![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
The little language
Feb. 14th, 2006 03:42 pmYears ago a group of surly men among my friends in Sweden created a manifesto against imported capitalistic holidays like Valentines day and Halloween. A laid back, round bellied rebellion against American capitalism by grown lads who didn't want to feed little children sweets in late October or show special chocolate love for their friends and spouses on the 14th of February.
It was grumpy and cute, they made plots and pacts on scaring young candy beggars, and avoiding anything affectionate on a certain day while treating themselves to expensive male gadgets any other day of the year.
And then they wrote a teaser for the manifesto on an email list for lots and lots of people to see, proclaiming that those who liked certain holidaily expressions were fooled.
I wish someone could have given them a hug.
It's the little language that I've always loved. The crappy hand made card, the lipstick writing on the mirror, the single cupcake with a baby candle, the note in the book I'm reading. Nothing that would contribute to the GDP per capita in any way.
And if you scare little children, then it had better be by wearing a kick ass corpse costume with candy included, or shame on you!
In the name of the little language I hope all surly Ebenezer Scrooges have their spouses or friends spell out I heart U in peas on their kitchen counter for them. That'll teach them some minimalism & manners.
And these are my peas for you. Friendship is cheap and exclusive like a rare collective card from the shy kid who never hugs.
The little language has something perennial about it, you find it in a box or remember it long after the bigger gestures have faded.
There are a number of people on whose mirrors I would write, or present a cupcake or a back rub, but I'm so tired now.
I was up until 3 a.m. writing a methodology presentation for my thesis. This is always the hardest part for me, and the dreariest. I'm like an old car; start-stop, start-stop, start-cough-cough-sloow-rolling.
I truly hope this is the last thesis I write in a while, because I'm painfully slow and it weights a ton on me.
In a month I'll order a plane ticket to Sweden, where I'll spend the Easter and late April, and do an oral defense of the thesis...I hope.
And now I need to read up on some archival laws. You people should all know that public records and State Archiving equals public LOVE and FREEDOM, and this is what my thesis is partially about.
If you don't trust the government, then trust that the government will always have the files on you available for their own purposes, but if you allow the administration in power to let the state funds dissipate, then what you are undermining is your own right to walk into any archive and pull up your very own records.
This is the great public freedom I will defend no matter what. The citizens right to reach their own files and do easy research, and from there, with a little help from the science of taxonomy, be able to glimpse parts and shards of a collective truth.
So, lipstick on the mirror and a cupcake for you,
Archival Law for me.
It was grumpy and cute, they made plots and pacts on scaring young candy beggars, and avoiding anything affectionate on a certain day while treating themselves to expensive male gadgets any other day of the year.
And then they wrote a teaser for the manifesto on an email list for lots and lots of people to see, proclaiming that those who liked certain holidaily expressions were fooled.
I wish someone could have given them a hug.
It's the little language that I've always loved. The crappy hand made card, the lipstick writing on the mirror, the single cupcake with a baby candle, the note in the book I'm reading. Nothing that would contribute to the GDP per capita in any way.
And if you scare little children, then it had better be by wearing a kick ass corpse costume with candy included, or shame on you!
In the name of the little language I hope all surly Ebenezer Scrooges have their spouses or friends spell out I heart U in peas on their kitchen counter for them. That'll teach them some minimalism & manners.
And these are my peas for you. Friendship is cheap and exclusive like a rare collective card from the shy kid who never hugs.
The little language has something perennial about it, you find it in a box or remember it long after the bigger gestures have faded.
There are a number of people on whose mirrors I would write, or present a cupcake or a back rub, but I'm so tired now.
I was up until 3 a.m. writing a methodology presentation for my thesis. This is always the hardest part for me, and the dreariest. I'm like an old car; start-stop, start-stop, start-cough-cough-sloow-rolling.
I truly hope this is the last thesis I write in a while, because I'm painfully slow and it weights a ton on me.
In a month I'll order a plane ticket to Sweden, where I'll spend the Easter and late April, and do an oral defense of the thesis...I hope.
And now I need to read up on some archival laws. You people should all know that public records and State Archiving equals public LOVE and FREEDOM, and this is what my thesis is partially about.
If you don't trust the government, then trust that the government will always have the files on you available for their own purposes, but if you allow the administration in power to let the state funds dissipate, then what you are undermining is your own right to walk into any archive and pull up your very own records.
This is the great public freedom I will defend no matter what. The citizens right to reach their own files and do easy research, and from there, with a little help from the science of taxonomy, be able to glimpse parts and shards of a collective truth.
So, lipstick on the mirror and a cupcake for you,
Archival Law for me.
