The Land with no Towers

Men are imploding. They implode every morning under their unmade beds in the attempt of finding the socks of the night before. They implode into the tangled net of incomprehension that keeps human relations tied up in a sort of communicational isolation. They implode for the marriage they didn’t want, the job they didn’t aspire for, the life they weren’t hoping for.

The real modern battle is within the universe of frustrations everyone contributes to sustain. Men speak different languages so they cannot understand each other. Their cities are towers of Babel within which everyone is a foreigner amongst other strangers. Everyone against everyone. A war that is the expression of men’s incapability of building a fair system of cohabitation, common participation and social justice.

In the background of this war, men await the salvific intervention of a modern Messiah. A Prophet who can give them a unifying system of political coexistence. The Dictator-King is the translator of this final attempt of establishing a unifying system of social interaction. The Dictator establishes his system as the only possible one. His people speak the same language and think the same. The Tower of Babel is, finally, pulled down. Nevertheless, a new Tower is built: one even taller and stronger. It is the Dictator’s Tower from which he stays above all. He decides what is good and bad, what allowed and not. In the land of the Dictator-King there is no room for differences or dissonances. They all sing the same song.

Although men can now understand each other, they cannot truly speak for themselves. The Dictator’s Tower, in fact, displays a flight from the crowding out of diversity. Everything is to be the manifestation of the centrally-imposed ideology.

Men are obedient soldiers, but rebels too. One day, in fact, a new song will be sung and a new voice will be heard. That voice will be soon a chorus and the Tower of the Dictator-King will implode under the sound of his own bombs. Men will be free of being what they are, respected in their own distinctiveness yet within a system of active cooperation. In the cooperation they will find a way of escaping the domination of a man over many. Everyone will have a say in what matters and minorities will be preserved and promoted. This is the Land with no Towers, where men are free individuals. Towers will be no longer built and Prophets will be no longer trusted.

[article written for 'The Groucho Tendency']

Poets on the dole

Worst job market in decades. It's official, a government survey revealed that 'young people have been hit hard by the recession with an increasing number being unable to find a job'. If you're aged 18 or over, you can claim Jobseekers Allowance. It's easy, you can claim JSA by phone or online. When you claim you'll also have to go to your JobCentre Plus to discuss your jobseeker's agreement. You must 'sign on' at the job centre every fortnight. You'll have a short interview to check your situation, job seeking progress and any change of circumstances, then you receive payment within a few days of signing on. 

I decided to claim JSA as well. I went to the job centre round the corner. Wanted to sign on as a poet, but I've been told that being a poet is not a professional activity. Hence, no benefits for poets. Rhymes? There's no money in them! 

I know someone who signed on as poet though. Brian, Shirley Valentine's son. He run off to a squat in Kirby to become a poet. His announcement to the mother: "I became a poet. I went down to the job centre today and signed on as a poet. Britain's first ever street poet!". 

And if in rhymes there's no money at all, you can still find good lessons in them: 'Don't rob cars / its mad / its bad / think of your Ma's / it'll make them sad / your mothers would get a broken heart / if you got smashed up / Get Wise! / Get Smart / Don't rob cars!' That was his very first poem after Brian signed on the dole. It didn't talk the kids out of robbing the car though. 

I love Brian. 

Brian was the first urban poet to sign on the dole. 

TOP SECRET

Julian Assange got his first computer at the age of 15. With a Commodore 64 and a modem, he started to explore the cyberworld. A geek rebel with romantic ideals, he soon became one of the most accomplished computer expert in Australia. A sort of Robin Hood of the information age whose aim is to re-establish the dignity of truth. 

Assange may be referred to as the ‘Truth-Bringer’. As Prometheus stole fire from Zeus, so Assange ‘stole’ the truth from the puppet masters’ trove. If in Greek mythology the ‘fire-bringer’ was celebrated as the ‘original rebel’, in contemporary political history Assange can be considered as one of the most insurgent geek-rebels of the current digital revolution. A revolution that Karl Marx would have much enjoyed, regarding the Greek myth as truly inspirational – the foremost in the philosopher’s calendar. 

In a recent interview, speaking about the WikiLeaks’ strategy Assange summed it up as ‘courage is contagious’. He explained ‘if you demonstrate that individuals can leak something and go on to live a good life, it’s tremendously incentivizing to people ‘. If courage can be really contagious, as Assange claims, let us hope this infectious disease will spread soon and increase the likelihood of an epidemic. Do not be scared! Do not protect yourselves and your kids from the infection, rather avoid ‘anti-leak jabs’ and keep tabs on upcoming WikiLeaks revelations. If your GP is cool enough, he will reassure you that there could not be a more healthy illness than that!

Appendix: “Good Parenting Manual.  How to Raise Cool Kids”

Top tips for Parents:

                  i.       Read your kids educational bedtime stories. The Adventures of Pinocchio will help them not to tell lies;

                ii.       Teach them to express their ideas freely and tell always the truth;

              iii.       Teach them to protect the underdogs and not be scared of big fishes at school;

               iv.       Do not let your kids get the ‘anti-leak’ Vaccine, courage will make them strong and healthy;

                 v.       Let them read a bit of poetry and philosophy;

               vi.       At 14 or 15 give them an evolved version of Commodore 64 and a modem. Most importantly, trust them if they tell you they will save the world with that stuff.

If your cool kids won’t save the world, remember they will gradually change it through passion, inspiration and justice.

Dear Phone, Dear Friend

Short Message Service (SMS) is the text communication service component of phone, web or mobile systems, using standardized communication protocols that allow exchange of short text messages between fixed line or mobile phone devices.

That's what I've read googling 'Short text messages'. Sometime messaging is fun and easy, others it could be pretty cryptic. There are things that can't be 'short' but require long explanation. 

E.g. Text  1 to N., 01 November 2010 at 22:53  

"Dont know why we got so distant. I miss our endless chats over my cold coffee. See you" 

Subtext: "Why you didnt call me in the last 3 months? Still waiting for that coffee. Dint see your new painted kitchen yet! I know you're hooking up with someone. Still I wanna fuck you!"  

No reply to Text 1. 


E.g. Text 2 to N., title "Recidivism", 27 December 2010 at 22:29 

"Texted you some time ago. I assume your silence was quite eloquent. Maybe shouldnt write a second time. but I feel like I wanna wish you a nice xmas and a lucky new year"

Subtext: "You bitch!" 

Reply to Text 2, 28 December 2010 at 02:35  

"Not really i felt like your text wasn't really meant to be answered, more like an observation than a question. but silence doesn't mean i didn't want to talk to you, just that if you want to do stuff with me i think you should ask straight out and then i can reply. merry xmas and new year, guessing you are in Italy. hope it's nice xx". 

Subtext: "Jerk off!" 

No reply to reply to Text 2. I've learnt I should ask things straight out though. 

Remember your phone is not your friend. It can't fix you up. More importantly, it can't translate your real wishes or feelings. If you're not good with words, just leave a message after the beep!

First message of the day from R., 17 January 2011 at 08:49

"Good morning, what a lovely rainy english day. Can you believe i'm working in a garden today?!I hope all well. Would you like to meet up, finally, for that coffee? How about wednesday? Or thursday?"

Immanuel Kant vs My Granny: 0-1

I’ve spent most of my life at my grandmother’s house. Once I asked her of those doctors that save people’s life, how they could do such a thing. “It’s not easy to save someone else’s life, isn’t it?” She told me that to be a good doctor one has to study for years, six even ten. “Anyway, that doesn’t make you a good doctor”, she said. “You have to learn by reading books, but you have to learn by doing as well.” Theory and practice go together. I didn’t become a doctor. The idea of saving other people’s lives seemed to me too demanding. I now read a bit of political philosophy. It was real fun to read Kant. To be honest, I didn’t really read Kant, just a few pages. That is what I have read: ‘there are doctors […] who did well during their schooling but who do not know how to act when asked to give advice’. Kant wrote this in 1793 in response to Professor Garve, who criticized him because he wasn’t  paying enough attention to the practice,[1]. Kant was sure that there is always a gap between theory and practice, and so am I. But if one wants to be a good doctor he needs both, I guess. If you can’t distinguish between a heart and a nose, you could confuse a heart murmur for a sneeze. That’s not professional! It’d be a mess if you read that the heart is on the right side, but it turns out that it actually is on the other side of the chest. I guess it’s pretty much the same with political philosophy. I don’t want to say that Kant was wrong. I’d not dare! But I really think my granny was right.

---

[1] I. Kant, On the Common Saying: ‘This May be True in Theory, But it Does Not Apply in Practice’, tr. H. B. Nisbet, in Hans Reiss (ed.), Kant: Political Writings (Cambridge, 1970), pp. 61-92. 

W.I.K.I : What I Know Is ... Already Well Known

WikiLeaks is a non-profit media organisation which aims to bring to light secret information about governments and corporations. Founded three years ago by the journalist Julian Assange along with a group of like-mindend activists and computer experts, in these days it's focusing attention on politicians' misbehaviour and dark side. Allegations that can change the entire geopolitical equilibrium. Some 'deep throats' report that Putin and Berlusconi  - well-known for starting their political career as a duo on cruise ships - put private interests and fun before statecraft. Their private parties are all about money and women. Wild dinner parties where escorts and underage girls seem to be their most favourite dessert. The French Prime Minister's been at the centre of burning allegations as well. As leaked diplomatic cables have claimed, Sarkozy is a short-tempered, mercurial and grumpy man who acts like a monarch. Other shocking disclosures are on their way from the WikiLeaks trove. Something about Carla Bruni and again Hillary Clinton. Maybe that Carla Bruni is a funcking cunt who sings like a dying cat? Or that Hillary Clinton prefers sexual penetration to oral sex while her husband goes crazy for fellatio queens? Whether you're a wiki-agnostic or a wiki-believer, I'm sure you can't try not to show incredulity for such indiscretions. 

The would-be sneezer: a Modern Spartacus?

Sneezing activates the same parts of the brain as an orgasm. It gives pleasure when it's fully consummated. Unfortunately frustration is around the corner. An incomplete sneeze triggers a feeling of non-consummation which - as well as sexual dissatisfaction - can lead to physio-psychological disorders. If in the sexual sphere auto-erotism and sex toys have saved generations of unsatisfied and irritable women, would-be sneezers await answers from scientists and sociotherapists yet. How can their pain be relieved? While the scientific community is dealing with the 'incomplete sneeze' problem, other social and political factors are affecting the life of our 'ah ah ah without choo' peers. Unemployment, precarious work, credit crunch, the Conservatives&LiberalDemocrats coalition and Cheryl Cole's new hair dye make things even worse.  A new movement of unsatisfied sneezers was established recently in Newport thanks to the support of the local Union of Mineworkers. The movement is growing and is likely to spread like wildfire in the short term. 

Sneezers of the world, unite! Hoist your tissue and free yourself! 

Sing a Better Song

Never thought of myself as a dancer, but I found out I'm rather good. Especially when I'm touched. Still working on the singing though. Been told I sing atrociously. Drug or alcohol don't help. But I don't give up and keep practising. Every day. No result so far. Should I focus on other aspects besides the implementation of my vocal cords' strength? Perhaps it'd be much easier if I were a young and attractive Liverpudlian working class hairdresser who decides to find herself by taking an Open University Course. Although I'm sure the discovery of English poetry and literature could help me in not getting pregnant, I doubt it could be of any help with my voice. It'd be anyway unnecessary being a male and therefore biologically unable to get pregnant. And already well-educated too. Shit! There's no way out. I can't sing a better song. Not today.