Where do you start? Figure out the basic experience and how you relate to it? I know that I had another mystery stay at that proverbial old phantom mansion that serves as a stand-in home for one’s unconscious. The motivation to once more again consider an unsanctioned tour of its bowels, seemingly an unwholesome exercise undertaken for it’s own sake alone but in point of fact an ongoing educational experience in determining the door that one long ago came in from.
All that stale beer breath that one’s increasingly festering rotten teeth have fostered turned like a blast from Godzilla at some indefinable nemesis. But this indefinable direction somewhere east of the cardboard placards that serve and the pillars of deception. We all lurk behind the mask of a larger force that’s primary mission is to convince its clients of its omnipotence. The displacement by these tiny temporal gods of the mystery of the cosmos and the primal influence of nature, life and death, seems a comical Hollywood inspired farce when taken against the larger objective view of one’s own circumstance.
The realm of dreamland providing a superior stomping ground for the unfettered expression of one’s personality in a manner completely unrepentant that would run into so many road blocks within waking life. Is it any wonder that the current paradigm for universal rule involves a heavy component of manufactured fantasy that keeps the general public in a consistent completely unilaterally aligned mindset. No room here for any unsupervised individuality.
The ultimate prison is one where the inmates live in fear of themselves and their own encaucated fears. The self-proclaimed power masters have raised several generation of morons who offer the keys to their own destruction with a nonchalance that one would expect of an inbred member of the elite. The trouble being is that they are selling themselves down the road to doom by too free an offer of a leg up to other ethnic and cultural groups that have no sense of gratitude for this service but rather poorly disguised scorn and derision for the simple fact of same. “Useful Idiots” is the preferred term here.
What then is the motivating factor? That destabilizing factor of animal magnetism occasioned by the act up of one’s uncontrollable sex glands? The pitiless self-seeking life and death equations demanded by the primordial lizard brain? A sense of incurable loss for that barely recollected lost twin. And the magic incantation, of course, of three successive utterances of any of the same. The tried and true mountain path of agnostic weighted dogmas underlying every effort to kick the pins out from under any unexpected resistance. Only the useful repeatable analogy of that proverbial ‘eternally stomping boot’ finding a reliable affinity for the face of your common variety everyman. Cliché repackaged into a safe form of same as controllable as a Rottweiler firmly leashed under a velvet glove. What then can lurk within the inelastic id of an otherwise domesticated mankind that can be challenged in any substantial way by any unexpected form of potent fatal mystery?