#32….considering balance and corn….

Here on the Illinois prairie, spread upon a fallow cornfield, the Temporary Museum of Enfant Terrible Culture has yet to begin serving food to the attendees.  Balancing dietary offerings, attempting to deal reasonably with of emotive artistics in offering food, has yet to begin.  Those with food “reasons” are still on their own looking out in all directions at the rational production of corn, the vasty fields.

All demand balanced attention, fine…so long as the rational is never irrational, and the reasons never unreasonable.


Balance…the tension where one thing becomes another.  The corn is either dead or dying (it is that time of year) it will soon turn dry violet, dry brown, dry golden, dry yellow, and dusky sand white, to crackle (dryly) in wind that is loosing its’ sultry growing moist summer beneficence.  The corn, now starchy grain, limps a bit, droops a bit, bronzes a bit.  The leafy stalks tighten into inflexible, breakable, scratchy pillars holding up a draining sky now returning northern chill and wind.  Bit by bit, balanced at the point of one thing or another.


What has been green and agrarian will soon be gathered, manipulated, heated, milled, and repurposed, industrialized; it’ll feed a lot of people.

For seven billion people, mostly urban and mostly like the emotives gathered here for our reunion:  eating is a daily cultural opinion.  It is only reasonable; “how”, “when”, and “what” matter more than “that” as they eat.


Farming, producing, delivering the -“That” corn, the grain -is totally rational.

But the balance tips: to the tension of “reasonable”, or unreasonable;  considerations of how, when, and what.


The reaping of this vastness has yet to begin, but it will be done by rational means.  Reasonable arguments from various sides will inflame the “Why“opinions of food on our plate.  “Why”… we should have, must have, this or that.

At the reunion of anarchists picnic, little opinion bombs will no doubt be served with the food, emotional nibbles.


Skeletons in our closet don’t have food fights, but they can be food for thought…join us next Saturday.