Wednesday, February 4, 2015

some people are so poor that all they have is money

a strange thought hit me..  take a look in your pocket right now.  i bet you have somewhere between 20 and 200 lira in your wallet (i say lira because that's all i know anymore).  you work your ass off every day and when it is time to be paid you take a sheet of paper called a 'check' and deposit the numbers written on that check into a bank where your numbers will dwell in an abstract realm until you again visit the bank and turn those number into cash.  it's a neat system how we can do this and avoid keeping our paper versions of money in a box under our beds and not fear people stealing it from us.  we do this every payday and we constantly drag ourselves to jobs that we hate and confront ourselves with bosses who we are afraid of and we always worry if our number in that abstract realm is high enough.  life hits us and we are forced to lower that number in order to pay our way out of problems and we even offer a fraction of this number to an insurance company to make sure we are safe just in case life hits us too hard and we are unable to take care of ourselves.

life hits us... just in case...  afraid...  i hate these words.  something seems fishy.  something makes me feel like we are being used and actually controlled by this fear.  how did it come to be this way in the first place?

there are times when someone else words things much better than i ever could so i'm going to loosely quote a person who i value as both hilarious and brilliant, Louis CK.

it goes something like this...

God comes back to Earth and asks, ‘What the fuck did you do? I gave this to you motherfucker are you crazy? The polar bears are brown! What did you – what did you do to the polar bears??? Did you shit all over every polar bear? What did you – Who did this? Who spilled this shit? Who spilled this? Come over – did you fucking spill this? What is that?’

the humans, 'It’s oil…it’s just some oil…I didn’t mean to spill it…’

‘Well why did you take it out of the fucking ground???’

'Cuz I wanted to go faster…I’m not fast enough…and I was cold…’

‘What the fuck do you mean cold? I gave you everything you needed you piece of shit!’

‘Well cuz jobs and nmmmm..I wanted’

‘What is a job?? What is – Explain to me, what is a fucking job?’

‘Well you go like uh and you work at a place where people call when their game doesn’t work and you help them figure it out.’ ‘What do you do that for?’ “For uh money’



‘Just eat the shit on the floor! I left shit all over the floor! Fucking corn and wheat and shit grab it up and make some bread, what are you doing???’

‘Yeah but it doesn’t have like bacon around it…and like…I like when it has like…bacon on it and bread’

so that makes me think... what is the point of all this?  have humans just been around for too long and now we are born totally confused and existing in a system that has been lying to us for hundreds of years?  maybe.  maybe i was born at the wrong time.  maybe other people feel like i do.

i haven't learned enough.  i tried but all i have learned is that i have more questions.  i do know one thing though, when i look in the eyes of the beautiful faces and souls belonging to the people i've met in my travels i know deep inside that i am the richest person in the world.  life is sweet and shitty and complicated and we pay so much attention to meaningless and non-existent things but for the short time i'm here i'm going to find wealth beyond belief.. and maybe turn a few crowns upside-down while i'm at it.

completely unrelated but this is absolutely beautiful

Cumbia Sobre el Mar
Una vez me quedè, ahì dormido en la playa 
Y allì yo sonè, que del cielo bajaba 
Un enjambre de estrellas, y la luna plateada 
Y las olas del mar, con su luz salpicaba 
Sobre el mar divisè, divisè una cumbiamba 
Que a sonar de tambores, sobre el agua giraba 
Las parejas de estrellas, con espera llevaban 
Carrusel de colores, parecìan la cumbiamba 

I de pronto surgiò, una reina esperada 
Era Marta,la reina,que mi mente soñaba 
A sus pies vi la luna,las estrellas plasta-aguas 
I un himno de fiesta, las palmeras cantaban 

Era Marta,la reina, que mi mente soñaba 
Carrusel de colores, parecìa la cumbiamba 

Ayy amor… 

I de pronto surgiò, una reina esperada 
Era Marta, la reina, que mi mente soñaba 
A sus pies vì la luna, las estrellas plasta-aguas 
I un himno de fiesta, las palmeras cantaban 

Era Marta, la reina, que mi mente soñaba 
Carrusel de colores, parecìa la cumbiamba 
Parecian la cumbiamba

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