times

currently i am reading tyranny of normal by leslie fiedler, sometimes i cannot tell his tone and i am shocked at what i may be reading but then i reference all of the context in which a sentence is situated and think, this must be sarcasm, or maybe the syntax is throwing me off.

the deep admiration welling up from this experience for someone willing to point directly at the thing, to say it plainly, to talk of all the untruths and all the messy dirty stinky reality and stop pretending it is not happening, stop standing around squawking and flitting about the weather when in real time all of the abomonation against one another we reference everywhere else is occurring

this is what i have thought about the Q situation

for the time it was burgeoning, really saturated right at the tip of the collective nose, the smell and focus consuming, in that time i stayed away from it. i have recognized in myself this pattern: avoiding that which a large portion of consciousness has decided is the target, the obsession, the problem that cannot possibly be cured by anything other than hyper fixation

they say wild things. no doubt. they make great leaps of logic in a testament to the power of our minds to siphon and sieve reality to pick out and make meaning of only the parts that shine (as leslie fiedler recognized it is the normal, the mundane parts of life which must be noted, which reveal the most about our nature, which torment and tease and itch in our minds and souls) 

but the things they say are drawn from - not reflections of - two water sources : that of the realities of humanity and that of the myths of humanity. 

the well of reality is that what they fear, trying to look down into when one is stuck inside of it. the orchestrated terror happening in tunnels. it happens, but not in tunnels, probably somewhere in your state or perhaps in your city and maybe on your block. if they happen they have to happen in someones state, in someones city, on someones block. the unspeakable acts spoken then made entertainment are real. and people prescribing to the theories that knot and tangle to make sense of what they know is happening in the reality world in which they exist while they watch it play out in some satirized / glamorized version on a screen from the micro-world that shelters them from experiencing what no one should have to and yet some, as the experience of their lives, do. 

there are all these wild things Q's believe and the irony of it is that they aren't wrong. exactly. this violence against children and animals and women does plague humanity. it is just that it is not supernatural, it is purely human. it does not take money, it happens inside the spheres of the rich and the poor. it does not require organization, people act alone and they can just as easily find random individuals out of a crowd to join them in some compounded swelling energy that forms when violence spreads and one recognizes their potential power is increased by hiding inside of a swarm - its only evolutionary knowledge after all.

but these wild things have lineages to the middle ages, roots in gossip and in stories. in narrative. which is told and retold and passed on as an integral act of life in the human realm. stories inherited are a way of situating oneself in the world in relation to those who came before them and who we each are supposed to, destined to, hardwired to, or discouraged from becoming. apparently HSTs fear and loathing in las vegas has been a primary document of proof for this movement. it is a strange choice indeed given the entire story is about the warping of perceptions through external stimuli and the paranoia and delusion that there in follows. but in that book the main substance which is believed by the fringe to power our entire world, (hurray! it turns out oil isnt our problem!) is mentioned and referenced and presented inside of its own myth by the fictional characters of the story. a myth about a drug inside of a novel about drugs written by a man trying to recount his own experiences on drugs contains the truth of the all the world's ills, written in plain sight.  

a misunderstanding of literature is at the heart of this twenty-first century conspiracy theory. 

the misunderstanding is that characters in literature are no regular people who have nothing to do with the circumstances in which they find themselves or are just pawns of fate. they are written as the vessels which embody - through their words and thoughts and actions which we can be privy to depending on the point of view the writer takes - the meaning or moral or myth which is the point of the story. they are not themselves, they are living expressions of an idea bigger than the book to which they are confined. we are looking in on their snow globe and the snow globe has a message written on the base which is shown through the scene inside and the people who are inside the water and glitter along with the fake mountains or bunnies or ferris-wheel, they are inseparable from the environment which serves to show the message.

leslie feidler was saying this, about the round and round of myth - as expressed in fictional writing, literature, and extended in 2023 to television and movies abound - and the culture of the reality which consumes and imbibes and absorbs and engages such myths. 

that these myths come from a response as a perspective from an artist on the happenings of the time in which they live or sometime near or far before their time that is still reverberating in their time. 

and here --------------------------------------------->  the arrow of influence folds and turns back on itself ------------------------------ toward the time in which the work is made or received or appears in the foreground obscuring all else < ------------------------

and the culture as in: the standards and self image and boundaries and expectations and energetic, heard and unheard, seen and unseen, frequencies being produced and shared by the living beings all at once, the culture finds itself, finds out about itself, reveals itself to, only itself, understands and feels and knows itself through those stories, those plots, those characters. but if a culture is unable to understand those stories made up of characters who move the plot and are moved by the plot as an entirety which means to say something not about just the world contained but about the nature of the world in which they are from and of and which they make up, because the author is no god, the author is a human just as them imagining being the big hand shaking their snow globe where they stand on a sandy beach that is under the ocean and soft white fluff and sparkles swirl after another major quake in their water world, shaking another smaller snow globe that they are imagining as its own world but it was forged of their world. 

                                *matryoshkas all of us*

and here ------------------------------------------------------------- >  the arrow of influence folds and turns back on itself -------------

toward the myths of the times forged by the makers and visionaries of the times responding to and  <------------------------------sifting sense out of their times 

and here we have the crisis of our times times everywhere a times: 

    

                                                    the inability to discern ones own paranoia from another's imagination