Sunday, December 2, 2007
< previous day | archives | next day >
9:05 am. As I write this here in the Wal-Mart parking lot I just looked up and noticed smoke coming from the chimney of a restaurant next door - they must be stoking up the fires for a barbeque. Yep, Uncle Sam's Barbecue "try our slab & two sides - $18.95."
11:08 am. Time to hit the road. Church is out - my boradband connection just slowed to a crawl. Everyone must be on their cell phones catching up on all they missed while at services and making plans to get some of that barbecue. I'm off to the Barber Motorsports Museum.
Later. The Barber was well worth the visit. I spent the afternoon and skimmed a lot of it. Fifteen hundred is a lot of motorcycles to take in!
Night camp: Wal-Mart in Leeds AL
When Hope Dies
When you give up on hope, something even better happens than it not killing you, which is that in some sense it does kill you. You die. And there's a wonderful thing about being dead, which is that they—those in power—cannot really touch you anymore. Not through promises, not through threats, not through violence itself. Once you're dead in this way, you can still sing, you can still dance, you can still make love, you can still fight like hell—you can still live because you are still alive, more alive in fact than ever before. You come to realize that when hope died, the you who died with the hope was not you, but was the you who depended on those who exploit you, the you who believed that those who exploit you will somehow stop on their own, the you who believed in the mythologies propagated by those who exploit you in order to facilitate that exploitation. The socially constructed you died. The civilized you died. The manufactured, fabricated, stamped, molded you died. The victim died.
And who is left when that you dies? You are left. Animal you. Naked you. Vulnerable (and invulnerable) you. Mortal you. Survivor you. The you who thinks not what the culture taught you to think but what you think. The you who feels not what the culture taught you to feel but what you feel. The you who is not who the culture taught you to be but who you are. The you who can say yes, the you who can say no.