May 25, 2002

  • I am strapping back in time, exchanging this for that, and falling into possession of the most youthful energy .  I am visualizing a game called Musical Chairs.  Are you all familiar with it?  


    It’s a game where the players are dispatched walking to music (and why not dancing?  why not dancing ?) around a seating of chairs and when the music stops, the players must all grab the nearest seat to avoid elimination.  How elimination?  It’s arranged by the rules that there is always one less seat than players—and any excess seats are removed from the floor.  Hence, there will always be an odd prancer out when the music ends.  And that prancer is eliminated.


    I utterly hate this game,  It is the essence of terrorism: A world where it’s imagined that humanity cannot find a plenitude of co-existing niches, but must overflow all boundaries of civility by essentially mandating an ownership-incompatibility the termination of which is essential to fair continuance of the game. 


    You know: I never won at that game.  I’ve never won.  At all.  Because I totally  embraced the terror.  As an alibi.   To dance away.

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