Zombies: ground-floor of the skyscraper of humanity
2003-08-11 - 12:29 p.m.
Originally, there was to be no post for this week, because it was largely boring, and for the most part normal. But the fact is that the mere normalcy of the week made it extremely odd by contrast, so I had to force myself to tell me to write *something* down, regardless that me is blind.
There is a process, particularly in service-oriented post-industrial world that is the USA of people turning into zombies. First you get a job because you think you need money. Then you work long hours because you think you need money. Then you get a girlfriend and/or a kid, and think you need more money. The end result is you end up with a large sum of spent money and a personality that goes something like this: �ugghh��. It�s true, the people of this country are surprisingly hard workers, and not because of patriotism or to avoid their family situations, but because of the strain that is enforced on them, the demand to meet social-financial obligations in order to survive in this country. You have to have a phone to get a job. You must have a car to get to work. You must pay insurance on the car to drive it. You must pay for fuel for the car. You must Keep the car inspected and maintained, or buy a new car. You must provide for family things (in most cases, in order to do this, you must sell the car and buy a minivan). You have to have pocket-money to spend with co-workers at the local bar or restaurant. You have to pay for clothes, shaving cream, and toothpaste, in order that you are presentable (even though you�re never presented to anything inside your cubicle) or else you loose your job. And when you get home from work, you have to have electricity, so you can watch TV, so you can be commercially trained in your spare time to be just like everyone else. We must have hope, that the process can be reversed, that a zombie can turn into a human again, that a real boy and a puppet are not one and the same thing�because otherwise, these people will not raise, this empire will not fall.
And this got me thinking�how is it that zombies in the films always have such rapidly progressed dental problems? And more importantly, is the progressive decay of one�s teeth all the disease (known as corpus in some journals) amounts to? Let�s look at the facts�zombies smell bad. This could be a result of not brushing regularly. Zombies are always in a cycle-state of anguish and misplaced projected anger. This too could be a result of non-brushing. And lastly, zombies eat flesh, preferably human, preferably raw. This could be because it�s all they can chew. Human flesh being only slightly rubbery compared to that of most other mammals (assuredly this is more nature than nature, due to our societal norms and our methods of pampering our skin by living under a roof, protected by the sun). This may further explain why zombies do not like the sun�they simply do not like to eat tough or cooked meat�which may simultaneously explain why they don�t like being burned to death, and why they always hesitate before chomping down on that super-manly guy wielding the chainsaw (an item filled with highly flammable liquid). Even Frankenstein�s creation rarely showed his teeth, for fear of being banished and hated by all mankind. For no good reason, I�m sure his breath smelled bad too. Like a whole case of tic-tacs bad.
Bought a hard drive, 80gigs for 100$. Also, found a mattress on 13th street, grabbed it before the rain fell. Only problem was that it�s a queen-sized mattress and thus nearly the size of my entire room. I have just barely enough room for milkcrate-furniture and my computer, and will never again be able to open the door all the way. And then there was the extended problem of getting it home, because it�s more than twice my size and I was on foot. Like ants, humans are.
There are two major philosophies concerning chopsticks. The first being that the chopsticks are a utensil, meant to help us serve ourselves. The second is that chopsticks are simply meant.
August10. Sarah had her baby, a month early but still healthy. Her husband doesn�t even know he�s a father yet, because he�s off to a rodeo, and only contactable by a friend�s cell phone that has very poor reception, and he�s most likely drunk anyhow. The child, a boy, will be named Nevada.
Sister and Step-sister are moving into their apartments this week, getting settled in before college. Step-sister is still waiting for her chin-add-on surgery, and is living with my alcoholic-druggie-tattooed cousin. Sister is living with a random person whom she will probably not get along with, but is buying her first car, a Pontiac Grandam, so at least she�ll have a means to get out, every now and again.
