Democracy Now

Joe the Lion seems to be a song built around the spoken word bit towards the middle, if David Bowie's voice on record could ever really qualify as "spoken word". It's Monday, slither down the greasy pipe, so far so good no one saw you, Hobble over any freeway you will be like your dreams tonight. It's David Bowie singing Life During Wartime, J.G. Ballard novels.

When the fog is heavy enough in the morning, it rains. Normally wet pastels, southern San Francisco with it's inter war large scale housing developments comprised of unique and faux European detached single unit homes, one wouldn't even know they were large scale developments if they didn't have fucking brick and metal arches at their loose sidewalk borders, after such a heavy fog they glisten and shine. From the top of the hill it's Islamic geometry, all the glittery tesora and rooftops shrinking into one another like a diorama-rama.

These houses were made possible by the automobile. Economies of scale and of oil gave our country to the workers. Maybe we were too busy focusing on the red menace to understand at the time, but in America the common god fearing man was made king, 100 million coronations taking place in 100 million different track homes starting an era of 100 billion served. The jungle was reshaped, reimagined, and tamed on the mostly humble and reptilian requirements of you and I. Now there is fruit in every home, and every man is the master of his destiny. God is still here, for it was his grace that gave this blessed nation the ability to be so generous, so righteous, and we will never forget him.

Generations grew up under the guidance of the masses, accepted their playground of moral relativism and the virtues of faith. Trash was the thing we made a lot of, so those who would be overdone by their own misanthropy were it not for making salvation out of culture started to celebrate the trash. The great masses of the people lead the government not deliberately, but through attitude and disregard. Government emulates Americans, and just as the newly enfranchised millions of the oil economy borrow and boast, so too does our government. Mutual expectations have shrunk into mutual suspicions and shared cynicisms. Democracy wasn't the best thing to ever happen to the world. True democracy was achieved in the post-war suburbs, and it is ugly. It is common. It is American communism like no 19th century philosopher could have ever imagined, the tyranny of the well fed, well intentioned, god fearing masses upon the concepts of change and limitation.

It is time to reinvent the American idea, the democratic idea. Upwards and onwards works when you're building railroads or subjecting natives, but as a personal philosophy, and America is only personal philosophy imposed on a global scale, even Jesus knew that shit was whack, unsustainable.

I slept terribly. I woke up and a third of my weight was gone, in the form of cold saltwater, all over my bedsheets. I am fucking sick.

Didn't stop me from smoking all the pot last night and watching Rockers with Ben and Max. I had forgotten the scene where Horsemouth goes to the soundclash. The rub-a-dub MC (Dirty Harry?) is presiding over a congregation of Saturday Night Fever outfitted red stripe drinking Lil' Wayne dreadding Jamaican cats, not deserving of the anonymous status granted them by the night and the crowd. There is dancing and rapping, a footnote to the story of Jamaican music as they thought westerners should hear it at the time, unaware that from the niced up style would emerge hip hop. It makes sense, Soundclash being the most commercially focused of the Jamaican genres, with the entire thing staged to sell booze, that American MCs would turn it into the soundtrack of Capitalism. Horsemouth stands around some of these cats just long enough for us to feel normal, and then one of them yells "BABYLON!" and the police bop some ganja smokers up, cue Junior Marvin.

I feel hungry, else I'd write more. I also need to buy my July Muni pass. They don't like making it obvious where they sell them. West Portal station was broken yesterday. Some asshole kid must've split orange over his Lionel. I waited for the 43 as an alternate, and found some leather gloves in a bush while waiting. I put the gloves on, and they were filled with pincer bugs. Reminds me of the old saying, "Don't put on found gloves, they will be filled with pincer bugs".