The power comes back on early this morning temporarily. I write a few things down but the thoughts and sensations are coming too fast and uncontrollably. And then a work order comes in!
Hours pass and I return to consciousness, deciding to take the bike out to burn off the top layer that's peaking. Out in the path with music I feel like an animal, responding to mere sounds and sights with proportionate animations. I feel the superficial surge of cola energy peeling away, revealing it for its baseless and nutritionless nature as cheap fuel. Charging against the wind, I feel a hollowing out and an energy deadness inside, though I feel intensely alive: a cavity forming amidst a ball of fire. I have to keep riding though, as I'm far out. The energy continues to burn up fast. Cola. As if I walked out over a sliver of rock that is barely hanging over an abyss.
The thoughts stabilize and I feel alive again. I know its only temporarily but I have to grasp it and experience it now and then. It occurs to me there's two separate plates, two planes gnashing against one another, one comprised of an old animal logic, and the other comprised of a new human symbolic logic. There might be more. The two share energy: with power going to the symbolic, the animal is suppressed or at least stabillized, with the inverse occuring with an inferno-like animal logic surging and retreating, pulling the symbolic logic violently with it.
Social power is derived with assent, and assent is derived from the directional nature of animal logic. Assent leads to consolidation and enrichment of its object, while dissent leads to separation and destruction of its object. Our logic and narratives form around the imprint of an emotional act, but then systematized and powered themselves, the logic and narratives guide any subsequent emotional movements within a circumscribed pattern until these circuits are worn out and the animal logic breaks loose once again. We call this chaos, but really it has a defined logic of its own that we have just chosen to ignore, and so it lies beneath a cognitive veil.
The chaotic movements, after exhausting their peaks and drops of energy stabilize, allowing the logic and narrative to coalesce once again and form a new prescriptive system.
Is this narrative nonsense? Or does it describe an underlying reality? The answer lies ultimately in what we choose to do with a narrative, and how we frame it: whether we choose to call it true or nonsense, and order our actions accordingly.
I reach the top of a hill pedaling my way up, accompanied by driving hip hop, reflecting on a civilization that has stolen the music vitality of an entire race for itself to sell records for predominantly philistine business-class whites, stuffing the human producers of culture themselves into inner city ghettos and prisons. Images of war and capital, slavery and conquest burst forth in clusters and are gone. A moment of strife and I'm riding again. Don't get too lost. Something can be done yet. Give what has been given to you and do your best to create. That goes for anybody really.
