My apologies for not picking up on my “psyopped” series in case you were missing it. My worklife has been a bit of a trainwreck since I last wrote an entry, and it started to feel redundant in any case. That’s not to say I want to abandon that type of blogging completely or even that series of posts, but the absolute saturation of news events has been overwhelming, to say the least. And now that the media has reaffirmed the fact that “debate season” will never end until no one else on earth has any amount of wealth or comfort save for the very select few — “the beatings will continue until morale improves” — I can’t bear to pay too close of attention.
Despite the shittiest of days, I can still wake up the next morning and face a new one, and that’s worth a lot. I don’t feel too swayed by the wackier practices americans are apparently flocking to these days to escape the drudgery of the material and square their dissonance in the age of Trump and that are being propped up and further encouraged by some of the more “eccentric” democratic candidates. There are a lot, aren’t there? I don’t care to know them as individuals. My question reads as rhetorical but the whole production is very curious — however, all hands are on deck in this age of extreme disparity that occurs simultaneously with an age of apocalypse in its most basic sense: revelations and the inability of the most powerful on earth to continue plugging the leaks without something getting through.
It’s a scramble, and the national american stage reflects it — time to bring in the clowns. Clearly, any one with a brain knows the score and sees how flimsy and ridiculous this “debate” is. Even those supposedly scandalized by Trump realize it at some level, but they participate and chatter at the office as if they are really doing something, doing politics. To admit otherwise is scary.
Everyone smiles as you drift past the flowers / that grow so incredibly high