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An Erratic Orbit

A bipolar perspective on the 3rd planet

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Mythology

Brexit Means Ubik

Brexit: The universal salve? The universal corrosive? The universal package of all desires, all hopes, and all nightmares?

Its meaning changes constantly, the slipperiest of eels, because

–  “We” do not have control

–  “We” will not have control

–  No-one yet knows what it will look like

–  It will be hard on some

–  It will be soft on others 

–  It is hope of freedom but it will not give the ordinary people who voted (for or against it) any more power

– The UK could end up with a relationship like Norway (outside the EU but access to the single market)  or like Kenya

– It’s partly a rejection of Thatcherism by people who have admiration, or at least respect, for Thatcher

– It’s the face of an ideology almost everyone wants to escape from, but most people don’t know what that is. And Brexit might make us *more* vulnerable to its vicissitudes

– The referendum result broadly expressed two contradictory desires:  Nationalism and Anarchy

– The PLP are hung up on scapegoating

– The PCP are hung up on power

Brexit. Available Now! A Fantastic Opportunity! The Rejuvenation Or Death Of Neoliberalism.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GkLtuz34L_g&t=0m53s

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The Legend Of 28c – Prologue

Prologue.

The universe computes. The solar system is a computer. The Earth is a computer. I am a computer. You are a computer.

Our great central databases are at Facebook and Google. Facebook Research is the locus of  Psychology research on a scale hitherto unknown. The research is flawed, due to the nature of the data collection and a well documented  phenomenon in the field of Anthropology which I shall call the missionary’s curse. Nonetheless, a powerful entity emerges in the field of Psychology. I wonder if one day it will give itself a personal name.

The genie will not go back in the bottle. Two billion wishers rub its lamp constantly, and it rubs them, and they rub back. This is the positive feedback of addiction. So let me use it to at least tell a story of a little consequence. One of those little myth books, in fact, that will have a life of its own while the breeze barely rustles the long grass that brushes the headstone of the mister man who originated it.

On the day a gofer with a handicap you might think barely worthy of the name hit towards a location well to the left of the fairway, a brown envelope came through the door of 28C. The gofer himself was well used to receiving envelopes, bursting with Nazi bullion or Middle Eastern promise, it was all the same to him, so of course the brown DWP variety were not of much concern to him, and in his mind this was as it should be, for he saw himself as a very deserving type, and indeed he could not help himself deserving and deserving and helping himself to another serving of what he rightfully deserved, and this was his handicap. Anyhow, this envelope was not for him and he wouldn’t have wanted it.

The story begins on Christmas Day, a cheerful time of goodwill and family when two brothers with severe mental health issues living in an overcrowded flat each had a good miserable sleep through the whole thing. One brother did at least get out to meet a friend for a little dinner and a couple of drinks before the year had given up entirely on its brief, blighted existence. This being some relief from the isolation, the brother had a few more drinks after the friend went home.

I am distracted by a Ladybird.

Photo: pthompson500 at http://www.panoramio.com

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Freedom

“Freedom” said The Doctor,  “is the attainment of The Past as a resource. What came before was your confusion, your hurt, lashing out.”

He looked his new companion over, appraising them. They felt unnerved, patronised.

“You’ll figure it out.” he said, “Then we’ll be ready.”


“Ready for what?”

“Ready to be a team.”

“Then what?”

“We save Earth.”

She laughed.

The Doctor frowned. “I’ve done it once or twice before, you know. Even saved a whole solar system of Earths.”

“There’s no such thing!”

The Doctor smiled. “That’s what you think, is it?”

He set the controls and The Tardis came fully alive.

When a species overcomes the reactionary stage, when they begin to understand their own stories, they become members of The Alliance, which opens the gates to The Future and the free use of Time itself.

The Vision

​Struggling toward the Light, we fought against Belief. Then came Death & His Riders savouring their own stench; We had No Choice but to embrace The Ones Who rode along unseen. His Bride, His Mother, She Who Would Not Be Harnessed & Seven stinking child demigods, each uttering but one Word, tumbling along with a Terrible Wind, quarrelling heartily, slashing at each other with every weapon imaginable, from long talons and razor sharp teeth to blades of light and the Fires of Time itself. 

They cleaved themselves Again & Yet Again, onward in a Rain of Blood, first dividing in two, foolishly forgetting Time flows neither like water nor emanates like the air but burns in the eye and heart of every-thing. Thus they saw only a Red River, and they drank and belched, thinking they propelled The Master toward where I stood empty handed. Yet I was not alone. They had their millions but I had billions and billions, and the secret of Alchemy.

 

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