oy! you there!

Such grand ideas! To bear witness, to sweat and work, and then to return home to confront the blank page, to fill it with words, and in so doing, to save the world. Did I just utter those words? Temper it a little then and simply say, to change the world a little bit. Just push it to the left and make it a weeny bit better. Never mind that those who have been spied upon, eyed upon and lied upon should not know what it is there in that text, that one in front of you now, yes, the one that you are staring at right at this very moment . . . should not know, as I was saying (or writing, let’s at least try to be honest about that), what has been written about them. You revolting voyeur! You think you are aiding us there in your hidey hole there, doing your bit to make things not quite so bad. And yet you know that each tap of that finger on to the plastic will not buy me more plantain or wheat or water. You have not forgotten that, surely? Because we know, and you know that we know, that what you really wanted was to be the revolutionary, the leader of the change, the one who did save us all. But because of circumstances and time (Ha! Time, of all things!) and because of those you left behind, you were unable to stay and fight. To Act, let us be frank here. You were unable to act. For us, it is clear to see that that is your greatest difficulty. You are not an actor. Nor can you be. You were born in the wrong place! So we, my friends, we shall have the final laugh here! We laugh at you, our dear friend! And sometimes will ask you, what exactly do you do?