Just look at the crazy leer on this woman's face.
I went to go see this group, Scrap Arts Music, at the Anchorage Performing Arts Center yesterday with Gavin and his K-1 class. Aside from the rampant sexism directed at me by his teacher and the subtle, "why the fuck aren't you out working a job, you goddamn parasite" looks I got from the other moms who were chaperons it was a pretty awesome time.
So there I was, watching these Canadian hippies jump around and beat their drums made from old refrigerators or what the fuck ever and I had some sort of mini-revelation about the nature of human beings, that old chestnut of what makes us unique, or whatever. I sat in this churched up cave, not that far removed from Lascaux, really. The lights shining down on these freaks and the thrum of their percussions heating the blood and never before had I a stronger urge to run fleetly down the savanna, spear in hand, savagely eviscerating an antelope, to ride down the wind obliterated steppe, torching villages and cleaving the skulls of the children and women, to jump into frigid surf, charge the shore and pillage the landscape, spreading seed into different and strange genomes, foreign and mystical. I understood then, what it meant: the shared sacrifice of self replicating and ultimately finite carbon based machinery. It was holy, revelatory, and completely terrifying. The stuff upon which religions are built and destroyed, the story of us all, surrounding fires and telling the next generation our best lies.
When the apocalypse comes, I want to be first in line to meet it.
So there I was, watching these Canadian hippies jump around and beat their drums made from old refrigerators or what the fuck ever and I had some sort of mini-revelation about the nature of human beings, that old chestnut of what makes us unique, or whatever. I sat in this churched up cave, not that far removed from Lascaux, really. The lights shining down on these freaks and the thrum of their percussions heating the blood and never before had I a stronger urge to run fleetly down the savanna, spear in hand, savagely eviscerating an antelope, to ride down the wind obliterated steppe, torching villages and cleaving the skulls of the children and women, to jump into frigid surf, charge the shore and pillage the landscape, spreading seed into different and strange genomes, foreign and mystical. I understood then, what it meant: the shared sacrifice of self replicating and ultimately finite carbon based machinery. It was holy, revelatory, and completely terrifying. The stuff upon which religions are built and destroyed, the story of us all, surrounding fires and telling the next generation our best lies.
When the apocalypse comes, I want to be first in line to meet it.
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