Don't worry about A to B, just be.
Far too long since I wrote, but then in the blogosphere more than 48 hours is too long. Plenty to keep me occupied so don't get me wrong - sustained and accelerated change in the office, an ongoing pseudo-spiritual quest for meaning amidst the mundane and profane of my London, and a tendency to fixate on the spectacle of woe permeating the wider world.
But less of these negatives, the veneer of deceipt that cloaks the exterior world, the rape of nature, the sleaze of politics and the fallacies of religion. All are coincidentally evident at the core of the sodden, sudden hell of New Orleans. But of all the sensational and profound tales that comprise the collective concious of the media, the one that haunts the personal zeitgeist I'm alluding to most poignantly... the story of the young asian woman who took her two kids on that aweful journey to death one morning, leaping from the platform of Southall railway station, into the path of a Heathrow Express train.
Such a brief and publicly inconsequential event, but it left me in awe of this woman... a woman whose name now escapes me. For all the explicit horror of eroneous, grievous and unfortunate world events, they are but a smudge against the stories of ordinary people, in extraordinary pain, in their attempt to endure our own culture. The social cats-cradle born out of our brave new British civilisation is riddled with insidious social diseases. We must guard against lonliness and despair, promote tolerance and optimism. We must be vigilant - for all forms of repression and threat, of ourselves and others. Morissey once sang Barbarism begins at home, and he's right - and more than we might imagine.
What prompted all this? Well I really dunno - I worked all weekend on the pitch, got home about 2am last night (sunday) and still feel a bit jittery. But its a beautiful day. I'm feelin a bit frazzled after a lie-in, but slowly coming to life. I only got up an hour ago, and I'm meeting Mum and Dad within the next, so I gotta go. Live long and prosper in the name of an un-named, the higher love, the inner peace.
But less of these negatives, the veneer of deceipt that cloaks the exterior world, the rape of nature, the sleaze of politics and the fallacies of religion. All are coincidentally evident at the core of the sodden, sudden hell of New Orleans. But of all the sensational and profound tales that comprise the collective concious of the media, the one that haunts the personal zeitgeist I'm alluding to most poignantly... the story of the young asian woman who took her two kids on that aweful journey to death one morning, leaping from the platform of Southall railway station, into the path of a Heathrow Express train.
Such a brief and publicly inconsequential event, but it left me in awe of this woman... a woman whose name now escapes me. For all the explicit horror of eroneous, grievous and unfortunate world events, they are but a smudge against the stories of ordinary people, in extraordinary pain, in their attempt to endure our own culture. The social cats-cradle born out of our brave new British civilisation is riddled with insidious social diseases. We must guard against lonliness and despair, promote tolerance and optimism. We must be vigilant - for all forms of repression and threat, of ourselves and others. Morissey once sang Barbarism begins at home, and he's right - and more than we might imagine.
What prompted all this? Well I really dunno - I worked all weekend on the pitch, got home about 2am last night (sunday) and still feel a bit jittery. But its a beautiful day. I'm feelin a bit frazzled after a lie-in, but slowly coming to life. I only got up an hour ago, and I'm meeting Mum and Dad within the next, so I gotta go. Live long and prosper in the name of an un-named, the higher love, the inner peace.
posted by johnnytoobad at 1:48 pm
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