I don't think I have your email address anymore, Christina. Please send to oggybleacher@gmail.com.
Looking over the final posts I can see it was falling apart for a while and when I left the van behind in a pile of snow a part of me was buried with it and that part was the part that wanted to publicly self reflect or entertain with skits.
Now, after pondering the past two years of blogging, my indifference is overwhelming and my heart tells me to find another venue rather than fill this one with uninspired nonsense.
I'd like to reduce the amount of virtual contact (hence the deletion of my facebook account (nothing personal)) and increase my flesh and blood relationships for good or bad.
Furthermore, the internet is so filled with content that it isn't even healthy for me to log on at all as I can not compartmentalize the interracial elderly gang bangs from the filmed suicides and the spoof auto tune music videos and parody news articles (and the other minuscule stuff that may or may not be true or meaningful). It all fills my head and makes me feel psychotic.
For instance, the shooting in Arizona and the following media spin all seemed completely fabricated like I had entered a world where I could neither trust events nor their sources nor the source of the sources. The entire thing sounded like the assassination attempt had been sponsored by Burger King and underwritten by WalMart and carried out by Saturday Night Live actors.
And I feel completely redundant in light of the 300+ million other Americans who also publicly highlight their daily bowel movements and hobbies.
Per usual, the old ways are being bulldozed by the new and this time it isn't just Rock and Roll music and telephones replacing big bands and telegrams. Instead, it is a blinding amount of information and access to information rolled into an anonymous bolt of lightning.
In the past this would be the time for a separatist movement to collect on the shores of change and embark on a voyage to new lands but there are no new lands left so what will happen?
I'm also tired of my bleak Chicken Little monologue that the sky is falling. I think the sky is always falling and the fallout is called change and the change is accepted by some and resisted by others and in the end a conservative think tank will define what it all means. "The end is nigh," said the street prophets and they were right because their place was taken up by new street prophets with the same message.
I'd like to have a functional relationship with the world without becoming a McDonalds acolyte and am pondering how that can be done. That's my goal and it doesn't belong on the internet.
So, I'm back to having no address and looking for rides to Guatemala, plotting routes to mythical organic farms in an imaginary oasis but that doesn't mean I'm a stranger. It's just that the more I try to assimilate our culture the more alienated I get and these wrinkles on my sun beaten hands tell me I may be better off not trying because this can't go on indefinitely. I could go on and on but I think you get the point. I'll talk to you later.
5 comments:
and to you captain.
swellesley
where have you landed wanderer?
i don't even want to ask.
where are you? it's been awhile...
is your absense from blogging some sort of New year's resolution thing? -C.
I don't think I have your email address anymore, Christina. Please send to oggybleacher@gmail.com.
Looking over the final posts I can see it was falling apart for a while and when I left the van behind in a pile of snow a part of me was buried with it and that part was the part that wanted to publicly self reflect or entertain with skits.
Now, after pondering the past two years of blogging, my indifference is overwhelming and my heart tells me to find another venue rather than fill this one with uninspired nonsense.
I'd like to reduce the amount of virtual contact (hence the deletion of my facebook account (nothing personal)) and increase my flesh and blood relationships for good or bad.
Furthermore, the internet is so filled with content that it isn't even healthy for me to log on at all as I can not compartmentalize the interracial elderly gang bangs from the filmed suicides and the spoof auto tune music videos and parody news articles (and the other minuscule stuff that may or may not be true or meaningful). It all fills my head and makes me feel psychotic.
For instance, the shooting in Arizona and the following media spin all seemed completely fabricated like I had entered a world where I could neither trust events nor their sources nor the source of the sources. The entire thing sounded like the assassination attempt had been sponsored by Burger King and underwritten by WalMart and carried out by Saturday Night Live actors.
And I feel completely redundant in light of the 300+ million other Americans who also publicly highlight their daily bowel movements and hobbies.
Per usual, the old ways are being bulldozed by the new and this time it isn't just Rock and Roll music and telephones replacing big bands and telegrams. Instead, it is a blinding amount of information and access to information rolled into an anonymous bolt of lightning.
In the past this would be the time for a separatist movement to collect on the shores of change and embark on a voyage to new lands but there are no new lands left so what will happen?
I'm also tired of my bleak Chicken Little monologue that the sky is falling. I think the sky is always falling and the fallout is called change and the change is accepted by some and resisted by others and in the end a conservative think tank will define what it all means. "The end is nigh," said the street prophets and they were right because their place was taken up by new street prophets with the same message.
I'd like to have a functional relationship with the world without becoming a McDonalds acolyte and am pondering how that can be done. That's my goal and it doesn't belong on the internet.
So, I'm back to having no address and looking for rides to Guatemala, plotting routes to mythical organic farms in an imaginary oasis but that doesn't mean I'm a stranger. It's just that the more I try to assimilate our culture the more alienated I get and these wrinkles on my sun beaten hands tell me I may be better off not trying because this can't go on indefinitely.
I could go on and on but I think you get the point. I'll talk to you later.
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