Wasn’t the proletariat the oppressed class? The worker class that is.
Yes, and the bourgeoisie were the high/ruling class. I rewrote my thesis to be waaaaaaaay more coherent. It is now this:
The Tempest is a microcosm in which class inequality and resulting power struggles exemplify the Marxist idea that class disparities drive attempts to change the power structure; however, the characters find that they are unable to successfully revolt against the bourgeoisie when moved to do so.
before bullshit mode: In The Tempest, Marx’s idea that class inequality leads to oppression and revolt in opposition of oppression is demonstrated- throughout the play many characters revolt or plan to; however, the power struggles reinforce the status quo through their outcomes.
with bullshit mode:The Tempest is a microcosm in which class inequality and resulting power struggles exemplify the Marxist idea that capitalism’s disparities drive attempts to change the power structure- however, the characters find that they are unable to successfully revolt against the oppressiveness of the proletariat when moved to do so.
I expect to see snow but we’re marching toward winter again. Not there yet, should we care? Who is this we anyway? I’m the only one here, only one here and awake and why should I be and why am I and why can’t I be allowed to sleep. And it’s cold, so cold. Always cold. I want to scream leave me alone, but I’m not being haunted by anything less than the apathetic air.
It’s the blue of the icebergs, so painfully bright that I know it’s toxic and I hold it closer and it’s toxic and warm and warm icebergs are melting everywhere the Siberian permafrost is destructing and we’ll all die, suffocating on our collective selfishness and greed no, carbon, because there is enough food in the world for everyone and technology to transport it the spirit of generosity is one in which I do not partake ignoring the bells of discrimination once upon a holiday extend yourselves further please and you may know The Light though who the ever-loving hell knows what that even means I can see clearly my eyelids are closed.
My heart may one day stop working for its master and who could blame such a thing for being what it is an obedient follower to the drum beat brain that I am victim to having been attached to that I am that I can never not be without an ice pick kind of protection from sentience and aren’t they always reticent in the end because they are sorry the drumbeat has stopped it signals to their own mortality of music that we must take a breathe and there will be silence
The pig’s heart is the closest to our own, the lungs of a lab rat, the brain chemistry of perhaps the chimpanzee, a cousin we cannot admit We are a meshed mix of fucked up evolutions because how did we ever get out of the jungle looking like we could only hang onto our life by an obvious tree limb, legs trembling? And we are here, concretely cocking up everything because it was too easy to be able to breathe freely and lead is pretty poisonous and everything else in me, outside of me, you and everyone else. You are my poison, you are a pillow in the dark of the night pushed up against my face because no one ever chokes on fluff. It’s our fuck ups. But the pillow was part of the plan, not mine the plan of someone else who does not care for its extra firm hypo-allergenic qualities and so I will die with my mouth full of dust mites disturbed by the destruction of the world. I will admire my eyelids as I have always done in the dark and when we are shrouded in more motes floating freely my hair will be tangled and caught halfway around my neck I was naked and there are love bites ringing around where a shirt collar could be discrete
And how the hell did this become sex, it did and it didn’t need to be done but then that’s always the motive, and I want to sleep beside myself, be beside myself. Of course you might make it all metaphors, but I would that you will not. I want to slip into scalding bathwater I want sleep let’s sleep together in a way that’s comfortable and leave it at that because I can’t comfort myself and I want to held up and away from the mares of the night. Can they be elsewhere when I am beside myself? No, I summon them with these insane ramblings. Why must we do this when there ARE other things to be done, unsticking what is stuck- the caps lock key. Unruly, truly, eye rhyme and rhyme being a word I‘m not quite aware of ever spelling as an English speaker needing to know how to lie about the language and with it, it ought to be seemly, serenely spacing out everything equally. It won’t be because I hate it, knowing that I am manipulating far less skillfully than anyone else who has ever bothered to have a bout with complexity- and ailment that I might recover from if only my blood could keep from going cold.
“This instrument can teach, it can illuminate; yes, and it can even inspire. But it can do so only to the extent that humans are determined to use it to those ends. Otherwise it is merely wires and lights in a box. There is a great and perhaps decisive battle to be fought against ignorance, intolerance and indifference. This weapon of television could be useful.
Stonewall Jackson, who knew something about the use of weapons, is reported to have said, “When war comes, you must draw the sword and throw away the scabbard.” The trouble with television is that it is rusting in the scabbard during a battle for survival.”—Edward R. Murrow
Cheiloproclitic - Being attracted to someones lips. Quidnunc - One who always has to know what is going on. Ultracrepidarian - Of one who speaks or offers opinions on matters beyond their knowledge. Apodyopis - The act of mentally undressing someone. Gymnophoria - The sensation that someone is mentally undressing you. Tarantism - The urge to overcome melancholy by dancing. Autolatry - The worship of one’s self. Cagamosis - An unhappy marriage. Gargalesthesia - The sensation caused my tickling. Capernoited - Slightly intoxicated or tipsy. Lalochezia - The use of abusive language to relieve stress or ease pain. Cataglottism - Kissing with tongue. Basorexia - An overwhelming desire to kiss. Brontide - The low rumbling of distant thunder. Grapholagnia - The urge to stare at obscene pictures. Agelast - A person who never laughs. Wanweird - An unhappy fate. Dystopia - Am imaginary place of total misery. A metaphor for hell. Petrichor - The smell of dry rain on the ground. Anagapesis - The feeling when one no longer loves someone they once did. Malapert - Clever in manners of speech. Duende - Unusual power to attract or charm. Concilliabule - A secret meeting of people who are hatching a plot. Strikhedonia - The pleasure of being able to say “to hell with it”. Lygerastia - The condition of one who is only amorous when the lights are out. Ayurnamat - The philosophy that there is no point in worrying about events that cannot be changed. Sphallolalia - Flirtatious talk that leads no where. Baisemain - A kiss on the hand. Druxy - Something which looks good on the outside, but is actually rotten inside. Mamihlapinatapei - The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move.
I am malapert, with a severe case of duende, who is certain to suffer wanweird.
Here's to me doing one of the dumbest and rudest things in my life. Cheers.
Someone, some random internet person, that I talked to this morning reminded me of everything that I actually miss about my childhood. In a good way. I actually got a bit misty eyed. And then they disconnected because they thought I was lying about being a girl. At the end of a two hour conversation.
The dumb thing?
I found their facebook and told them…
"I can’t believe I’m even doing this. I exist, and I’m really pissed off at you for ending the best conversation I’ve had in a long time. If you’re the same person I was talking to, that is. You have a dog named ____, you kayak, and your address is ______________________. If it wasn’t you I was talking to, then that means someone’s randomly on the internet claiming to be you."
(I will throw in the disclaimer that none of the personal information in the note was lifted from their facebook. All of it was stuff they had told me.) So I basically creeped on someone for the sole purpose of sending that message. Cause I’m a dumbass. And now I feel bad for invading their privacy.
Dear you, sometimes i want to just shake you, you irritate me so much. But at the same time i just want to kiss you and hold you and tell you how much i love you, how everything will be alright, how much you’re cherished, and how much you are wanted. But you get so wrapped up in your fears you forget to let me know the same.
I have been six sick for six fucking days. Incidentally, I’m coughing up green mucus, and sneezing out clear, so I guess only my respiratory system is ill. I hate you all. Damn healthy carriers of disease.