it's interesting, listening to dj spooky talk with ai weiwei about capitalism and slavery. capitalism exists by exploitation. it always will. capitalism undermines the individual. weiwei means uncertainty, future unknown. but we know something about the future of capitalism. and we know capitalism will always fail, though it profits all along the way, the people, as we view life, in some form will prevail.

weiwei picked cotton as a child now the uyghurs are prisoners forced to pick cotton as african slaves did in america. the earth is finite and capitalism is always on the move, eating up the limited resources of the planet.

what i wonder will happen if the system collapses. i feel the stress points in the technology. the empire is expending ever more energy in expanding. for a long time already i have felt the system running on exhaust. it took a half hour to load this image. weiwei and dj spooky were buffered at least 99 times.

 

 

 

suddenly it's dark and there is no sunset and i wake but i didn't sleep and i couldn't read so lazy and the carillon bells are ringing and jaspy pops out of the closet and i'm hungry and i there's nothing to eat and i wonder what makes me jittery at this time of day when sunset is supposed to be.

 

we're not in control, except of our reactions. we don't even know what's going on. we can't discern between evil and good. granny weez said i was going to hell for being a pagan. or did she say heathen. we believe what we're told. little by little we may live our own lives and shed those stories like dead skin. what else are we doing here but working on karma and letting go of programs of hate and anger.

 

we're kind of hibernating without little bear here listening to patti smith and krishna das ( he has lyme disease, and brain fog, and loves to chant, when he can focus on clarity
) and tilting panorama selfies trying to get penny and me in one i once was lost but now i'm found was blind but now i see with my slurking pandemic heart.

fishin' with jasper.

 

as     there     are                                                                                                                    apartments      in    our                                                                                                                     own       minds     that

we     never    enter                                                                                                                  without    apology  —

we should respect                                                                                                                 the seals of                                                                                                                        others

 

emily dickinson                                                                                                                  the gorgeous nothings

 

I think what’s happened is that the United States essentially smashed one of the largest and most capable nation-states in a pivotal part of the region. And the reverberations of that are far-reaching and unpredictable and very messy in all sorts of ways.

When you say the United States, what do you mean?

I mean, there’s so many ways one can describe it, but I think of it primarily as you know, a settler republic, settler colony, that has taken on a kind of global hegemonic and imperial power.

Now, of course, it might be in decline now for various reasons, right? So we’re in an interesting moment in world politics. In many ways, I feel like this book is sort of shaping up to be an epitaph of a particular period of American hegemony that may very well be fading into irrelevance, for all we know.

~jeremy scahill interviewing darryl li

 

I never hear that one is dead

Without the chance of Life

Afresh annihilating me

That mightiest Belief,

Too mighty for the Daily mind

That tilling it’s abyss,

Had Madness, had it once or, Twice

The yawning Consciousness,

Beliefs are Bandaged, like the Tongue

When Terror were it told

In any Tone commensurate

Would strike us instant Dead -

I do not know the man so bold

He dare in lonely Place

That awful stranger - Consciousness

Deliberately face -

Emily Dickinson

 

 

~steve earle spoke with his son justin townes the night before he died. he said don't make me bury you, son. 

~for the 1,839,415 dead by virus, counted and counting, and for the countless dead of industrial warfare, and the dead by police, and the casualties of overdose.