Yesterday a plane flew over our home, in very low altitude, and its sound lasted for minutes. My colleagues reported the same incident. Fuck Trump.
As a child I wanted to be a member of the world. The “west”. The “cool kids”. And as of all high school dramas, they are bombing our country, and I no longer wish to have to do anything with them. Someday my own cultivated culture will outrun theirs. A culture rooted in kindness, richness, and beauty.
cI am reading Brave New World (Aldous Huxley) as my parents are watching the Pluribus series, both of which present before you entirely different configurations of a culture and society.
If one is new to this sort of narrative, ideas alike Brave New World’s “Everyone belongs to everyone else” will certainly be devastating. How can there be a world without families? How can people have sex as if it is a handshake? How can any of this be?
Well my dear reader, as a matter of fact, I happen to have lived with many feline friends over the many moons that have passed. They share many lovers, sleep together, and do not recognize the idea of a family. Why? Because all of these are in fact, “artificial.”
Mark Twain is famous for he said “The easy confidence with which I know another man’s religion is folly teaches me to suspect that my own is also.” and I have come to believe these tales have the effect of shock not because they are in themselves shocking, after all, they are only different configurations of a culture, but what I surmise is a sort of Jean Baudrillard’s “Hyperreality”.
The superficiality of their world triggers a quite simple, insanely elegant, and deeply trembling question on the beneficiary of the story: “If their world can be preposterous, what differentiates mine?” for it has no answer but “nothing.”