a grouse with completely feathered feet


In that, in embarassments there are still wisdoms. Unless life really is like a pinewood derby. In which case we might as well all pack up and go home because the Cub Scout with the dad with the best toolshop always won those. If capital and its exchanges truly bequeath and openness and levity onto us -- the very act of exchange as a boon -- then surely the dad souping up the little car should be hurtful to this process. But rather this cheating is the norm, from the pinewood derby to the church sack race to the boardroom. And those who spend their lives trying to play fair are out of the norm. I think more and more that writing is actually a grand attempt to play fair, generate a real form of sustaining, gnostic (in the general sense of the word) capital -- that rather than subverting the rule of law (although the best writing often seems to), it instead creates conditions that allow more decent exchanges to engender themselves. Which in the long run are more orderly, humanizing. And to sometimes entreat against the gin-induced musings of the ogliarchic heart...


At 11/28/2011 02:38:00 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

i agree with your sentiment. writing attenuates all these hierarchies that favour the "haves", which is why i adore it. on an unrelated note, i feel like you may have used too many big words on this blog post. i had to look up a few of those, and i'm fairly well-educated! haha. i somehow got here from looking up "engendered". on google's define function, and clicking on "show me more".


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