051120 - Extinction Chronicles ·

Lao Tzu was a fucking genius without whose presence on earth, our world would likely have been vastly more miserable and the odds of our kind’s survival much slimmer, My Ma - not so much · personally i hold her in high esteem and value the toughness she beat into my tender soul, however much that same lesson rendered her deaf to the love in my heart i hold for her closest amongst all the luminous loves i’ve managed to entertain in my wayward journey to death. The rain has been relentless for 24+  hours and the most accurate predictor of weather patterns has disappeared from my certainly "socially engineered screen." I believe that the digital ovelord yutz’s who put _rump in office are running scared, and that the “investment wizards” imported to where i live in a SEA nation to teach the ignorant, but the highly disciplined surplus labor pool from its epoch past how to really “capitalize,” are jumping ship like rats off of the sinking MAGA-Ship-Of-State - or so my fear describes · i've been wrong before, ask anyone who says they know me.

I liked it better carving stone - each day ended with some measure of depletion, either from the stone, and/or my own physical endurance. Not much different from the act of running which like my idol “Forrest Gump” allowed for a legitimacy from striding to follow the tide tables of Santa Monica Bay to determine the optimum times for running on a flat shoreline at low tide; just now through my rain soaked kitchen window, i witnessed an unknown neighbor dragging off, by the scruff of their neck, loads of the same ducks which had days, or hours earlier been amongst voices i storm greeted in passing - bon appetite, mes amis · (I raised a hatchling duck in Kindergarten circa, 1960 and value highly the memory.)

Yet none of this discourse obviates the need for discussion as to how do we live together free of rancor and in support for each of our possible futures. Already in these past two paragraphs i’ve maligned and incited intellectual violence against: my mother, all the romantic loves of my short time on earth; the CEOs of a multinational technology companies, and countless unnamed but equally maligned employees; investment wizards; an ignorant but trainable population, and this is all within two previous paragraphs of one whose ostensible purpose for chronicling is to propagate peace on earth - forgive me, for i know not what i do.

And still the fucking rain pours unabated much like my sexual proclivities mutate unrelenting. How fucking sad when all i really want to be is cuddled and assured that everything is going to be okay. “Reaction formation” dictates the way to make that happens is to make it happen for others - most especially my family. They, i feel, wish to “push a pause button” i don’t possess, while i’m searching for the circuit breaker that frees me from any hope of belonging that i’ve learned is not part of this iteration of my reality. However, as part of that pact of peace, i must forgive all pain that resides within my own skin and to somehow mend and give vitality to people who, i for my lifetime have experienced the dullest and most senseless ache of not caring · i refuse to not care. 

So fuck you all, now you know the secret of my private wound; nor will i surrender, for i am the rhizome Herr Jung alluded to and which Master Tzu has guided into existence for countless generations. I cannot say what i do is correct or incorrect, i can only do and hope my heart remains in service to your well being knowing nothing about you or your ambitions. It is not my place to decide if you are or not a benefit - that choice remains to you alone. The best i can do is suck on the smallest measure of poison that aids my death but keeps my mind clear. I pray you find something closer to the cabbages Master de Montaigne grew to greet his voiceless demise and thank the stars for my capacity to link letters to words to string sentences in my vain hope for understanding between you and the love you find next to you.

 

jts 05/11/2020 

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