tardy tudie and the cleats

I think the crowd prefers things cut, dry, pre-packaged, instant, supported by gobs of money, and in their face. It would seem that way. Maybe not, maybe just the big media machine does. Learn from the valuable predators, the resourceful omnivores, the cotton-candy puffery and wild baboons. Learn from the skies, learn from the voids that shape and define us. Do we learn from the blade thrust into our chest, or do we learn that we are now going to die? Take advantage of what does not harm you and watch it grow. Plant the seeds, reap the harvest, keep watch over your things and guard them so, limbs or space vehicles, whatever is in your charge.

Think of your day, think of the random conversations you may have or have not been a part of, and you’ll have an idea for the orthodox and how often is the word ‘wisdom’ ever used?  Maybe 1 of 1000 words, but that’s also a probably extremely high probability.

Anyway, my point is, the masses sure know how they like their content. Cut, dry, seasoned with the times.

Wisdom wouldn’t be wisdom, if everyone heard it.  So you can’t really blame someone for not having it.  People didn’t make themselves the way they are and some people go so far as to say that others are going to pay for it.  Sure, back in the days of high survival, it was good to have a bloodthirsty mindset.  But now?  Now we all live in soft linen and robes and things.  Ease of transport, quick of cash.  The heated air or cooled comfort of the indoors and pleasurable.  We live in palaces, my dear, compared to so long ago.  The truth is always in fashion, the seasons?  Changing tides.  It is history in the making.

I don’t worry about it, I guess.  I don’t know if you do either, but I guess it doesn’t matter to me.

I’m not responsible for this.  Neither are you.  Neither is any one lone individual.

But here I am, one lone individual, cutting a cloth against the tidal wave of no responsibilities.  Crashing the shores of desolate moons, waylaid by principle and fear.  Blank, stretched white canvas on which to dash my ink. I write with fervor and intent, maddened and hungry for law and order. A wild beast, set free from the constraints of physics, laying my hands upon the ethereal and watching, and waiting, fighting against the tyrannies of being set free.  Many people confuse the wild and the civilized.  Many people get confused about what role freedom plays in a world not of our making.  Listen to me, I didn’t even make my own body.

I grew it!  Someone dropped some shit off in the lab and I definitely applied the right lighting to it, that’s for sure.  Once it was put in my charge, I was responsible for it.  I don’t abdicate responsibility, I choose to be free.  The resilience of reality ensures that I am reckoned with.