Posts
We live in the over-lapping end-time of tillers and priests. The time of the tillers is ending, and the time of the triumph of the priests is upon us. This much is certain: After the end, the only question left to us is what the priests will make of our future.
The priesthood of computers is arising. This is their time. The internet is the universe of the priesthood, and the terminal is their star. At the keyboard, every man is a priest, and together, one priest linked to the other, their energy becomes the energy of the ether that expands and creates more, deeper, and denser ether in an eternal revolutionary condensation and solidification of the energy of thought.
Humanity has reached a clear point of bifurcation: there are those who have no productive place in the ether, i.e. the toilers and the tillers; and there are those others who cannot be bound any longer to the rock of the Earth, i.e. the priests of the ether. The great chains of being that bound men to the world of other men are burst. Free men are free to rise up and look around them to see by new and finer lights a world they could not see before. Acting without fore-knowledge and with no influence on or abilities to petition the cruel gods, there is only uncertainty regarding The Good; and thus, one relies hopelessly upon the senses unused, upon the experience of the past for which there is no experience now, and upon the guidance of those who have failed so concretely in the past. With increasing speeds and imploding memories, the realm of the unknown is upon us, and it’s indecipherable. This is the time: The out-flow of free minds is an accumulation in the ether inside the realm of the collective consciousness of the world of minds. The free minded--free to think--act, and in so acting, act upon each other; and the combinations of thought in complement and in conflict create counter minds, which in turn and time create a Mind of Man in itself. Not one single thought in every mind at all times but the single man’s mind in contact with the thinking mind of the general mind of humanity, an unfolding mind of an unfolding and self-creating universe that is the mind of the collective of individual minds. The Body of Man, the peasantry, is about to shrink.
The ether is itself a germinating thesis, ready soon for the birth as the collective consciousness of the nature of mankind. In the ether there is no more place for a peasant’s toil. As the ether solidifies, it becomes the ground of thought from which thought grows. The dialectic of the ethereal mind sets itself in motion, moved by the unmoving accumulation of thought, created by the sheer force of people sitting at terminals typing.
The world is divided between the unequal groups of the modern, progressive, and dynamic terminal users, and the peasants of history. The divide grew in the 20th Century in the West with the internet, and today it continues to grow throughout the world: in Arabia, the Orient, in Africa, to the dismay, fury, and murderous frenzy of many who see their primitivism going the way of all flesh. Those vestigial states of feudal slavery as still shamefully exist stand in the dust beating their chests in frustration seeing the inevitable end of their era of control; and yet, with the snap of their fingers the Stone Age primitivism could all disappear and be completely meaningless to them and to the rest. They could choose to not believe in the primitive past of tradition and culture. The world of men is split, and the two paths must veer into each other. The star-gazers and somnambulant have no truck. The time has come to move away from the shadows of the primitive past and to consider the light before us, the light of the mind afloat in the ether.
The star-gazing priesthood of the ether is poised to control the future, and without the need for toiling masses to feed the priesthood, the peasants have no longer any viable role; and since there is no place for them, they must die and be ploughed under like last year’s stubble. Having existed to supply the priesthood with the means of life, and having succeeded in doing so too well, the peasant has become obsolete, parasitic, and violent. This is the twilight of the peasant. Night falls. This is the time: It is the time of the star-gazing priest.
Terminal users are creating a new multiplicity of worlds and dimensions. Each terminal user’s world is a world of refracted multiplicities of realities within the context of the ether; within each group’s world of the mind is each individual’s mind; and within the mansion of the mind there are many rooms. There is a new infinity, and within this infinity there is no room for the peasants’ existence. Soon the peasant will have no world at all other than the Earth that enfolds him. The techno-world of the mind has no need for billions of diggers who can’t dig quickly enough to bury themselves. The priests of technology are burying the masses of superfluous peasants under the very crop of the peasants’ own redundancy.
For those lucky few who are freed from “the idiocy of rural living,” as Marx put it; for those who aren’t bound to the barren plots of over-tilled earth that demands the hoe in return for a crop that might sustain the body till the next harvest is in; the soil that demands the bodies of the new to be laid on the bodies of the old to await the bodies of their children for aeons to come; for those born to the age of technology, born to free bodies and free minds, the ether calls, and the vacuum demands filling, filling and ever increase for the minds of the next round to roam the eternal unknown.
For travelers in the realms of the mind, for those who make their ways through the ether of the internet via computers, for those who sit alone in relative comfort, the journey is far different from the life of those who physically move through the world as it is. The terminal user’s results are so spectacular and immediate that whole new worlds spring into existence where before there was nothing but the void, the endless empty skies. We become as gods.
We face a mystery and a caution. The exploration is already over for those who read about it, for those who can look back at those who look blindly forward with little to look forward to; for those who can grin and shake their heads and say it was all so obvious that any fool should have seen it long before from the comfort of his couch, the road still beckons: toward resistance, rebellion, and death; and the price one pays, the hardship, the bullshit, the shipwrecks of daily living, it’s all worth it for the occasions of elation and exultation that come from discovering that which is hidden from our time. For the traveler, it’s the difference, as Descartes says, between knowledge and history, and we are interested in making history by not knowing. The future of the typist is the historical present of the reader. According to Kierkegaard, the hero goes on not ever knowing the result of his quest. Clarity comes, if ever, after the fact. Do not believe.
Some things we can know: The demise of the peasantry clears the field for the battle between the priests of Cain and the priests of Abel. Those who move and those who stay still: they will war. Those who think and those who rule by rite will clash. The great masses of men will perish and be buried because there is no need for such a vast population of people to feed the elite. Today the peasants struggle to feed each other, and the result is redundant in the world of the elite. This is the time of the caesura of mankind. When mankind crosses that gap there is a fight for control of the minds of those left living. The battles will be fought over the control of the mind of every man as surely as were the battles of the politics of Orthodoxy in the Middle Ages and the Inquisition.
The mind-middens of the world are being buried daily, and soon there won’t be enough visible to the naked eye to know they ever existed. Billions of peasants are going to starve to death because of the inherent stupidity of their cultures and their need to conform for conformity’s sake. Those locked in the mind-traps of tradition in the world of exploding populations will simply starve to death on the streets of megalopolises or they might be slaughtered at the gates of prosperity and intellectual freedom. Regardless, they are finished as a human experience. But life goes on, and there are those who will seek to retain control of the masses even if the masses are few and living in the ether.
As the old dictatorship of the mind dies with the barbarian hoards, a new dictatorship looms darkly: the dictatorship of the conformist bureaucrats. Antithetical to the illimitable ether, the office bubble emerges to surround the minds and lives of the living. We can’t know the outcome of our lives but we can strive to ensure the conformists don’t replace the savage, dying world of the peasant with a fearful new world of byte-thanatocracy, an illusion of illusion. To move is to see. To prick the bubble of the Necropoly one may simply disbelieve. To win, shrug.
There is a binding in the world: it is a universal binding, available to all, always. Unhappily, this other binding is too similar to that which has been from the time of the priest of the ziggurats of Ur to the movers and shakers of the World Trade Center towers of New York City: the priests vie for control of the ether from the pinnacles of the towers below. In the works of the world is the struggle for and against orthodoxy. Those who would control the Acropolis will control the polis. The control of the ether, history suggests, can be lost to those with a greed for power and the adept skills of the hierarchical priesthood. They deliver illusion in exchange for power. The power of the thanatocrats is in the general will to conform. The Primitives’ world is finished. Forget them. It’s coming to a war in the ether between Heaven and Hell. The prize, again, is not only the mind of humanity but the soul of humanity. It’s a war we must prepare for now to avert the next Dark Age, the next dark night of the soul, and the binding of the mind.
The priesthood of computers is arising. This is their time. The internet is the universe of the priesthood, and the terminal is their star. At the keyboard, every man is a priest, and together, one priest linked to the other, their energy becomes the energy of the ether that expands and creates more, deeper, and denser ether in an eternal revolutionary condensation and solidification of the energy of thought.
Humanity has reached a clear point of bifurcation: there are those who have no productive place in the ether, i.e. the toilers and the tillers; and there are those others who cannot be bound any longer to the rock of the Earth, i.e. the priests of the ether. The great chains of being that bound men to the world of other men are burst. Free men are free to rise up and look around them to see by new and finer lights a world they could not see before. Acting without fore-knowledge and with no influence on or abilities to petition the cruel gods, there is only uncertainty regarding The Good; and thus, one relies hopelessly upon the senses unused, upon the experience of the past for which there is no experience now, and upon the guidance of those who have failed so concretely in the past. With increasing speeds and imploding memories, the realm of the unknown is upon us, and it’s indecipherable. This is the time: The out-flow of free minds is an accumulation in the ether inside the realm of the collective consciousness of the world of minds. The free minded--free to think--act, and in so acting, act upon each other; and the combinations of thought in complement and in conflict create counter minds, which in turn and time create a Mind of Man in itself. Not one single thought in every mind at all times but the single man’s mind in contact with the thinking mind of the general mind of humanity, an unfolding mind of an unfolding and self-creating universe that is the mind of the collective of individual minds. The Body of Man, the peasantry, is about to shrink.
The ether is itself a germinating thesis, ready soon for the birth as the collective consciousness of the nature of mankind. In the ether there is no more place for a peasant’s toil. As the ether solidifies, it becomes the ground of thought from which thought grows. The dialectic of the ethereal mind sets itself in motion, moved by the unmoving accumulation of thought, created by the sheer force of people sitting at terminals typing.
The world is divided between the unequal groups of the modern, progressive, and dynamic terminal users, and the peasants of history. The divide grew in the 20th Century in the West with the internet, and today it continues to grow throughout the world: in Arabia, the Orient, in Africa, to the dismay, fury, and murderous frenzy of many who see their primitivism going the way of all flesh. Those vestigial states of feudal slavery as still shamefully exist stand in the dust beating their chests in frustration seeing the inevitable end of their era of control; and yet, with the snap of their fingers the Stone Age primitivism could all disappear and be completely meaningless to them and to the rest. They could choose to not believe in the primitive past of tradition and culture. The world of men is split, and the two paths must veer into each other. The star-gazers and somnambulant have no truck. The time has come to move away from the shadows of the primitive past and to consider the light before us, the light of the mind afloat in the ether.
The star-gazing priesthood of the ether is poised to control the future, and without the need for toiling masses to feed the priesthood, the peasants have no longer any viable role; and since there is no place for them, they must die and be ploughed under like last year’s stubble. Having existed to supply the priesthood with the means of life, and having succeeded in doing so too well, the peasant has become obsolete, parasitic, and violent. This is the twilight of the peasant. Night falls. This is the time: It is the time of the star-gazing priest.
Terminal users are creating a new multiplicity of worlds and dimensions. Each terminal user’s world is a world of refracted multiplicities of realities within the context of the ether; within each group’s world of the mind is each individual’s mind; and within the mansion of the mind there are many rooms. There is a new infinity, and within this infinity there is no room for the peasants’ existence. Soon the peasant will have no world at all other than the Earth that enfolds him. The techno-world of the mind has no need for billions of diggers who can’t dig quickly enough to bury themselves. The priests of technology are burying the masses of superfluous peasants under the very crop of the peasants’ own redundancy.
For those lucky few who are freed from “the idiocy of rural living,” as Marx put it; for those who aren’t bound to the barren plots of over-tilled earth that demands the hoe in return for a crop that might sustain the body till the next harvest is in; the soil that demands the bodies of the new to be laid on the bodies of the old to await the bodies of their children for aeons to come; for those born to the age of technology, born to free bodies and free minds, the ether calls, and the vacuum demands filling, filling and ever increase for the minds of the next round to roam the eternal unknown.
For travelers in the realms of the mind, for those who make their ways through the ether of the internet via computers, for those who sit alone in relative comfort, the journey is far different from the life of those who physically move through the world as it is. The terminal user’s results are so spectacular and immediate that whole new worlds spring into existence where before there was nothing but the void, the endless empty skies. We become as gods.
We face a mystery and a caution. The exploration is already over for those who read about it, for those who can look back at those who look blindly forward with little to look forward to; for those who can grin and shake their heads and say it was all so obvious that any fool should have seen it long before from the comfort of his couch, the road still beckons: toward resistance, rebellion, and death; and the price one pays, the hardship, the bullshit, the shipwrecks of daily living, it’s all worth it for the occasions of elation and exultation that come from discovering that which is hidden from our time. For the traveler, it’s the difference, as Descartes says, between knowledge and history, and we are interested in making history by not knowing. The future of the typist is the historical present of the reader. According to Kierkegaard, the hero goes on not ever knowing the result of his quest. Clarity comes, if ever, after the fact. Do not believe.
Some things we can know: The demise of the peasantry clears the field for the battle between the priests of Cain and the priests of Abel. Those who move and those who stay still: they will war. Those who think and those who rule by rite will clash. The great masses of men will perish and be buried because there is no need for such a vast population of people to feed the elite. Today the peasants struggle to feed each other, and the result is redundant in the world of the elite. This is the time of the caesura of mankind. When mankind crosses that gap there is a fight for control of the minds of those left living. The battles will be fought over the control of the mind of every man as surely as were the battles of the politics of Orthodoxy in the Middle Ages and the Inquisition.
The mind-middens of the world are being buried daily, and soon there won’t be enough visible to the naked eye to know they ever existed. Billions of peasants are going to starve to death because of the inherent stupidity of their cultures and their need to conform for conformity’s sake. Those locked in the mind-traps of tradition in the world of exploding populations will simply starve to death on the streets of megalopolises or they might be slaughtered at the gates of prosperity and intellectual freedom. Regardless, they are finished as a human experience. But life goes on, and there are those who will seek to retain control of the masses even if the masses are few and living in the ether.
As the old dictatorship of the mind dies with the barbarian hoards, a new dictatorship looms darkly: the dictatorship of the conformist bureaucrats. Antithetical to the illimitable ether, the office bubble emerges to surround the minds and lives of the living. We can’t know the outcome of our lives but we can strive to ensure the conformists don’t replace the savage, dying world of the peasant with a fearful new world of byte-thanatocracy, an illusion of illusion. To move is to see. To prick the bubble of the Necropoly one may simply disbelieve. To win, shrug.
There is a binding in the world: it is a universal binding, available to all, always. Unhappily, this other binding is too similar to that which has been from the time of the priest of the ziggurats of Ur to the movers and shakers of the World Trade Center towers of New York City: the priests vie for control of the ether from the pinnacles of the towers below. In the works of the world is the struggle for and against orthodoxy. Those who would control the Acropolis will control the polis. The control of the ether, history suggests, can be lost to those with a greed for power and the adept skills of the hierarchical priesthood. They deliver illusion in exchange for power. The power of the thanatocrats is in the general will to conform. The Primitives’ world is finished. Forget them. It’s coming to a war in the ether between Heaven and Hell. The prize, again, is not only the mind of humanity but the soul of humanity. It’s a war we must prepare for now to avert the next Dark Age, the next dark night of the soul, and the binding of the mind.
No comments:
Post a Comment