Drives

We humans have lots of drives and needs: shelter, food, warmth, among others.  But for the most part, in Western countries, these needs are satisfied, and we are left with our unsatisfied needs/drives: love, companionship, and sex.   Oddly enough, though Western capitalism feeds and clothes and warms us, providing (again, for the most part) for our physical needs, it's not very good at filling our emotional needs.

 We are lonely and alone.  We are, most of us, atomistic nothings in giant cities, so big we can never know them fully, so populous we can never get to know everybody.  24% of households have just one person in them.   No wonder so many people have pets!

Suicide in Oz killed 2,272 people in 2011.  And that's those acknowledged as suicide.  Many "single vehicle" accidents, especially in the bush, are disguised suicides.  Interestingly, only 1,277 ppl died in motor vehicle accidents in 2011, only half the official toll from suicide. Drug-related deaths totalled 1388.  Some of these are surely slow-burning suicides.  Note, as an aside, how many resources are deployed to combat road deaths and how few to stop the more numerous suicides and drug deaths.

Ironically, the biggest killer by far is the different forms of heart disease: 26,613 in 2011.  Another 32, 525 die from strokes, prostate cancer, dementia etc, all of which are primarily environment-related.  The excessive prosperity of our system leads to overeating and especially overeating easily prepared and readily available food ("junk food").   Two thirds of Ozzies are obese, double the ratio of 20 years ago.

Just to put it all into perspective, only a little over 200 people a years are murdered.

Our civilisation, then, overfeeds us.  And it's killing us.

How much eating is "comfort food"?

A huge amount of mine is, I know.  We hunger for love and affection; for sexual love, not random encounters; for meaning.  And meaning comes from loving and being loved.

Yet, in a way, the need for sex and the need for love are sometimes opposed.  A man may dearly love his current partner, yet lust after others.  If he satisfies that lust he may destroy the relationship with the person he really loves.  But the need for sex, for "hotness" is very powerful.  We humans like sex, we want more of it, at some deep level within us it fulfills our needs.  But we also deeply want to be loved and to love.

Our culture struggles with these often irreconcilable needs.  We deplore it when famous or wealthy or powerful men break their marriage vows.  Yet so many keep on doing it.  Why?



What we need is less food, less consumption, and more friendship, love and sex.

[ Some previous thoughts on all this:

Our Cheatin' Hearts
Normal Plus
Friends
Friends and Enemas ]



Sources:

All deaths
Road deaths
Drug deaths
Obesity in Australia
Sex at Dawn

Footy, chapter 29

Emma and Sean start to look past their own hurt to the future, especially Will's future.  It's an optimistic chapter, and it's full of hope.  And maybe, even plausible.

You can read it here.

Majorca Flats -- 242

Cody didn't stop running till he'd almost collapsed with exhaustion. Sobbing with terror, he slowed to a walk, trying to do so as quietly as possible. Through the trees he could see the lights of Woodend and other hamlets far below, twinkling in the dark of the Ozzie bush. His hands were tied with a nylon cord. All the stories he'd read as a boy had the hero cutting his bonds with a convenient sharp edge. Now that he was tied himself, it didn't seem so plausible. There was no sharp edge. He slowed a bit more. His feet hurt. He wasn't used to going barefoot. Eucalyptus twigs stuck into his soft feet. Pebbles and stones hurt them. Still he walked through the forest. Unable to see properly under the canopy of the massive mountain ash trees, he stumbled into a bramble patch. The vines scraped and cut him, across his thighs and his groin. Bitterly he contemplated how it was his cock which had brought him to this. For a moment, he wished he were a eunuch. His head was clearing all the time. His terror was lessening, but now he was starting to wonder how he was going to explain this to Phillippa. There was nothing he could say. Every lie he'd ever told her came back to haunt him. He wanted to sit down and weep. But he ploughed on through the forest, heading down the side of the mountain towards the little hamlet of Mt Macedon, where he hoped there was a public phone.

Trading Post, Mt Macedon

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Episodes 1 to 220 (without pictures, 10 episodes per chapter)

Majorca Flats -- 56

Only when Cody's familiar shape had vanished into the shadows at the far end of the road did Luigi break.

He was in deep depression for months. His grandmother had nursed him through it, making him his favourite food, and trying hard to get him past his grief. In the end, she lost her temper with him and as always, as her accent grew stronger, so his comprehension dwindled. He finally stopped her tirade by kissing her on the cheek and promising to try to get better. He went to see a psychiatrist, who made him feel worse, and decided that only time and his own strength could cure the malaise.

Once, Cody had appeared at the flat, just as Luigi was going out. He'd clearly been waiting to catch him.

“Lu, can we talk?”

Luigi held his head high and ignored him.

“Please, Lu. Please talk to me.”

Luigi turned on him and spat, “Go back to Phillippa!”

“Lu . . . I couldn't . . . . I'm sorry . . .”

Luigi crossed to the tram stop, just before a tram arrived. He climbed on board, and watched as Cody's figure diminished as the tram rattled away up Nicholson Street. It was going in the wrong direction but Luigi hadn't cared. He just had to get away before he gave in. Cody's tone had been so desperate, so sad, it near broke Luigi's heart. Or would have, if it hadn't been broken already.

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[The image is a still from the film of the 1933 Noel Coward play Design for Living:

The  'la ronde' of relationships between decorator Gilda, playwright Leo and painter Otto all settles down in the end when they decide to live with and love each other much to the absolute horror of their 'straight' friends and loved ones.  

Text and image from Cathode Ray Tube]

Majorca Flats -- 54

But surely . . . that was Cody? The shoulder-length chestnut curls, the broad back, the faintly arrogant swagger . . .

“Co!” yelled Luigi, suddenly more happy than he could bear.

The man turned round. It was Cody. His face turned as cold as stone. He turned back again and kept on walking.

At first Luigi didn't know what to make of it. He was stunned speechless. He ran to catch up with Cody. Cody's back remained resolutely turned away, even though he must have heard Luigi's footsteps.

Just before he caught up with the other man, Luigi noticed the woman walking next to Cody's side, and the small child holding his hand. He could not believe that he hadn't seen them before, that he had been so focussed on Cody that he had ignored his companions.

It could be his sister he feverishly told himself. Or a friend.

But he knew. Oh, he knew. Something died in him. His pain made him mad.

“Cody!” he said, an inner bitch coming from he knew not where, “how are ya, mate?”

“Luigi.” Cody spoke colourlessly, his eyes avoiding Luigi's.

“Hello,” said Luigi to the woman, “I'm Luigi, a friend of Cody's”. He put maximum macho swagger into his step and speech. There was no way he was going to let this woman know that his world had ended. Oh no! He had his pride. He might not be a real man but he had pride. There was nothing else.

“I'm Phillippa, Cody's wife.”

“Oh yes!” exclaimed Luigi. “He's often mentioned you! How nice to meet you at last!”

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