Archive for the 'You!' Category


The Power of Imagination.

The economy does not actually exist. I know what you might be thinking now. “Hey, how deep of a hit did you just take from your opium bong? You godless hippie.” The short answer is: not that deep. The long answer is: An economy is just an agreed upon system of values and trade rules. It is no more set in stone than any other idea, and can be re-arranged or fundamentally revised any time we feel like it.

I know it seems as if economic systems, such as our pseudo-capitalist one, are quite real. As real as the buildings that house all of the institutions that prop up this concept. But it really isn’t. It’s “simply” a very elaborate system we have concocted in order to keep people producing goods and services that in the end benefit most of us. Motivated by greed. Punished by hunger. I will leave any further moral values and my own Utopian hopes out of it.

If this current model of incentives and punishment isn’t getting the job done let’s change it. Fine tune it to work better. Improve the social safety net for workers. Tax the rich bankers a little higher. Make sure stock trading is better regulated. Even out the peaks and valleys. We also have the short term option: Keep on buying stuff, you dumb shits.

A recession happens when people think a recession will happen. They stop buying and start saving. Industrialists stop producing the things that aren’t being bought anymore. The same people who stopped buying get fired and continue not buying (now for a different reason, lack of funds) and the downward spiral worsens. Do you want to keep your job? You want your friends to keep their jobs? Stop stuffing your mattress full of imaginary wealth printed on paper and purchase things that might be useful. Either sneakers with lights in the heals or a shotgun for fending off the mutants when this economic crisis hits apocalyptic proportions.

You think I am over-simplifying a very complex issue? Yes, I might be. Bare in mind though that economist’s seemingly elaborate hypotheses are not any more accurate. If these Oracles of Wall Street and Captains of Industry had any clue what pattern the market follows (if any) they’d be able to fix it. Instead they’re just throwing anything they can think of at the problem and seeing what sticks. So far, nothing is.

A system no-one understands isn’t a system, it’s chaos. So kick back, grab a beer you’ve just brewed in your own toilet and enjoy watching as these granite monoliths of capitalism crumble. Like that pension you had saved away. It’s much more fun watching something come crashing down. At least now you are not alone, standing in the rubble.



This Intensely Precious Thing.

That warm feeling of empathy is re-entering my life for the first time in quite a while. An unusual feeling reserved for a precious few. It’s deliciously enticing and alluring. Tasty in its sheer humanity. My imagination runs rampant. I start fantasizing of crawling in under the covers of a warm bed, pressing up against the soft skin of someone special. Is that you? Why yes, I do believe it is.

Hearing you cry makes me happy. It’s peculiar, I know. The intimacy I felt was incredibly palpable. An emotional telepathy that choked me up. Going into my chest, stirring up everything. Giving me the resting heart rate of a serial killer. Every beat whispering a thousand promises. Who thought this one eventĀ  could contain such a dignified and yet intensely vulnerable beauty? Another one of life’s interesting contrasts I suppose.

I’m not a poet, nor am I a genius. So I do not know if I will ever be able to aptly express the complexity of the joyous emotions you instill in me. They are at times overwhelming. They wash over me with a force so strong that I have to grasp for sanity. Even though I do not want to. I need to be in full possession of my faculties if I am to match you. For all its strength it is also giddy, delicate and fluttering. Like a midget’s toes pitter-pattering across a tin roof.

I know I’m swooning, in the open and on the nose. Perhaps even pubescent in my attempts to phrase this as correctly as my senses allow me. I seldom get close to conveying what I truly feel. Never near giving words to the emotions that I harbor. Inside of these fossilized remnants of a romantic heart. But there is a tiny speck of living tissue left in there. Ready for a rebirth or resurrection. Like in Jurassic Park, or that one guy in the bible. Be my scientist, my lovely boffin.

Your acumen is both shiny and new. Brilliantly bright, blindingly beautiful in your elegant intellect. Engulf me, despite my hyperbole.

Thanks for all the things you meant to say. I sense them in the peripheral vision of my mind’s eye. Hopefully you and I can pull them into full focus, together.

Did you know

..that I like stuff?


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