Y'all need to learn what this word means.

"Civilization." You think you know what it means. Civilization. Your eyes skate right through it. No problem. Civilization. You got this. It means "everything."

Well, maybe not everything. Just people. Humans. Civilization means humans.

Maybe just "humanity." You know, everybody, ever.

Wrong, sucka. Wrong.

Fact is, civilization is a very specific term. It is in no way interchangable with humans or humanity. You can't use civilization to mean history, sociology, ethics, manners, aesthetics, or whatever shit I'm talking about at the moment. It is mostly interchangeable with the word agriculture, but let's not get ahead of me.

Are you ready to get responsible with your use of the word civilization? I hope so, because we can't really talk about jack squat without first coming to some general agreement on at least a loose definition of the word. And that is exactly how I will define it—loosely. There's no sense in getting lost in the details. You just need to understand a little about what the word means in the context of shit that I say. Because I like to talk about civilization.

The Beginning of Civilization

Civilization began with agriculture. Uh-oh. Agriculture. Another word you think you understand. Fine. I'll back it up to agriculture.

The Beginning of Agriculture

Agriculture is the intentional human cultivation of land. Say you're running around in tribes of people, hunting and gathering, getting by, living and getting sick and using plants as medicine and fucking and raising families and playing games and talking your language and painting your pictures and honking on your didgeridoo. Life is fucked up, but it's also beautiful, and that's life.

But then one day, you sit around in the same place for a little longer, because, check this out, I can grow some rice from this other rice if I just stop moving all over Bumfuck, Egypt for long enough to let it happen. Hell, I can grow a whole metric shitte tonne of rice if I clear out a bigger garden plot. And hell, why don't we just stop moving altogether, as long as I can keep these fucking tigers from eating my sitting-duck family. Poky sticks or something. Whatever, we got this. By the year 6,000 BCE (give or take a few millennia), gardening is big business. The larger the garden plot is, the more efficient the harvest is. You now can produce huge surpluses.

And that was the beginning of agriculture. Agriculture allowed thousands upon thousands of people to gather in one place and mooch off the producers in exchange for letting the producers use their labor. And everyone could just stay there. Like, forever.

The Beginning of Civilization, er, Again

Obviously, when you're all stuck together in one place, you have all kinds of free time due to the advent of efficient food production. You're not hunting and gathering anymore. You are producing food via the miracle of agriculture. This is magical. This is a brand-new thing, when you consider humanity is somewhere between 100,000 years and a few million years old, depending on where you wanna draw the taxonomy lines. I really don't care where you draw the line, or whether you think a Neanderthal is a person, or whatever. Doesn't matter. No matter how you slice it, agriculture is brand-spanking-fucking new in the context of humanity as a whole.

So you have all this free time all of a sudden. Well, let's figure some shit out to fill it up with! Standardized written symbols, portable across hundreds of miles. The manipulation of those words. Money. Vast social heirarchies. Stone monuments to the boredom of fast-talkers and their offspring. Beautiful glass cathedrals carving the sky into awesome geometries. Motorized transportation. Telecommunications. Twitter. The Super Bowl. Cheese in a spray can. Complex industries requiring the lockstep cooperation of millions of communities all contributing their tiny, specialized widget to the iPhone. Gotye's "Someone That I Used to Know" music video.

That's civilization. You see? It's new. And it's a passing fad. Someone should create a graphic just to demonstrate what proportion of the history of humanity civilization takes up, and post it in the comments. Just to make it crystal clear for everyone.

It Matters.

The distinction between civilization and humanity isn't just some frivolous technicality. It's important. It's as important as knowing the United States wasn't always here, or that the semen stain on Monica's dress wasn't always there. It has a story, with a beginning, middle, and end. Civilization has an origin in Time, roughly pinpointable through archaeology, geology, and other historical sciences.

This Is the End, My Friend. The Sad, Sad End (Not Really.)

I'm just reporting the facts, not saying whether civilization is a good or a bad thing. I just want you to understand what I mean when I say things like "Civilization is doomed." I'm not being negative. I'm being positive. I have such great faith in humanity that I can look at civilization's dependence on oil and, without batting an eyelash, say, "That thar's obviously a house of cards, pardner."

That's another thing I say. "That thar's a house of cards, pardner." Another: "When the oil runs out, it's Mad Max time." And: "It's gonna be fine, dudes and dudettes. This shit takes hundreds of years to go down."

Civilization. I'll see you on the other side.

-----

Author's note: this article was "dashed off." (That's writerspeak for "I have an alibi for my sucky writing.") I dashed it off after a brilliant, educated, passionate, moral, ethical, funny, charitable friend of mine digitally slapped me for saying civilization is doomed. She was one of many such people who seem to think I am being negative when I talk smack about civilization. I figured if she's misinterpreting me, everyone must be misinterpreting me. Thus the necessity for this article. I hope you found it tolerable. If you loved it, hated it, or are passionately apathetic about it, tweet at me. - Will Conley

My response to the comment "I like pizza."

Your perspective is correct. In lieu of debating you and presenting you with some facts I made up, I will engage with you in a two-man circle jerk of buddy-buddy bullshit. Pizza is good. I like pizza. You like pizza. Let's have bro sex. But I'm not gay. Also, vote. For Romney, preferably. Actually, wait a minute. You went to Irondale High School? Your lifestyle choices are against my sacred text, which is the NASCAR standings.

The Space Shuttle: Our Tower of Babel

I find myself genuinely mournful of the space shuttle program. I was born in 1980; the program launched in 1981. It was always there for me.

Space travel will continue, but the space shuttle program was more than that. It was a symbol of something strident and hopeful.

The space shuttle program, in my mind's eye, was the white spaceplane, the NASA logo, the American flag emblazoned on spacesuits filled with heroes. My heroes.

The space shuttle program was the televised launches. The countdown, the ignition, the launch, the blinding blaze of rockets, the disappearing of a handful of astronauts into the heavens.

The space shuttle program was our Tower of Babel. We built it for science, yes, but really we built it to reach God.

I was in first grade when the space shuttle Challenger exploded before it could even reach low orbit. It blew up right there before the eyes of hundreds of thousands of people. A teacher had been on-board. A television was wheeled into the classroom so we could watch the coverage. I remember my teacher, Mrs. Lindsay, crying a little and holding a tissue to her face.

Now, as I read the New York Times coverage of the last launch taking place this very moment, I am surprised to find myself crying a little. I will never go up in a space shuttle. I never knew it mattered to me until now.

Heart Spasms

Just had a physical heart spasm. At least I think it was. Don't nobody panic, it's over. Yes, I should quit smoking. No, I don't have health insurance, and no this is not a "wake-up call" for me.

OK, yes it is a wake-up call. And maybe I will quit those goddamn cigarettes. But I don't think those things are all that are bothering my heart.

Love.

Money.

People and their opinions.

My heroes dying and being replaced by humans.

The maddening questions: Am I wrong about this or that? Seriously, am I wrong, when I think and see and say and do things? Am I just making shit up?

Are all of the windows between me and the outside world mere paintings? Did I paint the scenes to trick my mind's eye? To fend off the darkness, the isolation of being trapped inside a human?

These questions bother me a lot. My breath grows shallow. There is a wailing in the distance. I drown it out with music. When I turn off the music, the wailing is closer. I turn the music back on.

Give us this day our daily chemicals, so that we might live in peace with the shadows.
I think they call it creeping panic.

There is no redeeming positive message in this post. It's just me and my abuse of a keyboard.
Changes need to be made.

Love in the 21st Century (A Photo Thing)

Introducing Jack Move Magazine

Just a few moments ago, the writer, editor, publisher, and advertising mind Emma Alvarez Gibson published the first issue of Jack Move Magazine, an old-school zine for the 21st century. I contributed a piece to Jack Move; I will leave it to you to figure out which piece is mine (hint: my byline is on it.) I am refraining from giving you the direct link to my offering, because I want you to rummage through the other quality writing on your way to reading my article.

What is Jack Move Magazine all about? From the masthead:

Like an old-school zine.

(But smarter. And sexier.)

Real talk for the thinking person. Real perspectives from real people. And a really excellent sampling of what’s current. We aim to spark in our readers the sort of sky-rips-open, wonder-filled possibility that those old zines sparked in us. Think of us as the zine-analog you’ve been secretly yearning for.

Culture and vision, vision and culture: It’s the stuff that keeps us from slinking back into the primordial soup. We think that’s worth our attention. We hope we’re worth yours.

Mrs. Gibson has a long history of writing fiction, poetry, expository writing, branding work, consulting, and of course ad copy in the course of her life. As an entrepreneur and ring leader, she has enough energy to statically charge even the dampest of spirits. On a personal note, I am grateful to her for encouraging me in many aspects of my life, not least of which is the artistic part of my life. I honestly don't know where I would be without Emma--even though we only met one time, at a Starbucks in Pasadena, while I was still living in California.

The contributors to Jack Move Magazine offer a wide range of styles, forms, and subjects. I hope you get a kick out of it. Click here to visit Jack Move Magazine and get a piece of raw energy.

A Global Anatomy of Power in the 21st Century

A brief sketch of a hypothetical non-fiction magnum opus: a book about how power works in the 21st century.

Global Power

A survey of the different types of power bases, and how they interact. Governments, extra-governmental corporations, profit-motivated groups, ideologically motivated groups, and unconscious psychosocial movements. Because power does not always rest in human hands, natural phenomena would have to be treated as power bases as well; they would be integrated into the theoretical interactions of human power bases.

National Power

A survey of many countries and a more focused analysis of how power works on the national level. Inclusion of a charting system developed to measure the distribution of power in each country; such a chart would place national, regional, local, private, and hidden power in relation to one another by contact points and weight.

Regional and Local Power

Further magnifications.

Clubs, Families, and Individuals

How power works in small groups, and how individuals change this.

True Power vs. Power in Name Only

A definition of actual power bases. For example, if two countries are better understood as one in terms of power, I would explain why. If one country can actually be broken into multiple true countries, either geographically or psychographically, I would address this as well.

Patriotism

A survey of common and interesting types of patriotism, and an assessment of the influence of patriotism in each geographical region.

Culture

A discussion on how different cultures allow power to distribute itself and to what degree it exercises itself. I would trace the cultural customs and values back as far as relevance allows, in search of an explanation for why power becomes what it becomes.

Gangs, Cartels, Shadow Governments

A survey and portrait of how semi-hidden power bases influence world affairs and the lives of everyday people, as well as their real power relative to official power.

Political Systems

A discussion of various political systems (democracy, communism, monarchy, etc.) and why they don't matter very much.

Language and Art

A discussion of how language and art affect power.

Technology

A discussion of how technology changes the nature of power.

Conclusion: How To Change Power

How to change, redistribute, reduce, or eradicate power. A discussion on fleeting change vs. real change. The key message here will be that real change takes many generations, and that even the most spectacular of world events do not actually change things as much as people think they do. Change must be initiated at the cultural level.

A few thoughts on menstruation, boys behaving badly, ritual, and the Gulf oil spill.

You're weak, ladies and gentleman. Weak, whiny, woman-girls and man-boys. And it's because we as a culture have no meaningful rituals to separate childhood from adulthood. If we had stronger, more jarring initiation rites to mark the time between childhood and adulthood, we would all be less pathetic and whiny and heartless as adults.

And if we replaced our self-indulgence with a healthy fear of Mother Earth, the Gulf might not be your "oops" garbage dump.

The world needs to wake and make a big deal of a girl's first menstruation. Her body is becoming a vessel capable of sustaining the species, and we should use it as a time to help the girl become aware that she must eventually let go of the trappings of childhood and accept her place in the world as a mature and responsible and strong human being.

We have turned menstruation into an object of shame and embarrassment. At best, it's aslightly droll and unfortunate event. We talk in code about it and try not to be conscious of it. Silly excuses and lies are made up about why a girl or woman is absent from school or work.

The Aboriginal Australians have rites in which a woman's first menstruation is marked by sitting in a tent for days and days, forcing the girl to come to grips with the fact that she must now let go of childhood and all the weak, needy things associated with it. If she fails to grow the up, the Aborigines can't use her and she gets kicked out of the tribe. In the unforgiving landscape of Australia, ostricization means death. She who fails to mature mentally is a danger to the survival of the community.

Same goes for the men. We need to wake up and make a big deal of a boy who starts to misbehave as a teenager, and throw him head-first into what it means to be a man. We need a point at which a man learns that this rock is a real bitch to live on and he had better grow a pair now.

Men don't have a natural division point between childhood and adulthood as a female does, so ancient cultures have made up rituals to make it obvious that the boy has to grow the hell up or the tribe will die.

The Aborigines have an elaborate, terrifying ritual to snap boys into behaving well. When a boy starts acting all tough and egotistical as testosterone is wont to make a male do, the grown men dress up like spirits, come in making a commotion, "kidnap" the boy from the mother (who plays along), circumcise him, subincise him (splitting), and thus induct him into the mens club. They scare the living fuck out of him in one painful fell swoop and make it abundantly clear that he is no longer a momma's boy, that the tribe depends on him, and he had better shape the fuck up or he's a dead man.

Sure, we have weak certain initiation rites in some cultures. Jewish kids have bah mitzvahs and bar mitzvahs. Catholic children get a smile and a slap on the cheek from the nice priest. Latinas have quinceañeras on their 15th birthday to help them act more like spoiled princesses. Men have rites involving self-indulgence – such as going to the nudie bar for the first time, smoking his first cigarette, drinking his “first” beer, and other “special” “firsts”.

In schools and frats we have ridiculous "initiations" administered by our equally immature peers. Some might say the grade school system itself – and college – are good common ways in our culture to mark the occasions of growing up, but those people are wrong. Like a frog in a pot of lukewarm water heated up slowly, such a gradual, plodding process makes no impact. The person never leaves the comfortable confines of childhood. He never feels a change. And we all eventually boil.

Well isn't all that special. None of our common rituals jar us awake. They are all "just something we go through", and don't really make a lasting change on most humans.

This post was inspired by The Power of Myth, an edited transcript of the Joseph Campbell/Bill Moyers interviews, but it is also inspired by other anthropological literature I've read. I've got a little bit of knowledge, and I'm feeling dangerous, so there you have it. My opinion about why we are all so weak and pathetic and whiny. I am sick and tired of hearing about "emotional safety", and I grow weary of us who lack the fortitude to maintain composure no matter what the circumstances.

This is a tough world to live in, and if you think it's supposed to be easy, then I rest my case: We need ritual. We need myth. To teach us what it means to grow up.

In writing this, I have left myself open to ridicule, corrections, accusations, and other concerns ranging from the legitimate and the banal. So go ahead. Give me your best shot. But before you do, think about what I have said here. Try to make sense of it. Give the information/opinion/perspective a chance. And dream with me of a better future.

Now available for download: "The Search for Meaning at the Brink of the Unknown" Ep. 2 with @MichaelOwenHill

The next installment in my radio series that asks the question, "What the hell is going on?" With honored guest Michael Owen Hill of St. Paul, Minnesota. I enjoyed our freewheeling conversation.

The thing I like the most about doing this series is establishing multiple beginnings. As the subject matter tends to dart from topic to topic, the podcast is intended to give a glimpse, a menu, a selection of things about the guest.

We aim to expand our mind. Enjoy the podcast and share it freely. Subscribe to this blog to make sure you don't miss any episodes of The Search for Meaning at the Brink of the unknown.

 
Download now or listen on posterous

Searching_for_Meaning_at_the_Brink_of_the_Unknown_-_Episode_2_-_2010-05-15_-_Will_Conley_with_Michael_Owen_Hill.mp3 (11732 KB)

Posted via web from Will Conley's Random Things

Apparently Someone Thinks This Blog Has Hit The Big Time (HA!)

Cave troll contemplates God, financial accounting
Originally uploaded by kevindooley

Trolls happen. It's a fact of social media.

What is a troll? A troll is a person who harasses people online. They attempt to evoke an emotional response. They target a person and they generally do not stop until they have had a few laughs at someone else's expense. Without getting into any gory details, I can assure you that trolling has sometimes ended very badly in real life - either for the target or for the troll himself/herself.

Obviously that's boring.

This blog has officially been hit by its first troll. You don't need to read the comment that was posted twice. I can tell you it was somewhat creative but definitely mean-spirited. It was intended to discourage me and others from participating in Westward Invasion 2009. The troll knows that some people are easily frightened. It is an interesting psychological phenomenon, I will say that much.

But just because it's interesting or entertaining doesn't make it worthwhile. As I stated in my response to the comments (now deleted) I have no problem with censorship. None whatsoever. On the Internet it's called comment moderation. That's where I get to delete any comment I want.

Well, since I don't feel like dealing with it, I'm instituting automatic comment moderation on this blog. I will approve any and all comments that agree with me, disagree with me, make fun of someone or something, opine in a loud manner, speak in a soft tone, lampoon me, encourage people, offer constructive criticism, or pretty much anything else. I will even approve a comment if it is completely off-topic.

I will not approve spam or trolling.

We clear? All good? Let the good times troll. I mean roll.

Today is International Thank a Woman Day!

*****

UPDATE: Ha ha ha! I lost readership due to this post. Ha ha ha! Somebody give me a Purple Heart.

UPDATE: This post was partially responsible for a Twitter conversation that churned on for two hours and left some of us more confused than ever.

Confusion: That fragile state of mind in which evolution and devolution are equally likely.
*****

Yeah, I'm declaring a Day. Granted it's not as if we don't have enough Days. There's International Day of Literacy, National Talk Like a Pirate Day, Doris Day Day, Zip-a-dee Doo-da Day, and Da-Dum Diddle-Diddle-Diddle Doo-Da Day.

We don't need another Day. But we do need to get slapped back to reality once in awhile, and if that means creating another Day, then here it is.

Today, January 17th, 2009 and every year hereafter, is International Thank a Woman Day!
Bring on the marching band.

Why and how come am I doing this? Am I some kinda softy? Some liberal? Perhaps there is a special someone, somewhere, maybe someone I am stalking, who I need to suck up to, seem more sweet and well-meaning, maybe? Yeah, that must be the case.

And really, what's the point? I mean, come on, "thank a woman"? Condescend much?

Yeah, well, here's the thing. Earlier today I assumed a Twitter profile to be a man, referring to its owner as "he". Turned out he was a she, so I excused myself for the assumption. She replied, saying,

It's ok! A lot of people think that over there. Sometimes there is an advantage (it's sad kinda.)

One small piece of evidence that it's still a man's world, even if your whole world fits inside Firefox 3. Yes, I know Carol Bartz is the new CEO of Yahoo. Obviously there are exceptions.

All I'm saying is Hi. You're either a man or a woman. You sometimes ignore women/fellow women. You sometimes forget women can move mountains with the best of them. So as a way of actively reminding yourself to do your part to level the playing field, just thank a woman. For anything, I don't care. Go out of your way to say thanks for something she did or does.

The whole point is to remind you not to ignore half the population. Just stick it on your calendar for next year. Simple as that. No big deal.

So for all you who think I'm some kind of creepy out-of-touch throwback to the heyday of the feminist movement, allow me to overcompensate:

• Next post we will be talking about monster trucks and Rambo and the sports.
• Maybe even have a "Thank a Man Day", just to make things even, because:
• Men are so patient with all these skirts and their demands and their issues.

I trust I have correctly reclaimed my status as a "regular guy".

Please don't hurt me in the comments.