What Prohibiting Potlatch did for Assimilation

1170821_10151568895722051_1590224788_nWhat we all need is a vacation. We need some time to ourselves. There is so much time in everyday life spent being stuck in a collective pool of collective shit; Facebook, Twitter, Reddit et al. –social media life- this is a small list of things that make up our lives. What does it mean? Do we exist? I ask, where is the forest adventure, the nature submersion, and the fulfilling exercise routine? Assimilate me into the wild again goddammit! Thought process we think, but these are ads, page space concerns, and hit-bait. These entities give boners to big-pharma and counselors and western medicine, creating needs out of wants.

Now you can complain anonymously on a website, but can you change the situation in real-life? Where are the drug-free liberations from prescription pills (that you need), and the exposés on new-fangled procedures that make everything better in an instant (which don’t)? These are the I-have -depression-fix-me-quick labels that print names on pill bottles. Prozac works fine if you don’t want to be a part of your own life. Bad things happen, good things happen; deal with it. We need more belief that Self creates and fixes all; and everything else is made-up to take advantage of us. I don’t know. I think these tactics are shit. I think we are better for lacking. I sit at a desk and do the best I can. That is it.

Last week I had an incident on my computer where all of my photos were lost from existence, deleted, all 5743 of them, or whatever- three-years-worth of memories. All is not lost. Life happens. More memories and photos will be made. Where did the photos go before computers? Those flip books of retro area dads and moms, relatives with old beer cans, past fads. That was a time too. Those booklets were harder to lose, or maybe just as easy. I guess it’s how you look at it- picture that, a photo is worth a thousand words, and I lost a lot of words with just a click. Maybe I’ve written that many, it goes both ways. I imagine funerals where pictures adorn ipads and laptops, open to see, follow closely the procession.

Biking is great. I love biking down to the Stone Arch Bridge near St. Anthony (namedrop) Main, and almost always getting blindsided by inattentive walkers (simpleton pedestrians). One would think they never look down, or forgot how to read the giant white letters in paint. That same pedestrian wouldn’t step into the road, highway, or street, in front of an oncoming car, so why not imagine the bike path as one of those for cyclists? Why not be proactive about surviving; life one step at a time.

Someday someone will get into some tragic bike accident- and then who is to blame? Will it be the person who couldn’t read, or the person following the rules? I can’t wait to find out. Whenever I see people walking in the bike lane I imagine a monster truck plowing through them, loud as fuck, some announcer describing the devastation, while an 80’s metal song accompanies the chaos. I sort of laugh, but I feel somewhat bad. My whistles are not cat-calls, they mean get the fuck out of the way.

I guess everyone copies everyone. I should start charging my contemporaries. Well, everyone should start charging me, I guess. People start blogs, shoot videos, and scribe poetry- it’s been happening for eternity. They won’t make a profit. Sometimes people actually read the words I have written, surprisingly. There is no money exchange, and I like this. No surprise that millions, if not trillions, try to do the same thing that I do- have been doing, -for five minutes, and lacking the results they desire quit. Where is the conviction? Where is the passion? You had it while talking about it so loudly. That storm has left your attempts like words on the wind, just off the tongue. Writing is not for money. Written word is for sharing thought, expanding minds, and exercising the brain. There is a quote about the poet who writes for the king’s money speaks in the king’s tongue, I forget the title, and the author, but I read it in a book, so it’s fact. Everything changes when money is involved.

People will be very upset when they realize what they have bought isn’t worth shit. Google search whatever you want, there is a way to get it for free. Everything can be given at no cost, so why by words? Why pay for ads? Why? Think of the external cost. We have libraries, institutions which offer free materials, websites using far less resources than publishing houses. What an exclusive bunch.

It must be the American Dream. Get famous, get a name, have a book, pay bills, pay membership dues, and die- remembered, legacy, and so on. That is why the American government did not understand Potlatch; it is the epitome of American culture to charge for art, to reign supreme and exclusive over those who don’t sell, but it will be a major let down your passion does not pay your rent. The natives couldn’t just give things away because that made the new currency worthless, and made it almost impossible for them to be assimilated into American society. Never expect anything, it changes words, reality, everything. Just do something because you love it and share it with the world as a gift, otherwise stop wasting your time.

Spreading complaint is a backward task. Sit all day and write something about what you dislike- while you become that dislike, embody it, generalize it, when you could have taken the time to address the issue, act on it, and better the situation as a whole. I think that is great idea, but others think it is more important to complain. Complaint is boring- now change, that is something to be excited about.


About Terry Scott Niebeling

Hello, My name is Terry Scott, a human being with flaws. twitter: @sirterryscott Buy my ebooks: http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_1/191-4788099-1818040?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=terry+scott+niebeling
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