Years
will be assigned to the interest and others to the principle,
Not
the corpus of financial liability, but the premise of self-definition resting
at the crux.
Calls
for purpose are postponed in the latency of parental affluence affording us
A
synthetic threshold of opportune decision floating only as phantom
This
decade of seventeen to twenty-seven is a unicorn mare of the night
Quashing
rainbows and appearing like coats of many colors
Northeastern
institutes of higher learning and West coast liberal candy-lands
Southern
hospitable football stadiums ripe with lager funnels and drenched braziers
The
detailed poignancy of credit-hour requirements so masterfully allocated between
Biology,
Western-culture, statistics, literature, and music theory crafting the optimum
Well-rounded,
Oh the pinnacle to be well-rounded!
If
only the CAFO lots could learn in their six stomachs for digesting grass
evolved
And
we give them (wait for it) Corn! We give
the heifers and bulls corn!
It
is preferable, plump them with sugar-feed and send them to the ecoli-stretch!
Monsanto
mono-crop in collegiate soy-bean plots, a buffet of electives
Does
the opposite, perfecting a savant is sidetracked by mandates to cost
So
we have two opposing theories on the surface, but in the underbelly we are
doing the same
We
are distancing ourselves at every opportunity farther from self-direction,
self-definition, and individual decision making. One is taught not how to think, but what subjects
to invest. Critical self-assessment is
bastardized as worshiping in the church of the well-rounded.
Kill
the fucking D.J.! I know what I
want. I know who I am. Let me learn what I want to learn and go
home. If you want to help show me the extension
of the career associated with your major, your batch of classes BEFORE I enter
your system or escalate my commitment into the entrails of your dominion. (Step it up junior-high schools, yeah that
early with career videos.)
No!
You seek to imprison me sir and yet you come as a Trojan with your Southern
California pheromones. I see the
sweatshirt, the brochure and your price tag.
You are most upfront and I see it fit to eat the lotus-flower Sysco commissary
meal-plan. I shack up in your dormitory Chateau
d’If waiting for my priest to teach me, but the ground never rumbles. There is no grand awakening! I slurp from your bowls and take study of
your brick and mortar and exit with a bill!
How
long to pay off this debt in my skull?
How long to realize I have been taught the great lesson of capitalism
via extortion? There are other options,
other ways, to put the knowledge in this geometry between my cochlear tubes and
yet I default not to your professors, but to your elephantine administration flattening
us all with the cult of the well-rounded!
I
need not this nor that, but a digital video and the occasional account to
email. I need not your building or your
stadium of Saturday night gladiators. While
amusing the hangover bill has crimpled my financial freedoms for decades. I am taught desperation to be unique to stand
out in the populace, yet my circular-major makes me identical! Damn you cruel irony, I went in for
differentiation and I have exited as a genetically-engineered soybean! Round-up won’t kill me, but my degree in
English lit or sociology is strangling me lost in these weeds of
impracticality!
So
sir this is my final remitted payment. I
have no home. I cannot afford procreation
or health insurance. I am returning my
decapitated head as evidence of un-retained product. I expect the additional value of my other
thoughts, biomass, beautiful optical lobes, and ear canals I have done the decency
of de-waxing for you, being now in your possession and unfortunately previously
un-severable from your precious knowledge, to be auctioned off to pay the debts
of my fellow Gen X’ers.
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