Perhaps I should be pleased that living is cheaper elsewhere, but I can’t seem to muster the right amount of enthusiasm because I am not enthused. I don’t want to move back into a little box, paying a monthly rent, with neighbors and boring pleasantries; and, yes, I do comprehend that none of this may be real but knowing that does not make the daily grind any easier. It makes it much more difficult. You see because I do not want to talk to the automatons, I don’t want to see them or be effected by them or have them intrude upon me or invade me. I want willfully to ignore them. I don’t even want to see them, hear from them, know that they are around. So, when I must encounter one (and every encounter is a disaster, no encounter is worth the trouble caused) I am angry, repulsed, and disgusted. I want simply to walk away, to cleanse my presence of them, to exorcise this persona dramatis from the environment. And it seems that every avenue taken leads to their lair.
You see, what I want is Quiet. Ceaseless quiet. And the smell of the woods, the smell of cleanliness without their stink and the stench of industry, the repugnance of their carnival zoo. You see, I want to live as an animal, and not as a beast. I want to be Homo Sapiens Sapiens, not Homo Technicus. I want to be unplugged and it seems that I am ever drawn towards living in their world and dealing with them because my mind can grasp abstractions. What a lie! What a shitty deal. To know that you and all else are not real (only realized, see there is a difference. What is real is realized. What has been called Reality is but a realization in the mind, not just manifestation of consciousness—the word manifestation is taken from the same root as manipulation, and is comprised of 2 words, ‘manus-‘ and ‘-festation.’ Its meaning is more like a virus than a thought—but its imagination). Closer to the concept of the biblical god in genesis (oh, so aptly titled)) and yet subject to the same whims of the unwilling and their Gapetto. To know and see the wizards behind the curtain, yet still subject to the wizard’s follies simply because his puppets outnumber you. Oh, the masses. The Horrid, horrible masses. How I loathe them. I didn’t use to. Only in the past five months has this loathing developed. Only since I removed from a little box and the calendar cycle have I seen how horrible are the masses. Oh, how my loathing evolves with each encounter. Lest I am mistaken, I don’t hate them for I do not suffer them. I am no martyr to their monstrosities, but I stand witness, and deem thee pineal mutants. Amen.
Maybe I have spoken too soon (although no less true) perhaps there is redemption in the form of the law. Ah, the law. How strange in the way it works, more like philosophy and physics than any other concept I’ve noticed in that realm. More like woven spells than any other abstraction. I do Love the law, and I Respect it. Although not its Authority (and that it has many) for its ultimate authority, Consciousness, I too Possess (perhaps that is why I can see). I Respect its efficacy, how it works, how it can be used in Oz, or The Matrix. The Matrix is not a bad analogy, for Oz is very much like a grid; at least, that is often how it appears to me. A grid. A multi-dimensional grid in infinite directions. It’s why I always see tangents, parallels, and perpendiculars; how tessellations are made, and surprises happen. How one can hide in plain sight, and where divinity reigns. So strange, so strange. I never want to go back. Back is like devolving. I have been there and have overcome. I have passed through that gauntlet, and survived to exit the other side, mastered the maze and claimed the prize. To return to little boxes is like rerunning the maze, surrendering the prize; like choosing insanity, like wallowing in madness. Is that not suicide?
“The law of the wise is the fountain of life.” ~Proverbs 13:14