….if there truly remains a legislative branch not tied to marionette strings, popping
and sliding the creaking wooden floors of some macabre soundstage
Look, I’m well aware just how …romantic/naive that line sounds. It is romantic (all of it;
romantic and angry and anxious for our progeny) and naïve ~~~ in this perplexed 21st
century predicament I find myself sometimes in good company in, …I …need the
romanticism to keep the bullet away from the brain; the naiveté is just…poor breeding
or something. If I cannot at least try to convince myself that there are a few noble &/or
benevolent “people” banging their learned beings against a wall built by might way back
in the infamous late 40s by those quiet goodshepherds of sound & fury methodology and
esprit de corps, then I’m not sure there’s a seed of apathy and distraction germinating in
me strong enough to offer sanctuary to my apt sense of woe. If we truly are “fucked”,
packaged, hung, & preserved for the futureshock, by every real/tangible sense & term,
merely fodder to pocket-pickers with exceptional scribes and fervent bean-counters and
conical movers of the most exclusive cloths, well then, I don’t know how the heck I’m
going to face the next couple o decades. Things just don’t roll off my shoulders that
easily. It’s just the way it is.
I mean, how can something so vast as a living planet not come to know its own miracle?
