The real history has yet to be told, and maybe that’s okay. I know for myself that what I lived thru, was historic, and more to the point, more like the beginning of the 21st century, just like 100 years ago, the 20th century didn’t really start until 1915 and the battle of the Somme, and everything to do with modern warfare and it’s attendant horrors. That was a war too, in 2015, for sure it was a war, you have to look at it in those terms; people were dying. I saw people dying. I was weaponized to potentially kill people, both for myself in the sense of being willing to take lives in order to save lives further down the line or being used against my discretion to the point where a girl even said “there’s death right there”. And I was like holy shit, what the fuck is going on? It was a war of pantomimes, potential and perception and I was front and center and also just a bit part in the nonsense. I could tell you story after story of crazy shit that happened and everyone could do the same, maybe not with the same intensity over time. I became heroic because no one else could do what I was doing, that’s the only reason. It wasn’t because there was anything noble about it. That sensibility of honor had long departed the scene, and when I first got to Hamilton, I heard of the Italian, grinning to ear to ear and I was like, okay, interesting. Why? For so many reasons.
It’s just been like that and so the notion of a harm reduction program that you could use a recursive incentive on a network to finance a maintenance pool and quantify the savings of HAT or Adderall Assisted Treatment or just giving people small amounts of cocaine so they don’t jones for it and they lose their anxiety over whether or not they will get a hit. Yes you will get a hit, no matter what, your getting something. That’s how it was with me in Toronto for a while. Everyday I would get free crack and it helped calm me down. I didn’t have to do any more than one blast. I wasn’t on a quest after that one blast because I knew there were no resources to be had in any appreciable way that I could submit myself to doing; these guys in the apartment all mined copper, but they were thieves too, and sometimes they got busted. Sean’s place was raided like 20x or so because he was the boss of the operation or at least it stemmed out of his apartment in proximity to however many other drug dens there were on Blake at the time. Everyone knew each other and when they got out of jail I gave them food and crack. When I was hurting, and Bryan took my room in the end, Sean let me stay with him for a few days. He said he was grateful to me for what happened when he was released because it’s so fucked up in jail if you spend any time there, you want to leave pretty fast. This isn’t history that matters, that’s the thing. My old twitter has been soaked…
What I mean is that they took some kind of tool and drained the language and just put up monosyllables and erased whole swathes of the text. I wrote tons of stuff that was gone even though the account is dormant and still up 6 years later (which it shouldn’t be, but uh, historic, right?) and I was writing in detail about my grandfather and Buzz Burling and Red Mountain and my language was like nothing special at all when I know I have more firepower than that. It felt ersatz, it felt ML too, like they wouldn’t trust a human to do that, nope, too stylistically bound whereas a machine can just toss it off, in it’s own language if it wants.
So the real history might be starting now; given that, it would be helpful to know what happened then. I wouldn’t mind knowing what the online segment of things was about, when it got to be mission critical and I had to run. I was feeling like I was part of this light blue contingent and there was guns pointed at us from all around, it was just representational but not exactly because I saw men being rounded up in Mexico, they looked like State police and it was terrifying, the terror was palpable on the screen. They were afraid and I don’t blame them. I couldn’t fucking believe I was seeing that. I kind of wonder about who it was that was behind some of these sorts of debacles, and what it meant to kidnap Harper kids on the way to Mexico. I was so surprised when I saw that and who followed him as well. Liberal media. Crazy hey? And then the out and out Satanists with their Shit Beetle upright Satan that was like a pestilent Baptomet, something I became acquainted with later. I’ve mellowed about Satanism somewhat, after having the Devil on my board and it was only 5$ too, that’s it. Can you believe that? It’s like someone gave me a gift in that Black Dolphin, you know.
So what’s the real history? The “light” bus driving by; I could swear it was gold or like tanning beds in the coach compartments as I gazed backwards down the streets, my head turned one way and my body heading the other as I tried to take a gander of what it was that was driving by me. What the fuck was that? I had no idea what I was seeing and I’m not sure if other people did either. It’s so amazing that this kind of thing just goes unsaid. No one memorialized the time, except on television, there was no pretense of programming, it was like, it all depends on what happens in Europe kind of talk. When I heard that, and saw the interactive nature of the television, and someone called me the Mayor (presumably of Toronto…huh? I was 35 years old and in no position to assume any kind power except as a polarity of what was unfolding, and an unspoken sort of spoiler as it turns out, because that’s what I did in the end, I fucked Harper’s election momentum by throwing him into the deep end of his own policy foibles, oh, and retribution and defense against them targeting Raquel for nasty telemetry, poor girl, I happened to like her and she was good to me, very patient and thoroughgoing in her spiritual advice. Sigh.)
There was that van, too, with the Crown stencil on the side, driving around, with these technician looking people, getting in and out. I have no idea what they were doing, and I hid behind a St John’s Bakery truck, behind the door, underneath, when the van rolled by, because of either two reasons: I would storm it, or they would grab me, or both. So I just hid. And later on, lo and behold, the Crown stencil is a carpet company, SAME kind of van. IDK what the fuck happened. Do other people know. Yes they do. The actual nature of the age is slipping thru their fingers for the lack of representation of the true nature of the engagement, always something suppressed, either by design, necessity, fear or ignorance of the requisite exposure to consequence that comes with being alive. Some stuff is better off dealt with, and that includes mass events where there was planned and coincidental death, like say music festivals as a place of sort of spectacle for certain things. It was kept hush hush, and I grew up at music festivals, so you can imagine my chagrin when I heard about tiered tickets and people just watching someone transfixed with tears of horror or fear or paralysis from fear, fight flight of freeze and you can’t fight because you agreed to your own lack of best interest, you can flee but that’s a radical act that lacks a principal of reality that will be readily enforced and you can freeze and get blasted out of your mind from what’s coming from behind, more or less lose your mind a few seconds or moments ahead of actual brain death? So you are already dead in that second, and therealcoup de grace is something perhaps less humane than circumstantial if you will.
It’s pretty bad to imagine that, but I have been close to that capacity in the personal sense, before, and I have seen it happen to someone, with a backlink to me having sort of pulled the narrative trigger not knowing that they actually meant it. I should have realized it’s just so foreign to the concept of care that your brain just doesn’t process until later what you actually saw. Perception management is the law of diminishing returns; you start having to invest in willing suspension of disbelief, which has other costs, just like any drama has hidden springs that make the action pop. And there are arcs to what is said and done and sometimes you are on the wrong side of the curve even though you think you have mastered the curve, no, it’s pushing up against you some how, your not riding it are you. I know what this can be like, but also, I wonder about the real history. The secret history is probably rife with contradictions and incompatibility with received knowledge. You wouldn’t be able to situate what you knew in any kind of positive, workable, actionable, discoverable, context. This kind of thing CANT be discovered because there is no grounding in cause and effect. It’s simply magnitude of a whole order that could be totally contingent on a whole gamut of circumstance that you know nothing about but colors it completely and limits it, even though it seems like it’s probability based potential of some kind, possibly worth playing for. It depends on how you see contracts and their application within a non-binding framework. Mostly psychological and also, conditioning and also, perpetual distress once you shuck your conditioning ahead of the world…It’s a jaded view but we’re living in Scamilton. To recount the essence of moment in favor of a prearranged or preconditioned version is fraud, of the personal kind, against your own media and best interest. Your conscience is there to protect you; it’s not something to be scared of and if you are scared, the fear is valid. Fear is good. Fear you can embrace as being tactile and responsive and if the fear is reprobate and contingent on your pretzeling then fuck them, they can come and get it. Where is the real fucking history. What in the actual fuck did they do with it? I would like to know because I was there when it was unfolding and it would be helpful to everyone if some kind of distilled exposition of ready fact(s) were a little more accessible to regular discourse, whatever that means for you.
These aren’t serious people that are doing this; it’s a serious thing, but they aren’t serious people if you know what I mean. People that can grasp the enormity of the moment we are in without having to go beyond the tip of their own nose; some people can’t or don’t or don’t care, or can’t care, or are so annihilated that they don’t grasp that they are now holistic adjacent if you will, and can wield their own authority nee sovereignty over their state as long as they understand network effects and long tails and other sorts of phenomenon as that, which sort of gives you a supra-human outlook on it, given that social discourse, social animals, animals that are social and so build tech and media to facilitate this connection, are phenomenological and so can be drawn above their ready state into other formats, modes, alchemy and bio-stasis. This in turns informs an immediate sort of departure from the rational to the collective and pedagogical in the sense of communal teachings being vested in mortality and the avoidance of unnecessary death and so preventative medicine is a very key piece for people to embrace. What this suggests then is that outreach and education should come first. Once there is a grounding in the disparate formats of harm reduction across the spectrum of use, and an attendant linkage to housing as the main predictor of success; once this exists in a tangible, palpable, non-leveraged way, then we can actually invest in potential recursive incentives which have Ponzi like features with an exit to the community in turn, so you can parse that however you want. Exit to the community? There is plenty of room to wriggle in that. Look at Sushi Swap; it was a vampire attack and he diluted the price and sold before he pulled the rug, and exited to the community saying that he didn’t do anything, however wrong I have this story, it doesn’t matter. Exit to the community could be a lot of stuff. Let’s hope it means the right things to the right people and doesn’t turn into a hostile meme because of some spectacular crypto heist, and there have been many. 70-80% of crypto was fraud at one point. Bitcoin? Electricity has value, and drugs have value, and weapons have value; those three commodities dictate the fundamentals of bitcoin and nobody wants to admit that. I took a course on bitcoin and they didn’t cop to this format, but I’m telling you, from having been at Silk Road in 2013, and seeing bitcoin then; it was the same thing as drugs, you needed btc to get the drugs so the inherent price of the drugs impacted btc as well as the price of electricity. It’s all in the mining pools as well as whales too; they could fuck up the financial system with crypto; maybe it’s too late for that. Dark pools or crypto, what do you want? Yield farming or tranches? It’s all risky shit except that if you decentralize it, you can be your own bank and manage your own funds and not get soaked by a motherfucking bank. They are so fucking rich. So fucking rich man, and I am so fucking poor. 15$ a month to take care of my funds. That’s the basic plan. There is nothing lower than that. They know they have you. And if they want to make you wait for your money or make you feel like an idiot, because you only have 5 dollars, than that’s what they do. The Bank of Montreal does not want the real history to come out. Let’s put it that way. Tiered tickets, why are you in tears? This hardass Spanish bitch in jail was like No Crying and I’m like, holy fuck lady do you see what you are saying or no, which dimension is it in, because sometimes they say stuff and it has this dark sort of resonance and other times, a cigar is just a cigar. I don’t know what to think, except the real history would be nice. Mostly because I would do well in that, and absent that, gee, wow, what do I do? I guess I’m screwed hey, given I can’t get any recognition except in the sly sort of keep it under our hats because that’s who we are…these bogus fucking fraud insulated mofos that think that my life has anything to do with them. Not at all. They just made it that way and then expected me to figure it out from then on upwards, when they had also become dependent on certain facets of the relationship. And broad based dependence, which they have zero interest in changing or fielding my concern. It’s like, these people are depending on someone who they refuse to negotiate openly with about anything and then openly undercutting what does happen as far as unity around a scapegoat goes. They undercut that to their hearts content. And so it goes. I am at my wits end but strangely I’m calm, because, I went thru the process. If I was at my wits end and I hadn’t gone thru the process, I would be looking for a fight that is not there. I would be blamed for being aggressive even though this whole thing stacks up as being really obsessive towards me, so I can’t bring this on myself, can I, and that’s what they are saying, I brought it on myself…
Ya right, forget it. That’s it for that line of inquiry.