ramblings of an enslave in retro america

Most of the people I associate with are of average intelligence. They work, play, some go to church. I probably am more spiritually involved than a lot, but maybe not. We live in our dreams, our hopes and our prayers. That is the point. We live in fantasy, in dreams, in spiritual constructs so much that reality is redefined. The $25 tennis shoe is bought for $278.37 because of some endorsement from a guy who could do the same feat in brogans if he had to. Buy the shoe, embrace the dream. Even the crippled do this. Encouraging hope, yes, placebo-wear is all the rage. Our heroes rule us. And what a thing to have a hero who looks like us - the many faces of J.C.  Wearing sandals are OK but robes and togas, you starting to scare me. If J.C. wore clothes that were non-restrictive, say the clothes of a warrior or a sport contender, but he wore the robes of a philosopher, a peaceable average guy. And I think he was a stone  mason rather than a carpenter, think about the area.

Every day I dream of future dwellings, the house of my dreams, but my present home would make Paul Revere wide eyed and comfortable. Business building soar and at times break the straight line tradition. Walls of steel and glass, sometimes solar power added to convince me they are sincere about the environment while they increase my bill to pay for it. In the city I am awed and amazed, then I go home to retro. My home is only 50 years old but made in a style that is 100 years older. It is dated, in need of upgrading. The improvements must fit what exists already, retro or it looks out of place. OK I go to the suburbs, to the land of the updated dreams. Still as modern as some homes appear there is a scary resemblance to the homes in the retro. The future, we can't let go the past. And to tell you the truth, if the material of the future were to become present, we would argue against it, struggle to accept it. We would mix the past into it until it resembled the past we are presently in, because it's what we are used to.

My car is sleek, my culture is geek, my work place the bleeping edge, yet I live in the home of the Hobbit. If you live in a permanent place the retro is at your heels. If you are mobile, perhaps you can approach something modern, maybe. Mobile homes boast in modern convenience and design, though inexpensive, even cheap at times and no matter what are not to last a lifetime housing. When you build to endure time and style and culture passes by and retro comes into play. Ever wonder why the future rarely includes the material culture of a personal dwelling. You might have an apartment or compartment in a mega city, live in and with an institution, a spaceship, a research settlement. There are so many of us, is there room for an individual dream anymore. Hey, what the heck are you doing in my dream? No peace of mind because I am a piece of a larger mind. I must accommodate all, consider my brother, leave behind no children, dream for us all.

We don't dream of independence and individual freedom anymore. We are connected too tightly in the same fate, the same hope and the same reason for our present state. We are afraid of one person leaving the rest of us, to become more than us. We might regard them as a hero (a soft term for a god), someone more than us. We fight like hell to keep them the same as us. Exposing everything they might have used to gain advantage or elevate themselves above us. Even after they have proven their worth and pedigree, we look for flaws. We hold them as so humble when they say they are just one of us. You have to slouch a little, burp or fart in an inappropriate place, or speak as if you are less learned and yet be firm and straightforward amid the proud and haughty who boast and con us all. The hero is a chameleon of character and gesture, able to match the nuisances of the folks he deals with. Everybody who sees him, sees themselves, sees a rescuer, a healer, the relief of anxiety, depression and hopelessness, rescue from things nobody can touch, taste, only feel because of the unattainable barrier that the hero has surmounted and promise to take the rest of us there.

I spend my life looking at the hero list. Nope I don't want where he's going, she's going. Ooh look, so and so's a new hero, check him out. Nah!, my hero is tried and true, I love him, how about you? The world's oldest hero, who is he? Is he or she really a real person? or a myth? A myth is more that a made up story. A myth is all the accolades peated (planted) and repeated till their authors are forgotten. "He slayed the galloping hoards and sent the infidels to their Lords, that's Prince Ali". And the story gains dimension and validity because it is believed to be true in the vacuum of fact, for hundreds and thousands of years. Ooh, it must be true. Ali is the greatest, he's a baaaaaaaaad man!

But what know I, I'm just an enslave in retro america.

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