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| Thursday, September 30, 2004 |
| How do you brainwash someone? |
| posted @ 00:36:00 MDT by bryn |
| Another war was needed, the illusion was fading. You remove the sense of normalcy, interrupt the natural cycles and break them completely. Repetition. Repetition, over and over. The work cycle, jobs, the structure of repetition pounded into the mind day after day after day. Don't think about anything for longer than a few hours. Don't make any plans that extend beyond your "time off". Don't think. Don't realize. Don't pay attention to the people that have figured out that by giving us something only they value - money - they can have more of that same thing and they can keep us sleeping by stealing our sleep as we structure our lives around an alarm clock. Repeat. Deprive. Repeat. It was all figured out in the late sixties when we went to Vietnam. The immediately previous decades were filled with some of the most important and basically soul-searched simple reform. People were realizing they didn't need to be protected from each other by and large but protected from the few of. War has become a necessary tool of any ruler as it is the quickest, surest path to fear (the most awesome weapon ever wielded by man.) Keep the wars coming and keep people from sleeping, planning, being, thinking, seeing, understanding... Living. Hate the other people like you, the people just trying to live their lives. These are the assholes who invented countries in the first place. Ignore the ones feeding the hate - advertising, selling, and collecting on death and destruction for profit... Not only profit but ironic praise for their puppetry. Without the daily fear of the Soviet Union poised to vaporize our very existence we were in danger, no, they were in danger... Danger of us thinking, our eyes opening. We needed to be diverted. Our attention otherwise may have turned to the task masters. All we had left was these "jobs" and the taxes we're charged for having them to feed the green paper fluff of misdirection into the gullet of the thankless belly of the perpetuated false front of "government." For a moment the beast got fat and complacent, burped on the grinding sacrifice of state-bred meat and farted out our very souls to the guffaws of a few planned power replacements perpetuating the illusion of order and purpose. Welcome to Iraq. Welcome to the war on terror: Terror that would not exist without the fear in the hearts of the very people trying to scare the shit out of us long enough to duck behind cover again. Tribute paid by a son of the system who bore him. Duty done to his masters to continue the line. So wake up tomorrow. Remember that you're still a slave, even the few minutes of the snooze button have been carefully rationed out to you. Sleep, cower, fear, submit, live on crumbs of paltry, subjective hope. Go to your job, pretend it's what we were born for, rebel only within the defined parameters of your prescribed "life". Keep eating shit and asking for more. Work yourself to death and be told when and what to dream. Do you dream? |
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| Friday, September 24, 2004 |
| Spam for Thought |
| posted @ 01:26:00 MDT by bryn |
| So what about Bayesian whitelists? Statistically speaking it's much better odds. Just thinking out loud... |
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| Saturday, September 18, 2004 |
| In Being Here We Only Offer of Ourselves |
| posted @ 02:17:00 MDT by bryn |
| I owe a chance to the place I am. I've never ventured more than the hope. So plain am I, so simple. I'm rich, fat, and stupid with regret. The fulfillment of my negativity is comfort in and of itself. First-person self sabotage is the requited lust I seek for lack of the one and only. At least I try to believe that lie. It's all there like a stray thread of a favorite sweater, just take hold. |
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| Sunday, September 12, 2004 |
| PSA |
| posted @ 02:21:00 MDT by bryn |
| What is really messed up? Fire. Fire has been taken from us. If I'm cold, I can't go outside and start a fire in the middle of the street where it can't catch or anywhere else. That is completely fucked. The basic necessities have been usurped for profit and amusement. If I walk outside right now and start a fire, chances are I'll be fined or hauled off to jail. We're talking about life. How did we get here? We've given too much for far too little. |
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| Friday, September 10, 2004 |
| The World Shall be Mine |
| posted @ 00:24:00 MDT by bryn |
| I'm putting together my plot for world domination through the clever placement of banana peels. All is proceeding according to plan... MUWAHAHAHA... |
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| Wednesday, September 8, 2004 |
| Conjecture and a Cast of Characters |
| posted @ 02:11:00 MDT by bryn |
| It lurks only in the corner of your eye for so long, a trick flip of dark and shadow and brief flashes of sunshine between the fluttering leaves in the light, cool breeze of a burned day. Rushing forward so hard there's only ahead and behind and turns and sides are the crooked shifts when an ear dies and one gets louder for the lack of the other. Fucking blinders are the arms around you. Some far too quiet night you don't find yourself carrying a barely filled garbage bag out to the curb because it's been so long since you've been home wasting time or anything else. You look up at the full moon and it's just hanging there, staring back at you, another son of the sun, as wisps of gentle, sweeping cloud brush against it's face and digress into the crowd of dark away from the moment. It's silent, empty. It's dark despite the presence of the watery, wavering moonlight in which the coming morning's dew subtly glistens. Momentary pauses of dread come while sitting, waiting for the light to change. It's been unlived years since your heart raced for anything but anger, hurt, fear, work, pressure, shock, hate, or humiliation. There are so few memories that can even call those deep soulful beats back without should-haves, could-haves, undones. The radio plays loud and alone while the television mutters and sometimes screams back at it in subjugated fits, a competition for attentions without gratification or meaning or even a hint of endearment. Suddenly comes a day where, when you become one of those wandering souls foraging for any light in these nights... Voices, laughter, love... Even if none are your own they are like warm fire. If it weren't for the guilt of stealing seconds of such moments you could almost live on the scraps alone and feign happiness with your nose pressed against the window. Where does that guilt well from? Maybe it's the thought that the garbage bag in your hand is carrying worth more to the world than you are and it has someone coming to pick it up and take it somewhere else. You've been wasting your time - your time - your time - the thing that life is made of. But what if you can't turn any direction, explore any option, or follow any avenue? How do you take even a first step off an island? |
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| Friday, September 3, 2004 |
| Mmm... Fire |
| posted @ 01:18:00 MDT by bryn |
| So I'm like a cave man that saw lightning come from the sky and start a fire. Now like that same dumbass I keep going back to that same spot hoping lightning will strike twice. Yeah, it's just that simple. But I still haven't found anything as life giving, warm, or beautiful. |
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