Let's count them:
1: "How long will the wall of silence stand?"
2: "Some people seem to think that we can build some kind of a house without supporting walls; that we can build a civilization which includes casual savagery, that we can have a nation of laws run by men and women that are criminals, that we can manifest truth if we just accept a certain amount of lies"
3: "I am expected to be accommodating and polite"
4: "There must be something wrong with me because I am troubled by these things. I am offended by these things. These things make me angry and make me want to cry out"
5: "I suppose I should just shut up"
6: "I have this condition and no way to treat it"
7: "Sometimes I find myself weeping uncontrollably about some conditions that I am helpless to do anything about"
8: "I hope it turns out well for all of us and that not seeing things and not saying anything will someday prove to be the answer to all these problems that won’t go away"
"Silence and the Evil that Men do
There can be no question about the satanic intent of the previous administration. This article says all you will ever need to know about what we apparently don’t want to know. It is things like this that make me want to be louder and more direct than I already am. And then… then when you find out who some of the torturers were and what country they came from… then… then well… they say a picture is worth a thousand words. Sometimes it is worth a thousand screams.
How long will it go on? How long will the wall of silence stand? The first article is five years old. I’ve been told you have to talk around things. I’ve been told that I will get further if I am diplomatic. The truth is offensive apparently. You know how this makes me feel? It makes me feel as if someone is beating a child in an adjoining room. I am in the next room with a group of people who are concerned with child abuse. We are discussing how to make the world safer for children. We are also discussing who is abusing the children. Meanwhile a child is crying out in the next room. We can all hear him but we can’t talk about it because a certain group of people cannot be connected to this particular crime or… any crime.
We will make various efforts to protect the children but we can only protect them from specific dangers from specific people. We cannot protect them from certain people. Soon it may well be against the law to even talk about it.
This is the case with 9/11 and this is the case with torture and this is the case with ‘in your face’ genocide. Some people seem to think that we can build some kind of a house without supporting walls; that we can build a civilization which includes casual savagery, that we can have a nation of laws run by men and women that are criminals, that we can manifest truth if we just accept a certain amount of lies.
Someone please explain to me what the purpose of sodomizing a child is. Explain to me how this assists in the spread of democracy. Someone explain to me why certain weapons are necessary. Why would an army need to use white phosphorous? I would especially like to know why certain hideous armaments are necessary against a captive people who aren’t even armed. I would really like to know what the purpose of denying these same people basic medical treatment is… prohibiting them food and other essentials… randomly kidnapping and shooting them without any provocation at all. This is a daily affair which has been going on for sixty years. Sixty years and I am expected to be accommodating and polite. I am expected to put makeup on sarcoma as if it were a cure.
No… I am not a Palestinian. I am not an Iraqi. I am not a Pakistani. There is something else that I am not, though I used to be… I am no longer an American. Why should I care what happens to these people? I don’t know these people. There must be something wrong with me because I am troubled by these things. I am offended by these things. These things make me angry and make me want to cry out like the child being beaten in the next room; being sodomized in the next room but… no one is beating me… someone must be beating me and I just can’t see them. Perhaps I am mad. I have difficulty controlling myself. I am afraid to speak because of what I might say so I have to hide in small, rural farming communities where I don’t speak the language. At least this way no one will understand what I am talking about.
I suppose I should just shut up. People are trying to have a party or talk on their cell phone and I am a persistent annoyance. If I would just stay within the lines then perhaps I would become acceptable. I might even receive the occasional award for playing the game. People appreciate it when you play the game. You’re likely to get offered a glass of white wine and a canapé. Maybe someone will have sex with me because I’m safe to be around, especially since I got back from the Veterinarian and have had a couple of items removed. It doesn’t look like I’ll be clawing the sofa anymore or spraying the plants around the house but… I probably won’t be having sex either now, come to think of it.
To be perfectly honest I really wish I were the yogi I am always trying to be. It would be great if I could achieve that detachment that I hear about. It would be great if I could just accept that this life is but a dream. I happen to know that that is the truth. Why can’t I just write my books and record my music and be at peace with myself? For some reason I have this condition and no way to treat it. There are certain medication like alcohol and drugs which provide me the opportunity to release certain amounts of steam but that’s no cure. Regardless of what I do the pressure just builds back up.
I killed an enormous hornet today. It was trying to build a nest in my consort’s coat. It was determined to have its way. I would have liked to co-exist with the hornet but I know from previous experience that that isn’t possible. I tend to be expedient about this sort of thing. I realize that a lot of people seem to have found a solution other than the one I chose to make. People seem to have found a way to live with all sorts of things and even pretend they aren’t there. I just haven’t been able to discover how to do that. When I hear about someone sodomizing a child or when I hear about a 12 year old girl’s head going up in flames from a chemical weapon or… when I see that a young teenage girl was shot and killed while gathering laundry on her rooftop and… when I discover there was no logical reason for any of this I have trouble finding the ‘shit happens’ button.
What am I supposed to do when I hear a presidential candidate make a series of promises and then ignores them? …not just ignores them but does the opposite of what he promised and actually expands certain of the operations of his predecessor? Should I just accept that this is the way it goes? When I see one military mistake follow another, resulting in the deaths of 20 or 40 or a hundred people who weren’t doing anything to deserve it why does this bother me? It’s always been like this so what difference does it make if I say anything or not?
I’ve had this problem all of my life and I have never been able to master it. It’s gotten me into all kinds of trouble. It landed me in prisons and the maximum security wards of mental institutions. It’s gotten me into physical conflicts. It has cost me various successes that I might have had. I might be a normal person if I knew what that was but that’s something else I can’t figure out.
Sometimes I lay awake at night and imagine that I have a small flying saucer with all sorts of cool gadgets and incredible weapons. I fly all over the Earth and dispense specific justice. I break into network TV and address the world and say all kinds of things. Obviously I’m nuts. Sometimes I find myself weeping uncontrollably about some conditions that I am helpless to do anything about. Maybe it’s an emotional disorder. Sometimes I imagine that I’m alone with Donald Rumsfield or one of the other psychopathic shitheels for a little one on one therapy. I know that Condoleezza Rice is playing the piano in the room next to the one where the young boy is being sodomized and I know that she’s going to be getting some white wine and canapés because, unlike me, she’s not going to say the wrong thing.
I couldn’t be in the same room with Netanyahoo or Rupert Murdoch. I would probably urinate on them or do something creative. Something is wrong with me and I don’t know how to fix it. I hope it doesn’t end badly… at least for the few people who really care about me but… I honestly don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I’m likely to say at any given moment and I don’t know where to go for help. The best I can manage is to stay far away from people; play with my dogs, watch movies, surf the internet with the world inside my head but at a safe distance… for the world and for me. I hope it turns out well for all of us and that not seeing things and not saying anything will someday prove to be the answer to all these problems that won’t go away.
Brotherhood
