6 june
06/06/06
Kira woke up wet and covered with mud. She held her hands in front of her face. Long red scratches interrupted the dark brown. Dirt was wedged beneath her fingernails, which were jagged and broken as if she had been trying to dig through something.
Which is exactly what she had been doing before she passed out from exhaustion.
Stop
Restart
A Summary of “Walking Dead” aka Road Kill, aka, at one point in time in a universe far far away, Feeling Dirty on the Downtown No 30.
This story features a girl who is lower middle class and as such, needs to pay for her own education since government programs only benefit the ultra poor, the ultra rich, or those increasingly less rare individuals supported by academic scholarships.
Her dad is a mechanic, her mom is “above” him, in her own mindset, representing the business class, middle America, the new American product: service.
The girl wants to be an artist. Of course she does, doesn’t everyone, in this need to create in a society that is slowly copyrighting the human genome, microscopically branding seeds sold to farmers, genetically engineering the seed to produce sterile offspring, wouldn’t we need to create, an inner need completely misunderstood, in the face of so much destruction, in an age of globalization and branding, the market on coffee, clothes, living. TGIF, IKEA, WALMART, put me in a big fat fucking box. Down to the tools we use to think and construct thought, our forms of communication, our daily life dictated by product placement and being transformed into good little consumers. To create, be an artist, but she doesn’t really know what that means.
And aren’t we all broken. In one way or another. Some area in our lives where we are completely and totally inept, regardless of how hard we try, counseling we seek out, lessons we incorporate. Fitter, happier-OK Computer, Radiohead. Programmed. The programmed life. But is that too easy, too hollywood blockbuster, too I, Robot.
She is trying to know herself, but is afraid to know herself. Because context is everything. We are who we are in context.
Okay, so floundering, this trying to understand, but American Identity. The shifting landscape of American identity. Is this passe? Is American, Italian, french, Namibian identity to end?
Anyways, American Identity as a shifting landscape, constantly being re-written, but not by ourselves, but by companies, the larger gears.
Her academic career has been marked by the more typical 6-10 year degree, she works through school. She is disassociated, disconnected. She reads other people constantly and makes snap judgments about who they are and what they’re all about, very biased on the racial front. Her strongest connection comes from road kill, poor tattered little bodies on the road, other victims of Progress without a voice. Only with the exclamation, at most, what is that thing doing here.
So, maybe and loftily, this is a criticism, the despondency of youth, the class of the industrial era of america and the service era and a microscopic and incredibly skewed representation of growing up in a post-everything [cold war politics, colonialism, modernism] environment.
Kira woke up wet and covered with mud. She held her hands in front of her face. Long red scratches interrupted the dark brown. Dirt was wedged beneath her fingernails, which were jagged and broken as if she had been trying to dig through something.
Which is exactly what she had been doing before she passed out from exhaustion.
Stop
Restart
A Summary of “Walking Dead” aka Road Kill, aka, at one point in time in a universe far far away, Feeling Dirty on the Downtown No 30.
This story features a girl who is lower middle class and as such, needs to pay for her own education since government programs only benefit the ultra poor, the ultra rich, or those increasingly less rare individuals supported by academic scholarships.
Her dad is a mechanic, her mom is “above” him, in her own mindset, representing the business class, middle America, the new American product: service.
The girl wants to be an artist. Of course she does, doesn’t everyone, in this need to create in a society that is slowly copyrighting the human genome, microscopically branding seeds sold to farmers, genetically engineering the seed to produce sterile offspring, wouldn’t we need to create, an inner need completely misunderstood, in the face of so much destruction, in an age of globalization and branding, the market on coffee, clothes, living. TGIF, IKEA, WALMART, put me in a big fat fucking box. Down to the tools we use to think and construct thought, our forms of communication, our daily life dictated by product placement and being transformed into good little consumers. To create, be an artist, but she doesn’t really know what that means.
And aren’t we all broken. In one way or another. Some area in our lives where we are completely and totally inept, regardless of how hard we try, counseling we seek out, lessons we incorporate. Fitter, happier-OK Computer, Radiohead. Programmed. The programmed life. But is that too easy, too hollywood blockbuster, too I, Robot.
She is trying to know herself, but is afraid to know herself. Because context is everything. We are who we are in context.
Okay, so floundering, this trying to understand, but American Identity. The shifting landscape of American identity. Is this passe? Is American, Italian, french, Namibian identity to end?
Anyways, American Identity as a shifting landscape, constantly being re-written, but not by ourselves, but by companies, the larger gears.
Her academic career has been marked by the more typical 6-10 year degree, she works through school. She is disassociated, disconnected. She reads other people constantly and makes snap judgments about who they are and what they’re all about, very biased on the racial front. Her strongest connection comes from road kill, poor tattered little bodies on the road, other victims of Progress without a voice. Only with the exclamation, at most, what is that thing doing here.
So, maybe and loftily, this is a criticism, the despondency of youth, the class of the industrial era of america and the service era and a microscopic and incredibly skewed representation of growing up in a post-everything [cold war politics, colonialism, modernism] environment.
posted by InkSpot | 3:16 AM
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