journal for the "twenty-first century". We are
beyond chemistry. We are beyond flesh. We are
in the midst of new dreams and old tangled nightmares.
Competitive repetitiveness has made us want "something
to show for it", but the opposite of productionist/consumptionist
materialist philosophies -
and ideologies as emergency escape routes - in
the form of New Age/Sew Age dogmas and wish fulfilment/defilement
scenarios can only act as
stopgaps in the now. The splitting of minds, the
cognitive dissonance, will continue if we allow
it. People will carry on working to break down.
will not share in one of the universe's tea breaks.
The sun does not work - it simply is. The Love
Corporation does not exist. Love cannot exist
large inanimate agglomerations. In the megatropolis,
it is lost in the punctuation marks of urbanoid
structure and process, the reductionist work -
crowd, whether of pedestrians, passengers or drivers.
The smile of the street lamp and the traffic light
are meagre compensation for the dark grinding
of city's starbleached mill. What does the citivilisation
make us become? Are we winning bread or losing
hope? What has alienation done for you? Are
you standing on a giant's shoulders or kicking
a dwarf while he sleeps? Is happiness your fuel,
or is it a destination in itself? To what extent,
does a sun need its planets? Will love suffice
one day (or night) instead of the sun? Can we
wrap up all of eternity's yesterdays and make
good of it? Will accreted monuments, polyverse
planets, mean something, if created, in eternity's
tomorrows? Beyond pain and joy, can matter
made a source of stable and tangible values? Lonely
as a star without planets, I can only give to
the energy of the neighbouring void. Giving,
in this case, at least, is being.