i like how u live, can u introduce me to satan?
**
id rather a hopeless idiot than a hopeful fool.
Remember what Jesus said to his disciples: beware the scribes.
an acquaintance i once knew, a real child of the night, described his interest in the types of ejaculation of his older male costumers. some slowly ooze over the hand, others shoot or spew. how the electricity took their body afterward. his recollection was so matter of fact, without reprehension, merely part of the joys of licensing one's body to afford the rent and entertainment.
The ceiling has pock marks from where the broom end punctured the drywall. A single strand of aged cobweb hangs as she nervously awaits direction. The direction is to think.
"I cant." She says.
"You can." I say.
She repeats the words on the document out loud, unaware of a meaning, unable to digest information. If only humanity would reward a graceful death. if only we were taught how to adjust behavior with regard to bias. Instead we mold our grip to the ideals drilled into our hands; power and control eat away at our soul. Our ability to sustain and cater to ignorance as long as it facilitates the correct disgust keeps capital in the inbred hands of our adult children playing their little thrones, throwing their dice, mumbling their meanings.
Some of us lucky are going to be subjected to lifetimes of rearing our parents.
She makes noises in the background when displeased, trumpeting her discontent against a passive aggressive beat; slamming cabinets, snorting grunts.
Her eyes are growing smaller, blacker as she scrapes the edge of 80. They embody the bleakness of a resignation to anxiety; a lifetime of perpetual victimization as if the successes engendered by youthful abandon were enough to stave off the responsibility of growth. she never stopped running from her childhood. never bothered to see what, in her, she left behind. it's a common thing among a Christian nationalist culture. the denial is intrinsic.
Of course, her eyes are not always stricken, dark marbles of fear. She still sifts and shifts states as if human. She revels in the disarray of nonconsequential anecdotes, theories and hearsays. Though once the circumstance develops an heir of criticality that might concern her actions, the embattlements are raised and denial, deflections and projections abound.
Stuck to CNN for at least four hours a day praising its "theatre." The sub frequencies pinning her conscious comfortably to an endless wheel of derision and voices of announcement. I suppose it's better than Fox but mold will be mold... at least some of us are making use of penicillin.
how do we incentivize benevolent understandings of balance toward empathy? how can we incentivize regulated growth? how do you see people transforming the conversations?
we've had discussions about her seeing a therapist. they happen monthly/bi-monthly. she has the resources though, it seems the will was abandoned long ago. it took ages to get to the point of these mention. the only hope is for me to find it for her. but that doesn't matter if her mind's intent isn't therapy. avoidance is the intent.
health in her mind is associated with her body's malfunctions. not it's general ease of use. her more general priorities dilated by drops of talk media sermon to remain inline with gossips.
**
her discernment reveals her cancer.
she'll trust authority more than she trusts her own experience.
you can't incentivize benevolent understandings within a capitalist system. a capitalist system inherently incentivizes corruption and exploitation.
before the agrarian revolution, there was the matriarch. afterward, the capitalist patriarch. and now, after many years of painful readjustment to recalculate the dissolution of our bonds of scarcity, we will shift into the age of the polyarch. finally democracy? i wouldn't hold your breath. we haven't the math of logic.
if she were born rich, she would have been an exuberant, eccentric aristocrat. outback, next to her terrarium, an exotic zoo of rare animals she'd forget about except for a few of the hotter months. she'd hold up in crowded rooms built for ornamental nostalgia, cackling loudly at the new renditions of her favourite cliched epitaphs. years after her death her estate would be disclosed as a museum of collection.
without socialist institution to balance capital accruement there will be fascism, or, the sheltered WASP.
she would have been a proper dutiful southern Baptist wife if the arts didn't take her into Satan's arms. she would have adorned the malignance of exclusion at the convenience of that familiarity. the familiarity of belonging to a group of humans with specific consumist intent. to be an opponent to truth, an agent of oppression and bigotry. what better way to hide the gates of hell than behind a symbol of heaven? what better way to avoid interpreting your own miscommunication?
Regulation organizes growth. Regulation is the largest human industry as it includes politik, maintenance, service and trade.
She would have riled the hands of grace to let go of her developing child, constructing a throne of allowance out of hardened denial. She would have led her offspring down a golden spectrum of entitlement.
I was nihilistically planted in neglect and watered with the expectation of loyalty.
We are replicated to be familiar.
~~ We feel comfortable with the familiar.
Time is a direction forward; a cellular memory.
I remember my future.
Maybe walking is training movement, as time is training perception.
This city is full of anxious rich personas. Entranced in a paranoia of their own reflection. Pulling themselves away from the mirror, they can only appreciate others with similar tendency, unknowingly becoming host for a homogenous sense of self importance through a narrow eyelet of success. Little tweaks in creative patterns, like texture or color, are applauded, as long as the structure remains recognizable...familiar. The old and dreary western sitcom sense of story telling bleeding out their sullen eyes. Listen. You know what? One more thing.
The streets are littered with nice cars that are washed twice a week to avoid residue. The grass is kept green and pools full, despite the rising costs and the city importing all its water. Externalities afforded the work horses and the continual existence of the bloated corporate architecture afforded by the notion of profit for shareholders. in the case of water, the Resnick family's Wonderful Co. Isn't it wonderful when the blame falls so squarely? when the debt can be accounted for?
A lot of American debt is lost to the spending budgets of bloated egos. That doesn't mean, that to debloat, one should start weeding out people from the equation who are being provided by the bloat. It's to take account. We always think funds are mismanaged when we can't identify what's being managed. At least I have a tendency.
How a car is taken care of tells me a lot of how a person can afford their time. Do they wash when they can afford a respite from exhaustion, or do they keep it in a garage, or is it their job to keep it washed? The cracks of the walk sprouting sprouts and growing bellies.
The metals rusted. The blinds stained.
i hail the hell of the morning light. beautiful in its destruction. we reap from our heavens. i can still find my joy wading in this plastic pond painted on the asphalt of my childhood playground. what creative spirit wouldn't admire the erratic ripples of humanity along its milky river?
science amalgamates prediction and data compression. all conclusions are conditioned on models and data, and all conclusions come with error bars.
And here we are in our humanity. A theory of a body. Electrical impulses traveling through hyperspace dimensionality. like mapping our existence through the patterns of light on oblivion.
consciousness extrapolates awareness from its observers with hopes of encouraging awareness. decisions, paths, foresight, mentality, thought and idea depend on our perception of truth.
mind, the substrate. the vine is thought. is human mind fertile enough for growth after relinquishing our sustenance to the corporate fruit which bares no seed?
how do we make sharing meaningful to the soul again? you put the control back into the hands of our nourishment. back in the hands of your sister and neighbor and love and YOUTH. you turn to your person and place your faith.
when you place faith in youth, you place faith in progress. you place faith in change.
dont listen to your government for it is corporate. your college is corporate. listen to the people that inspire change from within. our institutions have been capitalized and are dependent upon the conservation of profit drivers. the capital, without our discretion, will drive the human into its own chaos. chaos is never a good look, but it's a great look. if you can digest its spiral. it's a great look at all the perspectives. have you ever gone crazy? unfortunately there is not usually a way back
the treasure house is within you. you are form.
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