September 14th, 2016

Live #51: Looking under the bed for neurons

...and all I'm finding are my banjo and guitar.

Have had coffee and a pesto omelette; should be awake, but slept through my alarm this morning (for the first time ever) and am still fuzzy-headed. Shower next and see if that helps.

The thing on my mind is the metaphor of the physical body for the body politic, and how that affects explaining things to anarchists. Bodies very rarely actively order cells to do things, they just create cells that want to do the things the body needs to have done, within the limits and constraints the body needs them to have. My white blood cells don't need to be *told* not to eat my liver cells; it's part of how white blood cells are put together that they don't do that.

My personal experience of modern anarchists (I've had some exposure to superannuated 1920's anarchists also, during the 1960's) is that they're predominantly very angry people who don't *want* to be angry. The net result is an ongoing fetish for finding would-be authority figures to say "fuck off" to.

I see this as a tremendous waste of time and energy. If you need to pick a fight, go pick a fight, have it, and come back and do something useful when you're done with it. I think the problem is that as a culture we've lost the distinction between 'give somebody a poke in the snoot' and 'lay waste to the city he came from'. I've written elsejournal about my fondness for 'appropriate levels of violence', usually within the context of water balloons and cream pies. Boffer swords can be good, too. (For the unfamiliar: Plastic-reinforced foam toy swords, usually covered in metallic-colored tape so as to look more convincing.)

I think I need to go look for neurons in that shower. Back in a bit.