Random Dispatch
Oct. 1
Kaiserslautern, Germany- I start listening to Jack Johnson's "Bubble Toes" as I watch as an Army Blackhawk helicopter with a white cross on it's nose big to rise in the air.
Earlier my partner told me about his adventures in Iraq and Afghanistan. I don't think I could ever go there. I don't think I could ever go to war. I think that all of this, all the land around me, all the hills and woods and mountains and the city, all of this used to be in it's own war. I wonder if it was easier then, for Morrow, in Bunkered-in England, for the cameras of the Stars and Stripes crossing the Rhine.
I guess, looking back it's always easier.
I watch the helicopter rise in the air and speed away, and I can still see its white cross and I think that it might be going to help the world, maybe. It's kind of deceiving to have "Army" and "help" together.
Kind of odd that the same machine that kills people also saves people.
Weird how people are. The white cross kind of lies to you, when you think about it. Only helps those who have been injured in meaninglessness, caused by the same powers that sent help.
I don't think anyone can help the world.
My cousin, he's a nutcase (but who isn't?), he showed me a brochur of some evangelist who cures people. Blind people. Crippled people. Deaf people. Dead people. Doesn't matter. In the middle of the brochure is a three-page pullout of this evangelist in the middle of Dark Africa with, as he puts it "600,000 people" standing around him.
It sure looks like 600,000 people. It also sure looks like a computer enhancement. Who cares.
Liars make the world go 'round.
I turn my music up to stop thinking and remember that I have a train to catch and think that it might be a good idea to sleep on it.
Kaiserslautern, Germany- I start listening to Jack Johnson's "Bubble Toes" as I watch as an Army Blackhawk helicopter with a white cross on it's nose big to rise in the air.
Earlier my partner told me about his adventures in Iraq and Afghanistan. I don't think I could ever go there. I don't think I could ever go to war. I think that all of this, all the land around me, all the hills and woods and mountains and the city, all of this used to be in it's own war. I wonder if it was easier then, for Morrow, in Bunkered-in England, for the cameras of the Stars and Stripes crossing the Rhine.
I guess, looking back it's always easier.
I watch the helicopter rise in the air and speed away, and I can still see its white cross and I think that it might be going to help the world, maybe. It's kind of deceiving to have "Army" and "help" together.
Kind of odd that the same machine that kills people also saves people.
Weird how people are. The white cross kind of lies to you, when you think about it. Only helps those who have been injured in meaninglessness, caused by the same powers that sent help.
I don't think anyone can help the world.
My cousin, he's a nutcase (but who isn't?), he showed me a brochur of some evangelist who cures people. Blind people. Crippled people. Deaf people. Dead people. Doesn't matter. In the middle of the brochure is a three-page pullout of this evangelist in the middle of Dark Africa with, as he puts it "600,000 people" standing around him.
It sure looks like 600,000 people. It also sure looks like a computer enhancement. Who cares.
Liars make the world go 'round.
I turn my music up to stop thinking and remember that I have a train to catch and think that it might be a good idea to sleep on it.
posted by Chris Miles at 4:19 PM
1 Comments:
Cynical...are we? There are good people left in this crazy world...lies can sell toothpaste...it cannot cure... don't lose faith in people...that's all that is left..
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