Borders, Boundaries and Borderline Personality Crisis
In man's struggle against the world, bet on the world.
Franz Kafka
Countries have borders.
People have boundaries.
A border may contain a country within its boundaries. Some boundaries are richer than the billionaires who own them; some borders are more porous than the poor who collect and are concentrated within those rich and porous borders.
But let’s make this personal. If the USA is a person, we will call him Joe Donald Burger for now, and because Joe Donald Burger needs a friend, let’s assign Canada with a trendy “J” name. We will call Canada Justin Pee Pee Donut.
In our divided house of cards, these main characters are the paper dolls we dress daily. We imbue them with our hopes, dreams, fears and folly. But like the voices in our heads, we are never alone, for the border provides definitions for both of these characters. They both have issues, so many issues as the Donald says.
If these characters were actors, they would be what we call “bad actors.” You can question their motivations, but the remember their marks. We call their shared personality traits the Borderline Personality Disorder, which is further defined by 9 characteristics:
Fear of abandonment. People with Borderline Personality Disorder are often terrified of being abandoned or left home alone.
Unfortunately, they also have Unstable relationships, Undulating, Unctuous or Unclear shifting self-image.
Chronic feelings of emptiness.
Know that while you are watching them, they are watching you. These bad actors demonstrate incredible range, and show Extreme Emotional swings. These swingers and swindlers put the Sir back in Surveillance State. These “babies have back” room handlers, who hold the leash, and change their water bowls.
Impulsive, self-destructive behaviors. Swinging from the chandeliers, like monkeys who escaped their Organ Grindr. Like steroid monkeys on crack, the only thing we can be sure of is that we can’t take them anywhere.
Neverland is Now! Joe Donald Burger Buddy never grows old. It is the joke that keeps on giving. On one hand, state sponsored genocide. Meanwhile the other hand is guilty of giving cheques to porn stars. Even without a moral compass, there seems to be a bit a moral compass breakdown. In what world is there an equivalency? In Neverland, the pirate island is running the show. In Neverland North, We The North, former child actor Justin is busy trying new ways to say sari, applies black face to our homegrown genocidal black eye. His new rival, Pee Pee Poilievre, puts on airs of the Pouting Donaldface, his backers pound the benches and tables, inventing new three word chants, like Ax The Tax, while offering nothing in the way of alternatives.
Good Old Self-harm. Practice self-harm reduction. Save the Hyphen. Self harm is the new arms race, as we race to the bottom, erasing any thoughts of saving our self, the pot has been on the plate boiling away, reducing, reducing. We are seduced by the reduce. Our old selves now a Self Harm Reduction Sauce, self- served on a table built on four pillars. Hey look Mom- no legs. Nothing to see here. Move along buddy.
Memory is full. Try unplugging, then plugging back in. If that doesn’t work, there are always Instructions that you can read. Male readers know that real men do not read Instructions. We may make quiche, but Instructions are for our better half, the half that speaks Ikea, the half that knows where the Allen Keys are kept.
Explosive anger. Unfortunately, this characteristic trait, this trope, this Mother of all Memes is what we fear the most. The kid with the most toys wins, but when the toys are nuclear missiles, well….find a desk to hide under. And keep up with the yoga. You will need to be flexible to kiss your own ass goodbye.
Borders define how far a government’s power reaches, although a silly little border has never stopped our Southern neighbours from overreaching. Some government’s assume powers that extend far beyond their physical borders. These self declared powers declare their so-called “interests.” Some governments seemingly have interests everywhere, although having all these interests do not necessarily make them interesting people. Like some people, governments can also be nosy parkers, butt in-skis, provincial playground bullies.
Millions of people cross borders every year, some very legally, while for many others, their status may be more in question.
I am waiting for the words to come.
I am listening to Kathleen Hanna read her new book Rebel Girl on Audible, while sipping coffee, eating toast and jam.
At the same time, I am reading A Year On Earth With Mr. Hell, by Young Kim, a slim memoir by a young Korean woman, who is the sole heir and executor of Malcom McLaren’s Estate. The memoir recalls her year of having an affair with Original Punk Richard Hell. The book started with Hell asking her to write him something dirty, like a letter or sex text. Ms. Kim took up his challenge. Apparently he was not so happy when the details of his relationship were revealed. Young Kim is a very good writer.
From Hell and Hanna, I search for a way.
An Interviewer asked Hemingway how much rewriting he did.
Hemingway said it depended. “I rewrote the ending to Farewell to Arms, the last page of it, thirty-nine times before I was satisfied.”
The interviewer asked “What was it that stumped you?”
“Getting the words right.”