thrill

i'm anticipating the future, like i've done in every moment of nameless dread, acid trip, insomnia, bad dream, decaying orbit, coma preview - there'll have to come a moment when a critical mass of people become aware of an epochal shift, inverting all values, like the anthropocene transition, or whatever - next, panic - the panic will be the fireball, that's all - the blastwave, cloud, and fallout being the much longer, larger experience we'll grimly get used to, after panic kills the prone-to-panic percentage

maybe i shouldn't believe what i read, maybe i'm being manipulated - self-curated, consuming fear - just a niche type of fear, certain people consume different fears and angers, that i laugh at - this is my fear, that feels real enough because i don't want it - but i must look askance at that rationalization, because i had such contempt for the man who claimed he was convinced of a literal christian hell because god showed him a vision of his friend burning for eternity, and he didn't want to see it - like that's the horrific inescapable logic, but with a lil mystical massage, comes around to divine love, and ok, i'll just throw up my hands, say i'll never understand, and acid wears off, but the stained glass, stained wood remains, time's arrow drains me, drags through another week of forgetting about death for a while, a fantasy of a real man's life for a second, a sidepath from a whitman-esque transcendescalator to horizontal humidity, worked up for a great and personal cause, for a person, so totally not transcendent, so earthy, making me appreciate leaves and flowers, gardens, tea ceremonies, haiku

if you want a real thrill, stay on the internet, the place where all information is at your fingertips but no one knows what's true and false cause of all the dis and mis, any idea's indulged - be so hyper informed - tweet about tweets and blog about blogs, as long as it doesn't affect the real world, bounce around and around, cloistered within the-globe girdling network - outside the dome, a world of people who've gone back to reading books and research papers, and listening to national radio news where you're forced to hear a meticulously scheduled program of differing opinions and fact-checked analysis

the idea of die-off can be so comforting, especially in a comfortable residence, imagining having time to survey the death strategy from first world, fencing up, building walls, building air conditioners, to sit inside and think coolly about how much killing on my behalf i could stand before jumping off the ride, leaving the surviving to the assholes with guns and bunkers

because i can also comfort myself by suicidal ideation, and focusing inward on my own personal apocalypse, cause i'm going to die - so, why worry about death on a mass scale? lacking any mystical connection to a continuum that would preserve myself, how could i trust in any continuity for the species? i'd free the handmaids if i could - for a better world that would make someone else's worse, oh well, hell, in one way or another, we've always been brutal killers for the sanctity of life - the unexamined bias of life-lust, raping life, violating death, a positive legacy of economic growth

i say all this as i'm estranged more from nature every day - have no plans to get back, sounds like a nice idea, that nature, i had appreciation for it once, but currently not at all - it's like if the red pill made me never want to get high on any happy narcotic ever again, would i take it? i don't know, but i could be persuaded to get back to nature, when thinking about the unbearable lightness of summer leaves, and giving in to taking, because there's nature in that, the best kind