The Newtown Pentacle

Altissima quaeque flumina minimo sono labi

Archive for September 13th, 2012

dismounted and descended

with one comment

– photo by Mitch Waxman

As much joy as it is possible, for one such as myself, to realize is attained via the delusion of solitude. Condemned as children to existential servitude in the concretized valleys of the vast human hive, New Yorkers are never truly alone. We are witnessed, watched, stalked, constrained, and regulated every second of the day. Legislated rules govern volume, appearance, and moral propriety.

Even the air we breathe and the water we drink are overseen, inspectors and officials have the right to compel that the front door of our homes open for their inspection and oversight.

Often has a humble narrator been accused, however, of being a kook and conspiracist- or simply a paranoid.

from youtube

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– photo by Mitch Waxman

Jello Biafra warned us, all those years ago, of what was coming. We all carry tracking devices, which also make phone calls, and hie to rules laid down by those who have long sought to keep a restive population entertained with games and circuses. Even the sacrosanct right to rule over ones own immediate vicinity is vulnerable to the desires of suspicious magistrates, who may demand any who catch their notice to passively allow temporary detainment and inspection- the so called “stop and frisk” procedure.

This is merely the most benign of invasive inspections, of course, which expose the farce and tissue of lies which underlie the social contract.

from youtube

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– photo by Mitch Waxman

“Necessity has forced such programs” is the answer which would be offered by those who enforce them, followed by some catchy jingoism such as “Freedom isn’t Free” or “If you have nothing to hide, why would you care?” or something. The same entities and personages, of course, maintain armies of lawyers to ensure their own privacy. These creatures and organs, all granted existence under the ideations of “law”, never make an error – instead it’s “an unfortunate incident” or “an accident”.

Such paranoia and musing about the universe occupies a significant amount of my thought, as one scuttles about beneath the burning thermonuclear eye of god itself, and across the concrete devastations of the Newtown Pentacle. Perhaps, somewhere, exists solace?

from youtube

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