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[Excerpt from Book One, Chapter 6: The World According to Sa.]
“We squander unpromised tomorrows until death calls out our name, and only then does its faint shadow, ignored life long, darken into the bogeyman that takes us.
“We guzzle the earth to extinction in secret fear of death. Children distant in time will be made to pay for our consumption. We diddle the future in a confidence game, a perfect crime in which the culprit is long gone by the time the next generation comes upon the scene. We hide from death, as the dying cannot. We should contrive a mortal scare, the end of the world.”
“The end of the world?” I repeated, losing her.
“A deus ex machina or two, wobble some metal sheets for thunder. If imminent death led your royal bankster to rethink, the rented masses to clamor for release, it might be worth the toll. Change is a function of time, the present time is in flux, and in the flux we have a Consciousness Exchange on the pinhead of the moment. What if the future tense were to lose all meaning and leave us just the moment? A singular exchange in the flux of time, the stitch that saves nine?”
I had no real way to know where her earnestness ended and fantasy began.
“Let us imagine the end of the world. We have Death to thank for so much of our propensity. Our towers and monuments are homage to him, our property is clung to in defiance of him, our worship a bribe to forestall him or dilute his power. Yet, in our culture, death’s shadow is pale or hidden and comes slowly, to one at a time. What if the shadow of extinction were to get up and speak at once to all humanity?”
“Tell me you’re joking.” [read more...]
[You have to love Russell Brand. See the embedded video at the end of this post in which he waxes eloquent on the subject of electoral politics. It has since gone viral, and deservedly so.
He sounds a lot like Sahar on the subject, with an important exception. Here's a snippet from Chapter 6, book one:]
“Our domestic condition is a misery of financial neurosis for most Americans. Our chief global export is financial gangsterism, rapacious extraction, and military empire, along with the lie of affluence for the hard working, the lie of power of the people, and the lie of freedom of persuasion,” she said with blistering intent. “These are mere jingo markersfor the expansion mandate of corporate wealth. We liberate the rich where we conquer, to deepen their entrenchment and power.”
She paused, and I could see she was making an effort to simmer down. “These, you see, are words from my own anger and revulsion,” she added quietly.
She returned to the candle for a moment, as if for sustenance, then turned to face me again. The light was behind her now, her form a silhouette, the flame behind her head made her hair seem ablaze. She appeared supernatural for a moment, the impression lingering around her voice.
“We shall never know our talent in a world of need. That’s big bad Karl in ten words.” [read more...]
Again it seemed the drunken dream had passed, and I nearly slept before she spoke once more.
“I am as I seem, living in the Big world, your world, a person diminutive in scale and a human being. I live among you, and I study you and the world you have made.”
Time stretched on before she spoke again.
“To regard a great city, one must ask: Are we humans not a species of master path-makers and habitat-shapers? We are. And yet we dare not take our craft to the social estate, nor to the state of our lives beyond the physical. In this our higher realm, we remain like deer, making a trail through the woods as we find them, no vision of a human garden, but paths made in forage of instinct alone. Generation after generation follows these single-minded trails of scent and happenstance through the tangled woods, until we have worn a whole civilization of paths.
“Why not? One might ask, if the experience of conscious creatures depends on the laws of nature, why not follow the vitality of instinct for our paths? Why allow higher faculties, like Science or the Arts, to show us the way to move through the social domain?”
She paused, gathering silence, then answered her question.
“Because we are not deer. Our faculties can be applied to the most fateful decisions in the navigation of human life. Science transcends bias and self-deception to observe with reason, why then does a Science of moral paths have no standing in the order and economy of human life? Why do the Big require that a Science of Ethos be what no other science is required to be: the Word of God?”
Quiet enveloped her words again before she spoke. [read more...]
[Excerpt from Book One ~An Epiphany On Wall Street~ in the Nine Inch Bride series.]
“The word socialist is wrecked in the American psyche,” she replied. “Two centuries of questioning and thought have been rendered taboo and blanked out of mainstream consciousness. But no, the making of new parties must await proportional representation and the demise of winner-take-all. The task before us is to unwind these undemocratic, race and class biased electoral structures. That is prerequisite to successful third parties.”
She stepped away from the candle and caught a glimmer of light along one side, her cheek bone visible now, the rest of her face in shadow. The curve along her neck and shoulders was distractingly delicious to the eye.
“You are alienated from both sides, Ken, because you are middle class,” she said, grabbing back my attention. “Not to be one of the elite honeycombs your soul, and yet you can no longer sit down to dinner with the unwashed common man you consider yourself superior to and more deserving than. I offer you a chance to mature in your human potential to its fullest. All else is waste of time.”
I squirmed at that.
“Democracy is a learning machine. No ism is complete, or sufficient in all times. There can be no forbidden party, even the most noxious side of ourselves we must hear. All barriers must come down. Folly will learn better and fade. True democracy is immune to utopias and final solutions by other name. This discourse between twin capitalist parties, keep-all and tweak-some, is a black tie affair in a museum for democracy.”
[From Nine Inch Bride Book One]
“Debt is the gateway drug to capitalism and its culture. The question for the young is whether to bind oneself heart and mind to this culture of the loan and never look back for fear of jinxing the investment, or to question the contract at every turn. Should they wrangle to join the ruling class, or save the world from a dictatorship of vanity and privilege,” she said, showing one palm up to one side, then the other, as if she were a scale. “Guess which wins.”
“You have to wrangle just to stay alive,” I affirmed.
“Even so. In the bordello of free markets, the young mind is bound to debt, and put in training to become its whore. Genius is tasked with inventing armaments and advertising. Technology is devised to produce a poisoned diet. From banking and Wall Street, the crown jewels of capitalism, we have feudal indenture, fraud in ever more ingenious forms, usury, war mongering...”
She spoke in her low voice, standing with assurance, level headed and calm.
“We have a culture of fraudulent dualities, an either-or infirmity of the brain, understanding pinged and ponged between two paddles. Take your pick between them: Republican-Democrat, private-public, big or small. Whatever comes to mind will have its bully twin in a prison of either/or. It is a fallacy of thinking so common it is in the Advertiser’s Handbook—clean or dirty, new or old, cool or square. What can one hope from such a culture?”
[Originally posted on Google+]
[Sahar from Nine Inch Bride book one]
“You are not the sum of your bank account,” she went on, countering the thought I had not spoken. Was there a way to keep my face from being a billboard in the sky? I wondered.
“It is moral midgets and conniving brutes who best succeed in the jungle of social Darwinism,” she continued. “Ethics do not evolve there, but are quelled to near-extinction. Genius is culled to serve reckless appetites and short-sighted bottom lines, hardly the evolutionary impetus of well-reasoned merit and reward. Neither social nor Darwinian, it would be kind to call the notion confused self-serving hogwash.”
[Originally posted on Google+]
[Sahar from book one in the Nine Inch Bride series]
"There is no essence to issue politics when all issues are framed in capitalism. There is no inspired socialism in counterweight, and no basis for hope from an exclusive democracy, one privately owned by the capitalized few, with a vicious market as its god. Long ago gone, an itch alone remains. Democracy in America is a phantom limb.”
She had made my point in spades I thought.
“But no, it does not follow that electoral politics are a waste of time,” she corrected, “or that voting and parties must remain as they are..."
[Originally published on Google+]