A Human Resource, Spoken Word Poetry by Mel C. Thompson скачать в хорошем качестве

A Human Resource, Spoken Word Poetry by Mel C. Thompson

This tenth video from "The Evil Meditations" series completes the playlist-audiobook of this still out-of-print chapbook. The print version of this book contains two more poems which wouldn't work well in this medium, however, I plan, if health, time and money permit, to issue them, along with all the other poems on this playlist, as an ebook. (And there are even greater hopes of including it in my small collection of hard-bound chapbooks; but those are labor-intensive and expensive to produce, so that concept remains rather a prayer at this point.) The text itself is both bombastic and dated. The bombastic part can't be helped as it is hopelessly interwoven with my rather off-putting writing style and even more off-putting personality. How one would successfully repent of all that in one's late 60s remains a mystery. Now as for the matter of the text being dated: It was written at a time when all the world was prosperous but me (an exaggeration, of course) but that age of general prosperity has vanished, and so the harping attitude surrounding my downward mobility is rather lost a planet of downwardly mobile people). Furthermore, I am describing crimes and conditions on completely overcrowded BART trains; but now the trains are sparsely populated and BART may not even be able to fiscally survive. The crime, filth, homelessness and mental illness still persist on the trains, and are made all the more frightening when mid-day trains are such that the addicts, madmen and criminals outnumber the few normies left. And another thing about the poem remains true. 90% of native Bay Area people cannot be moved regarding any crimes committed by anyone (except, of course, straight, white males - - although the rich ones are excused as they are always potentially useful as donors or spouses). And so the Bay Area, where I am economically trapped, remains stuck in a kind of race-and-gender fantasyland that leaves them unable to look real world problems in the face. Strangely, they believe this avoidance of reality is a form of kindness, even as it degrades the quality of life for the masses every day. And even if the sheltered upper-middle-class of the Bay Area really does know what I'm talking about, they still can't say anything, because anyone who actually speaks the way I do usually loses most of their friends, fans, clients, lovers, grants, scholarships and performance venues (unless, again, they are indispenable for some practical reason). So, finally, the entire culture revolves around a kind of ideological extortion, an extortion which they view as loving. The whole world outside the Bay Area can see all these contradictions clearly. The Bay Area has, as it were, information about the whole universe other than itself. In that way, it's like an informational and emotional North Korea (a state of affairs they're able to expertly manage without having to resort the crudeness of things like surreal military parades and creepy secret police, which, in itself, proves that the place does have a kind of peculiar genius all its own).