Just blogging before I meet an friend to go see "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory."
Not so long ago, I used to believe that there could be no great powerful conspiracies, simply because people screw things up well enough alone, and that the powerful never seem to really agree since that would make them less powerful to do so. I'm reading Holy Blood, Holy Grail which first put forth to the popular readers, the idea that Jesus didn't die on the cross, that he ran with the Magdalene to France, married, and his bloodline started a Frankish dynasty whose lineage are still influencing European affairs to this day through secret occult knowledge. Okay, well least it makes more sense than David Icke's Venusian lizard-human progeny run the Earth theory. And lest we forget the Illuminated Ones, who are the bad-good-bad concern of the Discordians and aluminum-hat wearers everywhere. I've come to a realization through reflecting on my past attiude, a tenet of the new faith that has shaken my world.. No, even though I am becoming more sure that there is something to all this conspiracy stuff. The Bilderbergers, and the Bohemian Grove don't just get together to sip brandy and play high-stakes backgammon. I believe now that NO-ONE is in control and really ever has been in control . Nobody behind the helm of Spaceship Earth, no shadow masters fulfilling the grand design. Not that they may not be trying, or that the Establishment doesn't influence the course of modern human affairs, in a myriad of benign and malign ways, just They, the Man, do not control a damn thing. It's the only thing that makes sense.
Yesterday, I listened over the radio as the new meat over at the main building, where I used to work, completely botch and bumble their way through the simplest of duties, knowing they were most likely hired by the equally incompetent management for their sycophancy and simplicity. My radio died a final horrible death, while a new radio sat a few inches away from it, but remaining mostly useless due to the fact that property management allowed themselves to get so shafted by the telecommunications company that no signal boosters will be installed for my building until probably after they finish in court. It was one of those days where you were sure that cartoonish steam would shoot out your ears, and the top of your skull would explosively launch into orbit. But the subsequent near nervous collapse wasn't from anger overload but from sudden rage flush as I asked the question which of late has been so destructive to my static ways, "What the hell am I doing?" Here I was getting mad at something so patently absurd. Here I was witnessing the flowering of business thought, that most sacred of American instutions, the management model. Nobody was truly in control of my site, the operation hovering on disaster only diverted by the tepid winds of security providence, and everyone involved knew this truth, but yet onward went the plague ship without a navigator, the timbers rotting away.
What was worse was that the same thought applied just as relevantly to me as to the Powers That Be. Inside me, I still believe that control equals order, order equals reality, and therefore control equals reality. That everything answers to a plan, be it the randomness of the universe, or the will of a Supreme Power, and all I needed to do to make it all work was will myself to make order happen, even if I have to shrink my universe to the size of a small walk-in closet to make it happen. I will not accept that choice is reality, and choice is not order. I do possess free will, but only if I real the probablities, chose the best state, good or ill, and not mix up results with causality. Nothing really does matter, but this isn't nihilism, it is perceptual apostasy. I don't travel though life, with its other people and other events, mundane and profound, I collide with their choices as much as they collide with mine. Human magnetism. I should let it instill wonder, and not fear. As my friend said to me yesterday night, I'm doing what I feel is right, but that doesn't mean it's any easier. And what does this mean to me emotionally? If it doesn't have emotional impact, I have to consider it an intellectual construct, and intellectual constructs are not real. The menu is not the entree.
But I doubt this means the Jesus lizards aren't still out to get me.
The myth is not the meaning. I've been thinking on that alot too. Let me get back to you on that. I think I really should read MacLuhan soon as I finish Holy Blood, Holy Grail.
Not so long ago, I used to believe that there could be no great powerful conspiracies, simply because people screw things up well enough alone, and that the powerful never seem to really agree since that would make them less powerful to do so. I'm reading Holy Blood, Holy Grail which first put forth to the popular readers, the idea that Jesus didn't die on the cross, that he ran with the Magdalene to France, married, and his bloodline started a Frankish dynasty whose lineage are still influencing European affairs to this day through secret occult knowledge. Okay, well least it makes more sense than David Icke's Venusian lizard-human progeny run the Earth theory. And lest we forget the Illuminated Ones, who are the bad-good-bad concern of the Discordians and aluminum-hat wearers everywhere. I've come to a realization through reflecting on my past attiude, a tenet of the new faith that has shaken my world.. No, even though I am becoming more sure that there is something to all this conspiracy stuff. The Bilderbergers, and the Bohemian Grove don't just get together to sip brandy and play high-stakes backgammon. I believe now that NO-ONE is in control and really ever has been in control . Nobody behind the helm of Spaceship Earth, no shadow masters fulfilling the grand design. Not that they may not be trying, or that the Establishment doesn't influence the course of modern human affairs, in a myriad of benign and malign ways, just They, the Man, do not control a damn thing. It's the only thing that makes sense.
Yesterday, I listened over the radio as the new meat over at the main building, where I used to work, completely botch and bumble their way through the simplest of duties, knowing they were most likely hired by the equally incompetent management for their sycophancy and simplicity. My radio died a final horrible death, while a new radio sat a few inches away from it, but remaining mostly useless due to the fact that property management allowed themselves to get so shafted by the telecommunications company that no signal boosters will be installed for my building until probably after they finish in court. It was one of those days where you were sure that cartoonish steam would shoot out your ears, and the top of your skull would explosively launch into orbit. But the subsequent near nervous collapse wasn't from anger overload but from sudden rage flush as I asked the question which of late has been so destructive to my static ways, "What the hell am I doing?" Here I was getting mad at something so patently absurd. Here I was witnessing the flowering of business thought, that most sacred of American instutions, the management model. Nobody was truly in control of my site, the operation hovering on disaster only diverted by the tepid winds of security providence, and everyone involved knew this truth, but yet onward went the plague ship without a navigator, the timbers rotting away.
What was worse was that the same thought applied just as relevantly to me as to the Powers That Be. Inside me, I still believe that control equals order, order equals reality, and therefore control equals reality. That everything answers to a plan, be it the randomness of the universe, or the will of a Supreme Power, and all I needed to do to make it all work was will myself to make order happen, even if I have to shrink my universe to the size of a small walk-in closet to make it happen. I will not accept that choice is reality, and choice is not order. I do possess free will, but only if I real the probablities, chose the best state, good or ill, and not mix up results with causality. Nothing really does matter, but this isn't nihilism, it is perceptual apostasy. I don't travel though life, with its other people and other events, mundane and profound, I collide with their choices as much as they collide with mine. Human magnetism. I should let it instill wonder, and not fear. As my friend said to me yesterday night, I'm doing what I feel is right, but that doesn't mean it's any easier. And what does this mean to me emotionally? If it doesn't have emotional impact, I have to consider it an intellectual construct, and intellectual constructs are not real. The menu is not the entree.
But I doubt this means the Jesus lizards aren't still out to get me.
The myth is not the meaning. I've been thinking on that alot too. Let me get back to you on that. I think I really should read MacLuhan soon as I finish Holy Blood, Holy Grail.
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