Memory Bombs

 There are things that we know to be true, wait, nevermind that’s just the warping effects of narratives, and they are everywhere. There is an invisible force that warps what you read in the news. We are in a bubble of fewer facts more physics, a meme of social feedback winners and losers of this narrative warping. How to fly like a spy and such surveillance vaults itself into the news cycle. For some reason, I am reminded of Frank O'Hara just one memorized line, "It is nobodies business what you do when you are alone." There are things that we know to be true. Nature is what we know, yet have not art to say. Yes, Emily is right our wisdom is impotent to nature’s simplicity. Dear March come in March with your winds. Weighted down with the hidden effects of this narrative gravity, I attempt to walk it off when a meme, a gif flashes through my head. You know the one where everyone is on the bandwagon, running and jumping into a dark hole. Dear Lord please, you know whose head this puts you in, and you never want to fall into that rabbit hole. Where every subject is an object, every object a subject. The bees in my head are racing with the red queen to catch a particular flower, and I do love packing portmanteaus, but frankenwords grow scary. Bees have to move fast to stay still, just like that hovering hummingbird. Echoing Heraclitus's, "you can only step into a river once." What is next on the horizon? What is new under the sun? What has not yet been done... pull out of this zero to one trap! Find a wormhole! Coming up on the Hernando Desoto two bridges span the Mississippi for traffic one lighted big M. I have taken the train and recently walked into Memphis. This is the quandary presented to everyone in life two roads one less taken a Frost poem of diverging words. Could I ever map every memory bomb and other than the geographic masterpiece what collateral beauty would exude? I love maps old and new. Google has not yet mapped the places I have had sex! Crossed that bridge leaving Tennessee into Arkansas before finishing college topless screaming that’s not my home anymore. The movement of bridges when you stop on them is mesmerizing it has held me fascinated that bridge. That bridge is why I have traveled the world crossed the expanse and fell in love with the Golden Gate.  Reminding myself that reputational change doesn't happen overnight, after a collapse the only thing that matters is to rebuild. Weak or strong, the force of narrative gravity can send you into a spin. So cling to those few important truths with the very few people that may agree with you. A real answer to those will be the closest you can come to looking at the future. Finding contrarian truths seems to be my specialty, emboldened by all the quotes in this book I am currently reading, commanding me to stay lean and flexible.

    We live in a dynamic world and truth is more fragile than we thought. We need philosophical troublemakers more than ever. Of course, here comes Dylan wiggling in for the prize, better than bacteria or Bach. "In these times with no compassion, when conformity’s in fashion~say one more stupid thing to me before the final nail is driven in. I approve of that passive voice and the preposition at the end. It is like I ate a foot of pride chewed on the words like a cud, all twelve bars, a personal memory bomb. Evil came and picked him, cutting off a beautiful branch from the tree of life. Someday his destiny will slap the face of this earth. A coming conflagration!  Some second coming! Stumbling into the multimedia world of Dante’... –This contrarian thinks only in divine quatrains. –This prophecy in alternating rhyme may be botany's desire to wipe off the parasites and harmful bacteria. I spent a few years tearing the flesh off men... Especially ignorant young black boys on streets cut off from philosophy running fast with queens and rap words going nowhere. Are we so different are more alike than we admit. For love, Put Shakespeare in a room with Marx, Shakespeare will win every time. I recite this memory bomb:

Gold? Yellow, glittering, precious gold? No, gods,

I am no idle votarist: roots, you clear heavens!

Thus much of this will make black white, foul fair,

Wrong right, base noble, old young, coward valiant.

Ha, you gods! Why this? What this, you gods?

‘Timon of Athens’ ~Shakespeare

Do we stand at the end of systems again, ask yourself what is next, prosumer? Strange days have found us, strange days indeed and interesting times. I have one revelation on global consciousness; We overstudied the endgame losing the first movers advantage causing me to question if there will always be a future for humankind? They just discovered potatoes could be grown on Mars...do you have to read it to believe it, so many dystopian and apocalyptic thought influencers making great memory bombs? Blooms freeze on the branch, just then my foot got caught in vines on the lattice. Trapped in the sexy of creating something new leaving me to dangle, if the base is strong and straddled across disciplines on the mental model in your head, you can use all those experiences, and the memory bombs will explode! Get on that bike and ride, pointing it towards wisdom. The art of worldly wisdom is a bouquet of words and ideas for sharing. My one dictum to live by, try to always go to bed smarter than you woke up. We belong to none, and none to us entirely, do not follow up a folly. There is a selfish gene culturally transmitted like a virus. First tools and cave art and clay pots, whistling tunes, then words, language invaded our brains, a meme that made our minds. Our consciousness, is it fundamental, biocentric? Looking at you till I go blind, I always liked that line.  All that's left is madness which is rarely solitary, but rules in groups, gangs, parties, nations and ages. I added gangs to my favorite from Nietzsche. The truth is in the fabric, and my heaven would be to watch every narrative. Imagine a large scene playing out every move in history. Not thoughts but actions.  Sitting there like a goddess in the garden looking at this dream, every mystery, every narrative the truth of what happened. Nevermind that's too much.

    Name meshing is everywhere, rankling wisdom with neologisms morphing the mind. Just noshing on words walking the city streets like a runway a big group all with a smize on their face not a care in the world passing tourist out of sync they are all still connected, tech connected..  Now because of all the cellfish, I prefer masturdating and internesting. Cozy as it is, I just had an epiphinot pinot spill of a memory bomb on autocorrect. While once eating a manwich just for my infotainment, I listened to a ginormous jackalope mansplain that mockumentary to a cuckboi, a bodacious bionic faghag with gaydar, and a sweet shemale. I might be an errorist, no not a terrorist, of the best kind, because I will never make you unlightened, I might just be columbising your youniverse! Lost I am with destinesia which causes me to be an ambitchuous askhole impervious to your beerboarding just point me in the right direction ...wisdom. Carry the oxbridge cloak of words, this linguistic affluenza of wisdom is under the radar. How much more faction is there to write vidoit netizens, of course, this ends in an interrobang?! Savor the moment, break out of your bubble and never trust a sleepy brain. Frenemy press take this membomb and flerxcelerate this the people own the command icon. Create!