Friday, 11 March 2016

Weapons Of Mass Distraction

Let's get the obvious out of the way. I've been gone for a while. There is no reason for this other than having had nothing to say... Nothing has changed, I've not been arrested, killed, nor put on prescription medication to overcome the 'paranoid delusion' of some international conspiracy to steal the world and mortgage it back to us at subprime rates with no money down... There has simply been a stagnation in the acceleration of visible signs relevant to that end.

I know that, to an extent, we are waiting for them to play their Trump card, and no, creativity has never been their strong suit. But, then, have you ever met a bean counter? Most are bean counters because they realise they lack imagination early on. I've never met an accountant moonlighting in a garage band (weekend rebel cover-band, yes, original songs no) or painting the Mona Lisa on the weekend. And economists are simply accountants who don't know how not to fudge the numbers and could not be trusted with check signing responsibilities. 

Still, I feel it worth mentioning that I still feel something is on the verge. I don't know what it is. There is no ominous feeling associated with it, no anticipation, no restlessness, no dreams or nightmares, yet it's there. Shapeless and without name, and with nary a whisper in the winds.

Maybe I simply do not understand what's coming enough for it to cast a shadow, and maybe I'm not meant to survive it, so, it remains a distant unrecognised visage I couldn't pick out of a police lineup. I simply don't have enough data to fill in the blanks and chart the possible outcomes to any degree of accuracy better than throwing darts blindfolded. Yet, it still feels close enough to be injured during the act of throwing darts blindfolded. 

I didn't say I planned to make a whole lot of sense today. Did I? Because it doesn't make much sense to me either.

It is always possible that whatever approaches won't affect me in any direct manor, hence the lack of dread I'd normally feel.

It is also possible that I am feeling the echo of an increasing number of souls coming down from the acid trip of this reality generated to mask the true intentions of those manipulating it towards their own agenda. I hear more and more of that in the murmur of crowds of strangers, and I see it behind the eyes of the silent. More and more, it seems, people are pulling at the loose threads in the tapestry, and having traveled that path already, I know it all ends up the same ball of twine no longer covering the window to reality. People are willfully unplugging, and defiantly questioning the paradigm set forth by weapons of mass distraction.


1 comment:

  1. People are not really waking up. They are temporary having a vivid dream of their reality. Like someone pulled the drapes slightly open and they are seeing a little bit of the outside. All that needs to happen for them to go back to the counterfeited dreamland is a little fairy dust sprinkled on them through the boob tube. Their spoon is bent and their wondering why but they won't accept that there is no spoon.