The Last Act

But there is real pathos in this dying people. These are my people-my own father, brother, mother, aunt and uncle...Yet I have no illusions: the death of these archaic [people] is inevitable. But it is also the case that something rich and timeless that binds us to our roots and past, something central to our cultural imagination..is being lost.

--G. Bowley. 

Ironically, it is farming and the mentality associated with it that has, in part, been one of the main reasons for the decline of first peoples. And so now we look to the last Man, caught in the final act, waiting to slip off the stage, to remember the words he's forgotten.

~

In the early morning, as you walk across the field, you see a young student, with a folded cardboard box under one arm, blowing kisses to a woman in the girls' hostel and waving triumphantly. The final gestures before each goes their own way in life?

At the shop a sad and pathetic looking man asks the shopkeeper: "Have you seen my keys?". Then, later: "I know you've got them, please give them back"..and as he tilts his head to one side, with a smile that speaks of hundreds of years of being downtrodden: "I know my failings, I admit to them, but please give me my keys back". You sense the shopkeeper has heard all of this act before and doesn't even bother looking at him. Instead he just coldly tells him to check if he hasn't left them in his motorbike.

At the bank and it's a wonder to witness the order there, the idea that there are rules, procedures, some semblance of civility ("would you like some tea?" is what they routinely ask, knowing there's only a one in ten chance you'll accept). But in a disintegrating world, full of chaos and bigotry, this small square room affords a degree of calmness, an oasis of exchanges that are utterly predictable and reassuring. 

Sort out your finances and try and avoid the taxman who is breathing down your neck. It's no use asking why they don't go after the corrupt-how naive you can be! Just pay someone off and get it sorted. That, I'm afraid, is the solution to everything here (it's also the problem).

~~

The sun is into its full stride now, pounding us each day: 43, 44, 43...it goes on, without missing a beat. Its relentless presence is getting to me. I, for one, will not be sad to see it decline and will rejoice when winter comes along banishing it to a shadow of itself, like a failed king.

~~

When I was briefly on facebook some woman, who taught philosophy somewhere, wrote to me: "I've fallen for you, let's have a fling". Ha! The casualness of it all! My only response was (a la Groucho): I don't trust anyone who after three days can have those sentiments!

I think of the criticism I've received over the years here on the black sun. Some of it quite personal: a comprador of the west or simply anti-west; too naive or too quiet. Californian anon saying I hadn't really grown up (probably true, that). But the best-and most damning and certainly the most accurate came from anton:

'oh b i find this a bit cheap of you. it looks to me now like you didn't make a real effort of understanding c's writing. you even admitted it in the comments. now it seems to me like you only participated in the discussion to confirm your own prejudices of some thinker you haven't even read properly, maybe so as - yes and now i say it, retire from life to your own secluded position which you arbitrarily decorate with arendt or anti-fanaticism chatter and never ever let your position challenge by "the unknown" or conceptions of what "human" is, in the first place. where was the meeting half way? i thought i tried. did you try?
you don't have to like or agree with c, fine by me, but at least pretend some lesser degrees of superficiality. something new b, i know you can do it. really.'