(5 pages long, the same style of writing used in the novel -Download here): https://anewgnosis.com/2019/06/25/71/
Chaos demands form, form informs chaos, structured into prefabrications, amassed of all substance, –en toto– nothing primordial, everything beyond comprehension sustaining the limited view. Agreed upon in silence, a type of quiet built from moments of misplaced awe, nothing of true magnitude, what the crowd deems appropriate, standing out is lonely. Outside in a hurricane, built forth from torrential upheavals quieted to physicality, the constant demand to be engaged marginalized like a young green leaf freshly ripped from a tree battered into rocks of the tide break, every calculation articulates the plea, the broken, prostrated beg,
“Please, leave us the bay.”
“Your invitation, please”
Inside the reception hall everyone’s pockets are empty, and in the coat check, all the pockets empty, except for tips to the valet, controlled convulsions on display, their every motion, every interest, their donned importance, laughter, uneasiness in hands extended to prospective partners. Worn down corridors of flesh throughways inside arms, carrying electric signals of such duration the toll of repetitive usage dries out the fibers, what an easy smile, what a somber jest, give me reason, commission a newborn’s purpose. A coordination of focal, directed bodily seizures accounts for all this, it is the world of the distinguished, in these everyone’s included but not invited, creating the separations, the unacknowledged chasms of difficult to reconcile shortcomings in the chests of the unacknowledged, breaking men to wails upon their gale force dismissal.
It’s not easily noticed, whole being accommodated to subroutines of conformity, lost to its application spread throughout the crowd, each awaits their contribution’s recognition, it’s as easily ignored as a raging ocean twenty feet from double-paned glass. Hits like low grumbling echoes of windows forced to reverberate, the pressure braced and dispersed through glass, those waves carry wind to the edifices, these guests, too loud to hear the portend, this wind and all its concerted effort carries water toward the hushed, mumbling attendants, the toast about to begin.
“We worked long and hard for this.”
Tears well among the throng of well-dressed sycophants shifting in their gowns, women adorn the brightest shining men, stepping boldly with hollow legs, top heavy, brain heavy, secretly affirming self-worth through exchanged nods and glares. Chills sink into the space each body occupies, sliding into them, entering through gaps between their cells, outside storm temperatures coming to ground in elongated forms of low pressure cold air nestling into their spines. Worth is measured quarterly in every hollow individual, only made whole through common definition, solid forms built solely through passive concord, unspoken agreements pushing poses and encouraging wind tunnels overtake their optic nerves. The sky isn’t hiding stars. They’re swallowed in the light the guests have acclimated to, with its invisible ceiling blending into opaque atmosphere, unseen blackness hovering intermingled in cloud.
Unheard raindrops ping on an atrium ceiling, underneath it all, the scene and its attendants forced into their custom compartments, the shell game, hope you find a filled out suit instead of a solid specter, hope there’s warmth in shared proximity. Not this nagging sense you’re riding atop a rushing current, clinging for dear life through violent rapids, need to keep smiling, complimenting accessory choices, want the position furthest from the windows, if you’re too close their deep growl is guttural, physical, and it detracts from the toastmaster.
In total sense, in absolutes realized in the throes of death, all storm fronts are orchestrated by a continent sized eye of perpetual hurricane at the earth’s pole, perchance to glimpse the monstrosity upon your release, the hidden hope something will welcome you upon exit. Universal head chieftain adjures over oval offices and their minions, clawing at blazers to expose silk lining, but only in dreams because it doesn’t fit the decorum, the phantom cardboard partitions dictating behavior, palpable enforced silence, professional diligent acceptance. Practicing submission and glorifying ascendancy, pretending to listen while waiting for the current patron’s arrival, the real head of the line, the bonafide feedbag attendant. Where the schedules are made, out of more circular offices, the one storm’s eye swirling the ground of all air, hopefully enough gets stolen from lungs, plotting enough cause for decay so newer, less substantial and ever subservient eyes build.
Electric ghosts project through flesh as they substantiate gradually over every interface with any multimedia device, through silent signals riding soft static, form informs chaos fallen into place along nerves embedded in flesh, see the glowing electric blue washed into a faint white medium leaning out of the torsos of every citizen. The living ghosts, it’s more than metaphor, the applied mechanics of unknown science, calculated metaphysics accomplished for far more than fiscal profit. Keep them corralled, force their smiles, time, order, file their protracted death, prognosticate on how much the ruling class can earn in the duration, bet the futures market, amortize interest on the loans secured to secure their graves.
Its physical ground dynamics structured to ensure your impotence upon the mechanism’s discovery because all tactics employed hit at once, every strategy formulated by their back handed shared laughter, the many headed monster assimilating anyone qualified. Tears your head to shreds and you remain solid, the nerve to believe in their assault, the piece by piece defeat demands all of you at once, no space to breathe, swallow endorsed pills and don’t question metabolic pathways, ask for new pills for the side effects. The nerve to believe your independence, the faint hearted misery passing as acquiescence once you believe you’ve been informed enough to make the intelligent choice by the bought and the sold, their floods are seasonal, the rhetoric practiced, plotted and agreed upon by think tanks, with the monstrous orchestration disregarded as unbelievable.
It’s in the tornado’s interest, rumbling loud enough to swallow you whole even through the foundation, eggs from nests a half a mile away bashed into siding and screen doors as the air horn sounds. Pass the cigars, don’t think too much, don’t know, you’re better off, better to congeal softened into the accepted form, purchase the additives so one day if you’re lucky you’ll be able to afford the bunker ten feet underground. Let them buy the legislation and offer country homes to whole country governance, let them pay for the children and build walls to secure clean permanent tunnels, points of entry for trade in the dark, let them decide what is worth knowing, every child left behind, patted by unseen hands, pleated or growled over from hidden angles, collecting bids, keep their markets open.
They’ve orchestrated the science and you’re too busy putting food on the table, they’ve put trillions into the signal and your eyes are entrances to wind tunnels, they’ve filled the vacuum after first allowing themselves sole access, resonant field equivalence, grey matters of the receiving end. Need three terrorist attacks, need the Muslim holocaust, it’s their turn, crowd whipped into a frenzy through ground transmission emitted by the PA, millions exchanged from both sides of every market eking out its profit in every stage of the staged debacle, but it’s families threatened, it’s lives ended, no one would do this. Turn on your television, open windows in the evening for the relief fall temperatures bring your power bill, hear the crowd cheering and react depending on who’s playing at home.
Refugees are escaping despots and despots babysit resources, capital supplying markets, their only interest, but you kept your mouth shut and got a raise. Support your aristocracy, marvel at their covert mastery, symbolic positions and functions of days long gone, the drawn, rushing to hit traffic backed up on their way to work, the quartered, crumpling broken at the spectacle of home-lives disintegrating in hours of overtime, the beheaded, outcasts deemed worthy of the hospital because they demanded your focus then cracked when no one listened. It’s their stage their play, and you’re happy pushing buttons on shiny handheld devices, liking unnoticed disasters playing out protracted over years punctuated by reunions, the tarred, posing half-conscious so drunken, the feathered, dressed up in a winning ensemble for the interview, the subjects, playing make believe, let’s vote, don’t mind whose wallets open.
Photons hit molecules of water vapor a thousand feet up, shifts through less dense cloud, elevates another two thousand feet, white billowing ceilings reflecting the sun as cold air moves in an upward front, sliding molecule to molecule riding excited vapors until it slips into the lower Jetstream, heat builds in low cloud reflection, a new storm gestates. The hand tailored dry cleaned fresh pressed ready for the next gala, the intoxicated unimpressed unelected indecent enamored of perfumed air, convinced its scent changes upon their arrival, playing concern over what will happen if their candidate doesn’t win. All that shifts is capital diversification in investment packages, all that’s mentioned are tropical depressions building status, every editorial is sponsored oratory, volume modulated pitch corrected, still ringing in your head after the first commercial, quieting without the words losing distinction while traversing temporal lobes in grey matters, sky darkens, time for dinner.
“Honey, call the kids.”
“What’s on tonight, Honey?”
Brainwave frequency setters, radio, television picture, movie or computer screen, nominal disgrace transmission in game show audience applause, canned laughter happy hour products placed in structured alpha and beta brainwave crossed interference patterns, a thought of who you dislike, what you wish you would have said, outro music to commercial, in the black milliseconds, thoughts of what food will bring comfort. What can still the tumult, the progressing freezing fog bank, low to ground mist molecule to molecule crystalizing, frosting open grasses of the cemetery, the autumnal announcement, build your shelters insects, attend the election season rally, everyone keep smiling the mandate, vote millionaires into office because they’ll care more about us once their office makes them billions.
It’s that no one has the time, and everyone’s too trusting, according people disposed to live their lives running for office the same decency you believe is in the common man. The bowtie gala, the invisible clamp tightening at the top of your back, base of your neck, through your flesh, note the thought just flashed into dismissal before it could formulate, parade the rhetoric of revolution through every market it fits, tell the image in the mirror this is the way to win, and smile when the out of phase apparatus arranges your facial muscles accordingly. The hurricane bombards you with sleet, fifty poster-board campaign mailings every two days, rain racing in wind pulling drops to sputters, the propositions positing which of the two sides will increase profits, the floods, the broken dams, the promises that halt your reason.
Wires unable to contain complete signal, heat sheds through cables into the atmosphere, unseen moisture evaporates, air dries out in localized pockets, the piecemeal uproars detaching into blue sky, not counted in meteorological calculations so universities can open new wings, crimes never answered for because too many feel guilty and for inexplicable reasons eyes go blank. No one knows where to start, monsoon seasons grow more violent, wet hot summer plays into parched fall, dry cooling air lasts for months, put the pretty on television and call them weather experts, epidermis cracks, dryness sinks into muscle tissues, physical irritability, buy bottled water. Stock market index positions crawl along the bottom of the screen, EPA reports dictate profitability, whole paradigm parasitic, electrostatic embodiments carrying discord emanate invisibly through heated screens, denizens of the sun, brining havoc to ground in unnamed discontent riding electronic shifts in frequency.
What is done to entertain who depends on who’s watching, how many maneuverable pieces need how much suggestibility, what passes for passing time depends on how much your stomach can take, giggles or gales of laughter, dampened cheeks, tears caught in eyelashes, or outright wails, blood surfacing through scratch marks built out of unreal need, needle marks scabbed over because no one sees, or flesh exploded apart from bones of children guarding poppy fields. Chills build strength in nighttime alleys, between decrepit bricks and crumbling mortar sweeps dark cool air through respiration, visiting its victims for the duration of an inhale. Planetary ailments spread through whole population, metastasizing through commercial pathology, pandemic of pursed lipped disregard on account of how old their clothes look, from how nice the new purse is directed at how sad the poor get, from fine feathered lounge clothes to thinned out shoe soles, believe the air reaching their lungs becomes poison upon exhale, desperate heaving sobs grab the stomachs of the starving, the fine leather pocket book kept for nostalgia seems threatened, the only answer, put them out of their misery.
Elect designated screamers, the media does the rest, hide well-heeled perpetrators in crowds closest to the podium, dismantle reasoned assertions with appeals to how nice yachts are, why should those be taxed, peon economics led by red ties, international conglomerates capitalizing on incentives of globalized trade increase the frequency of mid-atmosphere fuel dumps, and they’re for the environment. Jet fuel tears into petroleum mists fragmented to particle to particle thin, twenty thousand feet in the air an incorporeal phantom arranges itself, fossils dithered down to fluid fine enough to combust in piston chambers, remnants of ancient life reflect sunlight at different frequencies than water vapor, a non-localized shield trapping upturned high pressure systems, chaos informs form, rain water eats statue surfacing, low-quality air hazards brought to you by NAFTA.
Legislative ruin fought fervently by both sides on stage, they all frequent the same brothels, the younger the better, should one, two, or three years before the brain can sustain self-reason be the line for statutory rape. Should banks fleece pension funds to set themselves up as financiers for the cocaine trade, leave it to the legislators, the hamster feed nipple sucking pantsuits with unflinching smiles, the hidden sickened smirks lowering lending regulations and voting down a living wage while bank investments overextend into real estate, this how to build then burst a bubble, whole outfit culpable. Whole bleary eyed throng unwilling to reconcile internalized pleas for decent treatment to their cheers and applause lifting assembly rafters, nonsense pomp is easier, convincing you you’re a part of something greater, bright shiny circumstance quells angst, covers wails echoing the hollow psyche.
UN relief initiatives secure trade routes in regions where black market capital grows, smuggling routes secreted by sustenance supply chains, hand dug canals carved into rivers by torrential rains, relief workers attend causes for event specific pop-up disaster charities laundering the proceeds of meeting black market demand. How many shell companies set up by how many alphabet agencies, anything needed, pay enough look the other way then place the order to print more money after adjusting interest rates to offset costs, charging the middle class, there’s nostrils aching for relief, eyeballs begging to pulsate, faces longing to be numbed. Sixteen year olds whose only dream is an invite to a yacht party need your support, publicly clean hands wearing hand sewn ties and two thousand dollar shoes want you to watch the sponsored nationalized editorial played through local syndicates, dull your sight, vision flinching at the frequency as it hits, occipital lobe frenzied to react, rich man needs more whores and less thinking, delivered through all programming, signals subvert all content.
Inhaling frigid morning air cools nostrils, tames lungs, gives the brain pause, triggers half a second without thought while locking the door, till the electromagnetic hum of the nearest curbside transformer informs neurological function in its typical unnoted fashion, constant base-level noise pollution unites all seasons. Set the education bar lower because the textbook contracts are held with subsidiaries of oil companies, for-profit chemical laboratories fund academic grants in pharmaceutical studies to search out new recruits, to forestall death with minimal side-effects, approved treatments direct mental faculties, what regulates serotonin and makes them vote, what makes them cry at commercials. Exhaling frigid evening air stings teeth with the bite of invisible crushed ice, exits through open-mouthed wincing smiles, eyelids shutter slightly closer, triggers thought of bed covers as cold wind plays pillows of sound against eardrums, blends in with occasional ringtones in public places, idling engines and indistinct strangers’ voices, assembles a torrent of discounted noise, man-made static drives any sense of focused responsibility into postulations of what the primetime host will say.
Someone else will provide the fix, you need to blend in with and appropriately stand out from the wreckage, modes of argument shaped to invalidate the process of identifying who profits most in every market enabled by which legislative session, because turning the conversation that direction makes eyes empty, causes instantaneous brief halts in respiration bringing pain to surface, and then any diversion becomes worthy of pursuit. Sing-alongs in traffic, the status symbol of driving alone, shadows deepen, swallowing the hallway to the bedroom, colored-light family substituting game night for a movie rental in the tints of a dim broadcast, the three piece suit taking his nightly prostitute from behind, posturing fiscal prognostications between lines. The emblazoned and the faltering, shuttering from their sight, at their sight, so loud, so much ambiguity offered to hide their contempt, we the people blanking their faces indifferent and lining their pockets.
Blazing current rips from cloud to ground, setting earth alight in flashes, incinerating all atmospheres in its path, neurotransmitters fire current across synapses founding methods to simulate space alone, searching frantically to still the storm. At least give us the eye, the momentary eerie silent calm, air rushes to fill what lightening burnt out, no space left unfilled, no presence becoming apparent. High-velocity wind fills each vacuous aftermath, the decimating sound tears through form. The continual meet and greet, the thunderous, anxious, eyes bulging at the slightest entertainment. Lumps hide in throats, catastrophic landfall, all matter unfulfilled.
