There is something that has me raw; raw as the skinless patch on the roof of my mouth from the searing sauce in my meatball wrap. It is people saying to me ‘that’s life’ when I express some concern about a morally questionable action that is necessitated to survive in our consumer cultural. It is my oldest and most respected friends throwing out small minded platitudes like ‘society has rules and you have to play by the rules if you want to win the game’ because I am over 30 and still preaching the doctrines of nonconformity and active resistance to authority. This has me rawer then the undercarriage of a cyclist who has just ridden one hundred miles in the same pair of cotton boxers.
It is not their complicity, apathy, or self-inflicted ignorance that has me in this state of frustration. It is rather my being torn by the need to shake them to their senses but not offend those closest to me; those upon whom I rely. I cannot bring myself to tell old dear friends, some of whom faced actual physical abuse as children, that the greatest abuse they could commit upon their children is not standing up to this tyrannous regime. I cannot tell them by conforming to corporate cultural they are in fact fighting the class war against their own interests. I admit a level of cowardice I thought not possible. While I am perfectly capable of dealing out my judgments and opinions upon those in authority, whether it be cops, employers, powerful corporations, government officials, or my own father, I am incapable of pulling out the stops on my peers.
I hate that I lack the courage to say what needs to be said to those who are in essence part of the greatest reason I do what I do. The worst part is these ideals they try and sell me aren’t even ideals they believe in, they do it to keep up appearances. Like someone who obsessively cleans their kitchen then stores salmonella spreading used eggshells in with the yet unused eggs; they make everything look nice and tidy but really they are spreading poison so the kitchen trash doesn’t stink. They would never say it but I know they feel I’ve run from responsibilities as a parent by throwing away my life in Portland. As much as courage as it took to do that very thing I am amazed that I can’t call them out for using their children as shields. I am not trying to win the game I am trying to end the game because so long as we play the only people who win are the ones who make the rules and sell the tickets. Bread and circus.