In my class in college, I never claimed to be the most “honourable” man, yet I found it increasingly important to be honourable. It is important to be fashionable, and honourable to have friends or to have friends who think you are fashionable and honourable. It came as no small surprise that I was found to be lacking on these qualities, having never understood this class construct of fashion or honour or friends. I was in trouble and obviously looking forward to isolation from society.
Then the important thing was that I was a socialist/marxist/communist/dedicated-worker-of-some-unknown-idiotic-causes for society, so I was obviously a ruffian. And obviously a ruffian cannot have friends who are fashionable or honourable, he can only have comrades, so I had to be satisfied in being an idiot for obviously only idiots will be associating themselves with other socialists/marxists/communists/dedicated-workers-of-some-unknown-idiotic-causes for society who are dishonourable and unfashionable and simply labeled “comrades”.
“Comrades” again is one of the dirtiest words around… you can go around calling your associates “friends”, “lovers”, “gossipers”, “character assassinators”, “bastards”, “murderers”, “mother f-s”, “pricks”, “puritans” or even “rich”, but never the C word. As I was given to understand the word had some sort of psychological illness attached to it. There were also vague rumors of sexual malpractices, including homosexuality, fetishism and devil worship. Life was difficult anyways, but all of a sudden I was also a dope junkie, drunk, and a chain smoker. Honour was obviously lacking, and soon people were huddling in groups far away from me. Indeed I felt that I was the only person left in my class of English honours because as it turned out I was the only dishonourable socialist/marxist/communist/dedicated-worker-of-some-unknown-idiotic-causes for society. All the rest were of course honourable. And they were all “Kom-Reds”.
So obviously I realized that to fit back into this mess I had lose my colours and get a hold on some of these honourable people, only that they seemed to be petrified of me. Hardly could they realize how petrified I was of them. Honour comes from others is an understatement. It seems identity comes from others. THE others, for only the honourable fashionable others count as having a viewpoint in the first place. It is only possible to mix by clamping your mouth down, for god knows when your tongue will stop its oily drip… best let someone else speak for you- and they do. Rumor Rumor in the air, who is screwing me, foul or fair? Honour it seems is a tougher thing than simply being good, or doing things for others…
After all who are the others? Honourable people have a way of hoarding honour, rather like capitalists hoard capital, or the intellectuals intellect. And worse they all seem to blur distinctions among themselves. So when I was finally asked by my Muse, “why don’t you defend your honour?”, all I could refer her to were these lines by U2-
Then the important thing was that I was a socialist/marxist/communist/dedicated-worker-of-some-unknown-idiotic-causes for society, so I was obviously a ruffian. And obviously a ruffian cannot have friends who are fashionable or honourable, he can only have comrades, so I had to be satisfied in being an idiot for obviously only idiots will be associating themselves with other socialists/marxists/communists/dedicated-workers-of-some-unknown-idiotic-causes for society who are dishonourable and unfashionable and simply labeled “comrades”.
“Comrades” again is one of the dirtiest words around… you can go around calling your associates “friends”, “lovers”, “gossipers”, “character assassinators”, “bastards”, “murderers”, “mother f-s”, “pricks”, “puritans” or even “rich”, but never the C word. As I was given to understand the word had some sort of psychological illness attached to it. There were also vague rumors of sexual malpractices, including homosexuality, fetishism and devil worship. Life was difficult anyways, but all of a sudden I was also a dope junkie, drunk, and a chain smoker. Honour was obviously lacking, and soon people were huddling in groups far away from me. Indeed I felt that I was the only person left in my class of English honours because as it turned out I was the only dishonourable socialist/marxist/communist/dedicated-worker-of-some-unknown-idiotic-causes for society. All the rest were of course honourable. And they were all “Kom-Reds”.
So obviously I realized that to fit back into this mess I had lose my colours and get a hold on some of these honourable people, only that they seemed to be petrified of me. Hardly could they realize how petrified I was of them. Honour comes from others is an understatement. It seems identity comes from others. THE others, for only the honourable fashionable others count as having a viewpoint in the first place. It is only possible to mix by clamping your mouth down, for god knows when your tongue will stop its oily drip… best let someone else speak for you- and they do. Rumor Rumor in the air, who is screwing me, foul or fair? Honour it seems is a tougher thing than simply being good, or doing things for others…
After all who are the others? Honourable people have a way of hoarding honour, rather like capitalists hoard capital, or the intellectuals intellect. And worse they all seem to blur distinctions among themselves. So when I was finally asked by my Muse, “why don’t you defend your honour?”, all I could refer her to were these lines by U2-
“If you should ask then maybe they'd This desperation
Tell you what I would say Dislocation
True colors fly in blue and black Separation
Through bruised crimson sky and burning flag Condemnation
Colors crash, collide in blood shot eyes Revelation
If I could, you know I would In temptation
If I could, I would Isolation
Let it go... Desolation
Let it go And so fade away…”
Tell you what I would say Dislocation
True colors fly in blue and black Separation
Through bruised crimson sky and burning flag Condemnation
Colors crash, collide in blood shot eyes Revelation
If I could, you know I would In temptation
If I could, I would Isolation
Let it go... Desolation
Let it go And so fade away…”
