The negative ionic charge of the failed experiment within an experiment, gave way to a ripple of change from the laboratory through the sub-basement floors, up out through the vents in the concrete, then surrounded the campus and trekked out into the lungs of the populace, then filtered out back into words which found their way back to the auditors of electric company utilities boardroom discussion of routine adjustments on the graphic equalizer of city lighting.
The postmortem of the day was to follow said discussion. Which details looking back upon any error of operations of anyutility, anywhere. Postmortem. To see what could have been done differently to prevent the death (mortem). Postmortem being the ideal way to accomplish an teaching moment, or a moment like sixties commune idyllic living experiments, or an gathering with L.Ron. Hubbard in the easy way he seemed to have to soothe the collective conscious into a smooth groove. Or any other charismatic, for that matter. Postmortem, because the course has completed its damage, and therefore all passions toward choices and possibilities dissipate. So people can hear people and not talk over them and such. Fascinating. Isn't it? I could go on. But I think I killed it.
Funding cannot be left out of the conversation, if anyone were to be taking anyone else seriously. If anyone were to be on the take. Seriously. Someone must be, or else there is a vacuum. But the place isn't that clean? I wouldn't sit on the carpet if I had two broken legs. Unless of course, we were on the ever so critical topic of FUNDS. Funding fills all vacuums anyway. We depend upon it like fossil fuels. We know we oughta get away from it, far away, but we cannot.
The fuckin' funding! In that one location on the web which cannot ever be redesigned. For it falls into that central place, potent yet interdependent and interconnected to all threads. Yeah. Like intel or google or apple or microsoft. The proprietary stuff cannot not be leased in order to achieve equilibrium. One can try. One can hope. One can pray. But the spider's gonna be pretty pissed off to come home and find a bare spot of air, then drop down on a mainline thread to the mass of useless webbing on the forest floor.
He's gonna find ya, the spider, and shoot ya full of poison for what ya did. Not looking after the funding. Ya. It's not what you wanna think about most of the time, for sure, you wanna believe your here creating and bursting with energy! (which you very well may be) However do not make the mistake and for a minute block out the true nature of your embedded link to the funding. Try and respect it, honor it, and don't keep all your efforts locked in a chest for no one to share in. (Remember, fun is part of funding). Not if you want to be true to the nature of the life in the world that is yours and mine and ours. Nah, believe me, I wanted to see things that way. I tried to inflict upon myself some kind of personal self and only self-dependency for years. In Chicago. But I could not ever shake it, the funds, the virtual branded image and reality of the funds.
Shit, I am basically talking about the paper chase. USA inner city style. Those who try to escape this, will be forever accosted by the undeniable truth -- until tears and salt water are all that is left of us. Not unlike water released from a sponge, this process. Which happened THERE! in that boardroom during the postmortem, when the negative ionic charge wrapped itself around the attendees, the suits, those undeniably in lockstep with one lobby or another.
The resulting counterpunch was like an active element come to life. Most immediate! A positive reinstatement of charge returned from the electric company grid through wire to linked wires hung by telephone pole that.... oh fuck it all! So the TV got turned on again!
That is all that happened. I had no control over it, I swear. And no. I do not want to get into a postmortem on the subject.
No comments:
Post a Comment