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critical-X-mass

the rushing run-through of applicable parts coming together must be precise in order to give you the fullest impression Here in the great white static as it were, the signal of too much information at once as we were conned from birth to believe that some handfuls of simple truth could solve all the problems when nothing else ever could, but when those magical ages passed as we searched for the pied piper when all idols were burned long ago to become immortal stories to be told forever more when static time still seems empty and somehow without the meaning it might have previously had because those meanings much like a situation are always changing whether for better or for worse is wholly unknown until one gets there at the end of the road where the scholars go for a sit and a drink… the myths are at times distinct and related between guests on this strange passage of humanity from one life to the next in some weird quick succession as we seem to alternate between the rigid systems and loosen the anarchy to recreate this ideal brand of almost reliable elements with an energy to be as the tearing wraps that barely kept the gifts in check by the consumptive measured ploys accepted by the rabid shoppers just after the beginning of this whole unholy trinity of holidaze to kill the new year properly, expending last reserves of money and patience in an attempt to fit into the preconceived ideas of tradition made numb by the chill of both death and indifference as the vanquished pessimist turning into the fiery optimist to burn out that poisoned soul that craves the minus calories of a meal making the gross and greasy self want to eat itself away twisting the stomach and clogging the veins with the bloody choleric intake of an intimately isolationist culture that trusts its false news and even more insidious visual trap inviting one in, but the gift is not necessarily the insult you should be afraid of accepting when the lies of the human outrage has tainted this homing instinct that would normally allow thoughts of clarity and exception to think of a proper temperament just perfectly to ferment this version into solidity… santa’s claws have gripped us to shake and tear with the cackling consumerist laughter that trails off into those snowy dark places only the imagination can reach beyond the broken glass of the snow globe, the vast empty exasperates the urge to relieve this empty in the universe within ourselves that lasts and lives through us as much as we rely upon it for success or failure to make us who we are and ever will be, and part of our collective education is the myths that become foundation for all our fantasies and nightmares as well as learning to adapt to the mental as much the biological function vital to the individual’s survival among the growing pains advancing in years as reminded by those sure that Here is the only thing real… needing to be as careful as possible with no risks taken whatsoever in order to maintain the perfect life that is neither perfect nor an accurate representation of living done this or any other human being Here because risk is a necessary part in struggling to make the equation work for those who demand productivity, for too long we have just complied to what most elites have demanded to happen since the revolutions that have engulfed all social priorities into the amalgam of new world order as proposed by the theorists in this sense of forever, and from this direction perhaps it does look like forever out there as to our godlike eyes space appears vast and empty in contrast to the condensed meat of living matter… what brains we are appear much different to the other organic parts of the Self in a way that resembles this vastness in likeness where experiential memory is stored along with learning as parts of the process in expanding the thresholds of knowledge, both desired and otherwise into a rich compost of linked dynamic elements making the most out of a bland need to put a bunch of people into a room together to let their god sort it out, and much the case as the holiday of giving thanks it goes as a shout out to that god awful thing that directs are still labored harmonies into specific days of the year… not by request but by tradition ancient and misshapen by the advanced years that have made many of us bitter over the holiday fuss as it fuses the tension-filled and emotional conflagration shared by families the whole world over, though we know not from whence these concepts began as the obscurity had granted the serene security required for these dreams to sustain their immortality, and especially now that we have all those damned calendars marked to shit like a map of implied destinations that we must stop at before we drop off earth…

Thanks, khet.