Reflections in a Petri Dish – May 27, 2011
I was virtually leafing through a news gathering site this morning. I didn’t sleep last night. I had one of those riveting periods of integration with the one. It came as a result of relentless driving inwards and crying out. I was giving no quarter (grin) and I got what I was after, which is not always or even often the case but… I was intense. It paid off. I saw something that was very present but had been elusive to my inner eye. The power of the experience held me all through the night and it seemed only a short time before it was light out. Time was not playing by the usual rules. I had this happen on a drive from Italy. Hours went by like nothing and I was suddenly at my destination, with a speed that defied science and logic. I was impressed. My state of mind was severely altered at the time, not by any comestible but as a result of a series of supernatural experiences that preceded the journey; boy what a digression!
Anyway, I was virtually leafing through this site and, probably because of my state of mind, the experience was surreal; Texas (you don’t mess with Texas), backed off from the porno-bot pedophiles at TSA (tits slits and asses). NATO (nasty, arrogant, totalitarian, oligarchs) are bombing Libya because Gadhafi wants a transnational African currency. Various AIPAC psychos are frothing at the mouth, there’s another disinfo report on Iran about nuclear triggers and Egypt is opening the Rafah crossing this weekend. There was more. There is always more and it’s all massive change rumbling at all levels. What do you do?
I’m one individual. I’m part of a group conscious awareness of these apocalyptic times. We are, mostly, unarmed witnesses of, not only, global but galactic change. It is as if the whole system that we have known has turned into a lurching drunk, who is reeling across the landscape, acting out from the lowest common denominator of rage and acquisition fueled, intoxication. It’s a small house with a big drunk, people are looking to put some distance between themselves and this half conscious, mean drunk, bent on rapine and all those ill concealed lusts from the dark larder of the subconscious.
The drunk was more or less okay a few hours ago. He was charming, if a bit overbearing and he had an unpleasant way of brushing up against you, touching you, raising his eyebrows as if you might get the message. He’s got an IMF rape card so there is a lot of latitude. The bouncers can’t really throw him out because he is the system that employs them to bounce. Ordinarily he’s just a moderately offensive dickhead but now he’s got a load on. He’s got a load on because everything he was up to for so long will no longer support his weight. That’s why he’s lurching, besides being drunk on all kinds of unpleasant things.
He might have been okay once, stable and composed of ideals that most everyone would agree were in the best interests of the majority but some kind of personality change happened because he wouldn’t stop drinking. He morphed into an overblown caricature. He shit himself, lost his glasses and now he thinks if he just amps it up a bit he can move into a new dimension and the mental and emotional climate will adapt. He really should go to the bathroom and clean himself up but he’s drunk. He’s as pickled as The Queen Mother. You head off to the cemetery where the queen mother lies and you will find a collection of alkies with long metal straws inserted into the grave dirt looking for that truly dry martini.
You can’t get stabilized if you keep drinking. You have to dry out but that can be an extraordinarily painful affair. Visible traversed those swamps once. There’s nothing good going on down there. People who no longer care, hang out there with people who care far too much for all the wrong reasons and they’re all drunk. Somebody threw a party under pretense, which turned out to be about something else and it’s not a party anymore.
There are a lot of funny things going on. American Idol got grooved, country western, pop tart Barbie and George Strait Lite coming down the pipe. I actually enjoy ‘some’ of these people and they are all faces that are being molded for order, while ugly entertainment ops like 50 Cents worth of ugly are intruded into the mix. They give you decent normal youth and insert the uglies alongside. The point is separation. The point as George Harrison noted, is, “I, I, me, me, mine”
That’s your life buddy, not mine. I wonder how I am supposed to assimilate the good stuff from the bad. The system is now in a state of injury because some people want to have more than everyone else. There really is plenty for everyone but the people with too much have to have more.
Open a cantaloupe. I like melons. Look at all those seeds. Nature is abundant. You get more than you need all the time. There’s plenty for everyone. However, some people just want more and it’s more than that too.
The presentation of innocence and the corruption of it is a big part of the present game; hammer slammer and no justice in this world. Well, it’s all karma from my point of view; whatever you are into you are into and I am just banging on the universe to clean this shit up. I realize that I can’t personally clear it up and I realize that I generate some amount of garbage, which I’ll be recycling today when I travel in my car to the recycling center to do the right thing. I’ve got to keep my eye open for that drunk because he is on the highway too. Alcohol, no matter how you parse it, is a bigger killer than Fukushima. That is the kind of thinking that was behind Fukushima. I went there as a baby, the last time ugly force got dropped on a lot of people at Hiroshima and Nagasaki. I came in, in the aftermath, at about 6 months old and Japan was my first real opening into this world and my first five years.
I learned early that I was going to get the shit beat out of me. At one point, I painted a masterpiece of shit on the wall next to my crib; oh those early artistic urgings. I got more shit beat out of me for that effort but I do remember being proud of it. Maybe I was trying my hand at calligraphy? Over time it turns into a massage, which is much more preferable. I was willingly to learn and I still am. I don’t think any one person or group can fix this thing. I think people need to step away.
Scotty McCreery is a nice guy and a fine singer and reminds me of myself in that picture that sits at Visible Origami. They promote our finer aspirations and then they hammer in the Tim McGraw’s that support the wars and then they hammer in the rain of Beyonce Armageddon sex on you in the followup. You get a clean American Idol with a kiss on the cheek and then you send then all off to war against an enemy that you created for that purpose. Maybe some of you don’t follow my thought but when I see Tim McGraw with a black lead hat and no eyes leaning into a 17 year old kid, I see the devil behind all the things we don’t like about the world and ourselves.
Madonna has been replaced by Lady Gaga and the insolence of the moment wasn’t missed here. These are the people sending you to war. These are the people offering up the sacrifices for your dreams and aspirations; fresh and promising innocence, dropped like a slab of fish, with the minders in the shadows. And powerful people show up. Bono and The Edge appear with Reeve Carney in a Spiderman scenario and this is what we are up against. This is the soundtrack for police security nation. It’s all pop tarts and prisons because the manglers have usurped the reins of power in our world and that’s how it goes in ages of darkness. You can see it on your TV and you probably do.
I believe in the good I see and I look at all that ancient evil that is showcasing it for your doom and I feel sometimes a little like Gadhafi. He’s no saint but he he’s not stupid. Hey, it’s all a show. That is actually good news. It’s a production; it’s supposed to sweep you away. You are supposed to be captivated. Will you be? That’s what this apocalypse is all about. That’s the whole point. Which way will you go? Quo Vadis.
One thing for sure, you are here. You are where you are, right there in the Petri dish and the show continues. Keep in mind that every show has a beginning and an end. That should be the uppermost point in your mind. “He’s in it to win it” (grin).