Thursday, March 23, 2006

Spats

At the moment I'm pissy because I have a psychic hangover. I had a wonderful weekend--sheer ebullience and manic conversation, dancing to cajun music at night and talking and walking around with my friends in Berkeley--graduate students and teachers. Every time I am around people I consider to be my fellows I get all happy and feel like "myself" (not that any such entity has any inherent existence) and then when I return to four walls at home with just the ceiling fan and books and a deadly silent phone--or when I come in to work and listen to the beige noise of the copy machine and overhear co-workers conversations about their babies or what they're going to cook for dinner(stabs of both jealousy and disdain), and look at my beige temporary walls and my beige phone and the beige carpet and the white bland pages of bubble answer sheets I feel like ripping my own heart out, putting it on the glass of the photocopy machine, smashing the lid down so blood oozes a little bit and I can smell my own flesh cooking in that flash of light, and making a thousand copies of the still-beating, still wanting, still hoping muscle--copies that I will then scotch-tape or staple or tack to every telephone pole in the next 50 miles with my phone number and the single word PLEASE with a thousand exclamation marks after it. ----------------------------------------

There's a flier on the corkboards here at the office about a cell phone tower project that people want to oppose. Apparently a church has rented out its spire as a cell phone tower. They want to shape transmittors like crosses and beam the cell phone radio waves all over creation. The catch--there's an elementary school nearby, and people are scared the kids are going to turn mutant from the emanations of people's chatter about their babies and what to cook for dinner and their hangnails and their latest purchases at radio shack.

Cell phone towers in the shape of crosses on the pinnacle of a church.

It's perfect. It's God. I'm all for it.

Jiminy I am in a crappy mood.Is it true that in the original book version of Pinocchio, Pinocchio KILLS Jiminy Cricket, his conscience? Maybe he makes him sit in a direct line with the radio-emanations of a cruciform cell phone tower, and the poor little conscience keels over in his spats and dies of brain cancer.

When you wish upon a star... sometimes I can't tell the difference between satellites and stars. between the voice of God and radio waves bearing human voices--- maybe there is less difference than I'd wish. I don't know.

2 Comments:

Anonymous Wally Disney said...

Yes it's true.

11:30 AM  
Blogger Juan Bodley said...

Ya know I FUCKING hate these assholes who think radio towers are going to scramble their kids' brains. HOW CLOSE DO THESE LITTLE SHITHEADS GET TO A MICROWAVE OVEN WHILE IT'S COOKING??? There's a HELL of a lot more power there than off a cell tower's antenna array. By the time it hits the ground it's maybe 2 pW (picowatts) and that's not enough to fry a squirrel's nuts. No wonder you're in a pisser mood...it's the asshole people (the NIMBYs...Not In My Backyard) idiots!!!!

6:03 PM  

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