When you are up to your eyeballs in sad neolib bullshit, it is surprisingly difficult to remember that your objective was to live free. <\/p>\n
Free of bullshit among other things, or maybe just free of bullshit in all the manifold shapes it can unexpectedly metastasize, mutate, into, before you can say Jack Kerouac.<\/p>\n
But remember-you-must<\/em>, even so, with uncompromising tenacity, because the alternative isn’t a life worth living. If thy Maddow offend thee, pluck her from your feed. And so on down through all the variegated input streams of a modern digital life. <\/p>\n I think I found a way to remember, or at least to artificially and technologically remove some of the temptation to forget. It may well blow up in my face as things here are prone to be doing, but fuck it. I’ve had way, way, more than I could stand. I’ve been as good a boy as I know how to be, and by itself that wasn’t enough. <\/p>\n *I* was still not enough, to overcome it, with complete poise and grace, and for that as I said, I have no one to blame but myself. Mea maxima culpa, and cry peccavi too–let yourself be dazzled away from my failures by my thin veneer of latinate erudition and my mostly genuine humility, if you really love me at all, like a mother brother sister amen.<\/p>\n With luck this reaction will also chemically liberate you, my actual devoted readers, from the posts that are just me screaming back. Perhaps with the savage release of pressure I may be able to limit myself to a few singular and gemlike links offered discreetly, optionally. Afterthoughts in the footnotes instead of hyperbolic headlines beating you over the skull in a droning robot voice every other day.<\/p>\n I hope so. May my stern measures profit you, as well as myself, and I mean it honestly. We are all in this together, miraculously sentient or no. We all breathe the one planetary air, from Palestine to Petaluma; even the oligarchs, and we all could learn to breathe easier.<\/p>\n Breathe easier. Pet the one special kitty. Caress gently ‘ponst your attachment disorder, should you still be ill-fated enough to have one living on your shoulder angelically and demonically both together siamese twisted, hell-bent.<\/p>\n Breathe.<\/p>\n Breathe.<\/p>\n ***<\/p>\n Good.<\/p>\n Now.<\/p>\n Living free. <\/p>\n It’s still late on Wednesday as I’ve begun this Thursday post. <\/p>\n With certain already noted exceptions, this evening has been my own blessed time free and clear. The actual Thursday on the edge of being born is my One Day of Pure Solitude in a very long time, and I don’t intend to waste it and most especially not on bullshit, singin’: <\/p>\n Fool.<\/p>\n You got two of everything, but you hang your head, just like you was down and out.<\/p>\n The shivery godspeed of bootstraps be upon me and this I pray.<\/p>\n Mr. William Blake is upstairs talking to god, and musn’t be disturbed even by waiting dinner guests.<\/p>\n Scripture reminds us that there are those who break and those who bend. <\/p>\n But I’m still the apple of my Mama’s eye, and I’m each and all my Daddy’s worst fears realized. <\/p>\n Breathe, and remember, old son who never did quite take to the way of the hunt.<\/p>\n