Grass Valley Report

I feel compelled to write about something and
I have decided to write about trust. Yes trust!
Not like trust in 'trust fund' or being able
to keep a secrete,but trust in something that
it will live up to or ascribe to those
characteristics that endear value to an earnest
expression of sincerity. Do you know what I mean?
D'ya hear what I'm say'n? Can you dig it?

In a court of law they swear on a bible while at war they "spill urine" on the
Koran. Out loud, some institutional mouthpiece is supposed to create language
that makes bullshit go down like honey. While two kinds of desert justice
take the day with very little regard for the multitude of dead who stood on
the wrong side of mercy. As make-up and special effects decorate those who
ascribe to this consensus of the market, minutes are taken from the hours of
others to make millenniums of promise for whim. The now that we have come to
believe is the electric assurance of uninterrupted infallibility cascades our
heaven with promises hidden in chance. Our hopes are edited by a cherry picker
and we are left to wish upon a star. The light years are beyond a pencil or a
pen. You must dance with numbers until they tilt to a favorable rainbow so
you can rob your future back from despair.

People who can be convinced that killing someone they don't know is an act of
patriotism are screwing their own fear into the death of an insignificant
other. With their coccyx locked to a trigger, their sanity has no net to pass
through and their game and their target are indistinguishable. A clean line
falls half way through their cortex that calls good this and bad that, while
their little heads really haven't been around long enough to know what really
makes that difference. Only when they actually begin to become conscious do
they realize what they are doing and by then they are complicit in the crime.
Left with no alternative, they either hate for the love of death or they hate
themselves. Alienated from civility and no one in any country, they can
neither continue nor return without being ordered to do so.

So what has happened to trust that connivance and the sneer of governance
locked in secrecy could even begin to feign authenticity? Our plays and our
art objects are all purchased by tickets: for a price. There is no innuendo
any longer because what we pay for is no reflection of heart felt attachment
or kindled endearment. In all of it there is a constant fear that we as a
people and a nation are being 'fucked with.'

When the practice of the art is no longer edifying then it is wise to
understand one's conceits. For to repeat a failed example will only cheapen
the endeavor and hamper the quality of it's message. Is there a fundamental
truth or a place where trust can rest assured of its significance? Probably love and
probably the golden rule, but as long as power and wealth see no parity with
humanity, acts of kindness will have to be forms of guarded intimacy.