130920 - Extinction Chronicles ·

13 September 2020 - Extinction Chronicles ·
(2 months prior to the Covid Pandemic outbreak)

One can almost reach out and touch the misery of our world - an entirely unnecessary misery because so much of our want and solutions to that depravation have been well described by authorities · So why now 20 years into the “white man’s millennium” are we facing extinction? We know that people are happy when they are fed, but we feed them poisoned food because it is profitable instead of promoting the happy preparation of food. The commercials we watch on media show opulent kitchens with happy couples surrounded by sumptuous foods, but the reality for most is a 7-11 with a 3 day-old hot dog and a spongy bun, and we buy it - ‘cause we’re hungry, not for the food, but the convenience; why is that¿ We witness on our newsfeeds happy romance and giggling couples, but turn to porn when our mates shame our sexual appetites; why is that? e yearn for connection and sangha (community) but surround ourselves with sycophants who nod agreement with our confusion; why is that?

I have ideas and think about my own selfish loneliness more than is healthy, not to deprive you of any happiness you have found, but to demonstrate compassion to the “little boy” who suffers still 65 years and 51 weeks into the question. “Suffers” is a strong word, who is trying to pay attention would be more accurate. Oddly enough i am little different than the confused 3 year-old surrounded by bigger siblings, and ignored by harried adults, except for the fact i love still and have faith in the power of something i’ve only glimpsed through the windows of my upbringing and sampled with the limbs of my sometimes aware being. I like it, i like love, i like the feeling of being seen and appreciated, and even better i enjoy the feeling of loving another - the miracle of touching another with my own ability to love.

Not the dominance depicted in so much modern lore - that painful romantic thrall we all suffer from its loss, but the happy face of a woman happy to be coupled with someone whom she can take care. It is our nature, i cannot count how many stories of women, i’d go to bat for faced with disrespect of men i knew naught of. Sitting here now, knowing how often i’d been “traded up for,” i feel kind of stupid - a lot stupid· but still willing. It’s all a mystery to me, and i like it like that. I realize this writing is as much about my passing unnoticed from the face of our planet; down to and including being prompted by an AI thug to include the apostrophe for the above 'it is' contraction -“its all a mystery to me.” How fucking goofy is that for an algorithm designed by techno-nazis who’ve adequately demonstrated their contempt for mankind in general, and human agency in particular to correct my grammar.

This morning, as our “surreptitious” eye-in-the-sky well knows, i communicated with the widow of a school-boy chum: when i say school-boy, i mean kindergarten, and i am now 65 turning 66, you do the math - it was more than awkward, for my friend has been dead less than 3 years, and we haven’t really known of each other, save a brief encounter where his younger sister was occupied serving at a dislocated meal in the house of my step-father’s mother nearly 40 year’s earlier. I learned then he was making 'scratch' refinishing furniture, a lucrative, but dangerous occupation that apparently led to his early demise.

It is sad, because Joe DiNatale was the kind of spirit one would want as friend in today’s cookie-cutter world. Then he was deemed “incorrigible” and entrusted to the stringent Military Academies popular at the time. As i sit and reflect on conversations leading up to this dubious strategy in front of my childhood home, i regret not possessing the strength or resources to say, “Joe, we will fight this together” - my cowardice, my shame · i am sorry Joe, i was only 9 but feel sorrow at your conviction. I am glad to learn from your widow that you enjoyed 30 years of happiness prior to your demise, but i gotta tell you, even in our last conversation in your mother’s garage about the success of your furniture refinishing business, i had grave reservations about the chemicals you employed to become rich - whether your lethal brain cancer correlates, we’ll never know, but i applaud you for running through the “consumer minefield” in search of happiness for you and yours - a loving friend from afar · in space and time.

(˚ ㄥ _˚)
jts 9/13/2020
http://ExtinctionChronicles.blogspot.com
http://JosephTStevens.blogspot.com
http://stoanartst.blogspot.com
prohibited from AI sampling in any form
reprinted with permission; all rights reserved
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