Sitting in the kitchen listening to New Order from speakers in all the corners of the room is perfection this afternoon. I need a shower. My feet stink, and I need a shave. The perfection of this moment is the incomplete madness of a hot afternoon moving into your dream house, and realizing that you have more stuff than most old people. Bada-DEE! The future is most certainly more squirrel work and store-aways. I don't mind. It's luck really, and just a bunch of stuff, which can always be abandoned to the universe to set the master free.
Living by the river is like a Valium drip. It's hard to make a move away from the perfect location, looking up at green mountains and emitting high pitched enthusiasm screams while doing laundry. I am my own 1950's housewife, complete with a broom and a modern kitchen. I do need to buy a microwave. I just invited a girl out on a first date tomorrow to drive to Glenwood with me to buy beanbags and a vacuum cleaner. I did it by text message, and it was worth all the laughs it gave myself, even if she declines the gesture. How could she? (The answer is if she works.)
Madness is a great pleasure in these days of boredom, social disrepair, and general homogeny. The only true madness now is to act like everybody else around and think it's healthy, or "normal" to humanity. There are a plethora of paths for the great majority of the humans on earth to travel on, and I fear that the biggest river of us is flowing in a fast stream toward something we don't even want to imagine. It's a reality we are creating, but in our own social constructions we may be reinventing the robot with our own selves. Let us never forget that we are free. Suffering the consequences of rebellion may be the result of our freedom, but that is a freedom I will choose over adherence to the laws of the people of the wrong river; and i'll choose it gladly to be free.
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