Word of today folks is “hack”

A man born in Kenosha, Oshkosh, ‘White Water, Blue Earth or Tuscaloosa is entitled to the same privileges as a..,man born in Moscow, Paris, Vienna or Budapest. But the American white man (not to speak of the Indian, the Negro, the Mexican) hasn’t a ghost of a chance. If he has any talent he’s doomed to have it crushed one way or another. The American way is to seduce a man by bribery and make a prostitute of him. Or else to ignore him, starve him into submission and make a hack of him. It isn’t the oceans which cut us off from the world-it’s the American way of looking at things. Nothing comes to fruition here except utilitarian projects. You can ride for thousands of miles and be utterly unaware of the existence of the world of art. You will learn all about beer, condensed milk, rubber goods, canned food, inflated mattresses, etc., but you will never see or hear anything concerning the masterpieces of art. To me it seems nothing less than miraculous that the young men of America ever hear of such names as Picasso, Celine, Giono and such like. He has to fight like the devil to see their work, and how can he, when he comes face to face with the work of the European masters, how can he know or understand what produced it? What relation has it to him? If he is a sensitive being, by the time he comes in contact w1th the mature work of the Europeans, he is already half-crazed. Most of the young men of talent whom I have met in this try give one the impression of being somewhat demented. Why shouldn’t they? They are living amidst spiritual gorillas, living with food and drink maniacs, success-mongers, gadget innovators, publicity hounds. God, if I were a young man today, if I were faced with a world such as we have created, I would blow my brains out. Or perhaps, like Socrates, I would walk ,into the market place and spill my seed on the ground. I would certainly never think to write a book or paint a picture or compose a piece of music …

F * this inspired me, excerpt from the book – The Air – Conditioned Nightmare by Henry Motha F*in’ Miller !

Zoom in on the word “hack” here the meaning is a writer who does dull or unoriginal work. When I wrote the song Robotix ( emotional machines ) that was my sentiment mostly. That we are not robots, and rail against it. SALUTE


~ by BE LIKE WATER on April 5, 2014.

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