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Monday, November 08, 2004

my arse is capable of more flush

gord downie owns the good title. i can't think in terms of catharsis & arses. just don't have that in me. maybe he doesn't either, maybe the real share of the title goes to our good friend smack. heroine.

i feel as if i died and was reborn in some cat whinging, pre-ordered modern life washing industrial state where whirring, thrumming and high pitched multi-octave shrills are just the white noise by which we tune our radios.

some part of me craves a bout of atavistic lavishness, but the other parts marshalling each limb and appendage, respectively, refuse to engage. unable to summon even a whiff of fight in me i just sit and endure.

and read some. I'm reading Against Love, a full out thermal nuclear polemic against, well, love. but, more than against love it seems against extreme long term coupling. the likes of which i have never attained, nor most of us will, and still it requires a 200 page polemic.

i will forgive the author as it's both entertaining and insightful.

moderns like you and i, bereft of the salvation from the original sin, but still laden with it's mythology, thrust headlong into an overtly complex paradox of society vs individual are rallying the wagons around love. or so the jist goes.

and i'm inclined to agree with her estimation that our entire society is built around the idea that love is the absolute end of living. and someone unable to love, or un-willing is a tragic failling of both humanity and the individual. lofty.

she draws, thus-far, a compelling argument around love (read: coupling) as the lynchpin of domestication (both societal and practical) in otherwise ferral humans. That, we learn from the crib that compliance is traded for love.

she has, in my own mind, inexorably linked the idea of "maturation" being a synonym for "You repress --insert value here--" and in an astoundingly tight 8 page rant about the criteria for entering the shrine of coupledom she outlines the value of maturation within.

repression is just turning the knife yourself, for a killer who is too busy to do the dirty work. Ask the catholics about that.

fascinating book. i have concerns about what dials she is turning in my head, where it might end off, and how it may stain my underwear once it's digested --to avoid any hopes of maturity i felt compelled to insert a poo reference ala south park or dooce.com.

and, like all polemics the point is not the content,rather the fire of thought they light under your ass--please excuse me while i go extinguish the flames of thought scorching my anus.

and yet another act of rebellion (which, by her argument is what adultery is, and further the only true expression of individuality remaining in this will trade my identity for a collection of shopping preferences age) against maturation tagged on to the end for you.

Posted by ruzz on November 8, 2004 at 03:05 AM in the ramblin | Permalink


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sounds like a really good read. i would like very much to take a look (perhaps over the winter break when i'm not reading texts) and we could discuss it.

Posted by: veronicalynne | Nov 8, 2004 9:29:29 AM


Posted by: jude | Nov 8, 2004 10:33:12 AM