Sounds of Happiness

Sam laid in bed, her chest rising and falling to the rhythm of her breathing. Rafe also was in bed next to her, but he was sitting up, sipping from a steaming cup of coffee with a copy of the sunday morning paper spread over the entire cover. He looked over to the clock on Sam's side of the bed. It said 10:45 in bleak red bars. He leaned back against the headboard and continued to sip coffee. As he shuffled through the papers, he read whatever article caught his eye. The utility company is to change out transformers in the north part of town, Local boy wins first at the county youth swimathon, Mayor caught walking wife's dog while wearing only fur coat and flip flops. How odd Rafe thought and looked back at the article title: Mayor's caucus on creation of new dog walk wears anti fur activists over his flip-flop. I suppose that makes a little more sense. When he tossed aside the metro section, he saw Sam roll over onto her chest and an idea popped into his head. Rolling the little audio cart into the bed room, the only sounds he made were his feet padding against the wood floor and the sound of the casters rolling. He plugged the cart into the socket and from the bottom shelf, grabbed a Charlie Byrd record onto the turntable and switched on the machine. Carefully dropping the arm onto the record, he waited for magic. Then it happened with a gradual crecendo as the tubes warmed up. "Blues for Felix" slowly arose from nowhere as it passed through the speakers slowly filling the room with the rich sounds of guitar and bass. Sam rolled around once more and this time buried her head into the pile of pillows on the end of the bed. With a muffled groan, she slowly came to. The sound she made could only be described similar to when an old man gets out of a chair. While Rafe looked pleased at the cart, he didn't realize that aims were being taken from the bed. As he stood with arms folded looking at the cart, a pillow knocked him in the head and he wheeled around. There sat Sam in the middle of the bed wearing only a tshirt and shorts with another pillow cocked in her arm, ready to be chucked. As he tried to approach her, another pillow sailed towards him and this one he deflected and tossed back at her. She smiled as she bounced with each pillow thrown. "Moin moin sleepy face." "Ugh, I want to sleep." "Sleep's so overrated silly face." "No it's not." She looked at him and tried to squidge her face into puppy dog eyes. "Yuck, don't do that. You know that turns me on so much." Rafe said jokingly. This time, she squidged her face even harder to exaggerate puppy dog eyes. Without warning, he pounced on her and kissed her all over. "Aaugh, stop. Okok, I'll wake up." "Haha, here, put pants on." He threw a pair of skinny jeans at her face. As they dressed, record kept going on the turn table. With each song, Mr. Byrd kept playing as the two milled around the room. Rafe tossed out the coffee in the kitchen sink. Sam collected the papers and put them in the kindling bin by the fireplace. When chores were finished and done, the record came to a close as they plopped onto the bed tired. The sound of the record needle on the finish track made a pleasing sound Rafe thought. The drone of the dust and the click as it rolled over the finishing guide, he listened to it keep going until the action finally decided to return the arm home. He rolled over to Sam and kissed her.

The Variation of Land in California

Our great state of California is an amazingly varied place, with a possibility of being one of the most ecologically diverse states in the union. From the Klamath mountains to the Mojave Desert and everything in between, there is nowhere else in the state so varied within a boundary of ten degrees latitudenally and ten degrees longitudinally.

A recent image has been floating around the internet recently, depicting the State of California prior to its statehood. A massive lake now gone once was the southern end of the San Joaquin River. There would have been no difficulty in taking a steamboat from Redding all the way down the Sacramento to San Francisco or even Bakersfield! Imagine, hot, dry acrid Bakersfield sandwiched in between the Carrizo Plain, Techapi Mountains, Piute mountains and the Reenhorn mountains. Currently, it's a fairly decent sized city, pockmarked with tracts and oil farms. Imagine around here, one of the largest lakes in the continental US proper. (considering Lake Superior is split between the US and Canada. Drained away to feed agriculture. As sad as the loss of such a huge lake, the use of its waters for agricultural purposes the transformation allowed the central valley of this state to be used for growing vegetables and other food stuffs that now support the state. The concern of soil salination and wildlife is a major concern in contrast. But the last thing the state needs again is another Salton Sea.

When Leland Stanford arrived for his innauguration as Governor of the state, he was paddled up in a boat to the state capitol. Imagine, a city like Sacramento with Interstate five passing through it, massive tract home plots, city streets and the like, being swampy marshlands. The interruption of Nature by man is always ever present with diverting the existence of natural formation for human benefit. Back to the example of Tulare lake, the reason it disappeared was the damming of the headwaters of the Kern, Kaweah, Tule and Kings rivers. By establishing a system of dams to control flooding and allow portioning for potable water, agriculture and industry, the government in effect killed a major ecological beauty for the use of its people.

We should laud great pioneers for their ingenuity, to work the land such that people are capable of living off the land, even if that land was dry and practically unusable before. Brigham Young's arrival at the Great Salt Lake sparked a systematic irrigation of the land allowing the Mormons safe haven from persecution in 1848. Today, the city of Salt Lake City is a major flourishing metropolitan area.

We also cannot forget those who have moved tirelessly to preserve the same beauty of the land that we know today. The work of John Muir and convincing then president Theodore Roosevelt allowed for the the formation of the foundations for what would become the national parks system and the department of the Interior. Muir wrote of the mountains and the redwoods of the state of California, the beauty of the Yosemite valley and even wrote of other natural wonders of the state. His tireless efforts would preserve the forests and natural wonders for years to come.

Along the fault running from the Santa Ana mountains, across the San Gabriel and up through the Salinas valley and into the San Francisco penninsula, here the shape of the earth is caused by multiple faults running into one another. At fault for our conception of how plates and mountains work are: it seems that all mountains are formed by plates colliding and both being pushed up. That seems to be the basic concept we all embrace at least. Here along the San Andreas fault are various types of fault lines. Subduction plates, collisional plates, slip faults, etc. From this, we find the true forms of why the state's landmasses and mountains shape the way they do as we recgonize them.

A Brief Introduction to Subduction:

So what do we know about subduction? Perhaps, a few of you reading this may know, others might have looked it up on Wikipedia. In a sense, the entire earth is a constantly, rebuilding construction site. The core of this planet where the pressure and such is extremely high causes an extreme and intense heat. We know from basic physics and science that warm things tend to rise and cool things sink. So we have Magma being superpressurized and then it moves upwards. As it rises towards the surface towards the Lithospehere, it cool and creates variations in that part of the earth. Places where the lithosphere is thinner, will get pulled down, creating basins. Places where there is more variation and thickness, it tends to create land mass elevations. But back to the issue of Magma. When it is rebuilding, it creates the forms we know.

So at plate collisions whichever plate is cooler, that one will be pulled downwards and the hotter and lighter plate will rise, and actually float over. Where the lower one subducts under the other plate. With subduction, there are variations of the plate where you have the many types of fault interactions. Slip faults, strike faults, subducting faults, slip strike, etc. An excellent example of slip strike fault exists in Hollister, CA. There is one landmark that is known to many locals, and especially by geologists: a wire rail fence that stretches along a section of fault line that since its building in 1930, the fence has been stretch and pushed around showing the seismic activity exhibited since.

Back to California:

So what is it about this state that makes it an amazingly varied landscape. Every possible form of climate in the world exists here. The highest point in the contential United States, as well as the lowest dry land in North America both exist here in California, within a hundred miles of each other! From the head of the Klamath, following along the Cascades into Oregon, Washington state and ending somewhere in British Columbia. This range is marked by multiple mountains: Baker, Glacier Peak, Mt. Rainier, Mt. St. Helens, Adams, Hood, Jefferson, Craters, Three Sisters, Thielsen, Crater Lake formation and Mt. Shasta. This protective covering and the shape of the lands prevents low hanging clounds from passing over this ridge, causing a temperate rain forest. Many of these head waters form along these ridgelines, causing the lush forests to have no trouble growing here.

From extreme climates also derives extreme life forms, the state also boasts some of the largest trees, tallest trees and oldest singular, non-recursive tree. The title of largest and oldest goes to a colony of Quaking Aspen in Utah. So how does the state of California get so lucky? Its hard to say, but with proper climates, good fertile soil and the ideal conditions to allow these extrmes to grow.

In conclusion, we can look into the shape of things to come. If the way things continue, the shape of California will continue to change for all eternity.

Memory of a Place

What we closely associate with most emotions and with our sense of place is through location, and the experience we derive from that location. Where from these places, we develop an attachment through sensory deviations, from working with a certain aroma, a certain sound or even the feel of a chair sometimes. So, it is safe to say, you give place to what you can derive from what you experience.

Say for instance, I worked in a cafe, the overpowering aroma of roasting coffee, the heat of steamed milk, the things all are associated with with those feelings.The way we recgonize our own home, the feel of our own bedding the warm feeling of home, and what not. It becomes in our nature to recgonize these things. If we encounter in a store, the same feeling of the sheets or the fluffiness of the pillows, then you see this as a comfort. But likewise, your sensory actions can work against in these terms. Where by finding only one aspect, we might not agree with all of them. I find everything in my room comforting, from the pictures hanging on the wall with one blank spot in a sea of picture frames, to a handmade fur throw, to the pile of drawings on my own desk. Say I went to IKEA and it just happened that one of these things was replicated with great accuracy there. Let's just say for instance: one picture frame missing on the display of picture frames. My mind recgonizes this as something similar, but at the same time, there is no fur throw in the picture frame section of IKEA. Nor are there a pile of my own drawings. Here is where I am only recieving a partial picture of a memory. Perhaps I might see this exact same thing if I should ever look at my wall and see the singular blank spot.

What we are to associate strongest are these feelings. That there in lies the greatest instance of power in our minds to make a sensory association with a certain particular event. When walking through Grace Cathedral in San Francisco, you are wowed by the sheer mass and volume of the entire building, and you will later use this as a form of association if you ever enter another church of similar volume or constrasting volume. There is no limit to this, we will always associate one thing with another just to compare. How would you describe the shape of this? Like a tea pot. How does this smell? Like coffee.

So in our work and in our time, we look for these small hints, that we can bring to the table, to make sense of the world. So next time someone asks you a comparative question, think about what sort of device you will use on your own to describe what are your biggest comparisions in life.

There's always the Memory

You sit on a rough wooden bench, the cast iron leaves press into your back and there are people mingling around the round, concrete picnic tables. The strands of light bulbs rock slowly back and forth with the slow gentle warm breezes. There is a low murmur of voices as people laugh and chat. A great lakes steamer slowly rolls by blaring its air horns as the gentle dirty wake follows it as it steams northwards. There's only a couple of people you know there, and even them you only know through work. So it feels weird to be here, with people you hardly know surrounded by more people you don't know at all. You don't know why you came, you figured on a whim, why not? You usually don't hang with these people, and you start to question why you bother coming out, these people, they don't interest you, they don't like what you like and the only relation you have with them is work. Probably a few comments about football and hockey is all.

As you're lost in thought, you notice someone sitting down next to you, breaking your thought and line of concentration. She seems to have the same amount of frustration and nervousness as you do. You want to make the conversation start, she's a cute girl with a black and white polka dot dress finished off with a satin bow around her waist, and short brown bobbed hair held back with a ribbon. You can sort of see the conversation, she'll laugh and giggle, you'll concur with what she says. Then some drinks will flow and the two of you are confounded with loose tongues as you just engage in some of the most indepth conversations on Dante's Divine Comedy.

Later that evening, the two of you'll go back to either yours or her place and engage in a nightcap, which becomes more than just that, it'll become a kiss, then an embrace, then a fuck. The next morning, neither of you have regrets, it goes on for months before you ask her the question she wanted to hear, "Will you marry me?" and she'll say yes. Before you know it, there's her in the white gown of her dreams walking down the aisle towards you in a smart morning suit in a huge church midst thousands of flowers and all of your friends. And you'll both say "I do." and there, it's done. With a poof and a shake of your head, you look around you. The flowers and church and gown are gone, just the warm summer night, the swaying lights on the walk, and you're sitting on an empty bench.

Perplexed, you look around for the mystery girl, and there she is, she just moved momentarily. You approach her, and the first thing you ask, "What do you think of Dante's Divine Comedy?" She looks at you through her big plastic framed glasses, and can say just one thing: "I like it."

Sleep With One Eye Open

Sleep with One Eye Open from Chris Thile & Michael Daves on Vimeo.

This Hip American Life

The morning is still, the air is quiet and hardly a thing stirs in the cozily furnished room. The two bay windows watching over the narrow street are uncovered, the old glass lets in a bold stream of light pool over a worn out and flattened shag rug. A small fireplace reveals the remnants of last evening's fire, the crumbling cinders perched so delicately, the breeze from a passerby would easily cause the entire structure to turn into a mound of dust. On the mantle, a variety of clocks tick, each one slightly off by mere seconds as if some one took pride and time in setting each and every single one of them. On either side of the fireplace, there are built in bookcases overflowing with old cloth bound novels, several first edition copies of famous books, some art books, and even a couple of fine press books hidden in the mess. Photographs, framed in simple wooden frames hang on the walls and sit on whatever available surfaces are around. Vintage portraits, drawings, prints and drawings get large huge frames as they are carefully placed in the wall space, to give the most aesthetically pleasing situation. Overstuffed couches, covered in pillows, sheepskins and throws sit sadly, sagging from years of overuse but there is something about the bright patterned fabrics that still show they have some life in them. A coffee table made of some stolen street sign is littered with typographical magazines, literary reviews and stumps of burnt out pillar candles.

Down the hall, the door to the kitchen is ajar slightly, mostly because it sticks in the other direction. A peep through the crack reveals a worn looking tile counter, but scrubbed clean. The dishes from last evening's dinner still sit, soaking in lukewarm soapy water. Further down the hall, another open door reveals what looks like an office but looks almost like a reading corner in some old university library. An old lion claw foot table sits in the middle of the circle of bookshelves, a single lamp in the center with several books strewn about. A copy of planetary physics, mechanical systems and a stack of dog eared Harry Potter books are what you can make out from the doorway. It would be a bit rude of barge into this little sanctuary of learning. All around you, evidence of life, scarves and hats hanging on hooks, several heavy coats and a pair of bicycles suspended from the ceiling. At the end of the hall, a door with a stolen restroom sign hints at the contents of that room and the bright sunlight streams in off to the side illuminating the stacked washer dryer.

The door to the bedroom is ajar, open only a crack. Peering in, a semi naked man is seen carefully on tip toe bearing a tray with two cups, a pot of tea and several various pastries. He sneaks to the far end of the room and places them on the coffee table in front of a couch and arm chair. He tries to pick up a cup and a slight shuffling sound from the bed causes him to panic and toss a cup in the air. Realizing the potential peril of the ceramic container, he fumbles and tries to catch it as it bounces out of his fingertips each time. Making a narrow save, he has a look of shock as he realized, he managed to actually successfully catch the cup before it broke or woke the other person in the room. The bright comforter reveals a shock of blonde hair, splayed out over the solid colored pillowcases. Replacing the cups on the tray, he pours out tea, and arranges the pastries carefully. Thinking to himself, for a plan of attack, he crawls on top of her, and begins to kiss her cheek.

Suddenly at once, the clocks on the mantle in the living room all go off at the same time, revealing a resonating barrage of bells and gongs that waft down the hall and into the bedroom. The face under the blanket stirs only slightly as it disappears underneath the comforter to avoid the kisses. Frustrated by his attempts, he walks over to the windows and draws up the curtains, bathing the entire room in light. The tea tray casts a reflection over the bed, with shadows outlining the cups plates and pot. The light only furthers the massing of blankets and pillows over the blonde head of hair. Finally, he resorts to a last measure of attack. Momentarily, the room is empty except for the sleeping person but the half naked man returns, with a record in hand. Placing it delicately on a turntable in a corner of the room, the speakers come to life with the crackle and pop of dust as the sounds of a slow jazz piece come to life. Climbing on top of the other person once more, he resumes the barrage of kisses and the face turns to him as their lips touch. A passionate exchange, he grabs her glasses and places them carefully on her face, bringing a smile as her world suddenly comes into focus.

She wraps a blanket around her shoulders for warmth as he leads her to the couch now warm from the morning sunlight. Gingerly, she begins to take a sip from the steaming cup of tea while he munched on a macaroon. They discuss plans for the day as the record then proceeds to the next song. This time, a lively uptempo solo prompts him to walk over to the machine and turn down the volume. They seem inseparable, brushing their teeth together, getting dressed together and assembling in the hall together. She asks him something and he nods in agreement. Locking the apartment door, they walk down together into the sunny street, the proprietor of the shop they live above begins to set up umbrellas for the lunch crowd soon to pack the shop front. At the corner, they part with a kiss as she walks towards the bus stop and him towards the grocery store.

The day goes by without seeing these two for awhile. The shop is packed for an hour or two with brightly flanneled and bearded people waiting for fresh made sandwiches and cuts of meat. The sounds of electric trolley buses running and the noise of San Francisco almost make the scene ordinary. The call of the vegetable seller at the corner shop, the honks of an impatient woman driver from San Bruno stuck behind a double parked taxi waiting for his fare and the talks about town of shows at the Warfield, Regency and Great American Music Hall. The ordinary scene is broken when the man arrives back home, arms laden with paper grocery bags filled to the brim with carefully picked vegetables and delicacies. Momentarily, he is gone, but returns to enter the butcher shop and picks out a decent sized side of meat. Soon after, she comes back as well, with an armful of small boxes and a potted plant on top. They go up the steps together and return to the little apartment.

Suddenly, the apartment is a blaze of motion. As the burners on the little viking stove come to life, pots and pans are rested, smeared with butter as garlic and onions are put on to simmer. The dressed up side of meat waits patiently on the counter, tied together with twine and seasoned to perfection. Meanwhile, the living room is cleaned up, the ashes swept up and discarded, books neatly arranged and magazines thrown into the magazine rack. The overstuffed chairs and couches are arranged around the fireplace and coffee table and new candles are brought out. In the dining room, the table is stretched out, the leaf brought in and several folding chairs now lean against the buffet on one side of the room. From the kitchen, the sounds of sizzling and the smells of herbs and spices begin to pollute the pantry and the dining room. The cardboard boxes reveal board games and these are placed on the coffee table in anticipation. While he cooks, she goes around setting the table, eight places in all. Satisfied, she enters the kitchen through the pantry in between the dining room and kitchen and wraps her arms around his torso. Smiling he turns around and kisses her tenderly. The moment is broken when again, all the clocks in the living room chime indicating that it was now five thirty.

The harsh buzz of the door buzzer is broken only by a crackly voice through an old fashioned call box. The door opens up to reveal the first couple to arrive, a tall bearded man with combed back hair and a chrome bag over his shoulder. His girlfriend, an equally tall redheaded girl sporting large glasses and a beanie leans in to give the blonde woman a hug. Again the buzzer rings again before the first couple can even get comfortable and the next group of people enter. This time, it's two guys, one with curly hair and a waxed mustache and the other clean shaven but sporting a bow tie and a vintage blazer. They both walk into the kitchen to talk to the man as the buzzer yet rings again. Two girls appear now, one short and slightly round but very pretty, the other about average but sporting the Bettie Page look. The both of them squeal as they see the blonde woman and come in for hugs. Soon, everyone is introducing themselves in the living room, smiling and exchanging words and glances.

Pretty soon, the dining room is filled with the smell of many varieties of food. Garlic butter onion noodles, the beef roast, a vegetable curry, pan fried onion cakes, fried rice, a tray of fish fillets, breaded and fried in oil and several loaves of fresh baked bread. As everyone sits down, all the guests suddenly produce a bottle wine they each had decided to bring. The couple pulls out a port as he explains to the host "for dessert." The two ladies had opted each to bring a bottle of white and red while the two gentlemen both opted for a bottle of red wine each. Soon, flat cylindrical Spanish wine glasses are brought out as all the bottles are opened and soon the entire group is talking, eating and between the group of two males and two females, a hint of flirting. As soon as the food is gone, the dessert is brought out, a gallon of homemade ice cream, a chocolate fondue pot and a variety platter of things to dip. The hostess jokingly remarks, "we should have bought a fountain instead." The bearded man pulls the cork from the bottle of port and begins to portion it out to the rest of the guests and before taking a sip, everyone toasts the host and hostess. Both of whom blush and kiss each other to congratulate them for a job well done.

As soon as the plates are put into the dishwasher, the group migrates to the living room where a fire is started in the fireplace and an iPod is hooked into the handmade goldwire speaker cabinet. A slow indie playlist comes on in the background as the board games are opened and a rabble of voices argue playfully over which games to play first. In honor of the group, they all choose Hipsteropoly and after several rounds, the game is set aside for team pictionary, the boys versus the girls. It wasn't exactly fair since the two guys who had come together were carving artists who worked at the print shop the host owned, but the ladies defended their ground quite well, even overtaking the guys team and eventually winning with the word Tumbler. Pretty soon, the furniture is scooted around and an impromptu dance party begins and more wine flows. Fearing his liquor cabinet might be raided, the host locks it up, but the hostess gives him that look, a sort of pouty, be nice and share look. Reluctantly, the bottle of absinthe and the brollieur are brought out and everyone in the party becomes distracted from dancing in the presence of ice water and sugar cubes.

The mass of clocks all begin to chime as everyone drunkenly turns towards the mantle, realizing the time and the necessity of sleeping in is mandatory, everyone begins to leave, the couple first indicating they have their bikes locked in the hallway. The other two groups, suddenly turning into two couples indicate they would share a cab. As soon as the last guest is gone, the furniture is rearranged back the way they were, the board games put away, the fire stoked out and the candles put out. The dishes are left to dry in the washer and the leftovers wrapped and stowed away in the fridge. She uses the bathroom first to shower while he arranges the bed, getting it ready for the night. They switch places as he uses the bathroom. Once everything is finished, they crawl under the covers and switch out the lamps and cuddle each other to sleep. They kiss one last time, "good night little boo." "Night night beau."

If-- by Rudyard Kipling (1895)

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

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Seeking the Ideal from this Modern World

The ideal nation has been an object of perfection for the past several centuries from Robert Owen's ideal village to the grand visions of Le Courbsier's modern day city (Le Courbsier). All of which deal with the aspects of modifying the shape of the city to modify the behavior of the people. Or the garden cities of the mid 19^th century that sought to centralize living spaces, to create a sense of place that encouraged healthy outdoor living, happiness in separation from work and the ideal environments, far away from the smokey city centers (Benevolo 46). But I intend to create a perfect society, one that picks up where these all failed in their execution (Jacobs). By taking elements of each, I intend to create a society, where equality and the reigning qualities of life rule primary.

The failure of the ideal cities of the past can stem back to their lack of intent to change, a result of only marginally challenging the structure of life and more ended up being a compliment to the then current practice of life. Their unwillingness to make a complete change to the social infrastructure of behavior, interaction and policy would result in their eventual failure (Hayden).

In this new modern society, which I shall call Perefessinia from here on out, will deal with the social structure, the cultural system, political systems and the economic systems. These four things easily can define the ideal structure of a city, the ideal shape of a city, the ideal society, the ideal body politic, and the ideal structure economic.

The Rules of the Game

Likewise with our current society, there are norms that we must accept and carry over. It is understood that our actions are a direct result of the lives of many people, activities that would cause harm to others are strictly prohibited except in recreation zones. Recreation zones shall be two hundred fifty miles square, fifty miles by fifty miles and placed at the center of every 500 mile by 500 mile grid that the country will be blocked into. Here, people are allowed free reign to do anything they want, shoot, blow things up and crash automobiles. Entry into recreation zones require a minimum age of 16, two previous psychiatric evaluations and application of a pass. People entering these zones of lawlessness are prohibited from a stay of more than 10 days and as such, electronic tracking tags will reveal where these people are hiding allowing for state police to force them out. Passes may only be purchased or in special cases grandfathered in with special permission from the state.

These zones shall allow people to enjoy themselves, unwind and relieve the stresses of modern life (Huxley). This place shall act as a sanity chamber, allowing the people to avoid the rigors of life momentarily.

Thought will be allowed free reign and shall not be inhibited in any way, psychologically or chemically. People choosing the preference of art as a career shall be state funded and allowed depiction of anything of their choosing. Should anyone be offended by the images portrayed by the artist, both the artist and the afflicted party shall meet with a state evaluator to discuss and help both parties understand the reason for the image's creation and reception. In so doing, the burden of meeting with state officials would cause people to consider making art of an offensive nature or criticizing any piece of artwork. Any images found offensive by the state cannot be confiscated without the artist first undergoing a public trial by a jury of his peers, critics, experts and the ordinary to justify why the image was created in the first place (Ball & Dagger 167).

Written text, publications for print, comics, fictional literature and any other works falling under this category shall not be inhibited in any way. Free enterprise press shall be encouraged and the use of government presses shall not be restricted except in cases where presses are restricted for government use only in the case of producing fiat currency, official document blanks and documents concerning income tax, immigration and legal status.

Punishment of persons committing any crime deemed immoral and offensive to the state and its people will be allowed either exile or evaluation in trial by the state (Kelling). In the case of exile, work camps and reeducation centers in the hinterlands will hope to modify the behavior of offender. Should the person choose evaluation, he will be examined by a jury of public peers, and the case brought for and against the person. But the people of Perefessinia should be happy enough that the idea of committing a crime is unnecessary and only then in the most heinous of cases shall the public become the jury to determine and measure against their standard of life what action to take (Brem).

The government structure of life

The government or the state of Perefessinia is not in the business of controlling every single aspect of people's lives. It shall function primarily as the watchdog of the people, the legal channel that everyone should and shall pass through for most of the primary functions of their lives (Ball & Dagger 112). The nation is divided into districts, each of which are self governing, and further on in the metropolitan area, they are in turn self governing as well, but are restricted by the laws of the district and the districts under the Government Principia. All servants of the civil sector shall be publicly elected as officials and hired or appointed as appropriate in the various departments of the state. The state itself shall consist of the following departments to manage all aspects of life not controlled by the self or in the self interest of the state.

1. The Ministry – shall deal with the heads of each of the following departments. It will be under the control of the first minister who also shall appoint a second minister to serve as his deputy.

2. The Ministry of the State – shall deal with the ruling districts and the hinterlands. It shall also deal with foreign relations with various other nations

3. The Ministry of the Interior – shall deal with all lands property of the state, public buildings, natural preserves and Recreational Zones of Lawlessness.

4. The Ministry of Industry & Commerce – shall deal with all properties under state and private ownership engaged in the commerce, trades or production of durable goods, intellectual goods, and digital goods.

5. The Ministry of Education – shall deal with all state run schools, primary through higher education. Under this ministry, the bureau of censorship shall exist as a department for the evaluation of the censorship of artworks and intellectual creations.

6. The Ministry of Defense – shall deal with all things pertaining to national security both at home and abroad. There shall be four heads in this department: The Chief of Perefessinia, The First Sea Laird, The First Land Commander and the First Air Warden. Their defensive territories shall be as in this order: State run police, Sea, Land & Air.

7. The Ministry of Health – shall deal with all items and topics related to drugs, health regulations and shall be the governing body for any and/or all medical procedures.

8. The Ministry of Justice – shall deal with any corruption found within the system and by judicial appointment seek to root out this corruption.

9. The Ministry of Revenue – shall deal with the collection and imposition of taxes to generate revenue for the state. All locations under state control including Recreation Zones are taxable locations.

10. The Ministry of Transportation – shall deal with all aspects of travel by road, rail, air or water and shall be responsible for the regular upkeep of these systems with money gained through lawful means through the Ministry of Revenue.

11. The Ministry of Civic Planning – shall deal with all aspects of city life, rural life and suburban life. The placement of buildings, the preservation of artistic, and experimental buildings and structures and the construction of any new buildings sponsored by the state or owned by the state.

These departments shall control all aspects and the heads of each are publicly elected officials who have served in the “People's Body” or the Duma. The Duma will consist of one member for every district of 8000 people. Members of the Duma must serve six years before election to the Politiburo which is conducted by Duma members alone. Politiburo members serve as the head of the 10 ministries and may deputize any Duma member to act as a second if any problems occur in absentia (Ball & Dagger 22).

The social structure of life

Where our societies of the past and present have relied heavily on spiritualism to find release of thought, there shall be no religion to distract people from the regularity of life. Things that occur as a so-called miracle will be examined by the Ministry of Education's department and bureau of science to explain. Morality, the guide rod of life shall be deemed as acceptable and unacceptable behavior by the state. The state may only reach these conclusions through public consensus through a ballot initiative. From there, morality is placed in the charge of the Duma to examine it, moved to the Politiburo for further scrutiny, examined by the justice ministry and then signed into the book of morality. Any preset morality clauses may be revoked through the same due processes of the law.

The idea of beauty, truth shall be not controlled by the state, but allowing of the people to discover on their own. However, when the idea of beauty or truth begins to interfere with a persons normal functions or duties or even reason to cause distress to another person or persons, the parties involved shall be required to meet with a government evaluator to straighten out all issues.

Considering the function of marriage and interaction, these shall be made possible under the bureau of licensing. The state shall have no interference in the union of any two persons. Polygamy shall not be allowed by the state and stipulated in the book of morals. This interference on the rights of those who do believe in poly-amorous relationships is justified by the unequal rights. Persons disputing this claim may marry multiple persons in the zones, but these marriages will not be recognized outside of that particular zone and upon departure from the zone, the contract of union shall be dissolved thirty days after the marriage unless the contract is signed a second time before the thirty day expiration date. There is no case reported where this has successfully occurred.

The commerce of life

Material goods and commercial goods for production are regulated under the Ministry of Industry and Commerce. All workers shall receive an equal income and the tax rate shall be set at 60% nationwide. This high tax rate shall create a large revenue to allow people to still enjoy the niceties of life while still contribute to the vast majority of state run programs. Heads of private commerce shall be regulated at an 80% tax rate and heavily scrutinized under the government. The increase in tax should still allow for a comfortable life as well as to protect the workers rights in equality and payment. Competition amongst corporations shall be encouraged with state prizes to allow consumers the greatest freedom in choice of products (Ball & Dagger 62).

Corporations and companies (large, medium and small) shall start as an endeavor of the private citizen with monetary backing of the state. Once the capitalist is capable of buying the corporation or company from the state, he may do so and the taxation on the company drops from 90% to 70%.

The regulation of business and industry shall be conducted by the ministry of industry and commerce only to impede whether or not a business, corporation, company or industry have corrupted any members of government. Dual investigations from the Ministry of Justice will also concede whether or not any injustice was committed. Corruption shall not be tolerated lightly.

Conclusions

Compared to what we have discussed in Brem's classes and lectures, there are many social structures that could determine the shape of the world around us. Whether or not we choose to engage in all of these aspects, is determined by our behavior. Our world around us shapes our social understanding of society, how we want it to be, how it ought to be and how it should come to fruition. I realized in the creation of this nanny-esque state how quickly my personal vision suddenly became very authoritarian. The allowance of freedoms in select locations, the government interevening in every moment to eliminate any possibility of offensive behavior, art or literature and worst of all, exile for disputing views. Partially, this derived and sounded ideal in my head from reading Brave New World, Animal Farm and watching Equilibrium. These materials all conceptually deal with ideal societies, yet have their faults. In Animal Farm and Equilibrium, there was the oppressive nanny state, the drugging, lack of feeling, and someone profiteering. In Brave New World by Aldous Huxley, there are places where religion is free to exist amonst the so called “barbarians” while in the clean, modern worlds, again there is the drugging, lack of free religions and texts of a disputive nature, that engaged its readers other than in the whimsical pleasures of life.

Personally, this paper has made me more aware of how much control there is in life, both on the personal scale and by the government as well. There is an extremely delicate balance that is constantly being tipped one direction or the other in our world. Too much government or too little government will cause the social structure of life to fall apart. Personally, I like the idea of zones of free will, not regulated by excessive government control. But I think we do have something like that, only it is called Nevada. California is a great example of a growing nanny state. I really do question our purpose here, is it entirely necessary to put into law what the definition of marriage is? Are we that stupid that we need to say that this is the definition, and the only definition? The slow process of law and the weird acceptance that if law is passed, it cannot go away made me personally add the clause in the book of morals that any of them can be changed through due process.

So what do I see appealing about the world around me? I see elements that both scare and fascinate me. Things that seem like they would work on multiple levels and some things that wouldn't work at all in an entire nation. I see the bits and pieces that if the right combination presented itself at long last would become a very good combination and should we choose not to utilize this, there is a good chance that a state may fail in this or that way. What do I long to see in this world now? Does my ideal country sound appealing? Not really. But if I had absolutely no choice as to my gender, social standing, rank and race, would I live there? I would not mind.

Works Cited

Ball, Terrence & Richard Dagger. Political Ideologies and the Democratic Ideal 8^th Ed. New York, NY: Longman, 2011. Print.

Benevolo, Leonardo. The Origins of Modern Town Planning. Cambridge, MA: The M.I.T. Press, 1971. Print.

Brem, Robert [Professor of Political Theory at Cal State East Bay & College of Alameda]. Lecture. Alameda, CA. 26 Oct. 2011.

Brem, Robert. Speaking Reality into Existence: Political Philosophy and Democracy 9.3^rd Ed. Alameda, CA: Department of Politics, College of Alameda, 2010. Print.

Le Courbsier. Plan Voisign. Paris, France. Dover Press, 1991. Print.

Hayden, Dolores. Building Suburbia: Green Fields and Urban Growth, 1820-2000. New York, NY: Vintage Books, 2004. Print.

Huxley, Aldous. Brave New World. New York, NY: Harper Perennial Modern Classics, 2010. Print.

Jacobs, Jane. The Death and Life of Great American Cities. New York, NY: Modern Library, 1961. Print.

Kelling, George & Catherine Coles. Fixing Broken Windows: Restoring Order and Reducing Crime In our Communities. New York, NY: Free Press, 1998. Print

It's not what I got, but it's one model above.

Social Change for the Better

More and more each day, this country slips into a different direction, one day in one direction, another in some other direction. We are approaching the straining point, the critical mass that the country needs to achieve. Today, many people are sitting idly by as they face forclosure, piling debt, bankruptcy and so much more. Yet, there unwavering in the distance is something that everyone is clinging to, that thing everyone is so intent on holding on to. Their political ideologies.

But why? Why are these ideologies holding the attention of the majority of our public so well? Why are they shaping every single decision of a person without any prior knowledge? Why are they just existing in general? It gives citizens the sort of comfort of knowing how the world should be, that it ought to be more than just that. It plays no real role, other than a platform to yell from, and in this country, whoever can yell the loudest wins.

So what is it about an ideology that captivates our attention so well? If we look at some of the past events in news history, we can see why. The whole 99% movement that originated on Wall Street, it allowed the common classical liberal to stand up for himself, to stand and be heard by the governments. More and more each day, government institutions are found to be generally less and less connected to its public constituents, and no longer are the people in office a genuine Representative of the concerns of the people but for one of the two parties in power. That's another problem with our two party system, it does not allow for anyone else to gain power, and you end up with extremists on either side with no common ground to stand on. In foreign countries such as Norway and Sweden, their parliaments consist of representative democracies, allowing for the leading party to hold the control of the votes, while the other parties hold a percentage of seats relative to the percentage of the population.

Our Electoral College is not the best system period. The popular vote can only go so far during an election, merely showing "how" a country will vote for the next president, but in reality, the Electoral College controls the genuine voting power of our next leaders. But why does it prevail? How is it ineffective? Consider a large state like California. California has a number of Electoral College votes and during a presidential election, 51% votes Republican and 49% vote Democrat. Are those votes evenly portioned out? Not in the least, but in fact, 100% would go to the republican party. Now, as a member of the GOP for 4 years before re-registering as a democrat, I now am yet again considering switching to independent. Neither party works, and the system is fracked up enough as it is.

Now lets look at how an Ideology shapes a person's thoughts. When you thinking about doing something, you are basing it off of a personal experience. Every single thing you do is a resultant action from your upbringing and rearing. Shaped by your Belief Systems that were put in place by parents, friends, pastor, teachers and so on. Now, the ideology enjoys preying on people with the smallest belief systems (lets call it BS for short). People who limit themselves in the world with a tiny BS end up not understanding as much. I still find it difficult for some reason, when I meet people who have never heard of this or that, things that I thought were common in the world, but that is my BS, that there are these things in the world that need to be studied. Ok, back to our topic. Now, someone with a closed mind has a dangerous mind, they will prey, they will anger, they will do stupid things. Take the Tea Party for instance, or the Westboro Baptist Church, they refuse to open up the structure that is made up of their beliefs. That God is great, that there is one truth and that is it. Nothing else beyond that. Bring the nation back to its "great" days as a religious nation. I hate to disappoint, this country was never a religious nation.

Look at the intentions of the Bill of Rights, it was written to adapt to modern times, it is intended as this nation's chief laws that we have no right to control people the way we were. That here there is a freedom of religion, of speech, the right to bear arms, the right to a fair trial with a jury of your peers, not to be put into double jeopardy. These 10 basic laws are starting to disappear, pushed aside by the black baton of the policeman, defending the military republic of the individual states. Can we really expect the right to own a weapon? Yeah. Can we really expect our speech to go uninhibited? Yeah. Can we expect a free life, to pursue liberty and the pursuit of happiness? Yes. We should, and next time the lawmakers are on the books, they need to look at the first rules written, the amendments that protect the people, not govern the people.

Look at the spectacular failure of the 18th amendment, to what purpose did it run? It merely was the lovechild of the temperance movement and Wayne Wheeler who drafted the amendment. What this amendment did was ignore the rights of the people to drink. Ignored everything about liberty. Ignored everything about freedom. It slammed its fist into every home, every saloon, every club, every bar, and every restaurant saying No, you cannot drink because we said so. Where did the 18th amendment take the United States? Organized Crime. Running whisky from Canada, Rum from Cuba & the Caribbean, and numerous stills and illegal operations springing up in backyards and basements.

So what can we learn from this? Well for one thing, look at the instances of Proposition 8, the initiative that had hoped to make Homosexual marriage legal in the State of California. It did not win and through due process of the law, it was appealed to the state supreme court, now it is in the district supreme court (as far as I know). I still think Lewis Black the comedian best put it that when we are visited by Aliens from a far off time period and they uncover our civilization, they will say: look how stupid these guys were, they had to define marriage as between a man and a woman. They HAD TO FUCKING DEFINE MARRIAGE. There is too much controversy over what is legally right and what is ideologically right. We are beginning to see the unfortunate image of the ideologies beginning to hold precedent over what is legally right. *cough*Hermann Caine *cough*.

Ideologies are ideas, they are not laws, they are not a way of life. They are theories of the way things ought to be. Which is good, but it clouds the judgement of those we put in office. Are they fighting for the rights of Californians in district 13? Or are they fighting to make this legal or that legal? When people put too much emphasis on an ideology, they start to forget what the law looked like, what equality looked like, what tolerance looked like. They started to see everything in a white bread picture, suitable for all audiences and conforming to THEIR way of life. There is no you in an ideology, there is just becoming one of us.

So what can we learn from this? What can we do to prevent this from happening? Well, we need to stand for our rights, to make sure that we receive our equal share in society and that we return our equal share back to society. We are not the stupid minds that places the vast power into the hands of the few, we are the people who have the rights of every other man in our town, our county, our state, our nation, and when we are beaten down, it only helps increase the meaning of the cause, the cause of the people.

Thaïs Deep

The fall season is a pretty wonderful time of the year, the skies start to cloud over, the winds pick up but at the same time, people start to put away the summer clothes, and the fall clothes come out. That's one of the parts I like the best, seeing people getting all togged up in heavier coats, and the girls sport big, wild scarves and the fellas start to wear their hats. Mind you, the smart ones sport fedoras and flat caps. The wild ones with baseball caps and beanies, and the weird ones with derbys and skull caps. The absolute strange ones are still wearing straw right now. But the best part about the fall, is that it just keeps getting better and better. From just a light coat or jacket, suddenly, the great double breasted coats emerge again from the closet or storage, like a magnificent ship slowly pulling out of a slip for the first time.

As you go one, the air begins to bite at your face, laden with scarves hats and high wing collars and you begin to see your breath in the air again. I just love that feeling, to see your breath emerge from your mouth, like the fiery smoke from a dragon's nostrils. No longer do you sport the flip flops, the sandals or the crocs (thank god) and then the shoes come out, the Ferragamos, the Oxfords, the wingtips, the clarks, the Martens, the Timberlands, the Uggs, the Sneakers and so much more. As the sun begins to go down, the mud rooms and the solariums are packed with muddy boots, the wicker furniture is covered in vinyl. Inside the kitchens, the scrubbed maple counters are agog with fresh picked apples, dug up mushrooms and canter glasses filled with steaming lemon tea with a stick of cinnamon suspended in the sacred fluid.

It's the time of year, you notice there seems to be more people over, the furniture is scooted around to let the fireplace become the master of the room, no longer does the television set hold the precedent of all inside. Carefully cleaned and resting pipes sit on the racks with the humidifier, the hall clock on the mantle still keeps good time, even though once in a while it does like to go off whenever it feels like. Low squatty couches no longer sit barren, now adorned with overstuffed pillows, warm fleece blankets and sheepskin slippers at the foot of each couch on a worn hearth rug. No longer are dinners lit through the blazing summer sunlight but instead the darkness of the sky is fought off only by several red bees wax tapers, and the smiles of the people you sit around and eat with.

Drinks no longer have ice in them, scotch on the rocks has gone simply to scotch neat. No longer does a mint julep sound as inviting as a hot toddy when you come home. There are noticeable signs of the impending seasons, as a ham sits curing on the counter and suddenly the cider press is pulled out of the garage. Come the Fall cold, cometh the Fall rains. The turning leaves leave crispy trails to punch out as you walk, and the slosh of rain is compounded with shlack of leaves as they are kicked aside. Further into fall, the convertible car retreats into the car house, and out rolls the heavy Buick or Ford. Classic cars for the win in this season, they seem to blend seamlessly into the classic time of the fall. Driving in the cold seems like a much more pleasurable activity, as you have a friend riding shotgun and your partner in the center of the bench, nothing could be better.

But the best part is the part when the lights go out, and the fire is nothing more than embers. You and that special someone have brushed your teeth, kicked aside the laundry around on the floor and pull the covers over. That doesn't sound any different from the usual business right? Wrong! The bed has become a plush pleasure palace of heavy blankets, down comforters, colorful duvets, and the pillows! Pillows as far as the eye can see, quilted, beaded, plain, plush. It's an impenetrable fortress of snuggles against the cold wind.

But the only thing about fall, is you get to look forward to the wintertime.

Misty Morning on the L Train

It's the ticking of the clock when you wake up alone at seven AM
It's the thought of getting used to something so right and then just throw it away
It's a major minor detail
On a misty morning L train
And the fear of having to go back

Walking slowly and carefully on the wet sidewalk, you sort of pull your overcoat a little closer to yourself, adjusting the strap of your leather side bag, feeling it for its precious contents, the large rectangular shape of the laptop sitting snugly in its case, the empty travel mug of stale coffee and a dog eared paperback. You begin to ascend the stairs up to the L train platform and as you walk, your gloved hands runs over the painted cast iron railing. Stems of your breath waft before you, rising slowly like dragon's smoke. Several other passengers already are waiting, some engrossed in newspapers or smart phones, others lost in a trance of some sort of techno trance or dubstep guessing from their choice of clothing. In the mist, you manage to pick out the El's bright yellow fog lights, cutting through the mist. It still has a ways to get here, but you know from experience, it's at Wabash. You sort of ready yourself for the train. You dont know why, but you just do.

Late for Work from r/military

Charley, a new retiree-greeter at Wal-Mart, just couldn't seem to get to work on time.

Every day he was 5, 10, 15 minutes late. But he was a good worker, really tidy, clean-shaven, sharp-minded and a real credit to the company and obviously demonstrating their "Older Person Friendly" policies.

One day the boss called him into the office for a talk.

"Charley, I have to tell you, I like your work ethic, you do a bang-up job when you finally get here; but your being late so often is quite bothersome."

"Yes, I know boss, and I am working on it."

"Well good, you are a team player. That's what I like to hear.

Yes sir, I understand your concern and Ill try harder.

Seeming puzzled, the manager went on to comment, It's odd though your coming in late. I know you're retired from the Armed Forces. What did they say to you there if you showed up in the morning so late and so often?"

The old man looked down at the floor, then smiled.

He chuckled quietly, then said with a grin, "They usually saluted and said, Good morning, Admiral, can I get your coffee, sir?”

Students of Higher Education vs. Parked Cars & Electronics

There's a saying: the Irish need not apply

Times union article

Just felt like redoing it. AGAIN

1. Put your iTunes (or any other media player you may have) on shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS!

IF SOMEONE SAYS "IS THIS OKAY" YOU SAY?
It's all nice on Ice

WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?
'Taint no Sin

WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
I wouldn't change you for the world

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE?
All my Loving

WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
Right or Wrong

WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
Monster

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
Goose Pimples

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
You will be Waiting

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Before Departure

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
Hurt Feelings

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
Lovin' You

WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Call Me

WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
Sweet Darlin'

WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
Opening Doors

WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
A Kiss A Week

WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
Dinah

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
A Call to Apathy

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
Hold On

WHAT'S THE WORST THING THAT COULD HAPPEN?
I Have a Dream

HOW WILL YOU DIE?
Take Ecstacy with Me

WHAT IS THE ONE THING YOU REGRET?
Roll Jordan Roll

WHAT MAKES YOU LAUGH?
Love or Confusion

WHAT MAKES YOU CRY?
International Travel

WILL YOU EVER GET MARRIED?
Red Haired Woman

WHAT SCARES YOU THE MOST?
One Evenin'

DOES ANYONE LIKE YOU?
Dont Cry

IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN TIME, WHAT WOULD YOU CHANGE?
I'm Walkin'

WHAT HURTS RIGHT NOW?
Josie

San Francisco? Initiative to ban what now?

From the Huffington Post

It's Ok to be Takei

Apparently...

The accusation is that people of the Islamic faith are shorting themselves of the intellectual capacity potential by "inbreeding" with first cousins. Now, if memory serves me right, most of the royal families of the world are all related. From all the sekxsy times with victoria and albert. As Blackadder put it, the bedchambers of buckingham must be copiously supplied with blindfolds for all the children she potters out. Here even in america, those who listen to this, chances are, they may have skipped the first cousin bit. Yeah, went straight for the sister.

Now... in the bible, in genesis in particular, there's no mention of a sister or any other female born with Cain and Able, so that means, either, they would have done it with a bastard sibiling unmentioned in the bible or with their mother. Now, that sounds far worse than first cousins. Especially all the men begatted from their line. Now, explain to me, all the men who are begat from Adam and Eve, and no women to birth them? Eve must have a pretty tired and stretched out vagina by the time you finish reading the bible.

Les décisions de faire

A little smoke curled from a cigarette sitting on a shallow coffee saucer. It burned slowly, recieving no attention from the smoker himself as he sat before the table. His gaunt frame, clothed only in a pair of striped boxers and ragged undershirt seemed to just press into the worn chair. Bare, hairy legs wrapped around the legs of the chair and his arms lay before him on the table top with his palms upwards. The brass clock on the mantle in the room chimed a short song before resuming a monotonous ticking. His body expanded as he took a deep breath into his lungs, nearly swelling to twice his size. It happened suddenly as he sat meditating, dirty tools strewn around on the table, when the windows rattled suddenly. His attention momentarily shaken, his eyes darted towards the french windows. His blue eyes shaking nervously around showing the effects of caffeine. He stood and walked towards the windows, his feet padding and making a dull "thud" sound as he walked. Peering behind the faded damask curtain, he spotted the cause of the trouble, a small rubber ball with a note tied to it. He examined it through the window, before opening it and stepping out onto the small balcony.
The tile floor of the porch was warm, baking in the sun. He grabbed the black twisted metal railing, picked at a rust spot where the paint peeled before turning his full attention to the ball. It was a cracked old ball, split down the seam with a string run through it and a note tied to the half still in good condition. He picked it up tearing the note from it and tossing the ball off into the street below. He watched as it bounced off the hood of a car below before reentering his apartment. He read the note, looked at the clock and reread the note again. Seemingly satisfied, with it, he crumbled it into a ball and pitched it into the fireplace. He strode over to the bookcase on the other side of the room. It was piled with loose papers, tight bundles of documents held together with dirty string. He pulled down a pile it crashed onto the floor before him. Behind it was a small hole in the case, exposing a small knob and dial. He spun it quickly, a calculated careful mind reciting the numbers by heart before hearing it click and he opened it. A couple bundles of cash lay behind the door, a small album and a thin banking envelope. He grabbed the last item and shut the safe.
The envelope lay on the table surrounded by the tools. He paced back and forth on the worn hearth rug eying the envelope like some sort of bomb. He finally sat down and picked up the envelope and tore open the flap. The single leaf of paper was folded into quarters and as he unfolded it, smells of mold and mildew floated upwards. His eyes scanned the words quickly and once he finished the letter, he took it and lit it on fire. Placing it delicately onto the small hearth, he watched it burn and smolder. Once it finished, he poked it with the tip of his oxford scattering the remains across the tile. He pulled from the attache case on the chair an unfiltered cigarette, and lit it.

The bustling market below the apartment had hardly a hint of what was going on, as a thin wisp of smoke curled from the cracked terra-cotta chimney pots. Below, Marie was buying vegetables. Her thin face, accented by large designer sunglasses and dark hair tied up into a bun hidden from view in a sun hat still showed her youthful beauty. As she picked up an Algerian marrow, she looked up perplexed by the smell of smoke. It had a distinctive smell, compared to the charcoal braziers which market stall owners were cooking various food stuffs, or the heavy coke rich smell of the glaziers down the street working on pottery and glass. She looked up towards the apartment seeing the smoke and a man leaning on the balcony railing above with a cigarette sandwiched between his fingers.
She quickly paid for her purchases, and entered the building. The lobby was dirty, a rusting bicycle leaned against a wall opposite a row of broken post boxes. She stepped into the cage elevator pulling each door shut. When she stepped out, she didn't need to get her keys ready as the door opened before her. The man with the cigarette jerked his head back telling her to come in and she followed willingly. She looked around the small garotte, noting the smoke curling out of the fireplace and the papers scattered around the floor. She placed her shopping on the counter in the kitchen and came back into the room. The man had returned to the balcony for a second cigarette and muttered and pointed to a case in the center of the table. She opened the dusty case and inside revealed a enigma teleprinter. He began to mutter a bunch of codes and numbers, connectors and wheels. As she set them into order, he asked her about her day. She only remarked on the heat and the price of vegetables. She uttered "prêt!"
He slowly and clearly spoke, his voice trailing quietly through the air. The market below still provided an ambient background noise as he spoke. He reentered the room and walked past her, through the arch and into the bedroom. He continued to dictate clearly as he dressed into a pair of slacks and a button shirt. He pulled a drawer in the wardrobe and a flurry of multicolored ties flew out onto the bed. He turned to pick one out and began to tie it. He picked a light colored jacket and returned to the room where she remained at the device. He remarked that he finished and she entered the final codes. Looking at the thin ribbon of type that stuck out of the teleprinter, she ripped the ribbon off and rolled it into a film canister. "Il sera pris en charge, ce soir au consulat." He patted her on the shoulder and from the wall safe, this time he pulled out a second envelope. This time, padded thicker than the first. She tore the flap open revealing about 10,000 francs.
Marie picked up her groceries and tossed the film into the shopping bag with eggs and butter pats. She nodded to him expecting some sort of gesture of approval, but he merely picked up another cigarette from the box on the mantle and lit it. Back on the street, she replaced her hat and sunglasses on her head and continued down the narrow corridor with mopeds and market men shouting at passerbys. She reached the entrance of her own building and entering the front doors, she checked her mail and as she walked up, her land lady popped her head out of her door. "Louer! Vous me devez louer!" She stopped for a moment, pulled the envelope out of her purse and placed 150 francs on the bony hand. "Non non non, vous me devez trois mois." She forked over another hundred franc bill. Seemingly satisfied, the landlady retreated her head back into the door and it shut with a click.
Her apartment was decorated comfortably, a small sitting area with a cabinet and black and white television set sat on top. Low slung armchairs with saggy seats faced the little machine. A small scrubbed painted table sat near the windows overlooking a courtyard. The kitchenette was small with a tiny antique paraffin stove to one side and an ancient looking ice box underneath the window. She placed the vegetables on hooks and hangers and placed the meat and eggs into the box. Glancing into the courtyard, she looked down at the the palm fronds and the broken fountain below. She watched as a bicycle messenger screeched to a halt at the entrance and dismounted and entered her building. She continued putting groceries away and a moment later, a soft rapping came at the door. She opened the door poking her face into the crack. Before her, a smartly dressed, but obviously sweaty messenger stood before her. His brown uniform and askew tie hinted that he didn't care much for his job, but did it for the pay. She placed a 50 centime piece in his hand and he handed her the envelope. She opened it as she closed the door behind her, pulling out the papers.
The message was clear, it was printed on official consulate papers. France was giving up Algeria. Her position at the consulate would remain in place if she moved back to France. She placed the letter on the stove and continued to pull out groceries, lost in a haze. As she pulled out a small marrow, the film canister dropped out. She remembered her transaction with the man with the cigarette. It was a code to resistance members in the country to establish a coup to keep France as the parent country. The pieds-noirs would start a revolution to quell the liberation front. Torn between countries, Marie stared at the sinister little canister. Picking up the letter, it also mentioned a comfortable position and promotion in Nice. She looked at the canister, thinking of her country, growing up in Algiers during the war, living in a villa with her mother and father before they had passed away. She thought of the country the was a part of and loved. Her mind then turned to France. Back to Algeria, then back to France again. Frustrated, she set the two things down on the counter, and flopped onto her bed. She could not betray France, not like her older brother who was 10 years her senior. Hugo had joined the Vichy french and was later shot for being a traitor. She remembered him being dragged out of the house in 1946 when she was only 11, her mother and father on their knees begging for mercy from the French officer. She rose from the bed, looking at the walls down in the courtyard. She saw the bullet holes against the wall of the garage next door where her brother was shot. His last words were "Vive Pétain!" before he slumped over onto the ground. Tears began to form in her eyes, thinking of foolishly going against her country as Hugo had.
She set the canister onto the stove and lit it. As it burned, she watched it intently, imagining the difficulty getting forces together to fight. Algeria was no longer her country. She had to leave it, the people she loved and start new. When it finished burning, she tossed the melted lump into the rubbish heap in the courtyard below watching it fall satisfyingly fall into the garbage. She looked around her, grabbing photographs and packing them into a suitcase with several clothes. Everything else, she didn't need. In another suitcase, she packed her parent's wedding blanket and several other articles. She tossed a jewelry box into it, opening its carved wooden lid and removing 3000 francs from inside. She looked around her one last time before locking the door and leaving the key with the land lady.

The man with the cigarette waited outside the consulate, looking for Marie. He began to sweat nervously as she didn't begin to show. He saw the gendarme at the gate shut and lock the front door. Then, he locked the yard gate. The gendarme in his slender blue uniform shooed him away. Marie saw all this happen as she passed in a taxi bound for the Algiers dockyards. She had a ticket ready and had already called to the foreign office accepting the position immediately. Her ticket was for the SS Flandre which was in port, ready to depart for Nice by seven that evening. As she boarded after passing through customs, she looked back at the towers and minarets along the skyline. She muttered "Vive France."

"Stupid Orchestra"

Blödes Orchester from white tube on Vimeo.