Reversable rhetoric

One million jobs project aimed at the unemployed OR Fornication of simulation and populist pander

            Promises for help are merely facades for legislation geared towards corporate assistance. Socialism for large corporations is perpetrated as a belief of continual subsidies that runs parallel to incremental restoration of tribal eminence. This reality of gradual reactionary change ramifies a societal consciousness that willfully accepts citizenry rights rescinded at the hands of a silent minority. The foundation of the “coup d’état in slow motion” is a national paradigm beholden to corporate capitalism, perpetuating a wrench of power from lower order economies to be firmly placed within the hands of an elite social standing. Residence of the tier above any nominal “upper-middle class” not only compete for those positions that grant access to control platforms of business, but those who participate in such a climb do so ultimately to serve as sovereign over a niche of the national power structure.

            Our perception of a “dog-eat-dog world” may be abstracted to a person endowed with the ability of generating and engaging in the creation and flow of power. A strange yet familiar alchemy will quickly elevate such a person, as a celebrity suddenly appears in the mass media, to a figurehead representing some camp of invested interests, people looking to make money as quickly and inexpensively as possible. The fusion of consumer society with the national fortitude of political and military power finds a flat-topped pyramid; a broad base of exploited citizenry, who mostly squabble over orchestrated forms of reality, exemplifies the structure of an exclusively material Superpower. A question begging to be asked, perhaps out of stubborn habit, would ponder the potential influence powerful family dynasties would have in managing the ebb and flow of powers that guide a globalized money exchange, as well as administering and securing a preferred global finance paradigm.

            Sociopaths wind through the routine of a 9–5 wager; as a reward for persistence and dedication, the loyalist will grow to be rich. This moral wager stands to victimize the loyalist, establishing an exploitative ethic: an honest day’s work will force you to become targeted as a sap devoid of the capacity for the carnival swindle. For example: the warm bond of neighbors when the trumpets blare, “WE ARE GOING TO WAR!” None of us are prone from the poison of violence. Unfettered capitalism is a revolutionary force, a revolution of meaning, to regulate the overturn of value. Repetition of reality.  Cannibalism.  Mountain top removal, emplaced moonscape. Destroy this planet, move onto the next.  Virus, consumption, mimicry, exponential growth, treason of intellectuals. We cannot take power, we must renounce power.  

Storyline IV: Fortification of urban sprawl in the Northeast, with no plans for cropland development

           Urban sprawl, loosely defined, refers to lower city densities over an expanding urban footprint. The rise of sprawl in the US during the 20^th century stemmed from a number of reasons, including higher incomes and cheaper fuel and transportation costs that enabled the average family to afford residential homes outside urban centers. The immediate outcome of such a migration out of Gotham to Levittown created opportunities for significantly higher levels of housing and land consumption for most households. The costs for such suburbanization are still being dealt with today, namely: unproductive congestion on roads, high levels of pollution from exhaust, loss of open space amenities, and unequal provision of public goods and services across sprawling suburbs that give rise to residential segregation and poverty. With this as a backdrop, the following is a storyline that predicts a second stage of urban sprawl that carries out to the middle of the 21^st century. This will be a new type of sprawl, one that is divorced from a central city, and is coupled with a failure to utilize undeveloped land as cropland, rendering the Northeast devoid of a strong agricultural sector.

            Loss of the public commons and abandonment of farms

            As population and unemployment continue to rise, the average citizen in the Northeast will be limited to medial to low paying jobs that require traveling large distances, or working within a low-density suburban community. Commuting may be common, but not necessarily to a large urban center. Due to a moral malaise brought on by limited sources of income, there will not be incentives to develop or maintain cropland. Most produce will be distributed from another part of the country, or from international agricultural sectors. The number of agricultural producers will continue to decline as farmers become swamped with debt and are forced of their land. Such unemployment of farmers will be due to a number of economic risks: volatility of energy prices, domestic competition, offshore production, a weakened economy and the eminence of the global market [1]. With undeveloped land and cropland left open to market forces, huge portions of real estate will be sold to large conglomerates, or leased to developers, ultimately fueling the spread of low-density sprawl. The price of undeveloped land will remain cheap, though competition driven by the demands of the energy market may drive prices up. Price increases may only come in the form of short-term speculative bubbles, but will not benefit the average citizen, as development of lands for natural gas exploration in the form of hydro-fracking operations will increase the risk of pollution and catastrophic environmental degradation to rural areas, which only serves to further lower prices.

            The market will trend towards “noncropland.” Open space owned by the federal or state government will be auctioned off and become restricted areas, as private entities come into possession of undeveloped land [2]. Sprawl, once anchored by a central city, will become more fragmented. The new form of sprawl will resemble a patchwork of low-density urban sectors separated by strips of undeveloped or abandoned land. There may be small factions of land that are salvaged for local farms, possibly due to the demand for local produce. CSAs and producers of organic local food will remain uncommon, and largely absent despise small enclaves, usually centered within college towns. Small cities may also grow around universities, yet this specific type of growth will be hindered if the suburbs become ghettoized. 

            The ghettoization of the suburbs

            An increase in suburban poverty, begun during the recession era of the late 2000s, will result from the continual rise of debt, either from credit cards or failure to pay mortgages, alongside decreasing median household incomes. The recent decadal trend of larger increases in suburban poor relative to urban poor will continue [3]. Population of urban centers will remain high, and grow to attract higher-paying tech jobs and employment catering towards specialization. In the suburban sprawl away from the large tech-based cities, small businesses will be created, supporting some parts of the population. Such job creation, however, will not encourage the growth of cities, nor progressive-minded jobs (green jobs). Green jobs may be created only if new sprawl offers variety to the population [4], but since rate of poverty will be increasing, this kind of equity seems unlikely.

            A combination of factors including overall population growth, job decentralization, aging housing left to neglect, general economic decline, the collapse of the housing market, and policies to promote mobility of low-income households will lead increasing to poor inhabiting suburbs [3]. People will no longer be able to afford to live within local jurisdictions based on their preference for local amenities such as good schools and low crime rates. A “flight from blight” will occur within older suburban regions that will further segregate communities into poor, impoverished neighborhoods as households that are financially stable move away. The rise of low-income, low-density sprawl will reinforce the lack of planned cropland. Continual decreases in education standards that mirror the lack of strong outside investments in such areas will generate a situation where residential areas are abandoned, increasing urban decay and decreasing moral fortitude for constructive change. Crime will increase as people become more and more desperate.  These factors, bolstered by strong market forces that impede development of a strong agricultural sector and efficient long-term urban development, will move the Northeast to become an impoverished part of the country outside the thriving high-density urban centers.

[1] Brumfield, Robin G. (2010) Strategies Producers in the Northeastern United States are Using to Reduce Costs and Increase Profits in Tough Economic Times, HortTechnology, 20, 836-43.

[2] Anderson et al. (1999) How and why to privatize federal lands, Cato Policy    Analysis No. 363, December 9, 1999.

[3]Berube, Alan (2011) Parsing U.S. Poverty at the Metropolitan Level, Up Front Blog – Brookings Institute,  September 22, 2011.

[4] Nechyba, Thomas J. and Randall P. Walsh. (2004) Urban Sprawl, Journal of Economic Perspectives, 18, 177-200.

busy student tries to finish thesis*

cross-posted

i miss the creation from an arbitrary position. when you are expected to "create" something from the standpoint of deadlines and such, it hardly feels worth it. but when i see my last three pics side-by-side, i just have to grin:
1) abstracted column
2)outcrop perspective
3)magnified perspective

*DELETED PART DUE TO DEPRESSIONAL BIAS AT THE TIME

In a succulent nutshell, much of my time has been spent over such contemplations.

(NO COARSE-GRAINS ALLOWED) STAY ON COURSE

"My smile is stuck
I cannot go back t' yer Frownland
My spirit's made up of the ocean
And the sky 'n the sun 'n the moon
'n all my eye can see
I cannot go back to yer land of gloom
Where black jagged shadows
Remind me of the comin' of yer doom
I want my own land
Take my hand 'n come with me
It's not too late for you
It's not too late for me
To find my homeland
Where uh man can stand by another man
Without an ego flyin'
With no man lyin'
'n no one dyin' by an earthly hand
Let the devils burn 'n the beggar learn
'n the little girls that live in those old worlds
Take my kind hand
My smile is stuck
I cannot go back t' yer Frownland
I cannot go back t' yer Frownland"

3-XI-08 (Birthday month)

It's been a slow existence since the beginning of August. My travels down south to Maryland having ceased, I've fallen into the repetitious motions of two kinds of work; financially supporting myself and the road towards a masters degree. As I trudge into the fourth month of this regimented schedule the manifestation of depression around me seems to have become accentuated. I've been focused on the growing worries and concerns of others, as a climate of anxiety continues to build around me.
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The dreams that define who I am have grown into old beakers, vessels for suppressed memories. Gone are the cinematic dreams of subterranean space wars, the banishment to the realm of garbage or devil dolls incinerating churches. I am in prison with a former lover, and she tells me that an inmate will rape me before the day's end. I am an observer of a deathmatch involving old friends I never talk to. Finally, I am on a trail in a vaguely familiar forest, and I am being led by an old elementary school teacher to a place where I'll be made a eunuch.
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As I grind rock down to the width of a hair, I am beginning to perceive that most advice is flawed. I say this after spending over a month's time, intermittently, in a lab that should be neutron bombed in order to disintegrate all the inhabiting Cold War ghosts haunting the lab's residing pack-rat. He surrounds himself with half-finished projects and obsolete machinery. Yes, I choose to ignore that corner of the building.

Zombie headcave

I feed this belly (of the BAWT) daily, and I force it to regurgitate the food I feed it at least three times a week. Sometimes, it vomits over a ton of food at once.

Break from work binge

I've been slaving away at completing this thesis, now a task that seems to be driving me insane. It is probably just the environment in Binghamton, both the city itself and the department of geosciences that has fucked me over, but I've grown very disenchanted with academia, a field that until very recently I had no doubt of making some sort of career in. I keep telling myself that after I finish this piece of esoteric literature, I can continue onwards to a more meaningful study with a more diligent, attentive advisor whom I already have developed an excellent rapport with. Then I find myself predicting the future way too much. I envision myself in 5 or 6 years in a light I don't necessarily want to live in. This is a detriment to my present work. I sometimes hate myself for it.

I've been drinking too much (coffee) and smoking too much (tobacco) and I haven't been taking pictures, writing prose or sketching any emotions onto paper, nor have I been reading the many books that I begin only to lay on the shelf and ignore. If I cannot accept this lifestyle, then why continue?

I feel like I've been lying to myself. I vacillate endlessly.

Trudging into Oct.

In the midst of having samples collected in Maryland cut, also in the thick of campus recycling and composting. the large amount of waste generated by any municipality, even a college campus, once you actually have manage it. i think the average for weekly pick up of mixed recycling (glass, plastic, aluminum) and cardboard (plus any stray paper, shredded documents) has been 13 tons. that's 26,000 lbs. It could be more if people recycled properly, yet it should be a lot less if people stopped buying cases of 8 oz water bottles. seriously....8 oz of water? whose thirst is that gonna quench?

Autumn cleaning

Deterring rain, a mentor who renigs, revealing documentaries and tantric lessons. Humidity lingers in the middle of September. I'm trying to ignore the negative premonitions.

projected diligence

It's the middle of my fourth week at the spiedie factory. I already feel myself growing more and more discontented with life in general. To think people actually work in places like this their entire lives. My ancestors did, and it's remarkable the generation gaps witnesses within the facilities. People still live like it's the 1950s. I think it's another example of how time is repetitive, how everything that has happened, will happen, or is happening now. It makes me wonder when will i work at a factory again. I guess I am already working there again....and again....and a fourth time.

West 8th St. & Surf Ave.

i remember working in coney island, the day they stopped using coin tokens. there were those who disagreed with the banishment of tokens. (the fare had only just been raised to $1.50 and new-shaped token had not being circulating for long) the Metrocard had been intended as a temporary invention, but it caught on, going from blue to gold, to simply a debit card. but for some reason, ease of the "swipe" notwithstanding, carrying coins for fares in your pocket brings a smile to my face (Boston, Philadelphia, Montreal)

for those who forgot, the fork goes into the mouth. eat the beans and savor the iron.

final touches

i finished all my requisites, yet i still can't sleep. i'm truly without any schedule. i live until i can no longer stand, then i collapse and wait to wake-up. i fear that the mountain will fall hard, or i can ride the avalanche made of the talus which i built. things do become clear with time.


i suddenly remember walking along Bleeker and going into Porto Rico to buy tea. i think of the tea she would like, but i cannot answer. i just look at the clerk fill each bag from innards of the urns. i buy too much tea, and only one small bag of coffee, an order that was placed to many hours ago for me to remember exactly what roast, what bean, the amount to get. i hope i have enough money. i'm left with $4.68. not enough to get anything decent to drink. i had only 2 smokes left. i give some people a call. no one answers. i walk around, as i usually due, summer, winter, autumn, spring, dusk, rarely dawn, in a hurry, without haste, meander, incise a path to no destination. i think of the circles i've walked in, search every corner, being fond of some places yet forgetting why exactly. I will eventually sit anywhere i choose that seems welcoming, or have a certain ambience i am particularly fond of. i sit and wait for my thoughts to flocullate, to gather around a single point and build. i will eventually dry out in laughter, or laugh at my own misfortune.

i miss looking for public benches no one sits in anymore. i like putting the old commodities and services we've taken for granted to use. old letter shoots i buildings sadden me. light fixures with push-buttons. old library cards with DUE DATE written on top. the seems past forgets itself.

flooding

major flooding in june (main drainage channels)

major flooding in mid november (tributaries to main channels)

minor flooding late november (week prior to freezing temperatures (small tributaries and creeks)

little sleep for the for stalled papers.

wish to just lie down and never get up again.

lost the hunger, slept for 13 hours. lost time, found a drive for keeping.

Impending failure

i sometimes get dreaded feelings. the normally calm periods of mellowness in my life are interrupted by catastrophic moments of dread....of impending failure and slight panicked pangs of fear. I close myself off to the world, site for 40 minutes, and emerge with a slight plan. the plan folds itself inside out and i keep flipping it over. something will work eventually. conceptually, it is a miraculous process.