that our subconscious brains are constantly trying to figuring out if someone, or something, is looking at us. Advertisers exploit this evolutionary adaptation to our status as Top Predator Of One Another by blanketing the asphalt landscape – the phaltscape – with pictures of pretty people who nearly all happened to have been staring directly at the camera's shutter when it opened. (Now, however, instead of our powers giving us the upper hand in a fight-or-flight situation, they allow us to be convinced that we need that new and re-formulated cucumber body scrub. Woe be unto mankind.)

All quasi-scientific, pseudo-evolutionary nonsense aside, why do graffiti-writers use eyes in their designs? Why does they want people to look at their works of art? Few graffitos apply their craft for financial gain; as with other labors of love, people cipher-write regardless of the risks it poses to life, limb, liberty, and liability. SDUBS (Self Directed Urban Beautification Specialists) are wily and suspicious by nature; they maintain a level of honor, decorum, and discipline so profound as to make inquiry into their personal matters a life-threatening endeavor; therefore, these questions shall likely go unanswered for generations to come. For now, however, please enjoy the street-side galleries of free-to-the-consumer art wherever you may be, and rest easily in the knowledge that, by looking back at eyes that look at you, you are merely executing a deeply-ingrained survival reflex that is as natural to humans as is laughter. Never forget, however, to keep an eye out for mankind's oldest enemy – itself.

場黑麥 mentiri factorem fecit

on self education

The modus operandi of many Americans I meet seems to be one of prideful ignorance. Rather than keeping their mouths shut on topics about which they know nothing, they will loudly proclaim their lack of knowledge and attempt to reduce their self-inflicted embarrassment by making eye contact with everyone present while laughing too hard and for too long. On the one hand, this destroys the flow of conversation amongst people-in-the-know; on the other hand, though, in some cases the ignorant party can learn something so that next time he might be a bit less clueless. (I believe that the 24-hour news cycle and its endless array of body-less blabbermouths has helped to convince people in this society that constant talking is a good thing; it is not, as it all too often keeps the mind from figuring things out, on its own, in peaceful contemplation.)

And yet here I sit, in this cold but sunny room, contributing to society's messiness by lamenting the fact that other people lament their lack of knowledge. What a confused mind I have, and what a high horse I ride. No amount of writing or blogging will change peoples' behavior; they do what they think is best for themselves because that is what everyone else is doing and if they don't, they feel like they might be missing out. And what, really, is the harm in someone voicing their curiosity and showing interest in things foreign to them, and strange? Perhaps they do it to stroke the egos of the people who have already taken the time to educate themselves about topics not directly related to their daily doings.

A few days ago, some graffiti came through on the tumblrbot, an image of a saying sprayed neatly onto a wall, which was: silence is better than bullshit. This is a simple yet powerful lesson. Over the last few months, I have attempted often to stick to this rule, only to fail in my effort to mind my own affairs when asked by other people what it is I do for a living, how my siblings are, or why I tie one of my pants-legs back with an reflective elastic cuff. Sometimes, I manage to keep quiet, but other times I let the words flow only to find myself saying more than I wanted to say and wishing that I were not expected to reveal the details of my personal business. In contemporary American society, individuals who sit quietly while in the company of others, who avoid constantly spilling their guts or gleefully joining in the boorish fun of tearing apart anything that anyone else says or does or implies, these persons are viewed as strange; they are soon avoided, mocked, and ostracized; they are, however, the very individuals who understand the crucial importance of inner peace and spiritual contentedness, who are continuously jettisoning extraneous belongings, feelings of honor or pride, and letting go of the last vestiges of this passings world. With that, I shall, for now, merge back into silence, and cease with this bullshit. Mahalo.

mentiri factorem fecit © 場黑麥