Xenosthesia.com

Ascension

nature-3082832__480

This weekend’s mountain biking trip was good and fun.

We went up some trails in the Eagle Mountain area. The trail names sound like musical references to me. There’s one called Behind The Boathouse (a Toadies reference?), and another one called Nirvana (the band, or the ascension? probably the band).

Whatever the influence was on the people who named the trails, it was a good ride.

Our total distance was only about 9 miles, but we gained about 1400 feet in elevation, and I definitely got my cardio exercise done. (Huff, puff.)

My friend took a selfie with me in the background at the top of Nirvana, so if he sends that to me anytime soon, I’ll post it here. In the in-between, it’s time for more ascension—a different kind of ascension—the kind that gives me my favorite kind of cardio-vascular exercise.

See you when I come back down!

Mystified

mystified

Diesel trucks blowing clouds like lonely vape-o-scruffs;

Vape-o-loners sent to the far edges of the property like bad art;

Billowing e-cigarette vapors, misting around and about the scraggle-haired head like some kind of extreme incense addiction;

Sewer drains belching odd steams that warm, and light up the night;

A video from the infonet that challenges and mystifies—only one watches, alone;

The loneliest, surrounded by hordes of ghost gnats;

An industrial incinerator, on the outskirts, sending its carcinogenic treasures back down-wind toward the town from which it was banished;

The contaminated paths, currents of air, changing direction, and finding a home in an unprotected lung;

Wisdom, backward-filtered, contaminated with bias;

A group of friends, fitting the gas masks, tightening the straps, testing the integrity of the valves, so they can go out and see a movie.

Meditative Banana

banana-2836170__480

This banana is very much like a lot of people I know who get into some weird cults. The so-called “spiritual” stuff that people go for is too often because of clever marketing. Cults, disguised as self-discovery. The separation of self from part of the norm is fine, in my opinion, but when these people start separating themselves from every normal thing, even partial normality, then there’s a problem.

The main question is this: How much non-conformity is too much?

I mean, there’s a certain level of conformity that you have to maintain. I’m just wondering where exactly that line should be drawn. If you drop out of the clothed-human crowd, then you’ve drawn the line at clothes. If you drop out of the cleanliness church, then you give up hygiene, and you’ve drawn the line at soap. If you drop out of the casual conversation gospel, then you might go either to the habit of blurting random thoughts out in front of new acquaintances, or to avoiding conversations altogether. All of these are great ways to limit your relationships—if that’s what you were trying to do.

If you didn’t mean to burn the friendly bridges, then I guess you should have asked yourself the question: How much non-conformity is too much?

Can you get along okay in society if you’ve given up the conformity of keeping mind-altering drugs out of your system? How long can you keep that up before you’re talking nonsense to a fire hydrant on the street? How long can you maintain that non-conformity before you’re a drooling meat-bag?

Can you get along fine in the world if you refuse to wear enough clothes to cover your dangling, sagging parts that no one else really wants to see? Have you ever asked anyone in your circle of friends how many clothes you need to remain normal? Many establishments, especially food-oriented ones, have a strict pants policy, and a fairly rigid shirts and shoes policy. That’s a good guide. If you’re swimming, go ahead and take your shirt and shoes off, but if you’re going to get a taco with some friends, cover your parts.

Can you get along okay, in society, if you drug up AND disrobe? Not likely. And these are only two examples. There are many more ways to become non-conformist crazy. If you find yourself losing friends: take a look at how far separated from normal you are. Are you the whole banana, or are you being sliced by the influences around you? How many degrees of separate are you? And how much non-conformity is too much?

Writing on the board

I will not ‘barchive in class.

This could be your college chant.

Or your grade school punishment.

If you’re not careful, you’ll get caught doing your media socializing in class. And if you get caught, you might get on the nerves of the teacher, who will then either make you stand in front of the class and do the chant, or stay after and write it on the board twenty times. Either way, you’ll learn your lesson: Don’t get caught.

Socializing is much more important than learning what year the British lost the battle of Ahern, or Amhern, or Armhen. Whatever it was, the history is for the British, not me. Why do I need to know what year it happened, or what the actual name of the place was??

(Did you look up that battle yet? Aren’t you even a little bit curious?)

Clamor

landscape-1673929__480

There is an interesting culture shift going on around here. The clamor is growing, and what really blows my mind is that while I’m off doing something else, some other mundane task like bathrooming or soundly sleeping, the clamor is still carrying on in its appointed realm. The clamor I’m talking about is the noise of opinions, voices trying to be heard, trying to be more right than the rest, even sometimes trying to make a positive change. The clamor’s appointed realm is the infonet, no doubt. For every second of my comfortable sleep at night, there are 20 million opinions being expressed across the cybervoid. Never mind the dark web and the banking industry and the sound channels and the video loggers and the fake news and the real news and the amazonian purchase surveys, because textual opinions alone account for 20 millions uploads* per second on the infonet.

*From the certainty principle of hyperbole.

I’m sure, as more and more people become connected through digital streams of communication, the clamor will grow.

Sometimes it gets me down. Sometimes I feel like the picture, the beautifully done picture I wish I could credit to someone, where the u.f.o. is stealing a child’s trike. I mean, I feel like someone stole my trike. There used to be more intimate conversations. There used to be civil communication. Now there’s just clamor.

But that’s just the pessimism talking. If you’re not careful, the pessimism and the clamor can trap you in their beam.

Optimistically I can see now there’s not only clamor, there’s also a way to quickly communicate with my relatives in Australia, my friend in Alaska, and some people I love but have never met who live in various places across the globe. I probably would never meet them or even get to hear what they have to say except through this great tool. The ‘net is a great tool for keeping in touch with people. It’s also a great tool for finding new friends.

The infonet also has this amazing capability of dispensing info. Through the infonet recently I’ve learned how to make butterscotch pancakes (All Recipes). I’ve learned why I should dry brush my skin ( Why dry-brush?). I’ve learned that my regular day job may seem Lynchian, but it could be Shakespearian ( Is your job Lynchian? ). And best of all, The Blackwater Fever has a new album out ( The Blackwater Fever: Delusions).

My hope here is that you may see the clamor as I see it: something that happens, and even though it may appear to be ready to draw you in at any moment, you don’t have to be a part of it. There really is good stuff on the ‘net. You have to avoid the clamor to recognize it. Can you be near the clamor without being trapped inside? I’m sure it’s possible. Give them your trike if you have to, but stay out of the beam.