Emotional Politics

There are the few who never collect themselves. They never check the boxes of public surveys, and therefore have never become an acknowledged demographic. They come from a place of malcontents, a place in some sense nonexistent; in other ways, it's more real than the reality we so often witness. They readily tire of the hegemony found in everyday life -- the mocking hug of one who knows too well: you will damn well do it whether you want to or not. Blame the corporations. Some do, and I don't blame them. Blame it on the voters with fingers poised to push the button, saying, "Try to make me learn. Try to make me see things your way. See what happens." I do, and I don't regret it. It's a question of stance and posture, and there are always those who wish that we all ease up, relax the muscles and just let it flow down the throat. It's an edge - not an advantage, an edge - a sill from which any approaching will hope that you don't cross. They wash their hands at the slightest sign of anger and complication. I crack my knuckles and push my hands further into the dirt.