Just another day.
Hours spent meaninglssly.
Doing tasks that dont need doing.
Change the font on a report.
Assemble a nice leather chair for the general.
Throw away the used office chairs, they're no good anymore.
Put the documents on the IPAD for higher.
Hows that for a commercial idea for apple:
Look, our products being used by the general!
FIGHT THE WAR ON TERROR WITH YOUR NEW IPAD!
Just like real armies do!
We have a hundred thousand soldiers here.
What do they do? Hide in their rooms, play x-box, wait for their tour to be over.
What do the citizens of our homeland do? they dont even know theres a war going on here.
We have fucking TGIFridays here, and we have fucking 107 mm rocket attacks.
Does that sound crazy to you?
What the fuck.
Look at me, I'm a hero. Flip my switch and I'll do the little hero dance for you.
March up and down, wave the flag. Lets all get teary eyed.
Who cares? Who cares?
It's just another tv show, right, just another ho-hum thing happening on the other side of the world.
Won't affect anyone _we_ know. And besides, the war is wrong, right? We don't have to
support soldiers who were in an unpopular war. We support soldiers who fight wars to
smash armies, not the ones who build countries. Building countries is boring. Blow something up!
Look how bad-ass our team is, we blow shit up!
Let me tell you a few things.
The people we fight?
They throw little kids in fires.
Then they bring them to the FOB and ask for medical help.
So they can time our choppers, and get real close and see how we do things.
They throw LITTLE KIDS IN FUCKING FIRES.
They bomb weddings.
Remember when you got married? Kisses? Cake? 20 dead? 60 wounded?
Fuck it, you wouldn't understand.
There's no news out of Afghanistan.
Think about it: we have over ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND SOLDIERS HERE.
How many times a day do you see what the streets look like here?
What the people wear? What they eat? What we do and where we go and what we wear?
What the houses look like? What the people look like? What happens here.
Let me tell you, as a soldier who wanted to show his wife what he had seen:
Even I COULD NOT FIND ANYTHING.
There is more reporting coming out about fucking polar bears than there is about AFghanistan.
What do the windows look like here? What about the doors? Whats a collot? Whats a quala? Whats
a Wadi? Whats a Dashta? Whats a DSH-K? Whats a camel spider? What does the color black mean
to a muslim? What about red? Green? White? What color did I not ask about?
That's cool. Lets bring all the soldiers home. We'll just declare victory and leave. Doesnt matter.
Doesnt mean anything at all.
No one here matters.
No one here means anything.
Anything at all.
What we do cant be Just, it cant be Good, it cant be Noble, because its not on the news.
We cant be doing the right thing, right? Cause its not on the news?
The news lies to you. The government lies to you. If we leave here, in five years we'll be in war somewhere else.
Because the enemy isnt the taliban. They're dead. Its not the insurgents, because they're amateurs.
Its other countries. Other countries that dump money and arms into this war, and not on our side.
Afghanistan is a chess board, and there are many people playing, and the locals here are just pawns.
Bah.
Another day. Tired.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Thanks but No Thanks America, You'll Have to Get Your Altruism Porn Somewhere Else
written by my friend Sonya:
Recently casting calls from TLC went out at Army posts that have large numbers of deployed soldiers looking for spouses who want to have surprise reunions with their soldiers taped and shown on a new reality show: Homecoming, hosted by Billy Ray Cyrus. Not surprisingly, the brain trust behind this show is the same that created Army Wives on Lifetime, which is also a vicarious drama fest for those without enough drama in their own lives.
Stories talking about the show talk about the "raw emotion" of reuniting a spouse and children with a soldier who has been deployed and how moving it will be for the American public to see. Just like Extreme Makeover Home Edition and other shows of that ilk this show promises lots of happy tears and a tidal wave of emotion for the viewers at home as they rejoice in an American family made whole once again. American altruism porn at its finest. Feeling someone else's pain and subsequent joy in satisfying one hour bites from the safety of your cozy living room on your big screen tv once a week. Getting to feel like a better person and reveling in the fact that your small but comfortable life does not require from you any deep or "raw" emotion.
Recently casting calls from TLC went out at Army posts that have large numbers of deployed soldiers looking for spouses who want to have surprise reunions with their soldiers taped and shown on a new reality show: Homecoming, hosted by Billy Ray Cyrus. Not surprisingly, the brain trust behind this show is the same that created Army Wives on Lifetime, which is also a vicarious drama fest for those without enough drama in their own lives.
Stories talking about the show talk about the "raw emotion" of reuniting a spouse and children with a soldier who has been deployed and how moving it will be for the American public to see. Just like Extreme Makeover Home Edition and other shows of that ilk this show promises lots of happy tears and a tidal wave of emotion for the viewers at home as they rejoice in an American family made whole once again. American altruism porn at its finest. Feeling someone else's pain and subsequent joy in satisfying one hour bites from the safety of your cozy living room on your big screen tv once a week. Getting to feel like a better person and reveling in the fact that your small but comfortable life does not require from you any deep or "raw" emotion.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Things I've noticed
A few Random things I've noticed.
Little things infuriate. You put so much hope, so many dreams, so much expectation out there, any small difficulty fills you with rage. Not getting mail, not being able to use the phone, a loved ones getting off the internet right before you get on. All indescribably frustrating.
And everything is much much harder. It took three weeks to upload 40 pictures to shutterfly so I could get prints made. Three weeks, just to upload. You have internet, but it's like a joke: you have to give up literally half of your waking non-sleep hours to do the simplest thing.
It's like being in a wheelchair, and having to ask other people to do everything for you. Want some dental flossers? Ask someone. Want a webcam? Don't be a grownup and go to best buy. Just hope you get one. Need your paperwork for promotion? Ask your wife for it and wait. And hope. And wait. And wait. Anything you want or need or require: just beg for it and hope someone gives it to you. It's like being a cripple.
I did a stupid quiz about what I notice first about a woman. Then I thought about it. Turns out what I notice first, what makes an indelible impression that never goes away, is her hair. Even if she changes it later, that first impression is forever. Then I notice her eyes. Nothing deep here, but things I never knew about myself that I came to realize.
I saw someone with a cat. And it came to me that I hate animals, because I form very intense bonds with very few things. So I am still bitter about every animal that died or left. Tommy, and Buttons, and Geraldine, Zenobiah, Fabious Bile. Fuzzy Head, Brooklyn. They all still hurt. Then I realized I do this with people. I form very few friendships. Every true friendship that I form remains true, years after I have not seen someone. The few broken friendships still hurt, like sharp glass swallowed, cutting inside. And the ones who left, who cut me off and never told me why, they hurt like a broken tooth your tongue cannot leave alone.
And I hate the night shift. I live on momentum, and adrenaline and work and belief. And grinding just kills
me.
And I think too much.
And it's all just a series of games, things we do to while away eternity.
Little things infuriate. You put so much hope, so many dreams, so much expectation out there, any small difficulty fills you with rage. Not getting mail, not being able to use the phone, a loved ones getting off the internet right before you get on. All indescribably frustrating.
And everything is much much harder. It took three weeks to upload 40 pictures to shutterfly so I could get prints made. Three weeks, just to upload. You have internet, but it's like a joke: you have to give up literally half of your waking non-sleep hours to do the simplest thing.
It's like being in a wheelchair, and having to ask other people to do everything for you. Want some dental flossers? Ask someone. Want a webcam? Don't be a grownup and go to best buy. Just hope you get one. Need your paperwork for promotion? Ask your wife for it and wait. And hope. And wait. And wait. Anything you want or need or require: just beg for it and hope someone gives it to you. It's like being a cripple.
I did a stupid quiz about what I notice first about a woman. Then I thought about it. Turns out what I notice first, what makes an indelible impression that never goes away, is her hair. Even if she changes it later, that first impression is forever. Then I notice her eyes. Nothing deep here, but things I never knew about myself that I came to realize.
I saw someone with a cat. And it came to me that I hate animals, because I form very intense bonds with very few things. So I am still bitter about every animal that died or left. Tommy, and Buttons, and Geraldine, Zenobiah, Fabious Bile. Fuzzy Head, Brooklyn. They all still hurt. Then I realized I do this with people. I form very few friendships. Every true friendship that I form remains true, years after I have not seen someone. The few broken friendships still hurt, like sharp glass swallowed, cutting inside. And the ones who left, who cut me off and never told me why, they hurt like a broken tooth your tongue cannot leave alone.
And I hate the night shift. I live on momentum, and adrenaline and work and belief. And grinding just kills
me.
And I think too much.
And it's all just a series of games, things we do to while away eternity.
The hammer
It's like a hammer.
Like being under a giant hammer.
The eye of god.
Judging you, weighing you.
Every day,
living with yourself.
Feeling the burdens of the lies you have told.
Carrying the lies you have told yourself.
The things you tell yourself to make it easier.
To make it easier to be you.
At some point, you realize, its just a game.
And a boring, tedious game.
The purest metal comes from the hottest forge.
And when you have been under the hammer a few times
You find yourself beaten down,
all the lies, the things we tell ourselves to make us
feel ok to be us, beaten away
And all thats left is who we really are.
Right down to the core. Everything else beaten away
And just the reality left behind.
And maybe, maybe, if you don't like what you see,
there's still time to change it.
Like being under a giant hammer.
The eye of god.
Judging you, weighing you.
Every day,
living with yourself.
Feeling the burdens of the lies you have told.
Carrying the lies you have told yourself.
The things you tell yourself to make it easier.
To make it easier to be you.
At some point, you realize, its just a game.
And a boring, tedious game.
The purest metal comes from the hottest forge.
And when you have been under the hammer a few times
You find yourself beaten down,
all the lies, the things we tell ourselves to make us
feel ok to be us, beaten away
And all thats left is who we really are.
Right down to the core. Everything else beaten away
And just the reality left behind.
And maybe, maybe, if you don't like what you see,
there's still time to change it.
Monday, January 3, 2011
January 3rd, 2011
how do you die in afghanistan?
first you think to yourself:
"I only have a couple of months to go,
then I can go home. I just have to survive."
Then, when you go out,
you look past the IED, because you
dont want to see it, because you dont want
it to be real
you just want it to be a quiet easy day that
goes by quickly
so when you see it,
you look past it
your eyes aren't drawn to it, they look
away, because its not what you want to see.
because you see what you want to see, not
what is real.
Then you die.
Because what is real is what is real
whether you want it to be true or not.
in the land of milk and IEDs.
every day is your last day. tomorrow you
will wake up in the hospital, surrounded
by nurses. this is your last mission. your
last patrol. you only have to pay attention
for a couple more hours, because this is the
one, not a hundred more, just this one
this is the only one that matters, because this
is the patrol with the IED this is the patrol
with the ambush, this is the patrol where they get
you.
that's how you live in AFghanistan.
every patrol is your last. every patrol is the only
one that matters, because this patrol is the one.
there is no "leave" no "vacation" there is no going home at the end
of the tour. There is no home, no end. This is it.
This patrol.
This is all there is.
first you think to yourself:
"I only have a couple of months to go,
then I can go home. I just have to survive."
Then, when you go out,
you look past the IED, because you
dont want to see it, because you dont want
it to be real
you just want it to be a quiet easy day that
goes by quickly
so when you see it,
you look past it
your eyes aren't drawn to it, they look
away, because its not what you want to see.
because you see what you want to see, not
what is real.
Then you die.
Because what is real is what is real
whether you want it to be true or not.
in the land of milk and IEDs.
every day is your last day. tomorrow you
will wake up in the hospital, surrounded
by nurses. this is your last mission. your
last patrol. you only have to pay attention
for a couple more hours, because this is the
one, not a hundred more, just this one
this is the only one that matters, because this
is the patrol with the IED this is the patrol
with the ambush, this is the patrol where they get
you.
that's how you live in AFghanistan.
every patrol is your last. every patrol is the only
one that matters, because this patrol is the one.
there is no "leave" no "vacation" there is no going home at the end
of the tour. There is no home, no end. This is it.
This patrol.
This is all there is.
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