Bureaucracy.

"I mistrust all systemizers and avoid them. The will to a system is a lack of integrity." --Friedrich Nietzsche

About two weeks ago, I was drinking wine on a Thursday night and looking for something to occupy my mind. It was about 10:30 pm and I decided to check the Padres website to see how the night's game against the Rockies had gone down. Well lo and behold, I checked the score only to find that the game was still in progress. I conferred with David and the two of us decided to go to the Imperial House to get a drink and catch the end of the game. We got there around 11, stayed til about 11:30, and watched in amazement on the TV in the bar as the game went into the 17th, then 18th, then 19th innings without anybody on either side scoring. The bartender announced last call and the intoxicating combination of poorly made sidecars and the thrilling pitching battle inspired us to conclude that we should go down to the ballpark to watch the game. When we arrived it was getting on midnight and as the game had started at 7:05, the stadium was almost completely deserted. Petco seats about 45,000 and I would estimate that there were about 300 people left. We ran gleefully to the gate only to be told that we couldn't go in. This is more or less how it unfolded:

US: But it's the 20th inning!

SECURITY GUARD: Rules is rules.

US: But there's no one here!

SECURITY GUARD: I'm sorry folks, you got to have a valid ticket in your name to enter.

US: But usually they let you in for free after the 7th inning.

SECURITY GUARD: Not anymore.

US: But how can you turn us away? It's half past midnight!

SECURITY GUARD: It was hard to turn away the first 200 people wanting to get in free. By now it's easy.

It was so completely ridiculous, and as David pointed out, totally at odds with the democratic spirit of baseball. In its original conception the game was for everyone--it was the American pastime, something that brought people together in good spirits. Now you've got baseball games essentially stratified by class as far as the seating goes. To get anywhere near the field costs upward of $50 a seat at Petco, so obviously us everyday joes are not getting many good seats at the games these days (if we can even afford to go at all.)

But what really bothers me is this insane, mindless bureaucracy. I don't know who invented these rules, or for what purpose, but they are destroying any semblance of human decency left in this operation. To whom were we supposed to air our grievances about this retarded policy? Should we send a letter just to have it passed around the complaints department and eventually shredded? It is like this with so many things today: the cell phone industry is a big one that comes to mind. I was getting charged exorbitant fees for no apparent reason and all I could do was keep yelling at the poor mindless operators who wouldn't put me in touch with someone who could fix my problem. It's like that with politics too--I remember reading letters that had been sent to Franklin Roosevelt by ordinary citizens suffering during the Depression, and he and his wife had taken the time to write back to some of them. The fucking president of the United States! And now, who are we supposed to complain to about Abu Ghrab? To whom can we write angry letters about the auto companies' total resistence to improving mileage and emissions? Who is going to answer the letter I write about the deplorable state of public transportation in this country and where should I send it? How am I supposed to protest my taxes being funneled into a war that I do not support?

It's like that scene in The Grapes of Wrath where the bank representatives come to kick the farmers off their land. The reps say they are not responsible, that it is the bank. And who's in charge of the bank? the farmers ask. And the reps speak of the bank as a living machine, something comprised of humans but wholly unhuman in its entirety. The farmers threaten to shoot the reps, then the men at the bank, then the men who run the bank, then the men who drive the tractors that bulldoze their houses. And it is explained to them that no single person is responsible. That there is no one to shoot.

Obviously my baseball example is a petty one compared to the larger implications of extreme systemization. We lost the game in the 22nd inning. It seems grotesquely appropriate.

on not caring

I am in such a fragile state lately! I can't watch the election coverage anymore and I can't watch the Padres lose or I am going to Break Down. I just want to only pay attention to good things sometimes. Not usually, but there are those periods when there is just so much wrong with the world that you have to spend a week eating pizza and walking in the park and watching birds and only seeing Preston Sturges screwball comedies. I can't deal with the Olympics, the halt in troop reductions, the kid-fuckers in Texas, or Hillary Clinton this week. I just want to pretend everything is pink champagne. Next week I'll go back to feeling oh so disgruntled and yelling at the New York Times website. But for now I just want to eat sushi and dance on tables!

Some people can be like that all the time. Some people walk out of their houses and never see a homeless person on their street. They can laugh through disturbing movies, sit in air-conditioning, eat hamburgers, and be content to Tivo "American Idol." Who are these people? What is their secret? I mean, I feel like it takes some serious work not to give a shit about anything. How do they do it? The other day in one of my classes we watched a pretty brutal documentary called "The Panama Deception" that showed people getting beaten up, shot in the head, showed dead children burned to death in torched cars, and garbage bags full of human meat. One girl next to me was trying to talk to me through the whole film. Later I mentioned it to another girl and she said (in all seriousness), "Yeah American intervention--who cares? Boring!"

I'd like to open those people's heads up and take a look inside. I don't get it. I'll probably end up watching Olbermann while I'm eating my sushi and dancing on the tabletop. I just can't not care. Oh fie, fie!

Great Dangerous Silence

There’s a reason for it,
surely,
for
severed fox heads
nestled sleeping in
wild Alaskan grass,
For human hands and
spinal cords
tangled and morphing
in the belly of a bear,
for buzzards hovering high
above a quivering
trail of flesh
red on the riverbanks.
There’s a reason for
the abandoned campfire,
the untended shoes
stepped out of
at the edge
of the trees,
for sleek silvered trout
writhing in terror,
and eyes that
blink
in the dark.
I could fall in love
with the great
dangerous silence
of Northern night,
and the retreat of strange
footsteps
that disappear into
the woods.

exactly

"Kerouac opened a million coffee bars and sold a million pairs of Levis to both sexes." --William Burroughs