I can remember the days when it was okay to talk about the fringe theories and wild speculation.
Recently there has been a deluge of new conspiracy theorist. A new captain arrived with a boat of fresh blood. Recently I’ve seen a new school of folks who think that being an outsider is cool.
Being an outsider isn’t cool man, it’s a fucking dredge. Being a fringe theorist is like talking about anime at the water cooler, circled by fifty-somethings.
You think it’s awesome, but really your just a werido
in their eyes. It’s like talking about that band that “oh, you just would t understand.” But to me?
Being a fringe theorist isn’t about how cool you are, it’s about the potential truth of this planet. It’s about walled gardens that deal dope to its citizens. It’s about proxy armies that occupy and destabilize third world countries to form a puppet democracy that controls the information of it’s working class.
What’s important to me is talking about how it isn’t a “recent development” it’s a fabricated reality that stretches back at least (for the sake of talking) a hundred years. And mostly because we’ve evolved in the last century. And if you don’t believe it, your on the outside bud.
Everyone talking insistently about how cool technology is.
The means to create and communicate through new channels. The ability to craft a skill with the intelligence of your mind. Something that the “old timers” just “don’t understand”
Well, bud… It’s happening again. But on a much smaller scale. These circles aren’t taking ten-twenty years anymore. They are only taking a couple months. And-It seems
as the processing of information has changed and multiplied – the means to cling to the “cool side” has changed.
And here is where we are now. People clinging to the newly realized half pipe. People climbing over one another to make a gag, or frill. Yr either a shake or a shill.
I’m confusing talent for texture.
I’m engaged, but am only hearing shit from people who want to be engaged. People are only latching on and lashing out to the swipe of the thumb.
It’s a damn turncoat, seeing the unrealized, hearing the pornographic small talk. The motion of the digital ocean the undertow, I look at it, and I can’t help but think;
this doesn’t looks like anything to me.