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Thursday, October 8, 2009

Previous Artist Date

For Geoff, because he asked me to post it. its chilly out. Not cold, just chilly. A light breeze blows past. Fried chicken fill the are. Cigarette smoke suddenly overwhelms it and the delicious smell fades. A lady takes a cigarette break at the restaurant next door. Short hair hugs her face. Her black attire is a simple uniform. Soft sounds fill the air: the humming of a car, a child's voice, a click of an opening door, the movement of a closed umbrella, a cart clanking on the uneven ground, a chirp from a small bird. The coffee shop at the end of a plaza has a uniformed appearance with the rest of the buildings. Individuality replaced with common, square perfection. The skies are bright for the first time in weeks. Light fluffy clouds cover it and few patches of blue shine throughout. Suddenly, the smell of heavily spiced steak wafts up to me. My mouth begins to water. Hunger starts biting at my stomach. Music drenches the air from an unknown source. It seems that where ever I go in this world I can not escape reality or civilization. Where ever you go you are watched and seen. You are recorded and memorized. Cameras in every building, people on every corner. Right or wrong, civil or not, normal or strange your every move is seen, your every word is heard. Its scary, the more you think about it. If only one person had access to all of those tapes, all of those memories recorded by another's mind, we would be unable to do wrong or strange or uncivil actions for fear of persecution or embarrassment. It makes me wonder though. If an omniscient god exists he would see all, know all. If people knew he existed would they do wrong? If they knew with 100% certainty that he existed could they do wrong? It seems to me that they wouldn't, that they would fear judgement. However, I suppose that the not knowing contributes to how he would judge. How one acts without knowing they are being watched is more true to themselves and their true-self than if one knew they were watched.

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