Cunday Ctchool and Efficient Systems

Cunday Ctchool and Efficient Systems
L. Edgar Otto

04 March, 2012

"Efficiency is a fascist word" I forgot where I saw this.

The imposing of a system in the name of efficiency is not the same as the most efficient system. It is not a system that is the source of confinement of the trends and behavior of a project or a people. It is the agenda for such a system as conceived as if the best of possible political and enquiring systems that puts a burden on the development of memory where the existing powers strive to implement the laws in what will be a diminishing return as it strives for hegemony. A system that is far from the freedom and understanding of the people, especially the opportunities for a new generation, is a system far from the people superficially linked in a system. Organization, and its mediator, wealth, is also the fate of those who seek in revolution a return to the people as the rightful sovereigns of what they have come to regard as just and arbitrary hegemony.

The average man to some extent craves the rituals especially if they are prone to believe or think they believe they are in conformance with cosmic or religious law.

{A little later not finding a worthy theme to post, after doing wash, and walks to the store- some say tweeting is a pointless way to record one's life rather than the living- but it seems we have slowly tried to evolve to such a situation and so many see it as right and the accepted way of things, the cloud as a virtual revolution- so in some ways, the disembodied minds and hidden in plain view the seething bodies at a distance from the stalking hearts that may if pure seek the heart- it is a form of life itself, perhaps in the living of some future dream, immortal and disembodied.}

Welcome to my blank page again. This sometimes happens when we have outpaced and outgrown our thoughts, outside circumstances are quite or favorable, or we have too much energy like the lack of it that slows the flow. Or we just let the enterprise slide awhile- after all the news is boring, I mean we want to desperately do something about the tornadoes- but it is the same old story, the edifices of humans looking for a secure place reduced again to a blank page. We should not have to pick through the ruins, we should not have to have the National Guard protect the people from the looters and the windfall for those on the bottom that might upset some general economy. But it was not that long ago our media casually presented to our children the night guard shot in the way or with moral restraint those who are not moved after a silent kill in combat. To say these acts of God to take that term literally is a cop out, an appeal that something else can intervene for us in the cosmos yet we do not have to study even if capable of understanding the acts of physics, of science.

Perhaps prayer has stayed the storm from the lady's house as she faced its furry, not so her neighbors, her mind in any case at the front of some wind as a powerful thing. A dream that for a brief time is greater than the purposeless reality. It does no good and does not matter that in conversation with the universe we treat it as wise and alive, full of discouragement or benevolence, or indifference. For to do so can be said we are sill in an age of idols. It only helps a little that we can escape the eyes of that beyond us even of others so far away indifference will not balance their gains or loss where nothing matters when all paths are possible, that we can escape, even loop through time to stretch it out until its scale makes all things to far away and less in love connected. We can escape awhile only in the freedom of the quasi-finite moments.

There is the struggle for uniqueness in a general sense which is the ground for a lot of the worlds useless conflicts. Character again, is measured by what we try to salvage of things that will be useful later or to someone of what creative works, our lives are as unique.

Neutral prayers in dark currents can be all the rage for those who deny by doubting the world that the world is not full of doubts, if only from the shouting in the media the world conforms to my system, my time. Wherefore what you have declared formerly as unreal you now see as real- thus you are in the position that in the echos of time as invisible as gravity you show how all things are not real you propose in the hearts of the people. The human heart more so than the universe, imposing a philosophy of science as falsified, can no more be characterized than the core of the human heart, and it seems this is true of hearts more so.

Just as it is easier for someone who speaks Portuguese to understand spoken Spanish than the other way around or the complexity of the reading of chromosomes going backward through a maze, one way harder, I found it a lot easier to put files into a more quasic and efficient system that to sort them back to where they could be found again by the current system. Or I draw a few artistic and overly simple paint playing with the colors, trying to make sense of the change of flags and motto's, of those in central America with mother of pearl in its tricolor and in gold on white DEUS Y LIBERTAD. That and the color cosmic latte, and I find what I made from such a small hint becomes a thing of beauty filling the blankness of a page for awhile and perhaps impressing someone that I can create while I think a long habit of no need for pencil erasers for I try to get it right the first time with the ink. But erasing our habits is that loop some blame for their states of mind on their childhood as if we should save nothing as hard as that is to live by if something is lost from the body of modest efforts and perfections. I recall also the spelling once of a word, of Sunday as Cunday as a poetic mutiny to the imposed patterns and subtle sense of sounds of words.

There are of course those who see the poor speller as evidence of his lack of intelligence or character, or if one has preoccupation with the constitution or some viewpoint of the fundamentalist- that satisfies those who pay for the show of the court that the person borders on being a crackpot so the state can intervene without ever telling the victim the diagnosis behind their decision. But even the Christ had a trial.

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