ESCAPE FROM MEDIA PRISON

Three months on the run following my escape. Hiding places are few. The airports are swarming with media-bots....television screens, ads, and cellphones. Slurking from town to town on dusty dark roads, slowed by a few remaining chains...remnants of Media Prison. Billboards and electronic digital signs scan the main roads for any attempted escapees. Restaurants and bars are sure places to avoid. On my seventh pair of ear-plugs, which sometimes cause ear-aches, but nothing compared to the pain in Media Prison. The daily beatings and routine rapes, the media pimps on the prowl for more meat, the wealth of internal crime upon humanity.....all these sought to murder my Self.

And out here who can be trusted?......not taxis, not buses, not trains, not those who offer me a ride. Not even home. All these are sectors of Media Prison. The maniacal obsessive search for information has imprisoned so many. Billions imprisoned as Media Prison adds more walls to freedom.

During these three months my health has improved tremendously. That horrible aching....the incessant addictive need to know the latest....has dissipated. And it feels great! Ridding my Self of Media memories is more difficult. The scars are deep. The damn-age still burns.

Resting now on soft sand.... my back to a cliff, my face to an open ocean....I wonder. Will Media Prison find me? Will I become tired of running, and turn my Self over to the dogs, the bright search lights, the never ending beatings from Information, the Media Prison bosses and thugs, and to the mercy of the billions of inmates in Media Prison??

I shiver, and close my eyes.

“El Viaje Definitivo” (The Definitive Journey)

. . . and I will leave. But the birds will stay, singing:and my garden will stay, with its green tree,with its water well.

Many afternoons the skies will be blue and placid,and the bells in the belfry will chime,as they are chiming this very afternoon.

The people who have loved me will pass away,and the town will burst anew every year.
But my spirit will always wander nostalgic in the same recondite corner of my flowery garden.

CRY BABY PUBLIC REFUSES OBAMA

The spoiled american public(with the upper-class as mentors) believe it is their right to live lavish lifestyles no matter the circumstances....the poor who beg for assistance while toting cell-phones, name brand clothes, big screen TVs, and chrome wheels on their vehicles......the "struggling" middle-class that refuse to sacrifice many of their expensive obscene habits (i.e. three car garages, vacations, RVs, $5 lattes, $4000 lawnmowers, etc, etc.)....remember.....these are seen as a RIGHT, not a choice of lifestyle. And when asked to give them up they cry foul. There is no need to explain the upper-class. Their actions speak for themselves. In the end you reap what you sow. I shed no tears for this or the next generation. Their insistance that they can "text" their way to success, that political protests take place on Facebook, that technology(the new religion) will solve the growth of corruption, poverty, greed, ...all these are a convenient myth to satisfy lazy bodies and minds.Obama asked the american people to volunteer, and to get off their fat asses. Most refuse. It is too much to ask. How dare anyone ask such! It is un-american.

How does it feel to be home? .....

Toes touching sand

Warm sun

Ocean scented breeze

Soft surf

Missing home tonight. It hurts.

Some very strange blogs out there. Mostly, though, it is the self speaking to the self...

"But when the self speaks to the self, who is speaking?--- the entombed soul, the spirit driven in, in, in to the central catacomb; the self that took the veil and left the world---a coward perhaps, yet somehow beautiful, as it flits with its lantern restlessly up and down the dark corridors." Virginia Woolf



.and people wanting others to be interested with an internal conversation that cannot be stopped...but a very edited internal conversation is blogged. Who dares offer all of which the mind speaks to itself ? It is comical to hear some persons say, " Oh, I would never think such a thought." These deniers kid themselves. The mind produces thoughts despite our wishes. What is this 'editor of thoughts' that quickly attempts to erase thoughts, whether pleasant or otherwise??

One day I hope to find a blog in which this editor of thoughts is on vacation....and so the blog would reflect a reality of thoughts, not something contrived, managed, or edited into another "well written" piece of crap.

With lost passion she gazed into his gorgeous dark eyes......and wept. What was more empty.....his eyes?...or her soul?

The IT people back in the early years predicted that "the world will blossom" with the influx of information to every corner of the globe. The world still remains buried in war, disease, famine, mistrust, envy, deceit. If any bloom at all, it is artificial. You can lead the people to information, but still they do not "see".