I’ve learned one thing - it is dicey trying to keep a calendar count using a literary chronicle, shit tends to get fungible; especially when you employ a “trance-state” to stay out of reach of the master, Ego. I’m pretty sure it’s Friday 18 December 2020, not because i read it on googol, but because my rent is due on the 19th and no one has come banging on my door. Still and all, there are worse places to be on the planet than a ‘hard bitten’, loving land of rice farmers and merchants trying to live up to a 600 year old tradition of their city - Hoi An Pho (friendly meeting place) · shortened for a time to Faifo, by meddlesome foreigners such as myself, a act similar in many ways to how the German Artist Walter Spies created the lucrative Kecuck Dance to popularize the ‘newly discovered’ destination of Bali by a well meaning however myopic double whammy of the intrepid hipster doofuses of their day, Charlie Chaplin and Margaret Mead, et al.
Laugh if you must, but a delicate Oaxaqueno culture was as destroyed by a similarly well-intentioned bank executive R. Gordon Wasson, amateur mycologist whose betrayal of “silence” - that Donna Sabina requested of him for sharing her medicinal knowledge which resulted in the “Rolling Stones” 60s enlightenment hungry entourage converging on her village, the villagers then burnt her house down and killed her son. We are a fragile lot and require care and consideration to survive, not the survival of the species paradigm or "herd immunity" of those free of the fray propose will yield a more rugged and viable species. It is this ignorant thinking that ensconced itself in the mind of a man out of his depth, #45 buying into tired eugenics bullshit that even the brain of Nikoli Tesla subscribed to proving only that brains are not all “that.”
If, we as a species cannot see the universe in a blade of grass, much less the value to all that a tear in the eye of a child represents - why fucking upload dreck loaded by some silicon apparatus to perpetuate more misery in a universe full of collision, calamity and grief. We humans have been afforded a unique blue green orb that defies description such that we cannot, or will not even express the delicate tenderness of our feelings about that gift much less try and teach the young to see it deeper - with the exception of the indigenous people being trampled under the hoof of civilization’s hubris and conceit that it possesses superior awareness defined by an arbitrary value attached to some symbolic place holder, now morphing into digital tic marks and merit based spirituality based on what is imagined rather than the pristine clarity of a mountain stream at the end of a long hike.
Now, we bank on wisdom programed into an LED matrix by pre-pubescent billionaires clutching the next rung on the only elevation they’ve been allowed to conceive of by the corporate overlords manipulating language such that as George Orwell so well anticipated, ruling class prevarication in support of cowardice, and stated simply in a too-soon-to-be-non-fiction of an emerging world, “War is peace, Freedom is slavery, Ignorance is Strength.” I’m no literary giant, not because i was denied access to the Phd program at the two schools which i applied - UCLA & USC · but because i do not relentlessly believe in the need of education to write my ideas down using faith and logic. I am lucky to be possessed of a paradoxically thick skin comprised of the tenderness of butterfly wings and the hide of the not-yet-dead-last Rhinoceros. Not sure i understand exactly why i survived, but suspect it is because most of what is left of my mortal coil is scar tissue from an infant child that just can't seem to stop crying.
So now i drink, you might even say “cryin’ in my beer” or the ever popular fascist dog whistle of the Neo-Liberal ad copy managers, just another “inveterate Snow Flake.” I am little better as a failed itinerant stone-cutter, than my grandfather the "Blue Dog Democrat" itinerant miner who was honored for his explosive expertise (true story) with setting off the inaugural blast of what remains a “weapons dump” in Hawthorne, Nevada, the day my mother was born 19 July 1928. Shit lasts long, and there is no reason to believe the commitment you make to love and freedom cannot be as long-lived as the lives of those miserable speculators who leaped out of NYC ’skyscrapers’ just because the old money of 1929 kept the rigged aspect of market loss to themselves and let the chumps vacate their stake, just as that same class of blowhards believed it worked so well the 2nd, 3rd, 4th time hijacking "the Economy"; let me ask "why not just steal the whole shebang if the herd is gonna be that fucking ‘tupid" ¿? that’s a question, or an observation depending on your take.
jts 18/12/2020
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