iwontheidgafwar

[iwontheidgafwar]

Epidemiology, Coca-Cola, and a Monolith of Black Bricks

The horror of Coca-Cola adverts are their simplicity. Usually, they fly under two words and shapes: but always, always two colors. Coca-Cola does not need a billboard in Times Square. Their advertisements are in your fridge, on the rack behind the cash register, and in your heart. This is because, quite literally, Coca-Cola adverts intentionally pervade every aspect of your life. Whether it be in your favourite tv-shows, or the writing on the cups of the happy couples in the ad before the film starts at the theatre, Coca-Cola’s pervading simplicity has infected every part of your daily life.

The life of a disease mainly moves through three steps: exposure, symptoms, and infection. Exposure is phase one; in this stage, the disease is introduced to the host. It latches on to the host in some fashion, until the disease dies. Metaphorically speaking, this disease can take many shapes: bacteria, prions, and products. Products latch much like diseases. And much like the living organism, products prioritize survival.

Red and white may seem like an odd choice for a carbonated beverage, as those colours do not aid themselves to the feeling of refreshment. Rather, red and white leans more “medicinal” than anything else. One may look at the history of Coke to find that answer, but why does medicine use these two colours? Their power. The colour red is abrasive to the eyes.Complimented by the bright white, it’s memorable. The harmony in the two colours is what makes it pleasing to look at. While both are hard to look at on their own, they pair well together while still standing out. This is why these colours are used on flags, by medics, and by Coke; in pairing, they amplifyeach other’s qualities. The ads for Coke are subtle (few shapes, few words, two colours), but everywhere.

The seed that will blossom in the developing mind is planted early into our childhood. Quite literally, we are socialized as children to believe in the legitimacy of Coke. When we’re young, we don’t realize our favourite movie star is drinking Coke in the dinner scene. When we’re young, we don’t realize what the advertisements down the side of our plastic cupsreally mean. When we’re young, we don’t realize that most every vending machine and scoreboard are plastered with the same colours over and over. We don’t realize it until we are speaking with our family, and your father calls for you to bring him a Coke, as you pass him the soda he really wants. In this case, our labelling of any product as “Coke” is a recognition of the monolithic behaviour of the company.

This leads to the symptoms of the disease. As we grow into conscious beings, we are now able to articulate coherent thoughts through our speech. We use “Coke” in conversation as a general term, as it has been formed in our mind that “Coke” is a general part of life. In this ad, they recognize how little it takes to notice the Coke brand. The simple shape of the bottle is enough to elicit a response from the viewer. For they are not trying to get you to buy, but rather, remember Coke. To pass it on as an idea. The symptoms do not have to be strong for a disease to infect others.

When we infect others, it is never intentional. This is where the subtlety truly plays out. Monolithically, in the ad, “Coca-Cola” stands out. Not a slogan. Never a phrase. Just two words imprinted on us. The idea here being that infecting other people, children, and other societies with this disease is much easier due to the disgusting simplicity of it all. It’s Coke. Or Coca-Cola. It’s a brown drink in a can—or that signature, classy glass bottle. It sponsors your school. It travels along your culture into your hands. Then, into your mouth. Then, onto others. Through social structures, those that are repeatable, we continuously, imperialistically drive Coke further and further upwards. We have no power against it, it happens because that’s how infection works.​Infecting people with disease is not one lump sum of transmission; rather, infection occurs much like pollination. When we reproduce the idea of Coke, it is not noticeable. It takes time. Little defects, en masse, will affect massively. One bee does not pollenate every flower, its contribution more like a brick upon the tower. A million bees pollenate all the time, creating this castle of birth. This advertisement is just like that tower, except, this tower is a dead-end.

In the same way penicillin and LSD work, Coca-Cola is a disease that is extraordinary in keeping its hosts alive. Fungi are amazing at the final stage of the disease’s life: survival. Think of Coke ads you see, much like this one. Cans of Coke lie out on a dock. Friends laugh as they swim up to the dock, grab a drink, and jump back into the beautiful lake beneath their feet. In advertisements such as these, Coke doesn’t necessarily advertise a product, they advertise a lifestyle. In the ad seen in this paper, it is much the same, as the ad does not urge the viewer to buy Coke products, but rather slyly states “you will never forget I’m here.” Coke in this ad is doing much the same. 

Looking at Coke as a Fungi, it is clear to see how it bends the mind of its consumers. Much like the Sword of Damocles, over the consumer’s head the is an ever-present threat held by a single thread. That thread is the visibility of Coke’s advertising. If Coke ads were to disappear, choice as an ideal would be completely forgotten in our society. If Coke no longer advertised, it would be to say, “we are so here, we could never go away.” Coke coddles us in the idea that they need to run ads, but very easily, Coke ads could disappear completely, and nothing would change. This idea drives consumers to stay in this fantasy; fantasizing, we like to point out obvious product placements, or to obsess over the grotesque block on the scoreboard. In the same sense, Coke as a product remains in our head. Coke uses us to drive ourselves towards their products, much like Fungi ravage the brain into killing its own species off.

6/11/24

[iwontheidgafwar]

Fifteen Years From Now

Fifteen years from now, I wonder if we will look back and remember how cruel we became during this time. Fifteen days ago I had a conversation with a cousin of mine about the time we find ourselves in. He is a nut-job. Centrist rambler who would not shut up about dopamine cycles and how he had cut out sugar... all while finishing five pieces of nicotine gum. He has a funny man-way of being right. In pretending I'm dumb by intentionally misunderstanding me, he was better able to label me an idiot. Same thing my dad does. It is a fruitful weapon.

I think a lot of our cruelty comes from these dopamine cycles that are a byproduct of the capitalist hell we live in. He agreed with me on this. Maybe that says something about the point I made. Anyways, I made the point that we are essentially mind-fucked beyond belief, in the sense that we believe the state we live in is the only state there is to live in. Specifically, Americans believe this—that capitalism is the only true form of society.

In consumerist America, buying is equated to living. Experience is buying. You share beautiful experiences over the third shitty t-shirt you bought off of the backs of exploited children. Quickly, too. All in an instant. Earn, buy buy buy, grieve, earn... So that you can buy again. I buy these clothes, therefore I am. I buy this book to read, to have, therefore I am. I buy, therefore, I am. Our phones are just another gear in the production of a material self that will cease to exist, along with your favorite vinyl and the ironic sweater you "had to buy" at the thrift store.

Our phones are capital in a sense. My time is money, attention and content are products, and this exchange seems to contribute to our faulty sense of self in the same way products do. I receive this acclaim, therefore I am. I view this type of content, therefore I am. I jack off to this type of porn, therefore I am. This subsection of people hates me (and I hate them), therefore I am; but, I won't always be.

We will never except this though. Who would? So, in place of our fear of death, we turn to "living." Reactionary beliefs. Hatred. Obsession. Irony.

Irony is the cruelest thing of all. It is the monolithic testament to our minds melting away to consumerism. It says "I am so afraid of death, I would rather not live so I wouldn't miss it." Irony is fear. Irony is a bid for acclaim. Irony helps you spiral further into the nothing burger of material possession. And it is too fun. It is too easy. It makes you feel smart, does it not? To be in on the winning side of the joke, holding all the cards in a game of cards where the cards are nothing and nothing can be won and you aren't actually ever playing. You're being played.

It's not like I am not ironic all the time. I am. And I hate it. Throw my phone into the river. Throw everything that fuels this fear of life away and embrace living. I think we will look back in fifteen years and remember this period as everyone being cruel; because, in a sense, we are still primal beings compared to what we could be. Everyone talks about being addicted to dopamine, but no one talks enough about its implications in our social landscape. As primal, consumerist beings (not really our fault...) we eat up and shit out anything that stimulates us. Eat up infamy, shit out regret. Eat up righteousness, shit out regret. Everything is single-use nowadays, and so we treat each other in the same way. The immense cruelty we see as a byproduct will pass when we are no longer exploited. I'll check back in fifteen years.

30/10/24

[iwontheidgafwar]

Animal

I’m not dead—oh yes, I am alive

I am living just as God intended.

Like a dove, I am up in the air

and I am in a nosedive.

I eat my prey;

I scare others off.

I breathe, I lay;

I don’t pray, I am lost.

I believe in nothing

other than myself

in the sense that I am a thing

whose heart beats but doesn’t melt.

The light shines somewhere—

am I astray? Is this my cross to bear?

14/8/24

[iwontheidgafwar]

— Georgia O'Keeffe

[iwontheidgafwar]

I’m obsessed with this man

[iwontheidgafwar]

has anyone done this yet

[iwontheidgafwar]

Not Like Me

You can dance on your own,

so hawk-eyed yet oblivious,

so that your stray words let alone

will get to me regardless of your intent.

I sat down in the shower

letting a million thoughts hit my face

thinking about your love upon the flower

that is your acceptance of my disgrace.

I think

I don’t see you

I see something I can use

I see someone who can lead me to

a place I can abuse.

Your willingness is my sanctuary

like a temple for the mute

where I feel but do not speak.

What do you feel?

What do you seek?

The thought ricochets with a boom

and forces me to my knees.

I think

I need you to overcome me.

This fate of the night I’ve dreamt for all my life

where I take you by the hands

leading you astray, to strife

to a beach with black sands.

I am the waters that in I will drown,

so let me pull you, pull you down.

12/5/24

[iwontheidgafwar]

The female goat herders of Hadhramaut, Yemen

Goat herding is traditionally done by females in Eastern Yemen. The women cover all their skin from the heat and sun, protecting themselves from dehydration and skin damage, the socks and gloves keep their hands and feet soft despite the unforgiving desert sun. The hat (made from dried palm leaves) besides being a drip by itself serves an important role, it insulates air on top of their head thus keeping it cool, besides providing the obvious shade. The layered clothing also helps with the desert changing mood, where it can shift from hot days to cold nights.

[iwontheidgafwar]

Hey btw, here's a piece of life advice:

If you know what you'd have to do to solve a problem, but you just don't want to do it, your main problem isn't the problem itself. Your problem is figuring out how to get yourself to do the solution.

If your problem is not eating enough vegetables, the problem you should be solving is "how do I make vegetables stop being yucky". If your problem is not getting enough exercise, the problem you should be solving is "how do I make exercise stop sucking ass". You're not supposed to just be doing things that are awful and suck all the time forever, you're supposed to figure out how to make it stop being so awful all the time.

I used to hate wearing sunscreen because it's sticky and slimy and disgusting and it feels bad and it smells bad, so I neglected to wear it even if I needed to. Then I found one that isn't like that, and doesn't smell and feel gross. Problem solved.

There is no correct way to live that's just supposed to suck and feel bad all the time. You're allowed to figure out how to make it not suck so bad.

[iwontheidgafwar]

As Consciousness is Harnessed to Flesh, Susan Sontag.

[iwontheidgafwar]

Consequence

My piss is still yellow

My eye whites are white

I am blind

I wish I was blind

And that’s about as much as I am certain of.

I am not certain of you

But I am certain his hand is on my back.

You are the man I am looking at

Whose name is My Own Insecurity;

And you are vulnerable and ready to

Infinitely secede. He don’t deserve

My secession. He does and does not deserve my

Blindness. For I could forget that he

Were there but if and when I got close enough

To touch him I would make the big mistake

Of being blind. Of being blind and not fixing it.

I got back from a trip with you

And it was awful. Standing up

And singing with you in my heart.

Sitting down and saying nothing

With you in the dark. Looming.

People say I shouldn’t know

Myself by now but nobody

Has said anything about

Knowing you before knowing

Me. I’m scared that I know

You so much more than I

Know myself because you

And your separation from me

Make me feel insane and

Irreparable. Like I am blind and

Stumbling through a house fire

That you started because you

Were mad at me. You, My Own

Insecurity, were mad at me

Because I was to stupid to

Fix you or change you so I

Just laid with you to see what

Would happen. And now it

Isn’t you or me who is hurt

It is he, the one who deserved

None of it.

I’m sorry, you deserved none of this.

31/3/24

[iwontheidgafwar]

Glimpses of Moksha in a cycle of Saṃsāra 

[iwontheidgafwar]

irony is a defense mechanism to cloak our genuity with ambiguity, in fear of committing to a vulnerable moment. For you could, after all, be mocked with a cold, ironic response in return.

The winner today is who's most apathetic, but choose to be the loser, and you'll be able to look at yourself in the mirror once again.

[iwontheidgafwar]

Comparison

[iwontheidgafwar]

Beside Me

I wake up with things to tell you

As if when I went to bed with them

and paddled them along a river of the night.

To get the boat moving I thought about

What if we were both into pro-wrestling

Or if you were a cab driver and we

Just happened to see the same barber

And we talked and we talked

Until I got to the home where you

Were not waiting for me.

You are not waiting for me.

I want to wake up and think

That I am hungry just to ask

If you want something to eat instead.

I want to ask you what it really

means when you are hungry

And why you said that you’re sorry

For not coming to whatever thing

I asked you to come to

Or matter of fact why you do

Anything that you do at all.

You said sorry so I still can’t tell

If anything even matters to you

No matter how big or small.

One of those nights I

Thought of you and all I could

Do was kick and scream and

Convulse like you had just tased me.

You didn’t tase me.

You will never be close enough to tase me.

I would rather you tase me

I would rather you taste me

At my most bitter moments

Than to have you stay where you are now.

I see a horse galloping so

In sync with itself it makes me

Get up and in to the car I came here in.

The horses are all around me

Taunting me like they know

What they are doing to me

But horses don’t know anything

But themselves and galloping and

Being so themselves just right in front

Of my God-damned face.

We could be a horse

Galloping like it’s nobody’s business.

I am awake and day in and day out

You weigh on me and you lay your

Claim on me out like

It is nobody’s business.

Which it isn’t.

You are your own horse with her.

So when I go to bed with things

To tell you or nodes to find you at

Or notes of sweet sweat to smell you I can’t

Help but notice you aren’t there.

I wake up with things to tell you

Because I am so overwhelmed

By you I’m forced to

Spit it all out like there isn’t enough

Room in my body to hold the two of us.

17/3/24

[iwontheidgafwar]

Vigilante

[iwontheidgafwar]

Sonnet 3 (Agnus Dei)

Where drawn’s the line twixt Night and Day with you?

I’ll fumble you in sudden light—your advent,

And in Sun always live, despite your absence.

I’ll bask posed weirdly praying that those few

Supposed moments, both warm and gross, when pews

You’ll rise behind arrive and so impalèd

Then I’ll become in your brief lighting fated

By your cross, by my hand, unknown by you.

At the open mouth of a forest appear

I, the Pawn, did, bull-like in twilight fear.

I ran that path untouched yet scathed by silence

To a safeplace you guard like ugly diamonds.

Your gaze, under whom I tread lightly—frail,

Grey, piercing like a hawk’s—holds my holy grail.

14/2/24