Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Because I love it, and I like to share.

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night by Dylan Thomas
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

********************MY TURN*****************************

No, I am not going to attempt to get my "poet" on - who could follow this. It's brilliant. The words breathe, and the breath is sweet.

"Do not go gentle into that good night."
Resist - Take up your shield and grab your sword.

"Rage, rage against the dying of the light."
Declare war - Live.


Monday, November 22, 2010

Dead Girl Walking

I am not going to lie. I love Zombies. I love the genre of films, comic books, and et. al. There is something to be said for seeing our species reduced to its most basic and primal form. Eat. Live or Die.

Upon reading the series "The Walking Dead," and now watching it on Sunday nights on AMC, the question becomes, "who are the real monsters, the zombies, or those left to survive in their wake?"

"What would I do?" "How far would I go to ensure my family's survival and safety?" "How much of my humanity and compassion am I willing to lose?"

The characters are living in our timeline....they were reliant upon their cellphones, video games, laptops, and the ease with which anything can be accessed. But then they awoke one morning to a world where the dead walks - and we are little more than blood bags that provide them with nourishment. The world is without power. Electricity and running water are no longer operating. There is no internet. There are no televisions. No instant communication.

In order to survive, one must be cunning, nomadic, alert, and willing to do things that were once thought impossible.

I am not talking about going to bathroom without a toilet or paper. Nor am I talking about having to bleed, gut, and quarter a deer. I am talking about stealing, cheating, killing, and pushing the very limits of what is humane in order to keep my family and myself safe.

Would I come into your dwelling place and take what supplies I needed without batting an eye? Even if it meant, your infant and aging mother went without?
Yes. I would take it. If I had to do this with force, I would do it.
Would I be willing to share?
Maybe. But there is the issue of trust...It's like Tyler Durden says, "On a long enough timeline, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero." Why waste time with constipated pleasantries and veiled violence? Eventually, it will come down to you and yours or me and mine...why prolong the inevitable?

If my family joined a group, it would only be because there was something to gain from the alliance. But what happens when food is scarce and moral is low? The group suffers. Or what if a member of the group is too high strung? What if this person after a matter of hours reveals they are more depraved and corrupt than you could possibly imagine?

Only the strong survive, and the weak are exploited. Fear is heady and powerful weapon, and when used to bend wills with an iron fist - no one gets out alive. Dictators are overthrown. There are heavy causalities on both sides, one group leaves with less and another with more. Long story short - Stay with those you know, love, and trust - F@*K everybody else.

It sounds awful, callous, and heartless - but its honest.

The subject seems silly and contrite - but it is fodder for my think cap. I like postulating what lengths I'd be willing to go for the ones I love. I would kill, steal, cheat and lose everything decent about myself, if that's what it took to keep them safe. To the depths of my bones I know that if put in this "kill or be killed" situation - I would be an unscrupulous version of myself, and there would be no limit to my tenaciousness.

"The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places." Ernest Hemingway.

Addendum:
Because I am the type of girl that is overly critical and a bit of a perfectionist - I felt that I hadn't quite gotten this right. Because were this really post-zombie-apocalypse I wouldn't be the only one with a gun and a crazed will to live.

Am I arrogant in my thinking that I would be a quicker draw than my opponent?
Abso-fricking-lutely.
Call it blind arrogance or cocksure confidence, but if put into this level of stress, if one is not insanely sure of their aptitude to win every battle, then they're ensuring their death. Was Doc Holiday the fastest draw, or was he merely more presumptuous than his rival?
*Wink* "Say when..."

If its apparent that everyone holding a gun are as equally high strung, and just crazy enough to think they'll survive any situation - its the element of surprise that wins this fight.
Hunter S. Thompson was a force to be reckoned with, but had he not roared in the face of the opposition - he'd have never gotten very far. His renowned swagger - mimicked by both Johnny Depp and Bill Murray - was the result of a back injury and was a source of constant pain. But you never knew it. This heavily exaggerated gate would have been mocked or exploited as weakness, and Hunter beat the bullies to the punch. He was vicious, barked louder, was aggressive, and dangled precariously on the edge of reason and madness.
It is this controlled lunacy that would prove to be most beneficial in any skirmish.
The man controlled the chaos simply by creating it in the first place. Furious imagination is a lethal cocktail and more valuable than bullets.

To be honest, I could speak for years on this topic - It goes back to my need to constantly re-evaluate. I do not ever want to find myself in a situation where someone is getting the drop on me, which is why I generally prepare myself for the most ludicrous scenarios. This way I never fall victim to the element of surprise.