Googol’s blogger analytic wants me to believe that the number of people who read these essays was, 1st inflated to 150-250 a day over the period of a year, and then dropped back to 20-40 a day on the turn of a dime - bullshit. As yet i’m unconvinced anybody reads these written explorations of mine as well as others, how shall i say this . . . ignorance - culling the wheat from the chaff. I hope this a practical approach to writing - especially if anything remotely resembling criticism is employed. As a Virgo skeptic, in rhyming slang - Virgo septic, i struggle with the stereotype of fussy, hypercritical and oversexed mostly because the conflict from my rational indoctrination which condemns astrology as voodoo occult superstition; yet that same rational indoctrination says the moon’s gravity is adequate to pull the tide in the Bay of Fundy 5 miles per day up and back; how can humans who are comprised of up to 70% water not be affected by the changing position of a planetary mass¿ Who is to say what is real, and what ain’t¿ That for me was part of the charm possessing a young mind during the 1960´s. Although there was no way to know at the time exactly how rigid the rules of conduct for hippies were, but the fiction of freedom was enough. The force of residual impression is no different than the tiger-by-the-tail the ruling class is occupied with convincing a nation weened on liberty and armed to the teeth that Mr. M.T. Suit is doing anything great by plundering the commons and jailing anyone who objects.
Fantasy is a difficult reality to maintain. When i first noticed the inflated numbers on my blog stats, my ego wanted to embrace the vain notion that there were readers telling other readers of my effort to find reason in this hall of mirrors we call the internet, soon to be renamed “Zuckerberg Informational Super Highway.” I was content to swim with the current, yet the surveillance-nurtured, neurosis-fed gift for hyper-vigilance in me attributed the cooked numbers to the NSA handlers assigned my supervision; i’ve worked in aerospace doing government work and know how freely dollars flow when it’s not your money. Yet even with the favored industry position of that firm, there were outages - a word i suspect our “civilization” is about to become intimately familiar with. As i understand the pathways of the internet it is predicated on endless cables of copper and/or optic fibers called the T1 Backbone. It is among the reasons why there is such an effort to yoke the population to the wireless technology - your handset is much easier to surveil, ask any drug dealer caught up in a Stingray dragnet. Now that it has become nearly impossible to conduct business without a cellular phone the ISP’s have begun their frontal assault on the T1 Backbone, and soon net neutrality will be a quaint memory of a time when the ruling class did not have its boot firmly clamped down on your throat. “You may say i’ve grown bitter, but of this you may be sure, the rich have got their channels in the bedrooms of the poor . “ . .
Leonard Cohen
. . “ . And there’s a mighty judgement coming, but I may be wrong, you see you hear these funny voices in the Tower of Song.” Something the ruling class may want to keep in mind: they reside on planet earth and as my friend Edward Colver so sagely observed “When the shit comes down, there will not be walls high enough to hide behind, nor is that meant as a threat - and certainly not an alternative fact. We as a species have wandered so far off track, as individuals, we barely stop to reason about what it is we are doing. Our greater concern seems to be who’s on whose side. We’ve lost so much perspective for the concept of a single individual’s worth that we’ve come to believe that just because those in power are able to buy whatever they desire, including human souls, that must mean only the ruling class can understand what is of value, i say bullshit. When i was young i rode on the Grey Goose which was by some accounts John Wayne’s greatest love - i more remember the ice cream they served than the fact it was a converted mine sweeper that he docked in Newport Beach. When on our voyage back from Catalina Island, it made the obligatory pass in front of Mr. Wayne’s bayside mansion. I was struck by the realization he was old, fat, and bald, something i suspect is true for most of the ruling class - like the Wizards of Oz . I have nothing personal against John Wayne anymore than i care much about the men who are destroying our planet - it’s just at that time, i’d have traded John Wayne’s boat for the new skateboard that had rubber wheels and ball bearings which had just hit the market - a desire no doubt fueled by the emerging advertising technology that has since become the sacred text of consumer addiction.
We are loosing our capacity to learn about ourselves; to plumb the interiors of our own minds and hearts; to learn what pleases us and what doesn’t; even to know the difference. Without this capacity for self-awareness we will continue to be at the mercy of unscrupulous, and greedy human beings who have no intention of sharing what they believe is theirs anymore than John Wayne would have thrown me the keys to the Gray Goose saying, “have a good time.” The difference is there are vastly fewer John Waynes today and ice cream is getting more expensive by the minute - genetically modified ice cream no doubt. The importance of knowing what you are on about cannot be overemphasized. The things which computers allow the ruling class to manipulate have grown exponentially to the point where “the powers that be” are predicting behavior of unborn children using computer models in all parts of the world. My young fantasy of becoming a Veterinarian was scuttled by my own lack of discipline and emerging awareness of an ethereal pull toward creativity, influenced i’m sure by my parent’s occupations. Today’s youth are not being provided that latitude. For far too many the choice is between the gang and police - both of which are criminal enterprises. “On track” anymore is shorthand for the rubric some institutional expert marked in your computer file at an early age describing your aptitudes and behavioral type with successive notes entered by underpaid overworked instructors only when there was a divergence from your trajectory.
The tragedy is how vastly different our world could be were we raised to respect the differences of others rather than to fear the unknown. We are so cued to conform that even the non-conforming hippies were unawares, and possibly the worst offenders. The contradiction in terms is that without solidarity we are doomed. Until each human being on the planet embraces the right of existence, and rather than kill to that end, search for others willing to apply themselves to the greater good, we will continue to be divided and conquered. Today they have isolated us in front of the Godhead screen, scrolling through a virtual world that is little more than a neural programming language for what you must do in order to enrich a handful of people - BTW, you are paying them for the privilege. The fiction is that because you can see pornography at will; charge a new pair of Nikes delivered to your home via drone; or book a retreat in Bali to sanctify your wedding and do yoga at the reception, you are free and the world will continue on its merry way. What is not shared are the facts - people are starving, beaten and bombed to accomplish your convenience. It is only the luck of birth that you are not reading this in a war zone, and if you enjoy the conceit that somehow because you graduated top of your class and are working on the 17th floor of some building in Manhattan scrutinizing the reams of data separating the good from the bad arriving at this enviable occupation due to your own merits; you are not just deluded, but on a planet that is about to school you on how much choice you actually have.
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off - the sonnet
“Fuck off and die” is an expression
i’ve heard more than once, much to my chagrin.
I’m learning to choose words with more caution;
knowing there are hearts with that opinion.
Harder though to know what provoked such words.
I’ve used them myself on some occasions.
usually, those believed to be turds;
usually, teachers of life lessons . . .
How can we be so off we would wish harm
to messengers of meaning; is it me¿
Am i so alone refusing to arm -
“Stockholm Syndrome” from slaughter of the bee¿
We’d better find more peaceful argument -
without peace we become the firmament.
jts 052217
http://stoneartist.com
reprinted with permission - all rights reserved
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