within the unity of the so called 99% there exist that minority (or majority!?) which has learned by the very nature of their environment to stay silent. it's not their place to speak. they just want to eat and live out their peaceful lonely lives out in some shitty suburb, as long as it's away from the incessant violence and retardation of the rest of the human race. (un)fortunately, sometimes those very people, by the activities that they find themselves repeating day after day, find out more about the world around them than the people that walk around yelling what they think is the key to the door of civil stagnation. my dad's one of those people. but he rarely breaks his vow of silence. because before the Soviet Union crumbled, the last few heartbeats that emerged out of that mess of fear, hate & anxiety were directed at the parents of the future generations, subliminally warning them of the capitalism to come. warning them of the price that market freedom brings ('cause it literally brings prices). and they "wound it on their mustache," a russian idiom that means they remembered the heck out of that sh*t.
however, unlike my father, i'm finding myself in a position to speak more and more. but i have a heavy fear deep inside me -- all the residual "parenting" that my brother and i have resorted to calling "guilt tripping" -- that keeps me from forcing my mind to translate my real emotions into english and then Spitting them Out. that fear was put into me by parents that told me to shut the fuck up if you want to eventually get a greencard and a citizenship and a passport and be a normal human being. and though i'm writing this now, it almost seems as if i'm just closing in on the real message. just painting more fat around the meat. i'm inherently saying nothing important right now, except for the fact that it's crucial to document a process of attempting to vocalize my internal thoughts (which in my case are pretty much a bunch of visuals).
here are some very important words of advice, and i couldn't be more thankful for them
baby steps! you got-ta put one foot! in front of the other! I believe in you...
this truly is discipline speaking. and learning to articulate is a very difficult discipline to master, never mind become an apprentice of.
seriously though, what i'm trying to get at in this first attempt at a Bunch Of Words, is that real-time encouragement is lacking for the people that too have something to say. and it's almost frowned upon to be sensitive to these issues. sure, you can find these self-help books written in the same vernacular that you loathe. but a simple push, a simple "just do it you won't get deported or shot to death or sent to siberia for reading a book" doesn't happen. and maybe i'm here to warn you of the symptoms of a false socialism. when efforts of assertiveness for all to understand everything for themselves are thwarted and replaced with "leadership programs" so that the mind is more accustomed to following than reaching deep within one's own self to see what's lacking, you're facing the same problems. you're not really changing. you're just overthrowing for the sake of entertaining the id.
In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.
-Martin Luther King Jr.
I didn't know the extent of the damage this could cause until I was in love with a person who succumbed completely to it. like watching someone die from cancer or waste away in prison, a talent and intelligence that was forcefully wrangled and put to sleep thanks to several years of hallucinogenic drug use + an upbringing that was more forceful regarding the supremacy of silence and normalcy. what happened was too horrible to describe. a tragedy, and to think that it happens every minute of every day. dissolution.
of course maybe that's like totally capitalism talking, man. maybe I'm like, thinking I'm some sort of unique snowflake and we all deserve a voice or whatever. but maybe it's also not too much to ask to be allowed or even able to speak your mind, even if you don't do anything or go anywhere. maybe it's because that kind of existence is sort of miserable, maybe sometimes my dad looks at me and thinks "oh if only she was a beautiful fool", but anyway I hope you keep vocalizing what it is you're thinking even if it's just through cool paintings at first. it's important to have a voice I think, for the soul anyway. I think that's what the 99% thing is about anyway, finding that voice and hollering with it and then getting pepper sprayed in the throat.