Thursday, September 19, 2002

In the early dawn of the human race, people probably spent a lot of time around the communal fire. This afforded them protection as well as warmth. Here in the late afternoon of the human race, we rarely sit around fires. I think the need to do this is still inside us, buried deep in archetypal memory. I always feel at peace when I sit by a fire. Unfortunately, the human race has replaced fire. We now light up the night with electricity. Nearly every building is awash with light, inside and out. Buzzing streetlights, like strange sentinels, line the roads. Billboards scream brightly into the night, selling their wares to nobody. The stars above can usually be counted on the fingers of one hand. The night is so bright that sometimes people forget to turn their headlights on as they drive. It seems to me that this is a stupendous waste of energy. The "authorities" run ads, usually narrated by some precocious little kid, telling us to turn off lights when leaving the room. Why then do CEOs and other business types get away with leaving ALL OF THE LIGHTS ON when they leave for the night? Why do we need to light every corner of the world? Are we still afraid of wild animals attacking and eating us if we stray too far from the fire? Or is it all about our stuff? We're afraid that other people are going to take our stuff, so we bathe our surroundings in bright light and hire people to patrol our business complexes. How sad. Stuff. Not people.
In the residential areas there is just as much light. Added to this is the brightness that flickers behind drawn curtains and sucks the brains out of insomniacs.
I remember driving through Silicon valley one night during a power outage. It was beautiful, like being surrounded by half-seen alien architecture. I wish it would happen more often.

I arrived at one of these brightly lit, multi-storied business complexes earlier this evening at the same time as the New York Times carrier. We tossed our papers up onto the second floor almost in unison, provoking somebody above to bellow like a startled chimp. Some poor janitor, no doubt, caught in a crossfire of the New York Times and the Wall Street Journal. At least he didn't throw them back down at us. The fact that all the lights were on is immaterial.

cds I listened to while shielding my eyes against the glare: Mia Doi Todd "The Golden State" (so good that I don't care that it's on a major label and that most of the songs are re-recorded versions of songs from her previous releases), Crisis "We are all Jews and Germans", Tin Hat Trio "The Rodeo Eroded" (the best band we've ever surprised in London), Death in June "Ostenbraun", and Deadweight "Half-wit Anthems"

now: Downriver "Rememory"

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