THE COLLECTIVE IMPULSE

Joseph Campbell quote: Any disaster you can survive is an improvement in  your...

OK jumping right into it I’m gonna say that as individuals, we humans have choices. But it’s a whole other deal when you’re talking about the collective human. The collective human is more a machine, yet still a living, functioning being. It’s just that when you crunch it all together, and given the greater mass of humans in the 21st Century are of dull and compulsive stature, you get a being of low self esteem and little care for the future of itself. It will just want what it wants and get it however it can.
Yeah so the deal with that is what-a-ya-gonna do about it? Nothing, you can’t do shit about it. You can however hope the greater mass of humans change their stature of character. That includes you and me get’n that done. Then we’ll go, “What happened?”

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THE DROUGHT

More bummer stuff. Who am I, Danny Downer? I spoke last time about being traumatized by the hammering of climate change information.

Yeah so every now and then, like now, we gotta live the god damn thing. Like the information (from afar) ain’t bad enough. But right here in my frick’n face–it’s very hard.

This is a bad one, worst I’ve seen since living here from 2000 on. Why we gotta go thru this? What the hell we doin? What the fuck kinda karma we got anyway? This is the human race, this is what we got here, the human race. That’s all that’s hapnin.

The UnHuman Race.

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THE BIG LIE AND ALL THAT OTHER STUFF

There’s a lotta deals going on out there. Yeah I’m “in here” and then there’s the “out there” –yeah that’s a deal right there. All that separation, divide-ation, argumentation, stone wall’n-ation and high hold’n-ation, that’s what we got here.
It’s a tipping point, in many ways. I’m in and out of it myself, just kinda sitting and watching. It ain’t fun, knowing and not knowing. You’re sitting there, unrelated to any of it, but still, you’re sit’n there, see, watch’n.
Or wait a minute god dammit, maybe you ain’t just sit’n there watch’n. Maybe ur in it, maybe you one unit in the whole danged deal. Maybe you’re just sliding by, unnoticed. A fella like you, well, if you ain’t dead yet, you’re in it, mother fucker.
Think about that, know where you live, and give it honor. That’ll get you out of it and no longer–in it. Could be a blessing in these hardened times.

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WATCH THIS

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MARCUS AND HIS LETTERS TO LITA

February 10, 1964

My Dearest Lita,

You know that I am always rustling about, I fidget and appear unsettled much of the time, don’t I? Well, I would ask you to fear not, and behold your child has come to life, do you see it my sweet giant of a woman?  In my head I toil, but it is only in my head, and though it surfaces through mannerisms, silly statements and blank stares, it is all contained my dear, and you needn’t worry. M.

February 13, 1964

My Dear Sweet Lita,

I know you’ve seen me in the living room, flipping channels on the television, drinking half glasses of water, stepping outside to smoke; burning cigarettes to a bight red cherry an inch long.  But please do not become over wrought by these neuroses.  Nary a one has dominated my constitution, I stay strong in my ability to hide, and I am as a walking tiger, ready to pounce on any moving emotion, especially those that show my ignorance, my lasting borough of faded knowledge.  I dumbfound my dumbfoundedness, and only the steady stride of the tiger is shown, please set yourself at ease my dear. M.

March 3, 1964

My Dearest Lita,

I can assume you know of me, you know that I adore you, and fear you as well.  I will not speak of this again. I’ve brooded over this the past two weeks, and now I will open this up, but only a little, you see.  You could say I am protecting you from my distress.  For instance, I tried to slow my cigarette puffing down, to make the cigarette last longer.  I admit I was thinking of you in this effort. I saw your coolness, your slow chewing and little sips of wine.  I saw your gaze that went no further than the space in front of you, content to stay at home and be quiet.  You needn’t fear my darling; I am that way too.  To prove it to you, I will say no more of this, I can keep it within, and never let it be seen, because it isn’t there.  Never be concerned my love. M.

March 19, 1964

Dearest Lita,

Do you know what I did today sweet Lita?  I sat alone in the park for an hour, with the birds!  I’ve seen old men do this, quiet and content, tossing seed like gamblers tossing poker chips, never caring if they come back or not. Although my stomach remained tight throughout the ordeal, I wasn’t thinking very much, and at one point I hardly moved for nearly eight minutes.  I had no seed, so instead I decided to study what the birds would do if someone just sat there, tossing nothing but their presence. Wasn’t that brilliant my love, do you see how I’ve grown?  That is why I ask you to not worry, I am more like the tiger every day.  My story here must have made you happy, surely my love…eight minutes, and you’ve never seen that before have you?  Now you can rest, I am so much better; can you tell dear Lita? M.

March 22, 1964

Oh Dearest Lita, my Queen,

Last night I remembered how we used to watch your favorite show, Man from Uncle. I recalled how it made you happy.  It’s the only program you watch, isn’t it, or am I wrong? You otherwise never care much for television, do you?  If you are not in your garden, painting your pictures, or cast away in deep meditation, no my tender love, if you are not in these places, then I can find you reading on the porch, or in your bed.  You move lightly about, yet intent on your subject, never losing your thoughts, remembering to do all that you set out to do.  Even when you read, you select all that there is to know about your verse, and store it for future reference, not caring if you will need it or not.  These are just pastimes to enhance the play already going on in your soul, isn’t that true my darling?  And so now you can see, that anyone who can observe these things, then surely they are a part of the observer as well. So lie down my darling, meditate, as you do, on these things.  Can you see me reading? Can you see me in the garden?  You see, you really can rest dear flower, your worries are over. M.

March 23, 1964

Dear Lita,

Why do I love you so much?  It upsets me.  I mean that as a good thing my dear.  Please do not take that wrong.  Actually I am not upset, especially since I have found the tiger in me, you know, my self-esteem has risen so much.  I think the therapy with Doctor Sorensen is working for me.  Guess what happened. As I was leaving his office the other day, another patient stopped me, some guy name Gamma Ray (he’s delusional and he’s very big), he always comes in after me, he’s down the hall in the locked ward. Anyway, he said to me, “ya sezzen bin ova fa t’n minna, Belnoir.”  Do you know what I said; the fact I said anything at all amazed me.  And it will amaze you too darling; you will see how you have nothing to fear, you know, “the greatest fear is fear itself”.  You say that, don’t you dear Lita?  I say it to, now.  But here’s what I said; “I apologize Gamma for your inconvenience (very calm with no quiver at all).  However, I prefer you address me by my first name—Marcus.” Can you believe that dear Lita?  I was so strong, and sort of stealth like to. I got back to my room and actually let out a roar.  I know that may seem silly, and it was.  But your tiger came forward, I the tiger, you the tigress.  I just thought that up the other day, I love it, don’t you? Nevertheless my love, I am the tiger, you are-the-tigress.  We are strong. Get it, “we”?  M.

April 10, 1964

My Lovely Lita,

I’m so glad they let me bring my typewriter here.  It’s an old typewriter my mother gave me, she said, “Marcus, use this instrument for good, don’t fall to folly.”  I really never knew what she meant, but no matter, I love this typewriter so much I’ve had it repaired a dozen times.  I too have been repaired a dozen times.  But every time I come back stronger and I rooaarrr towards greater self-esteem!  I remember how you always did your exercise in the morning and you’d end it with that big “whaaa” sound you’d make.   I’m just like you, dear Lita? I too make big sounds now. Roaaarrr. M.

April 14, 1964

Dear Lita,

Today Doctor Sorensen ask me what was all the typing I did.  I told him I’ve been writing about a tiger and his tigress.  I told him about you, that you were the tigress. After I finished telling him all about it, I sort of roared a little, you know, to show him my strength.  He didn’t say much about it.  He said at the end of the session that he was going increase my medication to 800 milligrams. It shook me up a little, for a couple days my cigarette cherries were an inch long again. But I am choosing not to thinking about it. Gamma has been transferred because he beat up an orderly.  Now can you see, that is, how strong I was to stand up to him? Oh I’m sorry, I may be worrying you a little my darling.  I just meant I’ve been a little high strung lately, everybody gets high strung don’t they?  Disregard it fair lady and don’t’ let me bore you with these little things, prrrr. Next time I won’t give such puny roar around Dr. Sorensen, he’ll see what I mean then.  Rooaarrr. M.

April 16, 1964

Dear Lita, the Tigress,

Tigress Lita, how about that my sweet?  I am Marcus the Tiger. I thought I might call you Lita the Tigress, but we are individuals first and foremost, and it also would sound verbose, wouldn’t you agree my love?  Dr. Sorensen increased my medication to 950 milligrams.  I’m not happy about that, but it’s nothing for you to be concerned with my darling.  My tiger power will overcome the thorazine. I can assure you of this sweet Tigress Lita, the strong one, your fear is overtaken by your tigress power, isn’t that true my love?  M.

May 16, 1964

Dear Sweet, Sweet Lita,

They locked me in my room and took away my typewriter.  I couldn’t write you.  I roared and roared; I scratched at the wall and leaped from my bed.  I leaped everywhere in my room.  Or I would look in stealth out the window, seeing my prey below.  I’m now on 2000 milligrams, but my tiger power grows stronger in spite of it.  Rooaarrr, Rooaarrr.  Can you hear my roar, Tigress Lita?  Do not worry, the tiger was smarter than Dr. Sorensen was.  In my last session I pretended I was tired of being the tiger.  I’m not sure he really believed it, but at the same time, I think he sees my power, though he never admits it. Anyway, he took me off lock up after that. Purr sweet giant tiger woman, your scratch is forthcoming. Do you like that dear? See how we’ve gone beyond it all now, we are the royal tigers, roaring our victories.  Rooaarrr!  M.

May 17, 1964

Dear Tigress Lita,

I am being transferred to another ward.  Rooaaarrr.  The tiger has been unleashed.  I’ve had to have an orderly escort me to see Dr. Sorensen, yesterday as the orderly was walking me my tiger power came forth.  Before I knew it I’d scratched him…it marked his chin. Rooaaarrr, Rooaarrr.  It’s a locked ward, but that does not bother me, a tiger has his own inner life to roam.  I’ll be transferred as soon as there is an opening because it’s full right now.  They were supposed to take my typewriter and somehow they didn’t do it.  I am writing you in my bathroom, and typing very soft, like the tiger’s walk.  M.

May 18, 1964

Tigress Lita, the gentle one,

They still haven’t found my typewriter, but I’m going to be transferred tomorrow.  The orderly is not here and so I only have a minute. Always remember your fears are unwarranted, that we are strong and our power to rule is also our supreme right to indignation. These tiger paws will sing of your beauty…uh oh, I hear him coming.  I’ve been planning this all day Tigress Lita.  Your king will leap from this chair and devour his prey, you’ll see.  Don’t worry my queen, these letters will come again, and your rest will resume, don not be afraid…here he comes.  Roar with me darling, Roaarr, Roooaaaarrr, Roooaaaaarrrr. M.

May 18, 1964

Dear Miss Lita Theangela,

I regret to inform you that Marcus Belnoir has been placed in intensive care at the Goodland Medical Center.  I’m afraid Marcus suffered a terrible psychotic break, and attempted to scratch and bite his attending orderly. He was subdued but not before several orderlies forcefully retrained him, rupturing his spine.  His typewriter has been put in storage here at the hospital. I’m afraid it will be sometime before he returns to his ward, we were hoping you could retrieve the typewriter, perhaps you should keep it with you.

            Regretfully,

            Dr. Robert Sorensen, M.D.

            Felineian Mental Hospital

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TALKING BY LETTERS

Yeah I’m talking all the time, every day several times a day. Actually, not so much these days given I’m not on my computer as much as I used to be. “Wait”, you say. “What does your computer have to do with talking?”

Well I hope you get my point there. If you didn’t then let me put it plainly, we are talking via computers and it ain’t good. Now I hope that right now as I type, I hope I’m not talking but merely writing. But then again I don’t know. Yes I suppose in this case I am just writing but when I’m answering a reply to a comment I wrote or visa versa, in this day and age I am talking. So there’s a difference, but not by much given these conversations are mostly two people making separate statements on a subject but with no real interaction. Put is this way; we’re not asking each other questions, we’re just making statements.

So like I said, I’m not talking via computer as much these days—and I notice the difference. My issues have not changed, but I’m just not using the interactions of social media to have these conversations, two-way conversations that is. It’s too ugly, and I was too ugly. I still comment, but about one tenth of what I used to comment.

It’s a social media thing, lets be clear. I’ve been inside it as much as any of them. The bickering, it’s just too much and we don’t even hear each other anyway. Why is this? Political and social interaction has been around forever and many times doing nothing but arousing frustration, with social media this dynamic is compounded a hundred fold.

This is a problem that is going to be hard to get rid of. Why? Because the only way it will go away is by one person at a time giving it up little by little. That’s how I’ve been doing it; little by little I seem to not be using social media to “interact” with people of opposing as well as matching views. Most of my use of it now is simple communication between friends and family.  Oh I do still go to YouTube and comment though not nearly as much. And when I do I am trying to “converse”, I might even concede on a point or two. I try not be so block headed about what I believe is going on.

OK I’ve attached a video from Joe Rogan that talks about this subject and how we all are getting along with our conversing. I highly recommend you watch it. And speaking of Joe Rogan, well, I’m supposed to be some kinda progressive dude and if I were adhering to all the progressive leanings then I am not supposed to watch Joe Rogan. Now, this is not a good thing, we gotta get past this deal. It’s as big a problem with progressives and liberals as it is with all of the right. Watch this video and see if you can hear it. Good luck.

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THE SEPARATING OIL

If you will allow me, I will take one cup each of oil and water and thoroughly mix them, in order to become a metaphor I suppose. Yes so imagine these two mixed so well they become a liquid of their own; united as one. They are united in a clear glass tubular bowl, flat bottom.

Day 1

Now I will set my mixture on my flat and perfectly level table.  I will spend my time today and all the days of my life adoring my united family of oil and water.

Day 6

As my days have passed I see that something is happening among my family. Bubbles in pockets of bubbles have appeared; though at the bottom I see a thin layer of pure water.

Day 6

Oh but wait, now I see an equally thin layer of oil at the top. The bubbles seem to be gathering in a similar fashion. I mostly see oil bubbles moving, mostly towards the top, though water bubbles seem to block or divert their journey.

Day 9

Here now in the final days, I see there are no more bubbles, just tiny water and oil bubbles lying at the bottom of the oil lake atop the water basin below. The tiny oil bubbles are forcing the tiny water bubbles down as the tiny water bubbles merge to become a part in the whole of the water basin.

Day 10

It seems as one tiny oil bubble forces one tiny water bubble down, it in turn goes up to the oil lake and merges the same as the tiny water bubble merges with the water basin below. Here in the end, I see one pure lake of oil atop of one pure water basin below.

Day11

All motion has stopped now. The two worlds of oil and water have now completely separated. Their unification has ended. And now I ask, why did it have to be oil and water? I will now set out to look for other liquids; surely there are two substances that can stand to mingle. Please do wish me luck.

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THE MAD HATTERS

I’m talking about those very rich people out there. Why am I calling them the Mad Hatters? I don’t know. I never read Alice in Wonderland. However, I do think of those rich humans as sort of mad; crazy about success, money, fame. Makes me say, “eh”.
Now I say “eh” because I am not crazy about those things. But guess what? In comparison to those 10 percenters, those of you reading this would likely not even compare to that bunch and you’d likely not care about their lifeways either. They are freaks. The truth is most people would not enjoy the life of a billionaire. That’s why most people are not billionaires.
So what we have here is a real problem. You have these very unusual people, freaks, who would be judged by the average citizen as someone to avoid, yet, they set the pace for the country. Doesn’t that seem like something that’s gotta have a bad end somewhere, sometime?
Yeah well, I think that time is arriving. We talk about inequality a lot these days. It’s a bitch, no doubt. Of course, it has been coming for a long time now, this kind of inequality that is. It’s that Marx thing he predicted, the capitalism imploding deal there. Yeah that’s what’s going on here.
So maybe it’d be a good thing to not model ones self after a billionaire. We do this, unconsciously, I believe. It is built in to our learning. The idea of success being something only material wealth can define. It’s kinda nuts and I’d be fighting that notion if I were you.
Long live the egalitarian and the proletariat, our true leaders.

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TITLED UNTITLED

what state am I’m in
when what I know
is no more astounding
than what I don’t know
which makes me wonder
do I know what I know
or maybe know
what I don’t know

in these times 
these wonderments
are valid
if half a country
sees a dog fly’n
and the other half
sees a dog shit’n
well, he said she said
it’s gravity
it’s living in space where
up is down and up is up
down is round
and all things the same

it’s in the elements
escape is difficult

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THE 1400

yeah we been kick’n that number around while, ain’t we
I believe it’s gotten kinda holy, that number
it could-a been 2000, but that 600, oh that 600…
but yet it is now — The 1400

our life in the 21st Century, whoa daddy
like a boat ride I once took, got drunk and passed out
like shopping in Wal-Mart, alone, buying hamburgers
in a car slot

long comes that 1400, oh that baby, most number on high
I can see it gleaning there, like a rooster on a roof top
“don’t gimme no dollar sign” it says, “I’m The 1400”
He knows, He’ll be along soon

you can break a sweat at the tables with it
maybe pay back your grandma, but it won’t stick
it’s The 1400, you don’t have to worry none at all
The 1400 will know what to do

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