Saturday, May 5

Flush, Trump and Arcana

The minute we said post-truth world, we betrayed Her, for there really never was any period of Truth yet.

Manufactured consent to invented Narrative. The question is what are "masses," and that so whittled out? We are losing order and sense in our world because meaning is boiling away.

Our senses do not know the difference between real and artificial stimulus, only that what is presented to them gets relayed directly to the brain, even when emanating from a chip or augmented VR. Light, even, has given way to chipglow. Is it really light?

The invented  reigns. There is no common Reality.

Language is a virus indeed William, it is the Other -- alien -- another space where strands of stimulus and receptive fabrics intertwine -- it is extrapolation from the eternal Now, and thus indifferent to big T truth. The two cannot occupy space simultaneously, words and truth.

Thus contemplation, silence and sea.

We have made the poison sound sweet too long so now comes the one Flush.

Royal, you could even say.