Tribalism :: Personal Narrative Papers

Tribalism I. My sister recently position a map of the world in her bedroom, where she dreams always of being chased. warfare is the greatest affair of state, the basis of life and death, the Tao of survival and extinction. It essential be thoroughly pondered and analyzed. If you want to succeed in battle, act as if deranged. 1 I overheard two women arguing. One of them was me, in a later life. The early(a) was God. My sister pushes her dream away and well c wholly her a mystic her lived mankind defers to the visions, and details of where well live, how well earn a living, or who is at the door guide into the background. If creatures are help little in a world of flags and fairies, we can uprise tyrants with our fists. Why wake up from that vision? If I could remember, I would neer return to sunburn, rental cars, boy scout leaders, garbage, greasy hair, no pissing in the desert, cold nights of sweat and gleaning. Trust me. Spring the trap - a package with an umbilical cor d, ties straining. Mourning doves and the sound of birds and rapids. The wind pushes the river backwards, completing the cycle. before night fell into your lap you stared blankly at the traffic motiveless on the corner wondering, why consult the Book of Changes? Every signalize you need is right here fire trucks a staple on brook street, power lines buzzing overhead like soldiers of fortune. The planets align in your seventh house, poking feebly at an electromagnetic field. So if I ever say anything Im lying to you. Feel better or worse, check up on if I care. March toward madness, in the evening we swore up and down to encumbrance alive. Foundry the boundary down to the last gravedigger. Morning or evening times are unimportant dont live to compete, but fight when you must for a better world. We are all singers and mad and we make less and less money every year. Perhaps you care about all this loss, heaped onto your plate like steaming eggs on an English. Further on and we c ome to a crossing, where I found you waiting for me and left. Pretend you rush come to a crossing. Not a fork in the scandalmongering wood but a good city intersection, with traffic and manholes and strangers not particularly watching.