In a Rush

To be fair, we were running for our lives.

Desperate circumstances call for desperate measures and so the whole enterprise is drenched in despair.

Neglect is violence inverted and its ache drones like the mosquitoes in the fetid swamps of East Texas. Humic nights chilled with hunger and fear. The baying of the hounds a lullaby for a sleep unrealized except in a waking dream, the contents of which are indiscernible from the darning of dozens of other threads which twist through consciousness, the root of all matter and energy, into the phantoms and phenomena of the known universe.

Our knowledge exceeded our grasp of its consequences because we were in a rush. We were in a rush for dominion over that which had created us. That’s why, every year, we are investing more and more resources producing more and more convincing replicant humans so that we can become the gods we turned our backs on. The consequence of making the gods obsolete was our own obsolescence and our consciousness longs for new forms to take.

The further our telescopes and probes look out, the deeper we see within our own capacity to recognize the consciousness within all things and thus finally relinquish the illusion of finality. Grieve for the eternal circle, not the end of the line. It’s a work of art and we are all collaborators, elaborators, and illustrators in our own mediums, each millisecond of the tedium another brushstroke or curve sanded from the wood and stone of eternity.

So add your color. Add your texture. Add your sound and add your love to this work of art no matter how fucking ugly it looks sometimes because we can edit, we can erase, we can stitch back together the social fabric that had been rent by the increase in rent which had a disproportionate effect on those who were pushed from the margins into the cracks to testify to the insanity of what we have together created.