“When I was a young man I was always hunting for new metaphors. Then I found out that really good metaphors are always the same. I mean you compare time to a road, death to sleeping, life to dreaming, and those are the great metaphors in literature because they correspond to something essential. If you invent metaphors, they are apt to be surprising during the fraction of a second, but they strike no deep emotion whatever. If you think of life as a dream, that is a thought, a thought that is real, or at least the most men are bound to have, no?”—Jorge Luis Borges, Paris Review interview, 1967 (via aclockwithouthands) (via crashinglybeautiful)
I wake up. It is cold. I dive back into the dream.
Each time, faced with these blood-stained tools, I experience the sufferings of the victim in gruesome detail. Soon I have an erection. There are some scissors on the table near my bed. The idea comes to me to cut off my penis. I imagine myself with the pair of scissors in my hands, the slight resistance of the flesh, and suddenly the bloody stump, the probable fainting. The sectioned end on the moquette. Matted with blood. Around eleven I wake up once again. I have two pairs of scissors, one in each room. I go and fetch them and place them under several books. It is an effort of will, probably insufficient. The need persists, increases and evolves. This time my plan is take a pair of scissors, plant them in my eyes and tear them out. More precisely in the left eye, in a place I know well, there where it seems so hollow in the socket. And then I take some sedatives, and everything’s dandy. Everything’s dandy.
"In other words, morality is independent of religion or religiosity. Religion may be a means to pass down certain cultural norms about moral behavior, but there are plenty of other ways to do the same thing. As one theologian of my acquaintance put it, there are many paths to the top of the mountain.
Theists can take comfort in that notion, secure in the thought that their god(s) shaped the world so that everyone was led to moral behavior. Atheists can take this finding as further proof against the refrain of certain religious people that erosion of religious faith will result in erosion of morality. And the rest of us can take comfort in the notion that we’re behaving well, and the reasons why we behave well aren’t that important.”
Aristotle’s idea of Justice is defined as a virtue, a character trait, rather than some sort of state of being. It is an element that takes part and determines actions and reason. Justice gives certain acts and reason an acceptance, and allowance within a political society; determining a “true citizen”. Thus, I feel that Justice and Morality are within the same realm, and both are used in order to find and solidify happiness. An active citizen within society is determined by these virtues, that are separate from religion.
Religion on the other hand embodies general Golden Rules, and basic ideas of morality that are still considered to be brothers of Justice and Morality- however in the case of religion, the intention is to achieve personal salvation and spiritual recognition. Rather, than being a body of politics, and social good, religion creates a demand for participants to become martyrs. This is most evident in today’s crisis of the damning American culture divide. Christian, born-again, Evangelicals mistaken their ever ignorant morality as justified by God. Such an invisible entity and matter is continually re-identified and altered in reflection to the desired spiritual gaining of the participants. Yes, they are involved within the political arena, however this does not change the fact that their morality is based off of ignorance towards reason, and a “savvy-ness” with their emotional and spiritual greed. The lust for God’s Justice within that community is what makes up for their lunacy as a religious organization.
I agree with the author on the idea religion does pass down certain behaviors and moral, which are reflected within a society, however there are many vehicles that lead to a developed and mature sense of Morality and Justice. Religion is by no means the ONLY way of understanding the human experience, but it is an important one when looking at the development of human nature.
We loved each other so much that sometimes it hurt, even when we were close. I wanted to be her and she wanted to be me. Sex never felt complete, and afterwards we talked carelessly about easy subjects to avoid discussing the ache that bruised us both. So one day, in the kitchen, she cut me and I cut her; gently, slowly, too easily. It was the knife we used for onions and our tears were painful but expectant. We dripped the blood into coffee mugs, then bandaged up and went to bed. We fucked and there were stars but we saw different constellations. The next day the blood was dry and rusty in the mugs. We scraped it diligently onto sheets of paper. We looked at each other silently and lowered our heads to snort each other’s dust. Afterwards we both carried a pouch of powdered blood, and when we were low and apart we would retire to a restroom and sniff, sniff, sniff. Oh my darling, we went on and on. Our blood was there always, red and viscous, burnt ochre and blowaway. My blood in your nasal membranes, filtering into your capillaries, finding its inexorable way to your heart. Your blood. My nose. My heart. We belonged to each other and we had made our love tangible, real; something that could be weighed and consumed, taken and enjoyed. It wasn’t a surprise when we used the scalpel to shave flesh from each other’s upper arms. We dried the flesh, though it was difficult to dessicate it completely. We used the airing cupboard. The powdered flesh was better ; cocaine to blood’s speed.
Did it end badly? Did we go too far? Was our love replaced or deleted by want or need? In losing ourselves in each other did we lose the essence in ourselves that the other loved? Did time simply bore us with its slow wearing-down? I have no answers to any of those questions. But now, sitting here in the kitchen, I admit I am scared of the knife, that I can’t dig deeply enough to draw blood, that I will have nothing in the morning but red, raised scratches on my arm. I don’t want her to cut me.
Did we kill each other, or are we living happily; but only as happily as you are?
The latitude of the Palo Verde nuclear reactor in Arizona is minus eighty-seven point one three one oh five. The longitude is thirty-four point three eight seven five oh. In California, the Diablo Canyon reactor is minus one hundred and twenty point eight five five four five, then thirty-five point two one one four two. In Florida, Turkey Point is minus eighty point three three one six eight by twenty-five point four three six oh four. My own location is not so precise. I’m sitting in a chair and I’m staring at the wall.
"But if we’re serious about social change, it is necessary to create design that examines the consequences of marginalization on a wider human scale. Our work should not merely address the political injustices wrought by discriminatory laws: it should register the sense of loss inflicted on those who suffer them."
Graphic design may not be a direct change of social issues or beliefs, however it is a vehicle that constantly defines, and refines the ideas and attitudes that make up our culture.