Riffin' On the Upper Echelons

                The game is, as they say, “fucked up”. As in, the culture, as of late, has been one very much of making a “run on the jewels”. While I do believe we are perhaps phasing out of it, or have, we very much have been steeped in the era of the anti-hero, in which the culture ideates the wayward path in terms of personal liberty. Often times the stories are naïve, but they take stabs at realism/capturing the social consequences of taking a decidedly anti-social path, and portray those called to walk the path in tragic terms, as ultimately doomed because of the un-fungability of their tokens, perse…their incapability to cash out on their labor in a social affirmed fashion… which is a perversion of the natural order, an order which intends to make all potently valuable to the flock at all moments.

This, in turn, sees the anti-heros thrust into exotic situations in which they cultivate crucially valuable skillsets that somehow ensures that society won’t just lop their head off or throw them into a box somewhere should they need to be captured at some point… it gets all campy and weird from there… but as much as the fictive conventions regarding these scenarios seem stranger than fiction, their real life parallels, which do emerge from time to time, seem to get…even stranger.

Nicolas Cage steals the Declaration of Independence. Some crackhead in Philadelphia schizes his way into the transcendental oversoul despite his intoxication, and commits some sort of weird transcendental act of love in a hyped out state which ripples outwards and changes the course of history… because of boredom…in an era of satellite tv and fiber optic internet…

                Ultimately, while many statements have been made regarding it, one of the more meaningful takeaways I’ve realized from the whole flirting heavily with the anti-hero time and time again in culture (Tony Soprano, Walter White, that guy from Sons of Anarchy…) is that the justification for it, which ultimately isn’t a justification a secular society can effectively frame, let alone realize systemically, is that the rebel path has brought the strange anti-hero deep into the heart of conscientiousness regarding this thing we call life itself…and somewhere along the way he has developed a personal relationship with Source, no matter how that is framed….and that is somehow the major allure/shine/explanation for the atypical “coolness” of these wayward types…they’ve recaptured a spirit to life that has been stomped out by the drudgeries of the monotonous, obedient life…but in  a tragic fashion.

                 The motorcycle club rallies around a spirit that in certain contexts can rally behind their contrarian behavior, but at other times wants to chew them up for it in mostly all other contexts…. Well, until they assimilate and become a bingo club, essentially…

                 But when it’s looked squarely in the eye, and isn’t a thing accidentally happened upon… you can crack the internal order of reason to it all, and that’s where you arrive at real biker culture…because that’s what real life biker culture is. A modality for an exploration of this thing we call life…all major cultural archetypes are fitting vehicles in their own fashion. It’s a really lame way of looking at culture, but essentially all things are vehicles for transcendence, and all modalities of social gathering are about stimulating a discourse which awakens people to the truth at the heart of existence, and all by indirect means in the sense that it’s the entirety of it all which makes it all come together… in talking about the weather, and catching up about the times and the family… and doing what the people do… we may take some conscientious awakening to as much but… we quietly realize at some level that love has won.

                 They aren’t letting us just have the short route though. It seems so plain jane and evident at times when laid out effectively but maybe it needs to be said…I’m a maniac. At times I have been induced into maniacal states…and hit licks of efficacy that made straight up autistics scream “hot potato”! The fountainhead is for these rabid, austere, emaciated, larger than life types who seem to have just wandered in out of the passages of Infinity itself… and as much as I try to see that as a project, it’s instead a statement on the human psychology…and group dynamics…and performance dynamics…

                 It’s actually my intended point for this project…to rather sloppily, in a long-winded way, make the statement that the game is fucked up. The game is a game of fucking stuff up to somehow find the copper pipes in the walls… the internal order of reason to it all…the pot of gold… it’s in destruction…that we glimpse levity…

        And what we are asked to destroy is the very things they gave us for free!

                Which, to be more constructive, could be called  the rational worldview. Which is… a necessary aspect of real worldviews…it’s a concept. But the implication of it in adulthood upon the faculties is a sense that we are constrained as beings in ways in which we aren’t, or that effective coexistence would be more difficult than it is. We think we’re separate individuals, but there is a network of spontaneous mutuality synchronizing the affairs of life to ensure our effective inter-relationships…that what’s good for you is good for me…. A square is a square, and that’s some ho shit…

                If you want a quick course in it all…go back and watch the rom com materials and see how romance is framed for young adults. You want to talk  about games that are “fucked up”… it takes a maniac to succeed in romance, and in regards to archetypes, certain subsets of the blonde have always been students on this path…

                It’s the very culture we inherit that we are ultimately asked to absolutely ignore…but we are only allowed to ignore it after they really beat up on us in high school and most of college.

                Some would say that they show up and mystify us with some sort of enforced riddle…and they’ve set the clocks to ensure that, short of pregnancy, you’re not getting out until a certain date…

                Anyways, I guess my point is that life forces you to have a mental breakdown if you want to attempt to have the very things life told you that better have. The point is to go effectively insane, and this manifests as some sort of personal system of living that isn’t irrational, but isn’t utterly constrained by rationality…you have to disassociate from the very formulas inherited, and somehow rocket ride yourself straight to communion with the very source of all modalities of existence…

                Because the world is fucked up man. It’s fucked up…you’re worth more than that…and there’s something definitely worth more than that…

                But also too, that same Source is not at all absent in the world, and those running stuff are not  at all aloof to it, nor ineffective in posturing themselves in regards to It…

                Which is baffling to me at some level. It seems to yield so easily to the notion of like….well, obviously  cultural progress spontaneously addressing these issues across time…that it’s obviously a thing to be worked on and that the clarity is there to work on it, and that work is being done often in these times… across time these spiritual truths will somehow become more on the surface, and life will be less about being a proper maniac/stirring things up and more about being comfortable/participating in the culture…

                Then again, the aliens (the Republicans) are probably just farming us for labor…

                I don’t know what I really came here to ramble on about for other than the sheer fact that it’s happening everyday but only once in the bluest of moons, that some wook is diving headfirst into the chaos of jungles only to somehow awaken to oneness with the jungle itself along the way, triumphantly, with bravado and poise, and I’d be lying to you if there weren’t counterculture outlaws in every town littered across this land, men who took wayward paths to escaping the very parameters of normal existence. In fact, it’s primarily the American path at the moment- there aren’t robust cultures of effective transcendentalism over this way…but there is Phish tour…

                Or, at the very least, there’s been substance abuse…

                 They are defining their limits, and then they are instantly doing things that redefine/shatter them… it’s caveman behavior, and we’ve all been thick with it since the days of high school. It’s primordial. It’s Ke$ha. It’s so Ke$ha.

                We want to know that we’re invincible. And that’s how the game is set up at the moment. We have to somehow be uncontainable. There has to be a conspiracy against our potential. And hilariously, that’s just a different framing for the Buddhist notion that most culturally inherited notions of identity, short of those inherited through nuanced spiritual frameworks, are trash. They cause suffering in their fallaciousness. It’s like trying to build  a life upon a house of cards. The conspiracy is the idea that you are anything other than capable of the highest echelons of bliss rather naturally. The realness of it is the scope of accountability/responsibility…to truly be happy you have to be able to happily account for each individuated lifeform in existence in my book…you need to be able to explain how each and every thing is potentially on a path to utter bliss, or has one effectively within reach, or is provided for meaningfully even in the midst of non-optimal situations…the sorts of situations that  only the efficacy of an Omnipotent creature could address… before you can actually be happy.

                Which is to say, to even be capable of kicking it or turning up Ke$ha style, you gotta make sure the world is good. But if the world is good… isn’t the whole point of life to celebrate? I mean that in the sense that if we take a keen eye to the spontaneous ways we go about expressing joy/celebrating… we could abstract them to see that they propagate the deepest wisdoms we just learned overtly… (that we’re gods…but if we start here without earning it as high schoolers do at their parties, the universe makes fools of our ragdolls selves…) they testify to the truth that to live life happily and to successfully create true reverie/celebration is to do something deeply meaningful/spiritual consciously. Opulence is the fruit of spiritual communion. That’s what parties/festivals are about…toasting the very source of the fruits of the toast.

                And then the highest echelons of bliss of the festival, whether encountered sober or in a drunken stupor, in their warmness and serendipitousness, will be betrayed by Monday’s drudgeries. Because we were all fucked up, and because the game is fucked up, and the normal beat isn’t it, the rainbow isn’t it, it’s the pot of gold, and everybody starts working for the weekend baby, and then the very fortunate fall in love with that this is so and they feel just fine about it and… everybody wants another thrill…  

               Baby Yodaaaa