Certainly, if I were a post-capitalist making use of the internet, I would want to stir up controversy and debate. Does it even have to be from a real event or issue? Not always. As long as people comment, as long as the right language and the right kind of contextual story is created to frame a certain kind of knee-jerk from a certain kind of reader. Yes, as long as there are people we can upset, we have a business model – and if there are not people to upset, what harm would there be in creating people to upset? In attacking certain kinds of traits and generalizing and shaming certain kinds of people as all of the same? One of them will chime in, of course, and our revenue continues. A little controversy, a little bit of black ants versus red ants never harmed anyone anyway.

I wonder if people feel controlled in this swarm of data, or are even aware that that’s what is happening… who would of thought social science and technology could have created such an easily impressionable group of people? forget pleasure and greed; outrage is the new currency! And our world turns on.


If I were a capitalist, and I had a generation that grew up in the 90s being influenced by untethered speakers like there were around back then – Bill Hicks for example – that broke through onto the television like the bad hangover of the 80s’ indulgence and the whole ‘greed is good’ mentality, the kind of kids that grew up with the realizations that conformity to consumerism was a lie and a trick to keep people doing things they do not want to do (and so these kids become potentially dangerous to me and my entire world)… if I were a capitalist with any power or influence I would want to do something to stop these kids, once they had hit their mature adulthood, from doing anything about the sickness I am spreading. I would use my power and influence to make these young adults doubt themselves, their identity, encourage them to do drugs and sedate or damage their minds, encourage everything that’s bad for them and even popularize things that shouldn’t be popular – turn labels and illnesses fashionable such as bipolar, anxiety and depression; words for states of mind that are more than likely induced by this same force at work unbeknownst to these innocent kids. Yeah, that’s what I’d do if I were a consumer capitalist, especially with full access to a goldmine of data like social media, to ensure my world keeps running: sedate, humiliate, and confuse them; ensure my ant hill never changes to protect my product and my profit, even if it’s poison.


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Time and again it takes an intellect, an elevated level of thinking, to realise that everything it thinks it knows is transient and uncertain. That he or she knows nothing and instead fills that gap in understanding with relative information. Ways of looking at it, thinking about it, all leading back to square one. The Experience, or ‘an Experience’, and nothing else.

I’m just a man who thinks he thinks, but based on some of the dreams he has had and things he has subsequently experienced is not altogether sure if the things he thinks are truly the things he has thought or the thoughts of some other thing he thinks might exist.

Like my dejavut, with actual written confirmation that some of my dreams I then witnessed and experienced in reality later. And again it’s always fluid and maybe yes maybe no, perhaps I witnessed something eerily similar to said dream in my journal and I replaced the memory subjectively. Anything and every possible answer is up for grabs and there’s never an absolute answer to it.

I think therefore I am, though when I think who thinks for me, is it me? Is it always just me? And if not, why do I seem to experience some things before they happen?

Is there something in my life that is always leading me to the edge of something good, something worthwhile, then always bringing it down somehow with some misfortune or otherwise as it does seem to feel like it keeps happening? Or have I hardwired myself to think this way from experiencing misfortune in my youth? These are some of the reasons I read philosophy and psychology.

Though as much as they help and as much as I feel as though I am arming myself with knowledge I feel held back, bogged down swimming in wave after wave of texts and ideas. I feel discovering Wu Wei, of the ancient Chinese texts, may have been the answer I was always looking for. Similar as I’ve always found the idea as a base or the sub-text in Bruce Lee’s philosophies on water.

And as much as I discover ideas and ways of thinking I also discover there is no real answer to anything regarding the way my life unfolds nor what any of my dreams mean or why I have dreamt, potentially, moments in the future.

Only Wu Wei, a natural state of flow without constantly stopping to question but having an understanding and acceptance of the movement of the experience seems to make sense. I can wonder like a monk but they’re all just possibilities that lead me back to square one, every time, with nought but a slightly different perspective.


I can feel it all. The same feelings. The nostalgia for it, but also something else… the feeling. The feeling that never truly left. The wonder, the hope, the excitement, they want us to think we stop feeling this as adults.

But we don’t. We never stop feeling it. Only the faux guilt we are served distracts us from the truth.

It’s all outside this room. I can breathe it coming in from my open window, just like I always have since I was that young reckless teen running around seeking out those same adventures.

There is peace here. There is love here. There is wonder here.

And there it is out there, in the beauty of nature. In those hiking paths. In the walks to those old castles. In the waters of Europe. In the alleys of her most ancient cities. In the hills and the valleys. In the bluest waters, in my daydreams. In my love. In the Good I have found within myself, and wish to find in my belonging.

So that perhaps I will not feel lonely again.

I made my mistakes. I learned. I saw that which I want to see in every corner of the world, and what I wished to never see again.

I lived every narrative in this place.

I have come to know myself.

Isn’t it time I come to know more of my world, the places that, at the very least in my daydreams, are calling my name?


How unfair, how sad must the situation be? Are we that cynical, made so distrusting of each other? That nothing is sacred, that anything good must be a trick?


My only wish is for people to free themselves of ideologies and group mentalities and to live as individuals, and to see others as the same.

All ideologies, religions and group thinks have lessons to teach, messages to consider, but become ultimately flawed when taken as absolutes or used to create a bias against another individual. Especially when based on a quality they might coincidentally represent in the persons mind.

At that point division occurs, and turmoil’s seeds are sown. You are not skin, you are not your home, not your religion, not men or women, you are not this and you are not that. You are a human. So are the rest. The blame is not external. The anger is not external. The fury is not external. It lives within you and you alone.

Hatred for something that doesn’t exist beyond the imagination, usually of one persons negative emotion, some idea that floats aimlessly and latches onto you, similar to a parasite; feeding off of zealous righteousness, off of cruelty for another, turning a someone in a ‘them’, thus stripping someone of their person-hood. Hatred within the imagination that becomes anguish in external reality.

Is it worth it? Do you see the merit in creating a ‘them’ ? Do you not see what it is already doing?

To someone else, you are a ‘them’. An entity without a self, you are flayed and made to feel worthless, should you dare ever look, for nothing but the self-righteousness of the fury of nothing, fury with ones self looking for a scapegoat.

Individuals see other individuals. See who they are, and make up their minds there.

The cycle continues.