The only unacceptable thing

to me, is not believing in my dream. All else is forgivable, that is not. There’s a scene in Signs, two brothers on the couch, that speaks to this. And I’m supposed to be bigger than my failures, we’re supposed to somehow escape our limitations, become more than our parents and more than our yesterday. Currents of culture create the reason that, say, Titanic played longer than any movie ever—Ash asks: what was it about our place and time that made it so people went to see that movie over and over in the theater? Why is marriage unacceptable to us now? It’s so hard to see, from within the culture of a business or a family or a country, that a lot of this is arbitrary. The king of Morocco makes bigamy legal in a country where, in that time, there was so high a female-to-male ratio that even-matched marriages left many women poor. And we forget this, but: when my sister is doing badly, that reflects on me. That’s part of the definition of family that has been forgotten: your problems are mine and my problems are yours. We’re deluded with the illusion of independence: people in Dayton want to keep public transportation out of the Beavercreek mall, but they don’t understand that in order to live the life they want to live in Beavercreek, you have to bus in people to clerk the stores in the mall, you have to bus in housekeepers and maids and slaves…having slaves and having no busses are mutually exclusive, but people will try for them both anyway. I read the website of my friend (and it inspires me to post here—maybe our websites are just talking to each other), I enjoy aesthetic reactions in my own brain to a computer-generated graphic of a surreal biological entity,

And I think if you step way back from the arts & sciences, that maybe, even though it’s all interesting, it’s all worthwhile, that the only thing left is poetry, photography, snapshots of existence: science is all well and good, and probably will never see an end, but, as a limited subjective being in time, who cares? What matters to us is isolated fragments, a conversation, that moment, one taste, the particular way it happened to me…that—and only that—is of the utmost importance.

I’m on a beach, and the sea and the sand and the sky come together. A railroad track separates the ocean from the highway and we take in the view, in our time.

The only unacceptable thing

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