My forays into the thought and philosophy of industrialism have now reached the peak, I seem to perceive; if, however, there are other unimagined peaks to be discovered later, I will count that a blessing. But at this point, I have reached the top (insofar as I can discern), and am of a mind to survey the vast and beautiful territory ranging all around me.
It is an awe-inspiring thing for me to dwell on the subject simply for moments, let alone the many hours and whole days I have to do so. That, I am not ashamed to say, is almost too rich even for me. I know plenty of other people who would be instantly consumed by one hint of this joy, who would be swept away by even a whiff of the experience. It's like biting into a piece of really expensive chocolate; you know that some guy in a really tall white hat spent hours mixing the ingredients from an old family recipe, and he's good enough to have his own show on the Food Network, if only he had a single impure thought.
I've been at the depths, that's for sure; I've hit rock bottom a few times, like when the major industrialists had me confined (they thought) in an ongoing situation of virtual house arrest. I had to sneak out in Grandma's clothes, pushing my bicycle silently for several miles before I was free to wheel off and find a internet hot spot to write my posts. Those were the days of suffering in relative obscurity, a flickering beacon of light in a dark world. Although, who knew, I can look back on those days now and see I was actually very happy. It's a great thing -- it's a lot easier to see this in hindsight -- to be alone in a pursuit.
Being alone like I was, at the time I was begging for someone else to get on board ... safety in numbers and all that. But no one would. It felt very bad at the time. Now, thinking back, how sweet it was ...
Anyway, time passed, and I underwent a kind of conversion, no longer being against industrialism per se, but seeing industrialism's true bloom as being every man's birthright. It turned out that what I was railing against, unknown to me at the time, was the idea that only the major industrial powers should have the power. That gave them too much power and put the rest of us at a terrible disadvantage. Our birthright was being denied.
Then came the Residential Industrial Movement, announced not so much as a doctrine but as a flash of insight. It boiled down to this: If every man can't have his own industry, why should anyone have one? Or, maybe I could say it more positively: If some men can have their own industry, the rest of us can too. That's still a little clumsy. How about: Industry, to be good, has to be open to all of us! That just about covers it.
And now I know just how true it is! I've seen throughout our neighborhoods, all the times I've been out nosing around all the residential industrial sections, the happiness of production. We now have the means of production and the ability to produce. We're putting out goods left and right, and it's a joyous thing. No man forgets the thrill of his first truckload of goods heading to a flea market somewhere to be picked over and to have something bought. It might be a dozen disposable diapers or spare parts for a 1940s lawn mower that you've decided to manufacture, it doesn't matter.
Yes, I've reached the top of the top. Insights are flowing like the old fashioned drinking fountains in the park, the ones that ran all the time. You stop, you get a drink, you look back and it's still coming out. If there's joy, blessing, and victory unknown beyond this point, please spare me until I'm ready to incorporate it into this already quivering organism. It's all too much!