Friday September 9th 2011 Tim Candler
Often better to understand an issue by
imagining a structure upon which opinion can be hung. However, the
structure imagined should not be pulled from the air, which I suppose is
why sociologists decide they are scientists, and those who write books
care more for audience.
And it's the way a person speaks. His
vowels and his understandings are upon his tongue as certainly as the
color of his skin. The kind of shoes he wears, the label on his
shirt, the vehicle he drives and on it goes into an industrial delight
of expectation. But there is a reason why some like "The Help" and
it's movie, while others cringe from it or turn red from shame or rage.
It's the "Upstairs, Downstairs" of 2011, a year chock full of a yearning
and probably an anger, both of which stifle imagination leaving us
fearful and prone to the simpler side of memory and cinema.
Believe it or not, people are
mostly content in their class. It provides a sense of unity in being. A
congress through which the existence of aliens or the rich or the poor or
the self might be explained. We prefer to gather amongst our own kind, if
we can still find them, to feel strong or worthy or useful or whatever collective
might offer purpose and future. And wouldn't it be rosy if we all
trusted our station, like faithful men of gold.
Fewer, are not so content to see the
their world as written, they see their being as actually belonging
elsewhere. To a dream perhaps, or to a greed, or to a wish, or to an
emotion that satisfies. They are the entrepreneur in his garage, and not all
of them republican boy scouts. They are unhappy with diamonds
and holidays in Cancun, or seven dollars an hour and no color TV, or cold
winter and no food at all. And wouldn't it be rosy if Fairies ate
Stink Bugs and other such structures.