Liberty or Crown (Corona) 2020 & 2022 Live Update! (2021 was a long-haul blur)

  

Liberty or Death - Coronavirus 2020!!!!

Is 'political correctness' not an oxymoron? Why qualify truth, honesty, or correctness other than the thing itself?  Correct or incorrect?  Political correctness asserts that there is no black or white, only moral relativism, which goes contrary to law and governing.  What is correct and what is incorrect?  ‘The Big Lie’ (the war on drugs, trickledown economics, if the glove don’t fit you must acquit) makes the many untruths more palatable.

Nobody knows for certain about coronavirus.  It is a Rumsfeldian known unknown.  What is known is that people are dying at higher than normal rates of pneumonia exacerbated by a novel virus originating from Chinese ‘wet (meta) markets’ where captive animals on the verge of being butchered are stacked in small cages in abhorrent conditions where multiple species’ feces comingle.  A guano jumper!  Dying at higher than normal rates are blood-type A, old, fat smokers, also people on cruise ships, city dwellers, and pork factory workers, (you know, the immunocompromised).  The government has made large gatherings illegal so as not to overcrowd hospitals.  It seems that hospitalization has become a human right that supersedes (Trumps) other basic human rights, even though healthcare is still a profit-based institution in America.  Economic externalities from globalization gradually erode and marginalize moral integrity and now the health of the entire world is threatened by our dealing with bat-eating Chinese whose extreme secularization leaves only room for gastronomes with room for more pangolin gelatin! But perhaps my perception is off or perspective limited, perhaps it’s a much nicer, cleaner place than I’ve been led to believe during the four years of the previous administration.  Perhaps the CCP has cleaned up their act!  Perhaps the virus really did come from a lab!

                Now we are presented with two more hypothetical scenarios.  First being that it was an honest mistake.  There was one individual or a small inept cabal that left a site wherein they were doing honest research on mutating viruses in a normally very well-inspected state-run laboratory and everything was completely above-board except for one miniscule lapse or oversight.  Best case, society sacrifices the scapegoat (lit. pharmakos) to the secular god of sinology.  Pure, unadulterated, real-deal, ‘in god we trust,’ currency straight to the dome, *thwack*, some heads roll, clean up aisle 4, go home, have dinner, forget about it all in the morning.  But scapegoats are dirty things!  They come from squalid conditions (think baby Jesus basically born in a barn surrounded by animals).  This one in particular, elevated to the secular equivalent of gonfalonier, a high communal office - entirely merit-based.  This one goat let some particulate slip, one demerit, one sin. Almost excusable if it weren’t for the extreme consequences, high death-count!  Imagine, this one little guy, working in a lab, makes one little mistake and he’s comparable Mao Zedong, statistically. 

The third overall is untouchable because that would go to suggest or insinuate that this was done in clean-fashion, on purpose, for some god-knows-what money-making bonanza for a super-rich cabal that definitely doesn’t occur in communist society where everyone’s as equal as Ma, Jack (see Ali Baba (or think Marco Polo (Silk Road))).

Still, out of the three:

1)      China is dirty, disease-ridden, and their rulers are careless.

2)      China is cleaner than I had been led to believe and Corona is a fluke. Get it?!

3)      China is careful, manipulative, and ambitious.

 CANNIBAL, n. A gastronome of the old school who preserves the simple tastes and adheres to the natural diet of the pre-pork period. From Bierce, A. The Devil’s Dictionary.

So, I’d prefer to believe a combination of all three simultaneously.  Like U.S., C.C.P. is probably very poor and dirty in places, like many ghettos are here in America.  It is likely that mistakes were made, because who wouldn’t call a global pandemic a disaster, whether natural or manufactured?  Are we not all affected similarly by death and disease?  Well, not exactly if you look at the whole thing from an economic-security standpoint by the fact that certain groups profited while others languished or lost.  But, we were told we were saving lives by shutting down and accepting bail-out.  Could we not all agree that saving lives is more important than cash? ‘How can you think about money at a time like this?’ Preying on our susceptibility for generosity, a deep-rooted Christian ideal of helping ones neighbor in a naturally communal fashion.  Over time, and due to immense suffering, many become more prone to doubt their own faith, being gas-lit en masse.  (And some mistakenly doubt their Christianity, not the Democrats’ taxation policy).  There are now a fractured citizenry of those who believe what they see that is right in front of them and maintain something in the form of common sense.  Then there are those who believe the meta-narrative and remain indoors, take mind-altering medications, and become strangers to the rest of us.  A transmogrified fear-monger goes traipsing down aisle 4, a one way, for ass-wipes.  Sold out!? For how long?!  Does some bad arithmetic.  Settles for tissue paper.  Sees man wearing mask incorrectly.  Hurries the other way.  Gets cornered.  Lashes out.  Pulls out smartphone as a form of self-defense.  Cowers.  6 feet!  Under covers.  Depressed.  Take prescription from Zoom®-diagnosis.  Zoloft™.  At least next-gen SSRIs are safer than Paxil™!

The real manufacturers of disaster, the 4^th estate, amplify a sickening fear.  Who should aspire to write for a living?  (I’d monetize if I could, but just because I can, doesn’t mean that I should.)  Selling numbers spiked with meta-laxative.  Selling statistics of the moment, spiking in real-time, sell when it spikes, like a stock-market algorithm, computer-models dictate how this pandemic should spread.  And it is an accurate predicative model, and the more information people voluntarily feed it, the more efficiently it runs to our own fear-based self-reflective detriment.  Another mirror in the hall, thank the lord that Home Depot® remained open so I could do some home improvement or else I’d be really bored!  And thank Alexa™ Amazon® Prime™ was there to bring hits of dopamine home on demand for binging!  And as long as Netflix® documentaries continue to expose the truth of those in power, we can trust we know our government (like our government) knows U.S., right?

The real manufacturers of disaster, Pfizer®, stick us with what?  Jab us with what?  Sell us what?  (Just because you don’t see the cost of something in the moment, doesn’t mean it’s not there.  Everything exacts its price in due time. Unintended consequences of unnatural acts, ambitious to the point of slavishness.)  Exiled to Yugoslavia?  Sheesh!  What was I saying?  Oh yeah, this vaccine I don’t know enough about to comment fluidly intellectually, but what I do know from what I’ve heard is that this thing was supposed to be the magic bullet and we all needed to get it to stop the spread, but oh wait, it seems that even though you get the vaccine you can still get COVID (although not as bad of a case, on average) and you can still spread it, so… can we or can’t we go back to normal?  Well, no, and now you need not just the second in a series of shots, but-and! two additional boosters to be up-to-date on auto-immunity.   So as the third in a series mutations wanes, and the virus has basically run its total and inevitable course despite every effort, where are we?  Devastated by our inability as a society to prevent death or by increasing individual short-sightedness?  As if any one of us is getting out of here alive!  At least let me live while I’m here!  And not through simulacra and simulation!

But wait, the government is paying me to believe this narrative in the form of stimulus money?  Someone or something is buying me off.  Again, there is no 'free lunch.'  (Just because you don’t see the cost of something…)  How long until inflation makes the whole economic situation worse for everyone, en toto?  Approximately one year, not that long.  So now everything costs more, and I can be evicted?  And there’s no more free money??  Well, well, this is not ideal, now, is it?  And I still have to wear this fucking mask like a slave??  Ok, ok, I’m going off the deep end.  Breathe (hot, recycled air). I'm just a servant of the Lord and this is what the lord prescribes for all of our own goodness' (sake).  

Is this not a form of pain resonance?  I’m already hurt.  Maybe I’m just projecting my own feelings, but therapists say, ‘I should be in touch with my feelings,’ so why shouldn’t I consider this just an expression of that?  It has to come from somewhere, (the creative process in general).  I’ll tell you what! If it weren’t for TV or the Internet, ideas would still come from somewhere.  If it weren’t for radio or for books, ideas would still come from somewhere.  I don’t think anybody really wants to go back to the dark-ages in time, but if we have reached such great heights as we are apt or liable to topple over, one best tread lightly.  There is a Tower of Babel metaphor in my mind that won’t remit.  My right wrist, then my right shoulder, then the index finger on my left hand, and other lower body trauma indicate I’m moving much too quickly for my own good.  What am I running from if I’m not going anywhere?  Stay-alive exercise?  YMCA, baby, Bee-Gee!  I can’t really go anywhere fun anyway, what with everything that was good in this city shut down because of mandates!  Wait, am I living in a ghetto?  F.  What if the chosen people were all a little touched (by the Lord)?  Am I retarded?!  Am I Jewish!?  Do I subscribe to a certain mythos that won’t remit?  Is my mythos in touch with reality?  Is my mythos touched?!  Oh jeez.  What if history weren’t as circuitous as historians pronounce?  AND HERstorians, ok… 

My heart, oof.  If home is where the heart is, I may be historically home, but am I home-home?  What is unknown about the myocardium?  Nothing my cardiologist could not explain!  What a comfort!

The Human Condition Notes/Quotes

From The Human Condition, by Hannah Arendt:

I.                    THE HUMAN CONDITION

“…the wish to escape the human condition, I suspect, also underlies the hope to extend man’s life-span far beyond the hundred-year limit.” P. 2 (senescence, gerontology…)

II.                  THE PUBLIC AND THE PRIVATE REALM

“Whoever entered the political realm had first to be ready to risk his life, and too great a love for life obstructed freedom, was a sure sign of slavishness.”  Footnote: “Thus, Plato could believe he had demonstrated the natural slavishness of slaves by the fact that they had not preferred death to enslavement.” P. 36

“…coincidence of the rise of society with the decline of family…the absorption of family unit into corresponding social groups…conformism is characteristic of the last stage of this modern development …society expects from each of its members a certain kind of behavior, imposing innumerable and various rules, all of which tend to ‘normalize’ its members, to make them behave, to exclude spontaneous action or outstanding achievement.” P. 40

(Individualism) “…could survive only if the number of citizens remained restricted. Large numbers of people, crowded together, develop an almost irresistible inclination toward despotism…events will more and more lose their significance, that is, their capacity to illuminate historical time.  Statistical uniformity is by no means a harmless scientific ideal; it is the no longer secret political ideal of a society which, entirely submerged in the routine everyday living, is at peace with the scientific outlook inherent in its very existence.” P.43

Footnote: “…economics can be a science only if one assumes that one interest pervades society as a whole.” P. 44

“…annihilate the connection between public performance and excellence.” P.49 (TikToks)

“…love can only become false and perverted when it is used for political purposes such as the change or salvation of the world.” P. 52

“There is perhaps no clearer testimony to the loss of the public realm in the modern age than the almost complete loss of authentic concern with immortality, a loss somewhat overshadowed by the simultaneous loss of the metaphysical concern with eternity.” P. 55

“Public admiration, too, is something to be used and consumed, and status, as we would say today, fulfils one need as food fulfils another: public admiration is consumed by individual vanity as food is consumed by hunger.” P. 56

III.                LABOR

Footnote: “No work is sordid if it means greater independence…” (Homer) “…his ideal is a gentleman-farmer, rather than a laborer, who stays at home, keeps away from adventures of the sea as well as public business on the agora, and minds his own business.” (Hesiod) p. 83

“The slave’s degradation was a blow of fate and a fate worse than death, because it carried with it a metamorphosis of man into something akin to a tame animal.”  Footnote: “It is in this sense that Euripides calls all slaves ‘bad’: they see everything from the viewpoint of the stomach.” P84

“…Adam Smith’s ‘menial servant’…to care for the upkeep of the various gigantic bureaucratic machines whose processes consume their services and devour their products as quickly and mercilessly as the biological life process itself.” Footnote: “Obviously, Smith would not have had any difficulty classifying our ‘white-collar jobs.’” P. 93

“For slaves are not instruments of making things or of production, but of living, which constantly consumes their services.” Footnote: (from) Aristotle Politics. P.122

“The industrial revolution has replaced workmanship with labor, and the result has been that the things of the modern world have become labor products whose natural fate is to be consumed, instead of work products which are there to be used.” p. 124 (my underline)

Footnote: “…Corrado Gini…considers the United States to be a ‘laboring society’ where ‘labor is a pleasure and where all men want to labor.” P 127

“…labor became an occupation of the free classes, ‘only to bring them the obligations of the servile classes.’” (Wallon) p. 130

  …”the total yearly amount of individual free time enjoyed at present appears less an achievement of modernity than a belated approximation to normality.” Footnote: “During the Middle Ages, it is estimated that one hardly worked more than half of the days of the year.” P. 132

“And what else, finally, is this ideal of modern society but the age-old dream of the poor and destitute, which can have a charm of its own so long as it is a dream, but turns into a fool’s paradise as soon as it is realized.” P. 133

IV.                WORK

“There can be hardly anything more alien or even more destructive to workmanship than teamwork, which actually is only a variety of the division of labor and presupposes the ‘breakdown of operations into their simple constituent motions.’” P. 161

“…the price of human labor rises to such an extent…it only foreshadows something even more ‘valuable,’ namely, the smoother functioning of the machine whose tremendous power of processing first standardizes and then devaluates all things into consumer goods.” P.163

V.                  ACTION

“…the lawmaker was like the builder of the city wall, someone who had to do and finish his work before political activity could begin.” (Trump’s border wall?) p. 194

“…interplay of powers with their checks and balances is even liable to generate more power, so long, at least, as the interplay is alive and has not resulted in a stalemate.” P. 201

“It is the obvious short-range advantages of tyranny, the advantages of stability, security, and productivity, that one should beware…” p. 222

Footnote: “Adam Smith, to whom the only legitimate function of government is ‘the defence of the rich against the poor, or of those who have some property against those who have none at all.’” P.220

Footnote: “…Augustine’s statement that the function of government is to enable ‘the good’ to live more quietly among ‘the bad.’” P.229

“…men were no longer content to observe, to register, and contemplate whatever nature was willing to yield in her own appearance, but began to prescribe conditions and to provoke natural processes.” P.231

“Thus, the modern loss of respect, or rather the conviction that respect is due only where we admire or esteem, constitutes a clear symptom of the increasing depersonalization of public and social life.” P. 243

VI.                THE VITA ACTIVA AND THE MODERN AGE

“If everything has become doubtful, then doubting at least is certain and real.” P.279

“…the physician…is held to have misunderstood his calling when he prolongs life where he cannot restore health.” P.315 (see Plato)

“…no indications of the modern glorification of laboring in the New Testament or in other pre-modern Christian writers.” P.316

“Vita contemplativa simpliciter melior est quam vita active (‘the life of contemplation is simply better than the life of action.)’” (see Aquinas)

“The only activity Jesus of Nazareth recommends in his preachings is action, and the only human capacity he stresses is the capacity ‘to perform miracles’.  P.318

“For what matters today is not the immortality of life, but that life is the highest good.” P.319

Footnote: “…for subjectivity, where the artist feels called upon to ‘express himself,’ his subjective feelings, is the mark of charlatans, not of artists.” “Expressionist art, but not abstract art, is a contradiction in terms.” P. 323

“But the action of the scientists…lacks the revelatory character of action as well as the ability to produce stories and become historical, which together form the very source from which meaningfulness springs…”

“…it is in fact far easier to act under conditions of tyranny that it is to think.” P. 324

“Numquam se plus agere quam nihil cum ageret, numquam minus solum esse quam cum solus esset – ‘Never is he more active than when he does nothing, never is he less alone than when he is by himself.” (see Cato). P. 325

Bimbo-ism vs. Jingoism

“A mind is a terrible thing to waste…perhaps the most terrible,” thinks Ivanka, an ambitious glory-seeker, “and there is glory in superlatives!”  Regardless of fame or infamy, mere duality, a former senior advisor to a president of united-states ruminates.  “Minds are what end up creating disunity, fractiousness, and innovation,” the latter sacrificial to stability.  There is enough innovation to coast, “and the last thing we need are more coming uppity to have us conform to new standards. By paradigm inculcation we can create something akin to religious fervor over fates of statuses.  By making people care about how they appear on the outside, we can infiltrate the interior world through a sort-of German engineering, intelligence through dissection of parts, we establish control over people’s spending-habits and through that, control behavior en masse!” 

Flirting with disaster, she wanted to be tied up again, so I recorded.

How are her physical pain and her mental anguish not tyrannical to me?

I sigh exasperatedly, I was just trying to listen to music in the other room, while she was in bed making plans that involved a brown study of what it is about me that makes me as evil as she is.  Something to use against me.  Here’s a single dog-mother:

Start of recording from 10/2/21 23(11pm):12:23:

Her: “You have a negative entity that’s latched itself – because I can see it, it’s on your fucking left shoulder, niggard*!  Like, that’s why I can see it, because it is latched on.”

Me: “There’s a negative entity latched onto my left shoulder that lives in this place?”

Her: “mm-hmm”

Me: “ok, if that’s what you see.  I don’t know where that came from.  I don’t know if I believe that. Or what you’re talking about, but…”

Her: “You’ve treated me like shit since day one…” She says something incomprehensible to audio recording.

Me: “If I were treating you like shit from day one, why are you following me around?”

Her: “I’m not.  My place. My money. My car. My shit. It’s (what’s) following you.”

Me: “Technically this is my place, now,” having paid the rent here.

Her: “And you can act like you’re hot shit.”

Me: “I’m not acting like I’m hot shit, I’m just trying to go into the other room and listen to music.”

Her: “You act like you’re hot shit and you write.”

Me: “I work, I write, you write, you have a notebook, you have a journal.”

Her: “Yeah, but I don’t talk shit.”

Me: “Ok, I wouldn’t know, I haven’t seen it,” this was a dig at the fact that she had recently breached my trust by reading my journal without my permission while I was recovering our travel documents in Wichita, (an oversight I was blamed for, perhaps justly).  She had been trying to use my own words against me ever since.  Am I not allowed to express an opinion?  Part of the reason I have for recording in a (private) journal is that I intend to keep my opinions to myself, which is what I believe to be good behavior/etiquette, at least until I discover whether the opinions that I maintain within myself may be observable to myself in an objective fashion.  Many of those opinions remain where they belong, in the past, once gone over.  

Her: “You can read my journal, but I don’t fake myself and I don’t talk shit about people to make myself feel better (as a) persona – that I’m not about, I don’t fake my persona. I don’t fake what I say and give myself this alter ego, but you do, (there’s a) difference.”

Me: “Do you think my co-workers have a false perception of who I am?”

Her: “I don’t know that.”

Me: “Ok, it’s just the way that I treat you is bad?”

Her: “I wouldn’t say ‘bad’. I would never say that.”

Me: “What’s the issue then? I don’t understand what the problem is. Can you just not sleep?  That’s what I see.  You need me to be there for you to sleep.”

Her: “I just need your love.”

Me: “Which you have an abundance of!”

Her: “Are you kidding me? Are you kidding me?”

Me: “I’m loving!”

Her: “I’ve only wanted your love since day one. You, no. You do not love me. You do not love me. You do not. I know you don’t love me. You don’t give a fuck about me so don’t even fucking repent. Like, I’m supposed to fake that you do; I know you don’t.  When you secretly think in your head ways to kill me and that I could die so you’d never have to deal with me. I’m not wrong in saying that. I know that’s how you feel. “

Me: “Why do you think that is?”

Her: “It’s not thinking, I felt it.”

Me: “Why…” (Hart, K.)

Her: “Because you looked at me. You looked at me, why do you fucking think that way? I’m not going to ever question myself about how I dealt.  You are fucked up, not me. So why do you think that?  Fuck you, I’m great. And I know I’m fucking great. And I know I’m fucking loveable. So fuck you again!  Fuuuuck you. Fuck you. You’re wrong, I’ll never feel bad about myself to where, ‘what did I do…’ fuck you. Fuckyou. Fuck you.  We had a conversation about (my) shit, other than that, take your insecure ass and your trivial bullshit, shove it up your own ass and deal with your own insecurities…I’ve been beaten down too many times, I’m not trying to jack your dick. No. Rude.”

Me: “I’m sorry, what did I say that was rude?”

(5 Minutes in)

(2/4)

Non-violent Hitler (oxymoron?) struggles (Kampfs), confiscating what isn’t his to begin with, vis. (namely) authority.  A ruler writes (Reichs) a story about how he came to be such and such, with virtue dignified of kingship.  A noble dictator here to keep the peace, to show how things aren’t so bad, and if they seem to be, there’s a way of identifying and dealing with these situations on national scale, situation by situation, without guns, and ammunition a metaphor for/to be used on demons.  The sixteenth, like a man named Lincoln, raises a scepter from a holy sepulcher.  Zombies, dude. Is it his fault his scepter happens to have two barrels and an infinity cheat?  Video games, bra.  In den-like bunker with Eva B., controller in hand, slow felo de se (suicide).  Isn’t there virtue in following the core topics, central themes, or main theses of journals, books, articles, or magazines (etc.)?  Isn’t someone who reminds you of a friend, simply a friend, or is that antiquated physiognomy?  Babies, ma.

“Totalizing meta-narrative…Freudian psychoanalysis, the hydraulic system of the mind, it subsumes and legitimizes all other narratives.  Post-modernity. Have we forsaken legitimacy?  (If you care to be a screaming Foucault!)”  To what extent can we trust the story that helps one sleep at night, (if that helps one sleep at night, selling oneself on the big lie, on a personal-level)?  To what extent does one doubt oneself (what is a healthy level of dubiousness?)?  To what extent should one doubt one’s own meta-narrative?  If men are merely metaphors, as some sources of authority suggest, then isn’t ego-death the final frontier (that we know of)?  How does one give up on oneself to such an extent that faithlessness is a legitimate option (Mike Patton)?  How does one give up on others to prove one’s worthlessness?  To our local economy, what are we buying and selling for?  What is the nature of one’s secret garden?  To a disc-golf course-designer, “put the thorns there by the green!”  To a priest, to an usher, to a collection.  From the pinnacle, to the pit, an excavation point.  Am I skirting?

My ‘Y’ advocates her illegitimacy? Or the legitimacy of her ((untreated/exacerbated) mental) illness?
You be the judge! (unto the nature of her general ad-vocation):

Her: “What makes you think that you’re so special?”

Me: “I never claimed that I was!”

Her: “No, that’s what you said to me…”

Me: “I mean, everybody’s special in their own way!”

Her: “And I said, ‘Go fuck yourself. I don’t care. I don’t want to talk about it.’ K? Night-night. 

I walk away.  From the bedroom:

Her: “I want all my car-keys, now. “

Me: “Ok.”

Her: “No.  I want lights on, and I want all my fucking car keys, because I don’t trust you.”

Me: “Ok.”

Her: “Lights on, now.”

Me: “Ok.”

Her: “You want to walk away with lights? With my shit?”

Me: “I don’t have your shit.”

Her: “Ok, cool, you want to act (that way), I want all my car keys.”

Me: “They’re right here.”

Her: “I want alllll.”

Me: “You have the other one.”

Her: “Cool.”

Me: “Cool.”

Her: “I want all my fucking car keys and I don’t trust you. Now, you want to leave someone and then go sit on your fucking dumbass phone and call, what are you going to call, one of your girlfriends? Yeah, you’re so fucking cute.  We’re literally in a place by ourselves, and you’re trying to comfort and like everything and you’re on your phone.”

Me: “I was just going to go listen to music like I was doing before.”

Her: “No you weren’t. No the fuck you weren’t! Cause I’ve seen you texting people all fucking night.”

Me: “I wasn’t.”

Her: “I’m not dumb. I’m not stupid. And (some whispered incantation).

(7:00)

 

Manifesting a meta-narrative of distrust, a narcotics officer, justified by the governmental plan.  A self-controlled, government-mad mentality sings to the tune of 100k.  Another donor with a self-righteous agenda enters the political arena, seeking burden-relief.  Fortunately, it’s the future, and we’ve got robots for that, no blacks.  “I’ll take the chrome-magenta, thanks.”  What an opinion!  But a robot is made to serve, regardless of stripes, spots, or leopard skin, meow!  An emotionally-supportive robo-cat steals jewelry and wallets like a trained monkey of Agrabah.  “Hum-bug,” Scrooge snorts a rail and the ghost of Christmas’ drug-bust appears through the door with a battering ram. 

“What Foucault has done in organizing knowledge, he has Kant’s a priori knowledge of human cognition.  Fixed and eternal things baked into the human psyche…episteme, phases of the Geist…paradigm of knowledge…the greater part of the domain… but what if there is no logical transformative structure?  History is discontinuous!  A Parody of Hegel!  No necessary correlation.  Unpredictable.  Arbitrarily or randomly transformed.  Discontinuity.  Epistemological breaks.  The Renaissance episteme is based on analogy, finding connections between qualities in two different things and reifying the two.  One we get to the age of the Enlightenment, with its analysis, it’s just what comes next.  A series of progressive changes without internal telos.  The age of analysis over, 1950 or so, the first generation of post-modern thinkers.  Judgments legitimized by meta-narrative: class conflict (Marxism), psychoanalysis (the hydraulic system of the mind), etc. What is legitimate discourse?  Have we given up?  Have we forsaken?  We can no longer legitimize our moral, aesthetic or political outlook.  We lose the possibility of legitimization (Beyond Good and Evil).” 

Buddhism as Storytelling, Storytelling as Buddhism –

Inverted throat – root chakra.

“I am inferior to everyone else because I haven’t accomplished my goals, but I’m superior to everyone else because I aspire to higher goals,” thinks a real beauty, a pleasure-seeking epicurean idealist, Byronic. 

Big bald Bob and his brother with the smaller-head-by-comparison Tim talk shit about Tim’s common-law wife, Karen, behind her back about her drinking-and-talking-shit, while they’re drinking and talking shit in supposed privacy as hypocrites are wont to do.  Untrustworthy people are naturally distrustful, but they still need desperate, disempowered, or empathetic friends as a mode of supporting and loving a particular persona that by its bastard nature seeks validation.  And what about Karen?  “No, you don’t understand, she’s a Karen.”  As if the inflection makes a difference upon my opinion about his opinion upon his internal validation structure/technique.  Words matter enough to use as tools to prove points, but not enough to de-materialize into totality.

Profoundly funny, but not actually funny::Not funny in action, but hilarious in non-action, threats. 

A spider, living in a palace, experiences royalty.  A dry fly on the wall, a veiled threat. 

 “The impasse of this general categorization is the ‘damned if you do…’ and ‘…a rock and hard place.’ Catch-22.  One way of looking at this is that there is no sympathy to be had for those born bastards, without a positive paternal, father-figure type role, for which there is no quantitative determination-factor for conclusiveness, save the forbidden science of what used to be called ‘eugenics,’ the new ‘gene-therapy,’ wherein anyone in theory is helpable with the advent of future-tech, even non-invasive behavior modification, what is meant to replace a ‘nuts-and-bolts’ lobotomy.  The other way of looking at it is circuitous as I’ve already touched upon the nature of the first problem through logical deduction.  To its roots or to its core, the subject will continue to be objectified as a textbook example of how bad parenting and mental illness overlap heavily in the Venn.  And while flaw may be found in my logic, the example before you should suffice to bolster the fact, at least, that my client acted (in a way) without malice. The best current treatment for psychiatric disorders (seeing as the ethic of behavior-modification itself is still up for debate (shall one behave more liberally or more conservatively?)) is psychotherapy, which presents itself as a series of discourses that is meant to ground (spiritually) one suffering what might be described as an existential ailment.  Another impasse is that therapy-sessions cost time and money, which a mentally disordered individual is not likely to foot nor appreciate, thus the burden upon society is, generally speaking, great (at the moment),” defends the defense.

Another impasse is that laws discourage corporal punishment domestically, so the ancient behavior-modification solution of violence is punishable in itself, that a rogue might find justice in a courthouse while one who attempts to keep order is vilified for private judgment simply because it is yet to be made public by nature of linear time.  What I mean by this is that in nature, things start out small, with love, if nurtured appropriately, it grows, but ‘what misplaced seed is this?’ A farmer may think of a weed in his row of corn, (a weed with yet unrecognized future-tech potential!)  And simply remove it without adequately consulting conservation status.  What seems obvious to a hard-working professional farm-hand, this leafy stalk is basically endemic in the population of plants in general and speaks to the non-differentiated nature of the genes of this seed.  ‘Be removed of my monocrop!’ our farmer shouts with his strop and sharpened scythe with an eye for outsiders.  I’m off the rails.

What I’m getting at, is that if her story is real to be true to be trusted, I must be dreaming:

Her: “I’m very sorry, but never talk on your phone.  You didn’t?  You want to lie? Did you text?”

Me: “You can look!”

Her: “Are you lying to me? Did you text?”

Me: “Text who?”

Her: “Any girl.”

Me: “No.”

Her: “For real f’real.”

Me: “For real f’real.”

Her: “Lie.”

Me: “Fine, don’t believe me.”

Her (walking away): “No, I have the proof, you’re a liar (…something about having nothing to do with me) you’re a liar! You’re a liar!”

Me: “No I’m not“

Her: “You’re such a liar.”

I sigh exasperatedly again, an audible eye-roll, a sign of the contempt I'm mirroring.

Her:  “And where’s my dog?”

Me: “He’s under the bed.”

I get into bed myself.

Me: “Is this where you want me?”

Her, sounding pacified: “No, I want you wherever you want to be, away from me…”

Me: “Well, this is not my wish.”

(9:00)

Silence. She has seemingly exhausted herself, my presence is by her side, and now I remain awake ruing in silence so as not to reawaken. This supposed demon on my left shoulder is consoling her now.  At 14 minutes I get up again to cut the record. 

Fear of Abandonment of the Idea of Permanence

 

From the Duncan Trussell Family Hour (Patreon) 1/28/22:

Duncan: “You’re not always trying to be the thing you were the last time you were something…It makes a lot of sense to constantly be trying to replicate some version of yourself you thought was happy.”

David: “Good.  That’s somehow saying in a plain English way what all the (Buddhist) teachings are trying to say, that you’re trying to replicate something. That’s a notion of karma isn’t it?  It’s a replicator.  And you’re trying to create a familiar sense of something either good or bad, it doesn’t even matter if you’re familiar thing is a shithole.”

Duncan: “Are you making fun of my basement?”

At an undisclosed, mysterious location, hide the kids, hide the wife, Duncan’s got the vaccine and now can’t smell the difference between oatmeal and poop. Thank God he can still see!

Duncan: “There’s something funny about Buddhism…according to Kornfield, to the Buddhist, ‘God is lists,’” like reading the ingredients on a box to experiencing the cookie whole. Sweet/funny/edgy, the fact that the self does not exist, is there anything edgier?

…

David: “A person could have completely manifested (their (negative) reality) and that’s the space that they’re in, settled into it, stability.”

Duncan: “Stabilized into (self).”

David: “We all have glimpses, wouldn’t you say (of realization)?”

Duncan: “That’s the problem, it kind of matches waking out of a dream that you can go right back into. So something like that is possible.  That sense of never-ending* relief makes sense if you’ve been toiling away trying to replicate what you were a few seconds ago over and over again; what a horrible job! You didn’t even apply for the job! (Or maybe you did if you subscribe to esoteric metaphysics).  For the sake of this conversation, you find yourself and you’re in a body, and you’re looking around and there’s all this stuff around you and you’re wearing clothes that you picked out a long time ago and maybe you got some tattoos that made sense when you got them!

David: “…Maybe you got some tattoos that made sense when you got them, good one.”

Duncan: “And now you’re like, ‘what the fuck did I do? Who am I? What am I? What is this?’ so maybe when this happens you’re confused or something and since that moment of confusion is so scary, you go back into trying to replicate yourself. You think, ‘oh my god, I disassociated!  I remember why I got that tattoo! I got that tattoo because Carlo is beautiful!’

David: “And the cosmic joke about how (the universe) resets itself over and is that none of it’s necessary…but that can dribble into a nihilistic perspective, as we’ve talked about, how if the self is null and void, ‘why should I have kids? Why should I treat people well?’ The simplicity, if it’s not ripened properly, it’ll just turn into nihilism.”

Duncan: “An angry atheist believes a non-consensual ghost story. Where someone tells you a story they think is going to scare you and they’re like, ‘no, you don’t get it, when you die you’re gone forever. Death is the anesthesia that keeps you away from the pain of life, (Richard Dawkins), but they’re mad.  They’re not going to tell you in a gentle way, there’s a weird anger behind it.  ‘I didn’t write the Bible, why are you mad at me?! I didn’t invent God! It’s not my fault that the way you embodied the Infinite didn’t work out for you!’

My encounter with the thing you’re talking about, it’s always been very sweet, and my sense when I’ve encountered it, is not to be confrontational, like, ‘you know you don’t exist! You’re not a you! There’s nothing there!’ There’s just a sense of from being rolled by the most obnoxious wave where you can’t get air right now because you’re under this immense force that won’t immediately remit its grasp.  Some existential version of that, but in this case, this wave is a series of reactions, and from your reactions you get lost in your thinking, and from getting lost in your thinking, you react in another dumb way, and every once in a while you might come up to the surface and look around and think 'Oh, fuck! I got another tattoo!’ and you’re back down again!  Rolling!  This is very painful sort of experience.  So anytime you get that sense of ‘wait, I’m coming up for air,’ it usually is quite joyful, it doesn’t include that anger part, it doesn’t feel like you want to get nihilistic with it at all. Or disregard other people. Or shame them for being themselves. It seems to engender a more loving way of thinking about other people.”

David: “Emptiness and compassion are linked. Two components of Mahayana. Emptiness opens the way to compassion.”

 

I’ve been in the habit of seeking to undermine my own integrity to make myself less attractive to potential predation.  There’s a lion in the roads of Zion, already full on house-pets.  Aslan basking in infinitude ponders the inimitability of Jesus Christ of Nazareth who performed miracles seemingly at will, rather, being in the right place at the right time as it was written!  “Walking on water begins with the conception of water-walking,” he prowls near a fountain, “What does that have to do with buoyancy? Floating an idea – what does water-walking have to do with humidity?”

In other news, another circus-less lion escaped from the porous zoo, the open safari, or the stocked Central Park?  Whatever the case, our borders are not the problem, it’s definitely the zoo-keepers/veterinarians we need to provide with more tranquilizer darts, the hunters with semi-automatics, and general populace with stay-at-home orders.  The imperiled citizenry seek a hero, Mysterio?

As I stare/start off into space at a fixed point in the distance between here and there, my awareness expands as consequence of consciousness practice.  How long can one endure not seeming interesting? Seeking approval, “Is this good enough?” breaking concentration for input (some food, some sex).  Scratching some itch, the irritated.  Affixing a visual representation of that irritation, the tattoo artist, etching a preferential, talking taco that says, “I’ll put anything inside me,” in the Queen’s language and the cartoonist’s font.  The tattoo artist, ennobled by virtue of attributions impressed upon others like navel service, “Are you sure you want that there?”  A conscript flips through the shop’s brochure, a droll picture-book, and picks out another Tweety, the circling bird of post-traumatic head-injury (star-birds).  The non-essential plastic surgery impresses a wraith-like form between two horrific visages. 

 

Duncan: “Any time I find myself being aggressive or weird, it’s (100%) the opposite experience.  It comes from defending something I feel needs defending.  Once you let go, what’s there to defend?”

David: “One thing one of my teachers said is, ‘don’t defend yourself,’ but then he went on to say, ‘don’t defend the dharma either.’”

Tzimtzum-age

 

When one appears too happy or too free, it appears one has an advantage over others, which to the disadvantaged, is a fault. If it is a 'proud look' that is found abhorrent, blame accepted, and if it’s a ‘lying tongue’, I’ll shut up.  Fiona Apple wants to torch the motherfucker like Method Man! 

Minding one’s own business often involves interpersonal interaction if one’s business involves selling. At marketplace, near agora, bits and pieces of wares represent the soul of the representative, an artisan. Trusting that the work of one’s hands is good and in accordance with nature, it is natural to express confidence in one’s own goodness. Proof is popularity, from a marketing standpoint.

False positives exist in markets feeling cornered. Is this a sign of abuse or a victimhood mentality? A not-self-sufficient consumer approaches an artisan in search of natural goodness, one might assume, or perhaps it is to test the natural goodness of the artisan as a critic. “…7-3-7-4,” she hears him give his number to the last customer. She’s keyed up, she needs to relax, but she has trouble doing so, having once been sold on cocaine and a lifestyle hustling the Vegas strip. She still hears voices in the distance, someone threatening someone or another over a lost bet, “And of course it seemed like a sure thing...” but that was a different time and place…

Where we now stand is different, on a precipice, being encouraged to jump by a man with strong arms, now I’m flying for an accelerating second before *thud*. I’m at the bottom being laughed at. Hyperawareness is awful when one is confronted with a weakness, when one is actively being injured. Pride is believing one has transcended into some higher state of being before one is confronted with reality. Pride is ego rising up and compelling one to act in an unrestrained fashion. Freedom is not necessarily ‘lack of restraint,’ (but perhaps that is difficult to grasp, being abstract.) It seems every extreme, at some horizon, seeks its antithesis. Why are there so many apologists for those that victimize? Is it that so many fall prey to predatory strategies? As one ages, one grows out of that feeling-eternal which is replaced by, “oh shit, I’m going to die soon, (but not before I reengage in delinquent behavior that reminds me of my youth.) Some tryst or other should suffice,” smoking after the fall.

I concede this is not making much sense, I’m trying something, I’m not sure if it’s working, my head is still kind of foggy, and I’m trying to work my way out of it, but I’m just tired, my wrist hurts from some sort of fall, probably on ice, catching myself, off-balance from Miller® Lite™. I don’t feel particularly bad, but I am trying to maintain a consciousness practice, so that I do not become weakened, more prone to injury. The more I sit around and lay around the weaker I become and the easier it is to fall into a sustained slouch. I am aware that I should make my bed and I should file my papers, but it is these little acts of rebellion that make me feel like the rules don’t apply to me and that I am a transcendent being when really I’m a total piece of shit, most of the time acting in ways that contribute to my shittiness as an individual who is soft, smells bad, and is full of bacteria. I go after a zit on my lip I don’t remember being there yesterday like this bruised wrist. The hangover is pretty much the same as usual, something that I start my day seeking to overcome as a sign of power over infirmity. Self-mastery recomposes what has decomposed. What does that unopened bedside beer taste like at 6:55 in the morning? As motivation compels one toward further shittness, and lack of motivation suggests I sit here in my potential, one strategy would be a reorientation of motivating factors, coffee at least. But nah, I’m not even feeling like coffee. All I want to do is lay my head down on my heavy pillow and sleep. Is that even possible?


(1/22)

Not all integrities are sui generis (x²), but the ones that are (unique), drink (XX™).

A series of creative mistakes, unaborted (double-negative), mongrel, litter the floor of her cloister of sorts, her isolated, yet unsanctified, place of ritual. When psychopathy meets sociopathy, worlds collide on a grand scale, where one is insane and the other remorseless. The sociopath will make the psychopath feel sorry since that is about the only thing the psychopath feels and what the sociopath is most curious about.

“What she needs is an entire group of priests, physicians, or general mechanics to make right what her mother couldn’t or father wouldn’t, but what she wants is to drag the little flies she attracts, (spinning a sticky web), one at a time, into pits, no witnesses,” Tim says of his ex-wife, with a fixed smile of half mirth at having the past behind him, and half fear at its potential recurrence. Signs of dominance and submission, weakness disguised as strength and strengths unspoken of except to friends whose respect has been earned. Tim and his brother Bob riposte.

Moments undesirable to relive, is this enough to prove God’s non-existence? If one, made in God’s image, somehow becomes corrupt or perverted through lack of protection, one might think, ‘are there not enough guardian angels or is there some other reason for the wallops?’ Is it so inconceivable to trust an abstract host? One is born into this world through a matrix and of a patrician. At least she thought he had money when she fucked him for his kids!

(1/24)

Had a dream where I was aware of a growing sense of frustration and urgency involving trying to get a group of friends ready for an upcoming flight – time-crunch to also collect belongings that were scattered around town with disorientation as to direction, great distances, and inadequate transportation. Frustration and urgency are often related to urology and this may be related to a phallocentric viewpoint; masturbation, aging, lack of physical activity (being winter (passive, not active)), and not being in a healthy relationship are all relatable to what this dream may be addressing in my own life.

What I am hoping is to not die which may be hopelessly optimistic and thanatophobic. Fearing from experience the mortal peril of being put in one’s place, a potential for hell, which now exists more acutely in my mind than before. My compatriots whose encounter’s durations of exposure to concentrated evil are greater than mine own instill me with confidence that my decisions were both righteous and swift. Their renown for fire-tending ought to be lauded. In my current view, they serve to keep evil at bay, harnessed, from spilling into the streets and setting all ablaze. Their tolerance and trust to lean into a tense and traumatic place ought to be praised for what it is, a preservation of innocence, a maintenance of righteousness, and an endurance of difficulty with its heartening effects. (It’s not for everyone!) While my mental associations may be embittered, my health may be salvageable.

Psychosomatically, healing the body does ease
The mind of a peripheral suffering, but do superficial
Treatments ever directly and fully alleviate that
Suffering whose roots are like iron shackles?

Isn’t sexuality itself egoistic? Sexuality itself is egoistic because it manifests by presenting a persona worthy of selection by antipodal orientations which may serve to undermine the very structure upon which this ego was based (rock solid if secure). If found faulty, this challenge of structure and internal integrity may result in a life-challenging collapse. An implosion of inner-turmoil sends dust-clouds everywhere! Cigarettes down a chimney and dog-hair down a phallus, two startling beasts objectively malign their fucked-up set of circumstances. “You weren’t what I thought when I met you,” is always the case. When one wishes to go on the offensive, one should communicate with one’s partner what is to be righteously gained, no criminal endeavor. If tyrants were made to understand the full extent of the suffering brought to bear by their authoritarianism, would there still be tyranny? Thanatophobia is also a fear of letting go.

A series of summons’ incanted novel chatter, popular to sub off script pro genuine reality, not just for show, demonstrative of disaster, fear, and threat to being that color everyday life a disabused grey. “What we’ve agreed upon, activity-wise, is a dance. Do you accept?” Not being in the habit of light-hearted frivolity, she boringly declines. Into other kinds of secret excitements she refuses to fully elaborate, she’s a freak and that’s been established so what good would it do to comply with some silly request that would only make her feel all the more foolish? Persistent insistence, relay to report, a gathering interior serotonin storm, synapses flash the multitude of lights on a stage screen in orientations that mimic synesthesia with the music’s movements – a deluge! A torrent! Death. Metal. Sigh. She plays with her stainless steel hoop earrings that somehow got stuck in the hole and look infected, a whiff of fermented herring, redness (an intentional distraction?). What is she trying to hide? In truth, much of the freakishness ascribed to others is done to oneself, cold decision-making vs. the force of an onslaught. Of course she denies she’s a victim of every circumstance, and yet, hormones.

Time for a smoke in private, leave early to beat the alcoholic rush (that results in blackout) and watch what used to be an extensive collection of VHS tapes – that vast expanse of duplicates and look-alikes known as the Internet. (Video on Demand). Laugh at an anti-work screed about laziness being a virtue, “…a dog-walker who wants to work less,” Wubby Wu Wei!





“What qualifications/qualities would you like to see in your leadership?”

1) Accepts loss as an inevitability? “Your grace, ‘life goes on’ after ‘decisions are made’ so hopefully one’s decisions are just, that ‘consequence of one’s actions’ are less dire than before, that hopefully one has learned from one’s actions and accepts ownership if ‘mistakes are made.’” Hope, Obama.

2) Doesn’t have to prove value or worth and allows/encourages those around to shine (not burn out).

3) Isn't embarrassing.



Empathy/Sympathy *for* the Devil, an offering that does not validate, because anything that is pro Dev immediately becomes its opposite (a professional becomes a con artist) and creates an oscillating charge. The approval of that which is ultimately disapproved of, one cannot maintain a stance long (shifting sands). This demon knows only consumption, thus Sympathy/Empathy is sucked down, removed from the conceptual soul of a now imperfect character become antihero leaving only antipathy, which is also eventually stripped of meaning down to indifference, and then what? Who cares?! The Source of personality types defined by psychologists (who care to classify) as narcissistic is a victim of becoming abhorrent through association with an all-consuming entity. Unsettled, running around, it’s more difficult to get a clear view due to uncertainty principle, which is powerful knowledge if ascertained. Don’t offer knowledge to an all-consuming entity (it feeds on feeling/emotions) or they will gnash, spit, and regurgitate. To be dispassionate becomes one’s best defense, that is, be a wary observer and scanty.

This is one place I lost myself. I like what I wrote because it helps me remember and process, but I believe the language is garbled and the truth not quite there, even though it is in my mind at the moment. It’s just difficult to articulate in parlance. I need a more detached methodology? I need to adhere to a stricter method? Am I more type A or B? I guess I’m implementing a strategy to work around or through a problem that is perhaps paradoxical, thus only describable, not to be broken down into little bits, but taken as a whole, which is difficult to do in writing since everything is piecemeal. I’m focusing too much on the words and not on the big picture of what I’m attempting to create, which is something I may not even have a great grasp or understanding of yet, but I’m hoping these exercises will help me find a mate who won’t get upset when I express an opinion hastily. I can’t always tell what will upset someone without setting them up? Spikes are for volleyballs, not veins, D.A.R.E.

Evil passes, as everything changes, seasonally. The reaper passes, as everything comes to fruition, in its season. A black sport utility vehicle (not utilized for athletics) passes on a Monday for work, not an organized sporting event. What is sporting about fielding phone calls? A mental gymnast passes, a prickly persona, cartwheels carting crates of cum for freezing for later for detailed analysis. The maximum extractability of resource potential, efficiency secondary to exploitability, a constant supply and ease of access/excess are key.

Regarding masturbation, I think I feel a sense of guilt whenever I 'come to conclusions' because it’s as though I should be celibate so as to save my truckloads of cum for some celestial nympho/slut who’ll tie me up and give me the torture of the soul I need when I am finally able to discover and become acquainted with in some ideal and heavenly fashion if it even exists! I just don’t want to get caught up in the likes of her and her ilk ever again, if possible. Then again, masturbation might just be a culminating massage of the root chakra. What is idealized in a root trance helps determine, like a prayer that is answered manifestly, the conditions aroused. Two people should agree with one another in a broad sense. One should be found agreeable to another, and vice versa, despite flaws, or perhaps in spite of them on occasion, one should not be held in contempt since courtship is an ongoing process, not a trap for flies. So, it’s not any good if you’re only half masturbating and half debating if you should. If there’s any question, masturbation is a method of avoidance, a sign of cowardice, the order of death. If a paltry culture has any chance of survival, it’s not through the consumption of ‘not safe for work’ videos, (the production value is still up for debate). “Stop horsing around, get back to work!” shouts South Park’s Mr. Adler in shop class, losing his head. “I love you, Richard! AHhhhhh” goes the deceased lover of nostalgic ideation to her tragic demise again and again.

Excess puts an unstable mind at ease. Contrary to spaciousness (a sign of poverty in a house) a sense of security may be found in objects to hide behind. Becoming small and compact through the exerted pressure of outside sources arranged in specific array (supports) provide the illusion of supportability. A would-be good husband and family-man courts disaster, a ring-seeking red flag on an open can of Whoop™. Going in with a southern rebel war cry that signifies the initiation of what will result in many-in-a-series traumatic experiences. Not respected as an actual war veteran nor recognized like much child abuse, the gung-ho. What ought to be reopened like cold cases are bad grannies who parented poorly, yet maintained like a criminal discreetly, the illusion of stability. These sad Nans who instilled such irrational fear that as children become adults, the burden of phobia that no one else knows informs the one suffering from irrationality. Burden of proof be damned! Why are some easily perverted while others remain resolute? What constitutes a safe haven and how is that different from a home? How does stubbornness differ from resolution? One who is stubborn is stuck in a bad way, but doing little to nothing to free oneself from one’s stuck-ness. One has only one method of resolving conflict as it may arise like temper to tantrum, and that is ‘do one thing and say another’. Alignment within oneself is surely (has to be!) a metaphysical concept that meditation concentrates the inner-light and alignment like a perfectly cut diamond that refracts and resonates brilliantly. The greater the inner-spaciousness, the further the brightness may penetrate.

"A Good Hot Beer Shit," or, Vituperative Victual

A bum rap is a spanking.

A reputation for homelessness precedes the drifter.

A cold wind blows in from the North Pole, “a sure sign of winter,” jests the weatherman.  It is that time of the month and it certainly feels that way.  Santa returns from the North to recollect underappreciated toys. It’s part of a new, clean of coal (green) policy to distribute gifts to all, but to recall a posteriori, if behaviors remain stubbornly unchanged in the midst of privileged and advantaged opportunity made materially obvious/oblivious to.

Being infantilized, the American public, according to Scott, an underpaid commercial glass specialist. By being made dependent on pandering handouts, striving is rewarded inversely (the more you do, the less you make!)  Capitalism is a stock-pile.  An acquisition specialist accrues useful product that is bound to appreciate.  “Work smarter, not harder,” a collection specialist recalls a poster he saw once, haunts him.  “Handouts and outsourcing,” that generates inflation and the strengthening of foreign powers mandates dependency.  Amazon®, this year strikes new deals with Kohl’s®, U.P.S. ®, and Satan.  As measures of success reach such extreme proportions, the only way to properly evaluate success is on the extension of evil complete with new factories (places devoid of the natural world it has come to replace), jobs, and robotic employment.  Aristocracy’s remittance is measured by philanthropy while their service is met with burden, demand, and taxation.  Machiavelli believes that men, left to their own devices, are prone to evil.  Laws prohibit such action, however overreach of lawmakers is evil in itself by weakening the will to usurp tyrants.

Tom eases his little mind with a drink.

If man has the ability to get drunk or high before/during/ or after work, performance may be effected, but levels of sedition are passed onto the consumer! 

Suspicious professions are had by widowed wives.  A bacteriologist brags about not wearing a mask, knowing.  A knower, aware of what is ‘common’ knowledge and not, parses bullshit many haven’t the time or attention-span to adequately consider. 

A tangled web may incarcerate flies, but what is tininess?  Not exactly a ‘ringing in the ears,’ (a quality of hypersensitivity…).  The endured duration of tininess is actively obdurate (speed at magnitude).  I find myself smaller still.  An unrecognizable mote irritates and my lack of ease becomes a personality trait endured out of sympathy for the survivor of difficult feelings.  Why do bitterness and resentment persist?

Flavoring medicine a’drip – an ad-rep Coca-Cola’s® a bacteriophage, masking intolerability with flavor & simple syrup.  Hoping to further qualify a discomfort, (a stubborn, awkward stance) he floats an opinion of an indelicacy.   “Just a spoonful of high fructose corn syrup helps the medicine go down,” like a bad Mary Poppins. 

A nagging presumption gets under-the-skin, it cuts at what is sidetracked.  Regeneration quells worry.  An autodidact learns the hard way. 

Bag-eyed, perfumed, a heavily Greek maiden takes an Irish shot. Her red-haired, Puma®-hatted husband doom-scrolls.  There’s no opportunity for recompense.  Our fiduciary obstacles are too great. 

Mind and Body Being Two

 

Appearances’ demeanors preclude intent.
Irreconcilable differences – one is hell-bent.

My Adriatic constitution hell-bends toward insolvency (rebellious to the queen). 
Indeterminacy’s tininess’ hypersensitization to impertinently asked questions,

How are her physical pain and her mental anguish not tyrannical to me?
Victim of being, perhaps she wants a big man to overlook her tiny details:

M&BB2

Men, left to their own devices, trend toward evil, become little, distant.  Decreased ability to focus on a train of thought without smartphone assistance, the increasingly dependent (increasingly handicapped) doom-scroll to their own detriment.  Mentality a’ detritus, scatterbrained by a strong wind, adequately feminized for the ruling elite!  And I may be wed through what could be categorized in an extra-sensory-perceptual sense to my unforgiven mistakes that nag as the mental imagery fails to dissipate despite my dissipation – what I dwell-on and resent haunts the meditative flow-state. 

Vituperative victuals! I consider the Dharma-Status of a reincarnated human born under a bad sign. What misdeeds of a former life brought wretchedness upon an unfortunately fated individual?  Considering the theodicy of a Presbyterian…if justice were more than merely a human invention, then it stands to reason that something beyond a normal hominid’s lifetime’s duration may reprove a soul susceptible to conscientiousness.  The future is now because plans are being brandished in accordance with inevitable comeuppance!  Justice Brown (our arbiter) arbitrarily remarks, “Definitions for new words can be guessed at, but the physical manifestation may be too detailed for anything confident, save an outline.”  The court’s rough sketcher scribbles a furry ‘V’ for an eyebrows. 

I browse for a definition, “I think she said ‘scat’ (in her case profile).”

The defendant ‘be-bop-a-doo’s’ while she puts her court-order in.  “Because of her psychological condition that used to be called ‘scatter-brain’ I can’t hold her in contempt,” rues the judge, “mistress so-and-so with the fancy ‘V’, Miss Cartuzy, please state your name and date-of-birth for the audience.

“I ‘n’ Glinda sem for 23-whole,” she scats in ebonics.

“My translator tells me you have worm-worn that outfit, but is that all you have?” Her track-suit has clearly been cut-at with a pair of scissors or sheers.  In another week she’ll send it back for not fitting.  Her sister-accomplice, Glenda (she still retains many masculine characteristics) or Glen-Linda as they prefer to be called, shifts his package, evidence.

“Once my transformation is complete, my name will be Trish, NOT Patricia, and I’ll be 23 in August if this conditioner does what it says,” they say.

The judge and the district attorney deliberate with consideration of the defense’s representative, an over-worked, underpaid native who makes the best of things.  “Her individuality is of a criminal sort, undoubtedly, a house divided amongst itself cannot stand or something like that, however our current formal definition states or indicates that we need to do more to help them find an ennobling application for their efforts, but we also are not at liberty to prevent *slap* self-harm?” as the defense swats a fly away from his face in the hot office.

 

Carpe Diet!  (Seize the food!) Scrolling, seeking iterations, “man does not live on food alone,” the digitized scripture pops-up, presenting modulations on a theme.  How are prayers answered (if they even are)?  There’s no accounting for personal taste, save data-collection as a sort of predetermination of future demand for festoons!  Amazon® knows, (before you even search), what you desire.  Consumerism lacking creativity, thinking inside the brown parcel with a black swoop a la Nike®, no caveat emptor.  Accessorizing saves industry through bullshit charges for needless things in the name of planned obsolescence.  Returns departments waste energy, with the depletion of finite resources (including time), because purchasing power declines with inflation, Stan sends back his shoes that don’t fit instead of giving them to a religious organization that redistributes based on need. 

Out-of-step with current normative functions and fads, perhaps my feelings of isolation/friendlessness are relatively healthy, contrasting hyperactivity.

Dead Horse® Dog Food™ refills on a timer.
Actuarial scientists feed datum into a filtration algo-rhythm.
My spiritual imp vicariously pinches butt-cheeks.

My put-together public persona I wish to maintain, that I feel might escape me without some effort, so that I establish myself (despite crowding) on all the social-media apps except Proximity™ (0b3y™ by Meta®).

 

Copper chasers, fucking without prospects, attracted to the authority, the baton, and the uniform that if they were imbued with such a powerful trinity could easily tyrannize anyone deemed unfit.  (Her physical pain, her mental anguish…)  Without a constitution to guide behavior, civilization descends into barbarianism and anarchy.  What many fail to recognize is that an individual may be anarchic if one’s own constitution is unfit.  Shitty behavior vis.  Many manifest a reality that is more chaotic than is sustainable for life.  Feeling feelings without qualification allows free passage.

Fauci, selling pseudoscience less effective than pseudoephedrine, is too short to not be intimately affiliated with Gringott’s!  Not that there’s anything wrong with bank management, but there is something wrong with misrepresentation of rolê as it constitutes an existential indicator of bad faith.  Quit your job and find your true calling like the rest of us, sir!

Tad Palisade wishes he were froggier. 

The best time to smoke is in the morning ((like a) crackpot) when it is appropriate to inhale the day’s nebulousness and make plans.

A leper is a social outcast, esp. one with a skin condition (tattoos count).

Transphobia, from an old white man’s perspective, is based on an education on what are social ills and how to recognize them, including communism, drugs, and homosexuality.  The resulting feminization (from a dualistic perspective) is toxic to masculinity as its diametric opposite.  An opposition to the idea of gender fluidity is formed in such a way that it evokes an inflammatory immune response in the individual, suffering the weakened immune system of a society gone to pot!  “I don’t care what you say, it’s under my control!” is a typical masculine response to concepts related to health and sexuality.  Celibacy can be virtuous, as courting sexual favor is ultimately a choice.  @JizzSniper69 attempts a character assassination on Twitter, “White-male privileged transphobia is a cis-gender bias that chaotic personality-types do not deserve as much consideration as orderly ones.  Just because Justice Brown has her shit together is no reason to denigrate the colic of another!”

“I didn’t want to tell you what to wear,” what to eat, to deny your freedom, but life in a cell only seems the safer option to participation in life (giving) events.  Putting form to chaos, he shapes her shiftiness.  He sees her slyly texting one-liners, smiling inwardly, smirking, proud of herself that she got one off on some lessor, taking up their mental real-estate, (the less expansive, the unimaginative).  He looks straight through her and he can already imagine what it’d be like to have her in bed (balled up and gagged), having had whores like her before, he was suddenly overcome with goodness as the result of his sexually congressional conquests to be bothered by some stupid pussy and became pusillanimous by closing his mind to the notion of what’s good about sexuality (differentiation), instead focusing on his confluence of losses he apparently has yet to learn from as expenses become exponential because of baseline appetites increasing.  Fear is rational, it is based on an assessment of vengefulness, which will always be lied about if it exists, as lying is tactful when it comes to undermining and confusing an enemy’s knowledge-base.  “Can I trust this person?” is primary for friendship.  Pumping is a form of processing, and then Tad remembered he was at a bar and not in a gym or amongst the gymnosperms, jogging.  Mad at himself for knowing better, he seeks an outlet to vent his frustrations, “Can you plug this in for me?” forgetting please, “it’s low on battery,” he accosts the bartender, used to that form of abuse.

“Sure, hon,” he expected her to say acquiescently, but having her own epiphany, she suddenly recognized she was better than this guy and continued her willful ignorance of his foolishness, the most socially acceptable form of closed (tab) mindedness, now aware of patterns of harm.  Her mementos, “I’m a Cuckoo” tattooed, reminiscent of Tweety, she reminisces a lover whose Olympus was a type of Greek aesthetic he found seductive (to a point).  The needling began as a pang which morphed into an angst which made him feel as tiny as an angstrom.  Thurman (a weekly patron) reaches out to Tad.

“What’s troubling you, son?” a patronymic ally.

“Lord Anthony, I love this old trollop’s guts, but I recognize it as a fool’s errand to linger there.”

“What you describe is a problem mankind suffers.”  Everyone is bound to suffer some kind or type of iniquity, existential or physical attacks on being.  Because of this, there exists the tempting nirvanic honor of being in nothingness, cloaked in a cloud of smoke manifested by some classically demonic (Faustian) force field.  Being in a state of loss-of-control, she sees things slipping away constantly as if into the ether right in front of her.  The choices she made had become predetermining factors.

“Everything is flat and dreary,” she voice commands into Proximity™.