{one of the least enjoyable aspects of this public explication is knowing how much bitter criticism it generates in the minds and hearts of people who are still so dominantly present that to revile them, as my heart demands constantly, is to risk losing any further chance at thwarting them. it's like fighting an infant, one whose mind is wired directly to nuclear warheads, but whose grasp of reality is still unformed, whose emotions are still too shapeless, for it to be able to reason. and it's like being attacked by the members of the audience at an Oprah Winfrey show, thousands of well-fed well-intentioned people who haven't got the slightest sense of where they really are or what is really happening around them. and like the infant they demand to be fed, without reasoning, without a rational justifying, the simple cry for existence of any being, especially the new-born. and then to feel the demand by that opposing force for my reasoning to be faultless, when I bear daily the results of years of poison, the blank holes in memory and mind from too many blows from too many unseen hands, and the thousands of self-inflicted temporary blindnesses, and their accumulations. so out of that I'm supposed to be a constant voice of reason. my teeth are grinding as I write this, the rage I feel makes me speechless, but I had to create a false self early on, a mask to offer the men gathered round the chair, and it went as deep as they did. so I can almost at will portray a relatively logical, relatively humane persona. humane in the sense of wanting things to be nice. the way teenage girls get when they see hungry kittens, or starving Africans. wanting it to be nice. and especially not wanting to think through to the larger picture of thousands and thousands of well-fed cats, or billions and billions of well-fed humans. nice. really the healthiest thing is to never think about things like that. but I do, all the time. what should be done? what CAN be done? what would be best? where did it come from? why is it like this? most of those questions are frustratingly difficult to explore, some of them are frighteningly easy to answer. the energy they consume is immense, and at the same time my life is threatened, daily, by the ignorance and superstition and bloodlust for revenge that surrounds me. so I'm mad, in an eighteenth century sense, crazy in a 20 th century sense, post-traumatic in the jargon of my genereation, and every moment of my life now is a locked combat of the urge to welcome annihilation and the urge to vindicate the love that held me long enough to get this far. these are not small easily resolved conflicts. the miracle to me is that I can make any sense at all. and the idea that this is taking place within an arena of complete control, though not predictable in its outcome, that I am strung with the insane rags of myth and superstition and cowardly fantasy, all the while trying to shake off induced lies and delusions, and at the same time the external world hurtles toward nightmarish destruction. well I'd just like to say hey! to all that. hey, fuckhead, how dare you demand consistency in writing that you aren't capable of judging to begin with, except as it helps or hinders your own survival, which is really what all this is about to begin with, survival, in a world and time that are hourly showing more evidence of having been thoroughly sabotaged. well, hey!}
posted by Juke at 2:31 PM [edit]