Lesson of the Day: January 17

Do you know where whores buy their clothes? I bet you've just always assumed that they alter clothes from malls, or that they shop in sex shops. Well, since this is a relatively narrow niche of Calgarian society, I imagine that sex shops aren't the Walmart of the flesh trade. As for altering clothes from malls, again, that may be the case for your upper to upper middle class pros, but what about the entry level lady of the evening? Fabric stores!! They MAKE their own clothes! I went to a fabric store this afternoon and boom! like 4 of them rummaging through discount pleather. This actually opens up an avenue of respect that was never there before. Scoff all you like at how they make a living, but I respect a woman that's her own tailor...and dentist.

Freedom

Three years!!? That seems impossible! So much has irritated and simultaneously delighted me over the past three years it seems so strange that I would write nothing in that time. Alas. I'll forgo the customary race to catch everyone up on where I've been and what I've been up to. Needless to say I'm still alive and capable of typing - the rest is inconsequential. Lately I've spent some quiet moments in contemplation about the progression of society and the subsequent indenturement of the Western world. Don't worry 'righties' and 'leftie', I'm not about to go off on some self-agrandizing sermon calling for the dissolution of government or the redistribution of wealth. No, today I'm nostalgic for a life that I've never known. It's hard to believe that there was a time where people knew how to live off the land and could go wherever their feet or the feet of their equine companions could take them. Whether we've stopped to take note of it or not, we've all become addicts. Junkies. Unable to live outside of a way of life that requires almost comprehensive interdependency for the necessities of life. We've progressed to new heights of human achievement, but neglected to maintain the basic standards of self-preservation gained over millenia of evolution. How many of us would be able to feed, clothe and shelter ourselves without the aid of another person or corporation? I sure as hell couldn't. Somewhere in the pursuit of any, I would require assistance to make up for my lack of knowledge and/or skill. I don't know whether to feel gratitude about this, or fear. Now, let's hope this topical exploration doesn't end with me hunting for fungus and grubs in the wilderness wearing pine cones over my junk trying to 'reconnect' with my genetic predecessors. All of these musings seem to become more sobering when considered in the context of freedom. True freedom is the ability to do for yourself. It is choice. To be able to secure your own survival. I can't help but feel we've signed a lot of that away in pursuit of comfort. There's wisdom in relying on others and the creation of a society, I can definitely see that. It creates the foundation for the betterment of man and a higher quality of life. But every once in a while, I can't stiffle the disappointment of realzing that in a Zombie Apocalypse, the elements would kill me long before the zombies got the chance.