I wonder if the first person who sampled a line from a movie into a song realized what manner of cultural phenomena was about to be unleashed through that seemingly innocuous act. Perhaps it was intentional. Perhaps it was one of those things where you think “hey, what if I”, and then unintentionally opened the door for further iterations. Like the morphogenetic field. The first person to do something is an unexpected breakthrough into uncharted territory, truly hurling open the gates to the golden realm; the second person just follows along for the ride. Kinda like sample selection, I suppose. Any one soundclip is arbitrary in the moment of choosing, but once inscribed on vinyl, it becomes canonical. I do remember house
Hundreds of people experience this slight bump every day. It always happens in the same spot, just as the train passes by this particular tree, I wonder how many think about it as it happens, anticipate its coming and note its passing. Out of all the thousands upon thousands, there is bound to be more than just me. Perhaps relationships have been built and broken over it. “You notice it too”, one of them says, which then translated into “I love you”. Such a minor and major thing. Did they lay the tracks to intentionally create a bump? Some concession to the necessities of engineering – a bump has to be somewhere, and that somewhere is here, right as we pass this tree
The young ones do not remember. This goes with the territory. You can only remember things you were there to experience. The young ones were not there. They might have heard rumors or lamentations about the things that used to be but no longer are, but there are no guarantees. Perhaps it is a good thing. A sign of a society that moves away from old and outmoded ways of thinking is that its young are as aliens to its elders; it means the dysfunction has been discarded and something better has replaced it. Or something different. Perhaps better and different are the same, statistically speaking, given the initial conditions. Whatever new mode they grew into is bound to liberate them from at least some of the sins we insisted on carrying forward. Leave the task of remembering to the archivists and bureaucrats; these are the things we can do as we fade from this world
If a woodchuck could chuck wood, would it? Is it in line with the telos of woodchucks and/or wood to chuck and/or be chucked? Is there a woodchuck out there who can do it, but abstains, knowing full well the consequences of acting upon this knowledge? Is it perhaps like bees and stinging, in that they can do it exactly once in their lives, such that most woodchucks never do it in fear of wasting their one shot? Would they recognize the moment, or let it slip? Should we, in light of this, supply woodchucks with a steady flow of suitable yet distinctly non-singular wood, in an effort to allow them to hone their skills? Can we afford not to?
Resan till Melonia keeps getting stranger the more one thinks about it. On a surface level, it is a retelling of the ol’ Tempest, a Shakespeare classic – as if they’re not all classics. But dig a little deeper, and it becomes a very peculiar Marxist text. The verdant lands of Melonia are kept pristine by virtue of its inhabitants’ steadfast refusal to give up their ancient aristocratic social forms. The aristocracy are thus able to retain their vestigial magic in the face of industrialization, and use it to keep it at bay, but do so on the backs of its slaves. The working class, on the other hand, exist as a byproduct of industry; labor constitutes itself. As the movie progresses, the text suggests that the only way for the proletariat to free itself is to ally itself with the old aristocracies and flee to the countryside. Yet in doing so, it trades one form of domination for another, the domination of factory owners for that of landowners. The two have in common that they require subordination, but a worker has at least the nominal freedom to work somewhere else; not so for serfs, who are tied to the land. This seems the antithesis of Marxist liberation, somehow
More longer friend see that sky? 
