This is not a song, but it is magical. This is Fat Becky, one of our breeder rabbits playing with the Albert (the other one). This was recorded by Luca on August 5, 2020.
I'm letting more people have the final word on things. They say something to me, or I engage with some idea and I say, "well". And then I consider that link of inquiry dead. Fighting for ideas is like fighting a war with giant tanks and warships while the other side has cheap robotic artillery. The zeitgeist dies so young now.
I have been trying to remind myself to live with more humility and confidence. I do not need to serve myself first, there will be plenty of food, at least for this meal. The sword of Damocles could be merely a weather report, for the boomers it seems like it was. It made them truly insane, and whenever they thought it was gone they put new ones in the sky, then they remembered the old ones and the whole sky was covered in doom.
I look at my app and see we have 80% chance of doom showers, a note tells me that a small system of third tier cold-war plots have drifted over Indiana and are combining the ongoing COVID system that's slowly spinning over the whole world. They've lost control is the narrative now as if the system might spin faster.
It still kinda ain't got nothing to do with me. Our landlord wants to show our house today (when this is released) to a new tenant, and I'm sure they'll do some procedure for COVID that makes sense to them. For our part we're going to leave the house and picnic in the truck and come back when they leave and then do our procedure for COVID that makes sense to us. I am quite faithful to the rituals, periodically seeking to justify them in science. I miss the old rituals that had no basis -- cleaning every single grocery while wearing a mask, literal 6ft distancing like the virus has baby arms that are 5'11" and you just can wag your masked tongue at the baby while it cries its baby cry -- not today baby.
I see people doing the old rituals and I know that we agree in our hearts but not in our procedures so I can't trust them because I could die. And this made me very sad, but then I realized while it may be a boring life with few options, there are a lot of businesses and friends doing enough for COVID that if I combine my rituals and procedures I should be more or less safe.
I'm becoming some x-dimensional evangelical christian. Separate values with vague interface with a more widely shared value system. No longer citizen in a society, but actor in a system with vague nationalistic/identitarian justification that no longer has any relevance to me. I know I am to smile, and make minimal eye contact and laugh at jokes that you know are jokes because they're face tells you its a joke. And we buy our coffee, and we take C to dance class and we go to the park. Our house is not "inside society" as the boomers saw it, but rather the three-dimensional limit of society. My walls and floors are how far society has encroached. A still-life created from self will foregrounding a receding societal tide.
We exist here, we hang our identity on the wall, others hang their identities on the walls. Annually as renters we all get to see a few other walls, and others see ours. Beyond this, these are private shows.
I hung an old three foot landscape oil painting on our shed, the neighbors still talk about it to me. Its a specific statement, but since its not intimate (b/c its a shed) but its an indoor painting (zany) I think it said "Talk to me", but I've tended to be aloof enough that I think the painting is now sad or dull for many of them. The one's that know we live ON and not IN, well they got me talking so its just a stupid painting, but that's why its awesome and a statement.
Evangelicals hate not being cool. Like genocidally hate not being cool, as everyone that attends our holy ad-hoc -- online or in the real. We play bingo for weapons and instruments. We attempt to entertain one another without ego, it is not always successful, but it has provided a journey, our existential MacGuffin. A yearning that will create joyous and selfless building of our next-times infrastructure. So that we may perch from the perfect angle upon it, in a regular celebration of intimacy with the journey and geography we live upon.
We already do this everyday. We all do. But it is one thing to live upon the infrastructure of empire and believe that the gods exist, but that you are simply not favored. It is another entirely to know they do not, and that the leaders know they do not either, so the yearning that creates the real is fear and cynicism, so when we perch upon the angle we cower before a sky of swords, naming and identifying and yearning through infrastructure for these fetishes. Sadly for all of us these blade-heads can't take the swords from this-time. Of themselves the blades have no power, no meaning, they have emerged from the configuration, they are linked to the now. But the blade-head is now obsessed, pathologically wired to pursue the blade, he must pursue it forever at detriment to himself, but most of all to anyone else. He has succeeded at society for he wants to exploit the infrastructure, whereas we mere lazy asses simply wanted to live upon in and exist with it. They sure do exploit it, and weaken it, and we may all get the blades when the goddam sky falls and the crystallized contradictory miasma rips through the seams and roads and bodies and books and most of all food supply.
I’m not sure where to put this track yet, but listen/download other songs we’ve done on Bandcamp