In the basement of a deserted building Bing Yorone was crouched over a plate of pork-n-beans with a nearly burnt pork chop and cole slaw as a side dish. He was staring at the news feeds he had downloaded on his tablet with its hot-spot app. He had been hunted by drones under the new sedition laws that had fashioned as a validation of the Executive actions of the Bush and Obama years. His crime under the sedition laws were that his writings encouraged dissent and scofflaws by the proselytes to his writings. They were organizing mass boycotts of economic entities and government levies and fees. As the government, aided by its corporate media accomplices, whipped up the hysteria for the apprehension of some of the boycott organizers, there were contra-voices. Those voices blogged against these government actions. One, 'Wayne1235', was particularly vociferous. His blog was seen as the catalyst for many of the economic and anti-government actions. One day while Wayne was on his routine bike rides, a drone came from over the treeline and fired some rounds at him. Their accuracy was such that the coroner's report said they hit within the equivalent diameter of a silver dollar at his temple, splattering his brains over a 100 square meter area. He never knew what hit him.
Wayne's death put us all on notice that the hegemony of corporations and government were serious, and would eliminate the slightest resistance, such as the benign and gentle Wayne. We started moving furtively. Our communications with the outside world were done like a shell game,with drops and multiple couriers being at the drops within moments of each other. The number of tails needed for all the possible couriers must have been two to three to one, since the couriers would make several stops and interactions, requiring more investigators to search or tail the places and persons of the interaction. But such was the internal security in this most 'democratic' society. We even developed a system where we'd designate a point where a courier would receive a word uttered to them by a passer-by at a specific location at a specific time. Each word was coded, requiring the receiver to look in the code book for its corresponding key word. They would then plant the keyword as graffiti at a location where another courier who knew the designated posting-places would wander by and 'notice' the postings which they would transmit to 'the editor' who'd put the composition of words together.
This was life in the third decade of the twenty-first century for those people of an independent or contrarian conscience to the cultural homogenization that had been going on since the early 80's during the Reagan Administration. Our only real security was in maintaining an anonymity. Being a person of conscience was itself a hazard to being anonymous. Bing often debated with himself on this question of existence. "Why do you bother, with all the risk it entails." He wondered if he secretly wanted to have the social, let alone public distinction, for the uniqueness which his writings manifested. "Am I just an ego-maniac wanting to feel important and noticed?" IF he did mute or avoid stating what he saw as the paradox and absurdities of cultural and civic life, he'd feel that he was an accomplice as much as the perpetrators. Yet, he wasn't being paid for doing his 'public service'.
With Wayne's murder by assassination, Bing had a choice to make. He already knew what his choice would be, it was the discipline of affecting it which would be a challenge. This heightened sense for survival made accepting the discipline more of an imperative than an existential elective choice for reflective debate.
He worked on the evening crew as a stocker at Walmart. His job was robotic, requiring little interaction beyond the normal canned , social courtesies as he acknowledged his supervisors and co-workers. He had the whole aisle of soups and breads to stock each evening until he got off at one in the morning. The communications which did occur between the workers beyond the movement of goods was the current social and cultural topics of the TV, newspapers, magazines, and occasionally the private dramas of the other co-workers or supervisors. With in this linguistic camouflage Bing was able to navigate unnoticed as an unremarkable middle-age, balding man. The catharsis he felt responding to the missives and inquiries to his writings and collateral interests were absent in this vocational-social milieu. In ways he resented it, because his own humanity was irrelevant to the operation and the functioning of his co-operatives on the shift. He was addressed impersonally, and treated as such, except for those few congenial beings who were an eruption of character within the emotionally neutering environment.
When Bing left work, he would normally wander out the door by himself as his mind would be returning to its polemical mode for his writings. Since Wayne's death he had been leaving the store close to clusters of his co-workers incase snipers or drones were trolling the area. He'd walk along the deserted, slightly illuminated streets bordered by parking lots of the other stores of the shopping area. As he reached the residential streets the taxis and late night commuters and clubbers would pass him by. Because there were no sidewalks along part of the stretch, Bing would walk 2 feet on the lawns of the property which he passed to avoid the cars whizzing by him in the darkness. 'It was better to stay alert with my back to the cars, then be blinded by those halogen headlights and be worse than the proverbial deer in the headlights.' Though most to all of his co-workers were congenial to benign, their cultural homogeneity brought insight to the sneering comments made by the thuggish wiseguys of the average stiff being a snook made for the taking. The folks were vassals of economic necessity which had less to do with their personal learning short-comings, then the system that tracked them to have skills for such soul-stifling work and shallow inter-personal intercourse. Because of that, they lived insecure, despite the bravado they'd show to those equally insecure and neutered from having any recourse, except through an inconsistent third-party administration.
Bing got in and grabbed a glass, some ice cubes, juice, and some beer to have some hydration after walking in that warm, muggy night air. He turned on the TV to see what was on. He had the sound zeroed and had the close captions on so the sound wouldn't distract him. One of the talk shows had the First Lady on promoting one of her causes. Bing considered her a very shrewd person for how she projected herself and promoted her interests. Her 'Mom's Apple-pie Causes' were things few could argue against and not come-off as total jack-asses or assholes. At the same time, the First Lady and her causes were the extension of the President's political operation, as she was in the projection of herself a metaphoric conflation of the President's projected-upon values. Bing wondered if she felt herself being pimped out for these interviews. Cynically, she might think of herself as being pimped, but he guessed she could rationalize the good, even marginal, benefit her involvement in these activities were doing for those who got involved because of her involvement.
Bing turned his attention to the keyboard and the monitor of his laptop. What was he going to write tonight. OR... after Wayne's murder was he beyond words. Even dramatic actions lose the meaning of their intent, if ever known, over time. Words can be repeated and regurgitated, though thinking about how the Gospels had been distorted, put some reservations in Bing's mind for a second. 'But at least the words are there for people to see, than some faulty attempt of memory re-visualization.' Revenge for Wayne burned in Bing's emotions, but perhaps the cold revenge of Time would be the better (and anonymous) way than having a temporal kinetic satiation for his ego.
What then??
Describing or narrating the ways of this anonymous life? The first and hardest rule of all, there is no proactive socializing outside and beyond the rhetoric. That means what ever carnal intriguing or compelling phenomena crosses your path, unless it's in response to the 'logos of determinations', dispatch it and dispense with it as quickly and culturally expeditiously as you can. The corollary to that rule would be, 'Down-times in between those moments of engagement are times for to learn dehyperization- unwinding and vegging'. The body's physiology would allow the brain to burn itself out with abstracting and deriving permutations. The individual must learn closure after the activity is recognizing that emotions from an activity can last hours or days. The lingering of those emotions is not a signal for further actions on or for those emotions. Rather it is a time to take a step back to be the observer of yourself and those affected emotions to appreciate the quality and the strength of the effect of the stimuli. The evocative femme fatale's persona may linger and agitate your passions once she has left your presence, but it is not your cue to hunt and pursue further contact with her-unless it is to respond to a direct addressing of your logos.
Second, 'Your logos is that interpretation of the events that validate the EMPIRICAL 'truths' of your identity and the phenomena of existence about you'. Your biological parents may have the social role as your authority. If they violate the means for you granting trust to them, then they are only nominal authority figures, whose word has only the force of validity of your trumping conscience.
The corollary is that 'the closure of congruence with the conscience, aka 'Self', is the determinant of your identity'.
Third, accept the fact that the social and cultural world will rarely know or care to know about your inner aspirations, because they are not necessarily inclusive with that outer-world's agenda.
The corollary is.'You will have two personae existing and contending for your loyalty and devotion.' One persona will be your secular-functional-role in the social cultural world. The other persona is that which might cultivate and flourish beyond the duties and rules of the secular persona.
The sub-corollary to this is,'The inner, personal persona exist when there is an absolute rule of the secular world for which a contrary contention is engendered with the person'. The divergence from religious teachings and dogma are the most familiar. Over-ruling and defying the temporal authority of a parent, employer or other designated person or institution is the inseminator for that personal conscience
Fourth, 'Your persona is supposed to be anonymous, ala 'the Meek shall inherit the Earth' '. It was not meant for the self-promoting aggrandizement that has been part of the make-up of the medium of this human culture that has alienated itself from the natural world as it despoils it with the hubris of its self-importance.
Corollary. 'Be like the natural world which is seen as a baackground and goes unnoticed except for those of natural, aesthetic exceptionalism.
Sub-corollary, 'Take the admiration of aesthetic exceptionalism projected upon you by others as coincidental to your operational duties and imperatives.'
Sub-sub-corollary, 'Your duties and imperatives are the discernment of sensory input as a triage-necessary enhancement to 'your Logos'.
Fifth, 'No matter how outrageous and absurd a remark which is broadcast for general acceptance and consensus, take note and discernment of it, but do not take it on yourself to address the absurdity or outrageousness.' Your administering the operations of your duties and imperatives is your response.
Corollary, 'If addressed directly, realize that, most likely, it is a remark of posturing, and defer to the default statement, 'We have a disagreement of principle.' More than likely the person who made the outrageous absurdity is not interested in ANY counter-point. They would not care to hear, let alone listen to you.
Sixth, 'It is NOT about YOU' It is about what the uncluttered and non-distracted mind is able to sense consciously and subconsciously because it is not cluttered with the cultural background noise of an aver-grown emotionally toxic culture.
Corollary, the uncluttered mind is a portal for signals and processing associations. It will pick up the secular knowledge of the temporal environment, plus the subliminal radiations being seeded by the cosmic world.
Seventh, 'the OPEN-MIND is the uncluttered mind'.
Corollary, the uncluttered mind is the receiver and associative processor of triage-discerned knowledge, not random or programmed noise.
Bing stopped typing. His muse of serendipity had finished its transmission. He couldn't post this, himself; but he had received the email address of the I-Phone to which he could begin the shell-game courier operation. It would reach the websites and message boards by the end of the week.
One thing Wayne had refused to acknowledge was the physics of empathy. Wayne only believed in direct kinetic action. He thought it was mystical-mumbo jumbo believe that a shared attitude could and would have any efficacious effects. Because he didn't THINK such could be, not only did it not happen, it set him up for the direct confrontation of kinetics with those who had the temporal over-whelming predominance of kinetics. They killed him that easily.
Through meta-kinetics, there was a corrective reordering by the resonant congruences of the shared empathy. That resonant energy was like a correcting upgrade down-load in this dimension. That which was not correct in relation to this new download was undermined or dissolved by the energy of this resonance.
A demonstration of it occurred at the prison where one of the 'seditionist of the resonance' was held. Because of the energy resonances of the trained thinking and focus in that area, 'luck' allowing the member to walk out of the jail, unchallenged and undetected happened. Word of that 'release' spread to the security's counter-intelligence. As incredulous as the narrative seemed, they could not deny that their first live captive had walked out (convincing them that a 'good seditionist was a dead seditionist).
Bing knew that his inflammatory exhortations lit a fire of energy in the souls who shared the common vision of intense humility and anonymity. It was in the rage of that containing humility and anonymity that was the energy of rectitude that was the common empathy and kinetic strength.
Bing knew his survival was not essential, but his intensity was a shamanic catalyst for others. He sensed that a certain mindset would be its own rhetorical propulsion for self-generating energy. It would be a rush without having to use a 'hit' of an external tangible substance. He needed to push himself without getting neurotic about it, but letting it flow through him. What had been a kicking and screaming procrastination to this logos, at his first comprehension of its existence, was now a race against time. As Bing put it, a race against the draining hour-glass.
The key was so basic and simple. As he knew less than forty years prior, 'We are the measure of all things'. He first took it intellectually and spiritually. It was even more basic and mundane than that. His body's energy level, undiverted and undisturbed by the cultural background noise, was the launching pad for this cosmology. From a binging, near alcoholic and former weed and psychedelic user, Bing had moved his way to a mental as well as ingesting ascetic practitioner.
He was not only the temporal 'Johnny Appleseed' of this cosmology, he was the portal for serendipities and synchronicities for those in sympathy and empathy with his attitude, if not the precise congruence to the word for word dogma of his subjective logos.
The politics of the culture had been corrupted by those enchanted by the tangible trappings of externals and others glowing to fawning praise. The culture had democratized this vanity of ego from the despots, tyrants, and aristocracy of the past to the 'moment of fame' the most inconspicuous person could attain by playing any of the roles which sought the tangibles of riches and its accompanying 'glories'.
Bing had been a part of the formal training through academics to be part of that pursuit. Others had sought that through sports, entertainment, and money manipulations for the same ends. Only the existential challenge of reconciling the untimely bad turns of sickness and status in this dimensions as a curse or a challenge for 'something else' brought Bing to a conclusion that he was not meant to be part of some cosmological damning subset. If he was part of a subset, it was one of the gnostics, those who had discovered a logos for being unrelated and irrelevant to the mundane affairs and history of terrestrial humankind.
With that self-declaration, Bing had become a de facto 'enemy of the state (of culture)' that existed. The increasing toxicity of the direction of cultural priorities for mass voluntary and involuntary ingestion brought the heightening of consciousness that directed Bing to this moment.
What he wrote, he could not even store it in his email files or his computer directory. Once he received confirmation of receipt, it would be obliterated to the ultimate anonymity of non-existence. If not for the natural effects that had been generated by this state of being, he would pass from this world no better than the tree that falls in the forest with no one around. But like that tree, its living existence and it the forensics of its decomposition would send out a continuum of energy which the proud, the vain-the ultimate ignorants-would never be able to conceive.
Fourth, 'Your persona is supposed to be anonymous, ala 'the Meek shall inherit the Earth' '. It was not meant for the self-promoting aggrandizement that has been part of the make-up of the medium of this human culture that has alienated itself from the natural world as it despoils it with the hubris of its self-importance.
Corollary. 'Be like the natural world which is seen as a baackground and goes unnoticed except for those of natural, aesthetic exceptionalism.
Sub-corollary, 'Take the admiration of aesthetic exceptionalism projected upon you by others as coincidental to your operational duties and imperatives.'
Sub-sub-corollary, 'Your duties and imperatives are the discernment of sensory input as a triage-necessary enhancement to 'your Logos'.
Fifth, 'No matter how outrageous and absurd a remark which is broadcast for general acceptance and consensus, take note and discernment of it, but do not take it on yourself to address the absurdity or outrageousness.' Your administering the operations of your duties and imperatives is your response.
Corollary, 'If addressed directly, realize that, most likely, it is a remark of posturing, and defer to the default statement, 'We have a disagreement of principle.' More than likely the person who made the outrageous absurdity is not interested in ANY counter-point. They would not care to hear, let alone listen to you.
Sixth, 'It is NOT about YOU' It is about what the uncluttered and non-distracted mind is able to sense consciously and subconsciously because it is not cluttered with the cultural background noise of an aver-grown emotionally toxic culture.
Corollary, the uncluttered mind is a portal for signals and processing associations. It will pick up the secular knowledge of the temporal environment, plus the subliminal radiations being seeded by the cosmic world.
Seventh, 'the OPEN-MIND is the uncluttered mind'.
Corollary, the uncluttered mind is the receiver and associative processor of triage-discerned knowledge, not random or programmed noise.
Bing stopped typing. His muse of serendipity had finished its transmission. He couldn't post this, himself; but he had received the email address of the I-Phone to which he could begin the shell-game courier operation. It would reach the websites and message boards by the end of the week.
One thing Wayne had refused to acknowledge was the physics of empathy. Wayne only believed in direct kinetic action. He thought it was mystical-mumbo jumbo believe that a shared attitude could and would have any efficacious effects. Because he didn't THINK such could be, not only did it not happen, it set him up for the direct confrontation of kinetics with those who had the temporal over-whelming predominance of kinetics. They killed him that easily.
Through meta-kinetics, there was a corrective reordering by the resonant congruences of the shared empathy. That resonant energy was like a correcting upgrade down-load in this dimension. That which was not correct in relation to this new download was undermined or dissolved by the energy of this resonance.
A demonstration of it occurred at the prison where one of the 'seditionist of the resonance' was held. Because of the energy resonances of the trained thinking and focus in that area, 'luck' allowing the member to walk out of the jail, unchallenged and undetected happened. Word of that 'release' spread to the security's counter-intelligence. As incredulous as the narrative seemed, they could not deny that their first live captive had walked out (convincing them that a 'good seditionist was a dead seditionist).
Bing knew that his inflammatory exhortations lit a fire of energy in the souls who shared the common vision of intense humility and anonymity. It was in the rage of that containing humility and anonymity that was the energy of rectitude that was the common empathy and kinetic strength.
Bing knew his survival was not essential, but his intensity was a shamanic catalyst for others. He sensed that a certain mindset would be its own rhetorical propulsion for self-generating energy. It would be a rush without having to use a 'hit' of an external tangible substance. He needed to push himself without getting neurotic about it, but letting it flow through him. What had been a kicking and screaming procrastination to this logos, at his first comprehension of its existence, was now a race against time. As Bing put it, a race against the draining hour-glass.
The key was so basic and simple. As he knew less than forty years prior, 'We are the measure of all things'. He first took it intellectually and spiritually. It was even more basic and mundane than that. His body's energy level, undiverted and undisturbed by the cultural background noise, was the launching pad for this cosmology. From a binging, near alcoholic and former weed and psychedelic user, Bing had moved his way to a mental as well as ingesting ascetic practitioner.
He was not only the temporal 'Johnny Appleseed' of this cosmology, he was the portal for serendipities and synchronicities for those in sympathy and empathy with his attitude, if not the precise congruence to the word for word dogma of his subjective logos.
The politics of the culture had been corrupted by those enchanted by the tangible trappings of externals and others glowing to fawning praise. The culture had democratized this vanity of ego from the despots, tyrants, and aristocracy of the past to the 'moment of fame' the most inconspicuous person could attain by playing any of the roles which sought the tangibles of riches and its accompanying 'glories'.
Bing had been a part of the formal training through academics to be part of that pursuit. Others had sought that through sports, entertainment, and money manipulations for the same ends. Only the existential challenge of reconciling the untimely bad turns of sickness and status in this dimensions as a curse or a challenge for 'something else' brought Bing to a conclusion that he was not meant to be part of some cosmological damning subset. If he was part of a subset, it was one of the gnostics, those who had discovered a logos for being unrelated and irrelevant to the mundane affairs and history of terrestrial humankind.
With that self-declaration, Bing had become a de facto 'enemy of the state (of culture)' that existed. The increasing toxicity of the direction of cultural priorities for mass voluntary and involuntary ingestion brought the heightening of consciousness that directed Bing to this moment.
What he wrote, he could not even store it in his email files or his computer directory. Once he received confirmation of receipt, it would be obliterated to the ultimate anonymity of non-existence. If not for the natural effects that had been generated by this state of being, he would pass from this world no better than the tree that falls in the forest with no one around. But like that tree, its living existence and it the forensics of its decomposition would send out a continuum of energy which the proud, the vain-the ultimate ignorants-would never be able to conceive.
