kalischild

Every day, as a part of my job, I talk to a hundred people who are too lazy to read, or who have allowed themselves to be incapable of doing so.

When I was six, my teachers changed the rules of our school's reading marathons because they wouldn't believe I read two or three books a day.

Every month or so, I get an absurdly expensive traffic ticket because the authorities feel it is neccesary to impose an arbitrary set of rules to protect those who are both incapable of safe driving at a hundred miles an hour, and equally incapable of recognizing their lack of said ability.

Last December, I took Dawn across the Bay Bridge at one hundred and fifty one miles an hour, weaving through the mist.

My employers feel that I would be better suited to marking the corners of several thousand envelopes with a highglighter than writing this post.

I'd prefer to be paid for this post.

In the desert, at a particular gathering, they now have hall monitors dressed as Rangers, who tell you what the rules of the Temporary Autonomous zone are.

When I was fifteen, I read T.A.Z, by Hakim Bey, More's Utopia and the writings of Huxley, Orwell, and Leary. I read The Anarchist's Cookbook and the Satanic bible and I laughed at them both. I read Army field manuals on desert survival and makeshift explosives. I read Lenny Bruce's How to Talk Dirty and Influence People. The first time I saw a girl setting fire to her car at Burning Man, I knew I was home.

When I was a kid, I would never fight to defend myself, because my home life had taught me to take a hit, and it had taught me what is felt like to hurt. I took all of their hits because I did'nt want to be a part of ther cycle of hurt. I wanted it to end with me.

The other night, I stood behind a bus with a pair of improvised shivs, twisted into spikes from an empty Red Bull can, laughing as a bus full of enraged gangtas disappeared down Mission street.

I would have shredded their faces like an edgy little blender, and gone to jail for assault. Whatever.

I'll never take a hit again.

My point. My point is already made, to those who read between the lines. But for those who rely an awkward, inefficient words for communication, I'll phrase it like this.

Some of us are better.

For some people, this is a painful thing to confront; it makes them ask who should be the judge, and by what standards the judgement should be made.

The answer is 'you'. The answer is 'your standards'.

I've been a wee bit mad for quite a while now, as some friends, and many 'friends' have been kind enough to point out. What I don't understand is how few people have expressed any comprehension of why...

Life is: being lost in a sea of sequenced MIDI commands, black racks and stacks of synthesizers surrounding you, their LEDs flickering in the dark like cold eyes watching you drown in a bitstream of samples and synthesized noise, your subconscious' rythmms burning bright as neon fractals in your inner eye as you wrap layer after layer of sound around the newborn child of your mind, as you pull the headphones off of your head, crank the amplifier, and listen to your serpentine child's first birthscream.

Death is: telling someone that yes, you would like to supersize that.

Life is: The moment when both of your sweat-slick bodies fall together into a rythmm as complicated and polyrythmmic as a rockslide beneath a desert sun; when the simple grindage of thrust and withdrawal unfolds itself like an unravelling strand of DNA into something something primal and ancient, when it releases an wiser, wilder, hungrier part of you from the depths of your heart, and reminds you that the your Puritan culture and it's life-hating Christian antecedents are nothing more than a thin film on the surface of the animal inside of all of us all. Life is when your body turns the tables on your mind, and shows you that it knows some tricks as well. When eyes that see everything and nothing and nothing but beautiful truth lock along with lips and tongues and love.

Death is every traffic ticket you've ever gotten. And paid.

Life is freedom, cange, growth, new vistas, different horizons, first kisses, wine sherbert, torn knuckles, blood and come and sweat and tears and shattered cages.

Death is submission, repetition, alchoholism, dating your father or your mother all over again every time you meet a stranger. Death is other people's structures, passivity. Death is embodied in the cages we build around ourselves because of other people's expectations.

The stupidest question you can ever ask is "Why does the caged bird sing". You know the answer.

The cleverest question, however, is even more obvious. The cleverest question you can ever ask is "Why doesn't the caged bird fly...

Our cages are our daily deaths. Our patterns are labyrinths with grinding teeth, teeth that gnaw at time. And time is where life lives, life dances between one moment and the next moment.

The abscence of time is death. You're just as dead whether your timeeventually runs out, or if you're just giving it all away.

And this is why I'm elitist, and ambitious.

This is why I'm a hater and covered in scars.

This is why it's always eleven, except when... No. It's always eleven.

This is why I'm both rougher and better in bed than most boys y'all will ever meet.

This is why I think the taste of honey is as sensual as every painting in the MOMA.

This is why it's never just two fingers, it's always the shocker.

This is why I'm extreme and unforgiving of what y'all apologists refer to as 'human weakness'. Human weakness is just weakness, and weakness isn't an excuse.

This is why, after years of wasted time I've chosen to stop wastmy time.

This is why I have to win. Because living under any other rules than your own is death.

And because it'll be charmingly snarky to prove I was right the whole time.

So. I ask you. why doesn't the caged bird fly?

Blood and sweat and tears and come.

Some of us are better. It's simply a matter of having proof.