Swimming is good for the body. It is a very effective full body work out. It exercises the legs. It exercises the arms. It exercises the core. Yes that’s right, the core. The core of your being, where your life force comes from. Where you derive your energy and appetite for life, love and lusciousness. You get all that from your core, did you know that? Well you do. So there. Swimming is also a communal activity. It is something that can be done together, and it needs to be provided for. The swimming pool has to be built and maintained. It needs to be produced. And when something is produced we learn something, we learn about the means of production. Interesting. Interesting. 


It is a communal activity, or at very least it can be, so it is something which can be provided communally, something which could be collectively funded and there for all. Like parks or health care. Or, of course, it could be privately funded and be the privilege of the privileged. Swimming pools and swimming have long played a role in how we perceive our societies. Any large thing that can be enjoyed communally provides an opportunity for states to provide, and where there is an opportunity to provide, there is an opportunity for propaganda.


Municipal Swimmin pools are often grand center pieces which are tributes to a cities ambitions and its successes. It is the communal nature of how we enjoy swimming pools that make empty and abandoned swimming pools look so sad.


Swimming pools are not built in a day, and they are not built carelessly, and they are built because there are a lot of people there to enjoy them. So when one lies abandoned and empty something has happened to those people, all those people. That picture is so sad: you feel like the swimming pool was this guys dream, he dreamed of it being full of people happily swimming together, and now it is empty and derelict. Perhaps they are dead. I feel I’m witnessing the victory of brute force and cynicism over romance and joy. Dragged from the pool, dragged from each other, we return to work and home, return to separation, and we believe that we are alone again.


And what’s the dream? What dream are we promised to get us back into work and away from the pool? That one day, one day, you might hit the big time. You will make millions. You will be the special one. You’ll get the corner office and the mansion with the cars and the helicopter and, of course, always, the pool.

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Then you can swim around in your pool. On your own. Or maybe with just your friends. And never with others, never ever with others. You could get Paramount Pools to design you you’re very own pool that looks just like you wanted it to look. I mean, you probably will never be able too afford such luxury. But what would you rather: accept your place as part of the collective and enjoy the swimming pool? Or gamble on the chance that you might get the luck of being the special one? Why wouldn’t you gamble? The only reason would be if you don’t think you’re special. Are you scared? Are you scared to compete? Oh no, oh no no no no no.


You’re not special and that’s fine.

The highest prizes will only be what you already could have had but without the social ties. That’s not better. That’s worse.