The last paragraph in my previous post was hard-earned. It literally (proper use) took years to get there because at the outset I unintentionally became caught up in the entertainer's praise-performance-praise cycle without being completely aware it had happened. Facebook took over for the old blog making matters worse, then I was convinced to follow the Toddzilla X "brand" path in 2012 and the dopamine cycle spiraled out of control when my life became a product to be marketed online...The Matrix Marketplace. Depression and a generalized and growing innate anger predictably set in as I tried to broaden my appeal via video production and podcasting. The only sustained respites between 2012 and when I discovered the wonders of depression-busting powers of psilocybin last April: traveling.
It wasn't until last year when I embraced that this (and later on my photography) isn't a "product" to be submitted to the mob for mass-appeal and approval or, worse, to be marketed in The Matrix Marketplace, that I could ultimately embrace that my message is micro-niche: intended for “my people". The Unbearably Splintered. The rest? They're never going to get it. Why bother? Great question. Fuck ‘em.
Another significant and related development was last year’s little Digital Detox; the first steps toward finally dismantling my destructive participation in the humanity-crushing and socially corrosive Social Media Matrix.
As my awareness and mindfulness of Matrix Toxicity grew, so did the intolerance for those overindulging (yes, as I had) as a dehumanizing substitute for organic interaction. My Facebook purges were already legendary. They went pro earlier this year as a newly minted disdain for the echo chambers’ "virtual politics" quickly became unbearable.
Without notice, I established new unannounced "friend" standards and boundaries when liberal ideological fundamentalism finally came to resemble religious fanaticism a couple of months after Trump’s inauguration. Most of my radicalizing “Resistance" friends were treated the same as the Trumpbots: out the airlock.
I shut down my political/philosophy discussion groups then in April just deactivated the Facebook account all together (for the most part) in favor of focussing on things that are real. Things I can see, hear, touch, and experience IN PERSON rather than with electronic eyes dependent on wifi and a power supply. With the exception of intentional viewing; turning it on for a specific purpose such as a movie, television has become a complete non-entity since March. By May, I couldn't even flip past a "news" channel, any "news" channel...including local... without telling them to go fuck themselves. Out loud.
Yes. I talk to my TV. Stop judging.
Within a week or two of being mostly unplugged, the results were profound. My mood stabilized and ability to focus returned. But the most dramatic effect was that the volume was just turned down across the board. Nothing outraged me. Terrorist strikes in Europe? They actually feel like they've happened a few thousand of miles away rather than down the damn street. Political discourse? Ha! It suddenly sounded like the ridiculous recycled babble it is regardless of whose agenda is being hocked.
Yep. Yours too, "Resistance". Sorry, Moonbeam. Suck it up.
Thanks to the traveling, I’ve long known and talked about how distorting and destructive solely relying on The Matrix as your primary window to the world could be. I was talking about Electronic Eyes in 2004 for fuck's sake. But it wasn't until I REALLY unplugged that I conceptualized how contorted that view actually is. And “social” media makes it exponentially worse.
My social media condemnation doesn't end with a wildly twisted interpretation of the world. Stop me if you’ve heard this before: social media is a social disease. The Internet, and social media’s “megaphone for all” platform specifically, has brought about a plague of uninformed and uninvited “consultation”; inane commentary from people who think they’re “experts” on everything because they maybe read something on HuffPo or Wikipedia then watched a fucking YouTube video. That, dear reader, is the 21st century evolution of Plato’s “Illusion of Wisdom” and its so pervasive that my new default setting is that, until you show me otherwise, I assume you’re part of the problem.
With that in mind, allow me the indulgence of being explicitly and profanely clear as I move from context to addressing the main point: you’re NOT being “consulted”. Unsolicited thoughts, opinions, and endorsements are neither expected, required, nor accepted from those who presume to have answers to questions they’ve not bothered to consider or authentically ask let alone stepped near the path I’ve walked. Fuck them. If you babblingly presume to offer “answers” to questions you’ve never asked your opinions are literally thoughtless. And I literally couldn’t be less interested. These “thoughts” are always useless; a waste of the energy required to read them. So I don’t.
I have sympathy for those of you too burdened (family, age, health, etc.) to attack a more rustic path. I’ve met you hundreds of times. I’ve seen the far-off envious looks of loss in your eyes. For various reasons, you’ve arrived at this point exclusively suited for paths accommodating your metaphorical RVs. My path is off-road. Feel free to tag along vicariously but stifle any urge to put forth the selfishly reassuring and soothing couch-based judgment. No backseat drivers are permitted. Also understand: I’m necessarily no longer interested in presenting, or seeking, mass-appeal solution for society’s Crisis of Identity & Purpose and the afflictions clearly (to me) resulting from that. If you’re looking for the “lose weight without changing your lifestyle!” cure to your existential dissatisfaction with chasing Daddy Mammon? Well, sorry. Try vodka. Maybe it works out better for you than Dennis or my friend Andre.
This specific beacon is tuned to a very, very specific frequency. And, if they’re “really” looking people will find it without a Facebook or Twitter “campaign”.
If they can't? Something's just wrong with them...
