|6 Nov 2004 @ 23:53|
Freedom, feifdom, feedom all are such a lisp away from reality, the truth we cannot face for fear of Medusa's gaze, paralyzed in deed and voice, the meek so secure in bondage chains, and free of the consequence of choice. Freedom is such a loaded word, and sounds so much finer, more refined, divinely destined, from the unaccountable, irresponsible, bullies rule and fuck the weak way in which it always unwinds. We are so enraptured by the sound of this word we can't percieve the Nimue spell woven through the cultural milieu. Who could possibly say a mordant word against freedom, and even though the fruit is poisonous to eat, the tree looks lovely hung with mordent grail questers of Modred's defeat. The roots of freedom compost in heroic empires of mythology.
Now beneath the preface of subliminal syllogism there is a taboo surrounding the root of all evil. The spectacle that stimulates our senses, and primes the adrenalin pump, the flight or fight oh hell lets take them both, the clash of the moral and immoral, the dramatic battle ignores the banal of the amoral. Add to this the minor premise of the problem of freedom is for what or for who, that mutually exclusive field of the many and the few.
P.S. This little rant is more interesting if you consult a dictionary.
P.P.S. I composed this as a comment in Shakti's blog and then before I had a chance to submit the article disappeared. Though I thought it was a provacative piece of prose so I suppose to post it on its own. More >