I found a thread this morning that asked of those who engage in some form of artistic expression a simple question, and that is Why.
Interesting question. I was tempted to be flip, sarcastic, but I guess that is simply an expression of some tension, some frustration within me, the expression of which, within this context, may be counter productive.
It certainly won't win me any friends or influence people in a manner that is all that useful to my ambitions . . .
and I am so ambitious.
I write poetry, essays, and I have a short story I've written. Lately I've even turned to telling bad jokes, which is a bit challenging when you've lost all sense of humor . . .
But do you really want to know WHY?
Probably not, it was a general question, tossed out to the universe of cyber, you had no idea I would stumble across it and see it as an invitation for clarity, an opportunity for revolution . . .
But to the question: Why?
Because one person alone cannot engage in revolution. If there is cause for grievence then that grievence must be made clear.
Have you seen the tee shirt ecko unld? It is a symbol. It's a brand. Like the symbol to/too/two it has several meanings today. It begs for some form of limits. If no one has pulled your ear then no doubt you don't understand what on earth I am talking about.
Have you heard of a joint? This too is a word with several meanings. The drug culture today is so widespread that perhaps you have heard of it used to reference pot rolled up in cigarette paper. Ecko Unltd is symbolic of the subculture of conflict that takes place today as we pursue our War on Drugs.
The tools of this conflict include cameras, listening devices, various forms of behavioral advertising, and it has become so wide spread even advertisers of major products have gotten in on the sybolism of it all. It's marketable. The latest Mountain Dew commercial features two ladies in a supermarket at opposite checkout registers, one purchasing a blue bottle of Mountain Dew, the other red.
This is marketing of the conflict as if it were funny, attractive, wholesome; as if the wholesale destruction of the supermarket were any of these things.
They insist you choose a side. Red or Blue.
Using the tools of networking, surveillance, iconography, behavioral advertising and clever linguistic constructs we can engineer your consent for most anything. We can even condition you to silence with sufficient inducements of fear.
While I might one day set myself on fire, I will not be silent. I will not.
Our War on Drugs is Terrorism Domesticated. I do not approve. I believe that if you were fully informed, you would not approve either.
And so I write. I write poetry, I write prose, I write to expiate my own misplaced sense of guilt for things over which I have no control, to purge myself of rage, and in the hope that perhaps, just perhaps, with the proper linguistic construct this conflict may be brought to an end.
No one has killed me yet. I presume it is a result of one of two things, or perhaps both at once:
-- I'm useful
But am I mad? O yes. Most certainly . . .