Sunday, January 27, 2008

Loving The Alien

Not tonight darling - I have a headache
believing the strangest things

Big slack-stringed bass-line delivered direct to my head by the technology in my top pocket heavy. Mezzanine: asymmetric drums hold up chanted melancholia before the introduction of chords of dramatic guitar. And underlying it all, a white-noise echo; as if to remind me of the undertow; the fact that despite the beauty of the forest - the serenity of green existence, the tranquillity; despite my whistling in the wind – that under the leaves microscopic biologic universes wage war on dead matter, all in aid of upping their carbon index.

The fact that we, as a species, are unique in knowing our ultimate destination seems to make us, for that very reason, prone to ignorance, stoic avoidance and superstitious denial.

Our pursuit of technology is driven primarily by the wish to overcome our inevitable individual demise. Those of us not directly involved with this fool’s errand spend much of our time gazing transfixed into the machine – adding playlists and contacts; installing updates; changing channels to avoid the ubiquitous adverts that promise eternal life in the form of more an more technology.
Beauty products sold on the back of pseudo science; motor cars and home entertainment offering to cocoon us in their cleverness; and insurance to protect us from all that can go wrong: “Don’t go out folks”, death and loss of property lurk at every falling grand piano or anvil dangled by Wile E. Coyote.
Fear and soothing of fear with sale of pharmaceutical escape – good cop bad cop – keeping ourselves distracted by mutual engagement in the process of commerce as a way of life.

So we are not prone to being reminded of just how beautifully fragile this whole trip is, (for what can be more beautiful; more precious than that which we can only hold for the duration of our individual biological system?), we run ever faster through the week in order to reach the weekend’s oblivion; to numb the sound of the insects that rustle beneath the leaves with barrels of alcohol and brawling in the street.

We have it all but we own nothing.

And so it is that the music, ironically delivered by technology, will provide the necessary reminder that this is, in the words of Frank Zappa, a one shot deal.

So push those buttons and turn those virtual dials; pump your system full of digital steroids; paint your avatar in pixels of eternal life; numb your mind with realiteevee or the slender hope of heaven; but do not neglect to take a walk in the woods and remind yourself of the process to which you will most definitely return.

4 comments:

gregra&gar said...

Fear and soothing of fear with sale of pharmaceutical escape

Pills to relieve the discomfort their commercials cause. Cures for death kept Viet Nam combatants alive until they died of disease formerly only found in cadavers. Oh yeah, we think we know our ultimate destination without anyone who reached it ever telling us a thing.

Absolute Vanilla (& Atyllah) said...

One could of course, escape the box and walk in the woods to remember who one truly is. Trouble is, most are too afraid of what they'll find. Therein lies the tragedy.

leslie said...

Yes, to everything.
And a grand picture of Frank.

Princess Haiku said...

I think that knowing the inevitability of it all does make living an art form. Hope you are well and sure you are missing rdg too. Take care