This is getting to be a habit, the venting of all my rage. I seem to go in the daytime or evening into serious sociopolitical topics, damning the earth for its so many resentful flaws. But here late at night, here in the early morning, we are more reflective–perhaps more drunk or strung out–and we flow through a wave of emotional baggage.
I do not want this thing, my recording of editorial history, to become some cheap autobiography of a middle-aged white man in crisis, because who hasn’t heard that bullshit story before? And who should really care, in a generalized manner, that some fuck-up like me is shrieking at the sun at darkest midnight? Nobody should–even I shouldn’t care about this swirling, depressive nonsense.
But words–words! Language can set you free. This is the greatest creation of man, from cave people grunting in the direction of something they wanted, to the babel of our modern dialects that cover up so much and finally say very little.
Language is all consuming. It is the meaning of all life, since communicative creation, and there is no getting around this. We punch and stab with words, and sometimes we give honor and even love to those who don’t deserve it. We inspire romance, or joyful feelings of accomplishment. Words can make you smile, make you laugh, help you to understand some theoretical, logistical concept that everyone should know, but could never find the words to understand.
This is who we are, a product of the words we use to explain the world. And it is such a false narrative, a reductive imprint on the realm of actuality that we lose our souls trying to make sense of it all.
And then words are reduced and they create a sucking sound, pulling all meaning apart and spitting it about as absolutism and ideology. We use words to control, to condemn, to rally the troops and to identify the enemy. Words are the most vicious part of war. And for all of this, for all the pain we may cause (“Sticks and Stones can break your bones, but words cause permanent damage,” so sayeth Eric Bogosian and Oliver Stone in Talk Radio), words can also say we’re sorry, that we’ve made terrible mistakes, and that we beg, that we plead for forgiveness from the future generations that will condemn our great-grandparents for the evils they committed.
Words are our allies and they are a time bomb. helping us through the uncertain years of life and then exploding in a barrage of mockery, humiliation and spite. We grow resentful and blame the wide world, or the language we first learned pain through.
I understand that this has been a ramble, something that flew away from whatever initial point I wanted to make and became a love-letter to the fricatives and nuances of language. We lie and confess in the same tongue that we express both love and hatred. Language is designed not to express thoughts, but to tell another person what we want. And that is the only thing communication with others was ever meant for. And then it was weaponized, as every creation of man always is, and we use this powerful force to tell every other person what to believe–
This is probably my worst entry into this blog, but I am going to stand by it because it further explains a deeper point. It tells us what enhanced the dishonesty of people, and then it reminds us that we cannot help but lie. I mean, what is the point? We have this gorgeous thing to express every idea and every hope of humanity, but we reduce it to the sludge of the everyday, then further break it down into abbreviations and representational cliches. We have stopped growing. We are reaching the very end.