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[Feb. 22nd, 2022|10:58 pm] |
Ciba (and all social media) seems quite disgusting in the light of all the ripping apart it does (like the splitting of logs - the sinews of wood like cooked chicken meat). Do you remember when you could argue in person and then make it up a week or so later? You wouldn't sulk over a paragraph for a year or two - and wait too late to make it up in gross negligence of all those decades where weekends or evenings or afternoons would be the flicker and ticks of time. I mean look at the photos if you are so blasted in the head - all the mutual growing up of our children - all those birthdays, and names days and various pagan festivities, and gigs, and trips, and other assorted meetings in the flesh, and soul.
The Long Village, where we spent so many times, always reminded me of an Earth setting of Solaris, and all the tales of the academic set in the times before I set foot here (wild 90s/substance abuse/intellectual and physical battering of what was present) added to a feeling of a tribe foreign but alluring, and it was always quite charming when I was warmly tolerated - the beat of actual life (I mean the shared domestic wonder of growing children of the same age) hewing something permanent out of the stone of an awkward, unintelligent foreigner.
In as much as this is the apocalypse, we can now see the moneyed shake of fist (or sleight of hand) of those who would assemble our points of view (however intelligently held - and by that I mean 'lightly'). I knew them, and we looked at each other and reciprocated our understanding of each other's rationality and intelligence and experience. Loosely and grotesquely speaking, we understood that movement was there to prevent a corrupt oligarch manipulating the tauta with the cringe of some populist uneducated risible huinja while they lined their pockets. We would never talk about anything like that directly, but it was everywhere understood. We were the good guys and girls. It is disgusting to point something like this out in light if what happened, but really it might explain why there is so much 'othering' or what I would call mental breakdown occurring - both here and to a lesser extent in the real world. The real world where we live and die too soon. Where we are so horrified and insulted, we forget the soul of our time together.
Labs ir. I will miss you. You were just wonderful. |
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