Friday August 17th 2012 Tim
The argument that language is also a form of
grooming, is one to which I fondly adhere. And by grooming, I mean
the sort of things Chimpanzee do to each other. Call it an
understanding that Tics in the fur are a bind. They must be
ceremoniously hunted down in order to properly understand each other.
The sooth of touch, and the endless parade of words that patter through
the day. "Good Morning." "How are you." "Have a nice day."
Once Tic-less, we become
less concerned. A bland custard of an emotion or maybe satisfied, or
content, just sort of happy. And this way silence is comfortable, the sunset
makes sense, the bark of a dog no more than a melody that needs no
explaining or thoughts of shotguns. Fortunately there is the political
class whose role it is to discover Tics where none have been before.
Damned if I don't itch all over from listening to them.