fodder

[jaguar]

What if the whole deal - orientation, knowing where you are, and so on - what if its all a scam? What if all of it - home kinship, the whole enchilada - is just the biggest, most truely global, and centuries old piece of brainwashing? Suppose that its only when u let go your real life begins? When you're whirling free of the mother ship, when you cut your ropes, slip your chain, step off the map, go absent without leave, scam, vamoose, whatver: suppose that its then, and only then that your actually free to act! To lead the life nobody tells you how to live, or when, or why. In which nobody orders you to go forth and die for them, or for god, or comes to get you because you broke one of the rules, or because you're one of the people who are, for reasons which unfortunately you can't be given, simply not allowed. Suppose you've got to go through the feeling of being lost, into the chaos and beyond; you've got to accept the loneliness ,the wild panic of losing your moorings the vertiginous terror of the horizon spinning round and round like the edge of a coin tossed in the air.

You won't do it. Most of you won't do it. The worlds head laundry is pretty good at washing brains: Don't jump off that cliff don't walk through that door don't step into that waterfall don't take that chancif: No Stormcrow:~ stormcrow$ You won't do it. Most of you won't do it. The worlds head laundry is pretty good at washing brains: Don't jump off that cliff don't walk through that door don't step into that waterfall don't take that chance don't step across that line don't ruffle my sensitivities I'm warning you now don't make me mad you're doing it to make me mad. You won't have a chance you you haven't got a prayer your finished your history you're less than nothing, your dead to me dead to your whole family your nation your race, everything you ought to love more than life and listen to like your masters voice and follow blindly and bow down before and worship and obey; your dead, you hear me, forget about it, you stupid bastard, I don't even know your name.ht to love more than life and listen to like your masters voice and follow blindly and bow down before and worship and obey; your dead, you hear me, forget about it, you stupid bastard, I don't even know your name.

-Salman Rushdie - The Ground Beneath her Feet.

It's probably my favorite passage of all time and it's certainly had an impact on my thinking, I'm in the process of doing it right now, I thought I'd shove it here and see what people thought. Took me a while to piece it together but I realized recently that both my parents left their homes and home countries running from things, I'm not entirely sure if I'm running from or two but I thought the quote itself would make fodder for some interesting discussion.