it might get loud

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My one great musical wish is that I want somebody to mix Bono way down and The Edge way up. I'm fucking gone for The Edge. He IS that band. The rest of them are crucial, but The Edge is the one on it... the edge of perfection... OUT of the box... sui generis... a true human.

This came up for me while reading an article about sociopathy yesterday morning. I know, I know, I make strange mental connections, but the thing is: They used the word "paralogic", which is a specialist's term for fallacious logic—when something is paralogical, it is a fallacy—the use of which is big on the sociopath's list—think not looking back on such things as torture—and just for the hell of it I googled "paralogic" to see who was discussing this stuff in these terms. Well, try it. Look at the very first thing that it pulls up.

It just sort of says everything, doesn't it?

So I didn't pursue the matter further, not caring really, not deeply, what people are saying about presidential sociopathy, and I started hearing the opening licks of "Bad" as this was transpiring. I hear music most of the time... without my ears. Lots of the time it's nothing anyone has heard but me, and maybe my teacher, but I saw this, this mindfuck so glib it names its corporation for itself, and blew it off, with one great blast from my true self, those echoing reminders from The Edge. Herein lies strength, the waxing of vitality. Don't get stuck.
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Just for ducks, I ducked over to Groupthink to find headlines splashed from hell to breakfast over the shock of Facebook not being private. OMG! All that personal information you've been dumping on there is available for identity theft! I'm sitting here thinking to myself how ever could such a gargantuan DUH be headlining even at Groupthink? What's going to happen when they realize their twittering makes them easy to stalk?

Man, I try SO hard not to hold the global dimness against sentient beings, not to be a bitch about that sort of thing. It's not helpful. In FACT people RESENT the snot out of it, and "people" being so numerous, THEY get to be "right" and I get to be a nasty old harridan who just has this thing for being contrary. You know, I do shit like defend Tea Partiers against the Progressive-Fascists' incantations of racism, bash gun control wussies, dare to posit the insignificance/murderatingtude of a government that is OBVIOUSLY not our government, just basically keep trying to drag people away from the swinging watch fob action, help them look at things more objectively, but, sheesh, headlines like that make me wish I hadn't cleaned my glasses.
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I did clean my glasses. Felt inspired and sort of smug about it. I'd been thinking it was so nice to have a late Spring day that feels sort of like early Spring instead of the dead of a North Pole Winter, and wondering why it seemed so drab around here when there weren't hardly any clouds.... Then I remembered how smudged the world had looked as I was putting on my glasses and swallowing my pills and coming across the word "paralogic". That had been some hours before. So I cleaned my lenses with the hem of my fleece hoodie, et voilà! Springtime, big as heck.

I resolved to go to town, and since I felt so suddenly lucent with sensibility, I sat down and voted my "non" ballot, which is what they call ballots for those of us who decline to be in a political party, to drop into the lockbox at the registrar's office, save myself the postage. A paragon of nobody's-fool and take-THAT-you-fuckers, as though this had counted for everything despite it being COMPLETELY insignificant, I strode from the civic center back to Goldie and the stock of half and half that is mandatory to my participation on Planet Earth. I got home, positively bursting with self-love from all this right-thinking-adulthood, thinking to find you some more good stuff to put in the post that this one used to be, and put on my sparkling-clean computer glasses to proceed.

So I could see that stupid headline really well.

I hear more music.
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I was demoralized. And still am... somewhere... but I'm just battin' it off... using drums... humming right along to the return of Planet X... swingin' back to get me... at laaaast.

I emailed Agent BB2 the press release from the Zeitgeist Movement, knowing he was going to dig it to bits... and he did. So if the hours in this post aren't enough for you, the hours in that post will fix you right up... help you over the Facebook shocker....

Anyway, I went off puttering and surfing, and dealing with Danny's incredulity about there being thirty-two black Republicans running for Congress this year. He thinks I'm on crack and I think he needs some. Okay, okay, putter, consult Guanzi, eat, oh, right, it all started with me being hungry. Sheesh. So then I decided to pull back that magnificence of being on top of it again, go finally find out what this getting blogs on feeds, in readers, looks like to those of you who do this blog that way, and, yes, that was definitely not the move to lift my spirits.

I guess I have to think of it that the blog doesn't look anything like as nice as it actually looks when yer not using a newer Mac or probably on most PCs... although I really have gotten some raves about that from the PC crowd, so they must not all be as hopeless as my mom's. But, well, still. How vexing. I wonder if they only get what I first post and don't get the links I add later, or updates, or the fixed typos, and what about all the times the whole sense of it includes the labels? They don't get the labels. They don't get the quotes or links in the sidebar. They get it in this plain imitation vanilla techno format that looks like shit. No wonder that headline shocked them so much!

I feel like The Edge, driving himself crazy trying to get the sound in his head, his voice, to come out of the speakers... if I may be so bold... and, what the hell, it is my blog.
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You guys! Yer hurtin' yer brains! You need to get OUT of your little clicking machine minds and into the true mindscape. That ain't no way to live! Lurking's cool, but yipes! Couldn't you lurk ON the page? I don't know how this gestalt can penetrate if you hobble it so strictly. Hard enough when all the elements are working together.

The world needs you.

The world needs you to come out of your cyber trance, your conditioning, your location inside such a tiny little computational portion of your mind you've been stuck in so long you think it's you. It's not you.

It's just this little toolkit for reading instructions and applying them in the world. You can NEVER make this a decent world using only that flimsy little thing, and, yes, I know they are at it full time trying to keep you jammed in there, but it's a fucking prison cell. Okay? There's a whole cosmos inside your skin... as vast as the one outside it. Time you took advantage of that, flew your coop, no?

Your clinging to your conditioning is ALL that's keeping you down.

It's thin air.

Let go.
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