Time: a myth in the wrong hands. We have been fighting against the bosses, against the time clock, the shift, the commute, and the cyclical year of student servitude. There is almost nothing to say about these myths: the business day and the work-week, written on paper and formal documents as if they self-replicate and live forever. And in them we might find our quiet cave of eternity, the walls a-hum in the warm reverberations of flow and replication that is inescapable for good and for bad.
But this is not time. It is a myth of time that we are living in, that even the most revolutionary minds have plunged into: we work to shorten the day, compensate the week, build vacation into the year. In the case of education the mutation of the myth of time we in the States have dragged our shocked and feudal chins against the cracking sidewalks in light of broken promises. Time will not deliver us from the chains of apprenticeship, nor have the hours enlightened us. We found ourselves stuck in the rotting corpses of tradition, and are still fighting to get out alive, to build new bodies, to rescue the myth of time.
What might time be in other hands?
To suggest that time in more intelligent hands is a blazing flag of “history” doesn’t do much for us. We need to name an active struggle. Right now, we must shatter notions of annual progress, of cycles that define us, of apprenticeship that declares titles and of names that demand a decade to contextualize them since they cannot speak for themselves.
The rogue mountainous years must be set in flames and it will be those hazy eyed torch-carriers of tradition and of eventuality that legend will pin to the incinerating stakes.
