So, here we are.
Virtuous people of all colours and sizes and genders. All perfectly equal... as livestock for our insatiable corporate overlords.
Will you, Mr. And Mrs. Passive Consumer aim for the highest trophy? A lifetime of servitude to the bank, for the freedom to hang pictures on your walls without the fear of an agent snitch with an ipad?
Or did you lack the security you needed to study or the narcissism you needed to leverage "essential workers" For profit, dooming you to a life of landlords subsisting on your life-force while corrupt governments and the grocery duopoly compete for what's left of your carcass?
It baffles me how many of us still have faith in a voting booth. I just wait for my fine in the mail.
Of course, deep down we knew this was going to be the natural course of things. When these vampires were finished taking the land so gently from the natives. We knew they would soon be after the food, water and now our attention; our very minds.
The good news? today's most powerful form of activism is what you’ve been taught is laziness. It needs only the understanding that solutions don't come from buying more shit. Subtractive, not additive solutions.
Vampires want obese people to believe their freedom comes from buying an ab-swing pro, when it's simply not giving money to other vampires who create addictive poison shaped like food. And our sense of self are not maintained through the dopamine hits of the portable carnivals in our pockets. But in the exact opposite, being bored for more than 10 goddamned seconds.
Revolution is not a product or subscription based service. It's not even rebellion within the digital plantations of our technofeudal lords. Revolution is pirating your favourite media and dusting off your ipod.
Revolution is hanging out with your friends or partying instead of building side-hustles.
Revolution is doing favours and trades with your neighbours or even just fucking talking to them; not just about American politics or everyone you hate. Stop regurgitating the algorithm that profits off of our most primitive instincts, for christ sake.
Revolution is asking yourself "does this feed the machine?"
And not bullshitting yourself with the answer.
You're not broken for wanting out. You're sane.
You don't need to become a brand. You need to remember you're a person.
Our leaders and saviours have abandoned us long ago. It's our move.
When are you going to realise that nobody is coming to save you? You've been looking around for help. Stop wasting your time. The gods have pitted us against eachother, it's not to protect them, they have bunkers. They have spoken through our idols, co-operation is primitive. We must seek material gains alone, and in this all-consuming and lonely pursuit, you've noticed.
Nobody has time to come and save you. They're busy thinking they're saving themselves.
In the external world, everything is relevant. Do you wish to suffer less? Buy that toy or drug or sexual experience, it will only bring more suffering in the end, that's the exchange. But the world within is infinite. So the gods don't want you in there. They can't compete with infinity. You must neglect that garden. each time a weed grows tall enough to peak into your view, time for an upgraded blank with blankier blanks. Because nobody likes weeding. So every time it all seems to catch up you'll keep changing gears and going faster and faster and before you know it you die from the speed; if you're lucky. Because if you don't, you'll be forced to slow down and a lifetime of weeds will consume you as your external world decomposes around you. I'm sorry. I think I'll pass. I have weeding to do.
Look. I just want you to know you're all losers. You, me, and even the gods are losers. If you ever met one, youd know. The biggest wins you can hope to achieve will SKYROCKET YOU INTO A NEW SOCIAL PLATFORM.... full of more losers. Wealthy, arrogant, exhaustingly boring losers. It's only when you truly know this that you see every single product that the gods are dangling over your head.... is the illusion of winning, in exchange for your life-force.
As long as you pursue the illusion, you are property of the gods. Wanna break the chains? Welcome to the losers club!
Are you plagued with parasites? Well that's a more difficult question than it seems. An advanced enough parasite is living off of your life-force without your knowledge. If a man inherits a shack, and you work to sleep in it, you work for that man. He is subsisting on your life-force. But that's okay, because your feeding on your boss... right? Well if you're producing more energy than you receive, he's feeding on you, and if not, he will be dead next week and you should start searching for a new parasite. Maybe you could work for the gods, the greatest parasites of all, they feast on entire governments, and child slaves of the 3rd world......... at the same time... magnificent. But a smart parasite doesn't kill its host. It distracts them, hold on [stares at phone and walks off].
No, really. I just got distracted by my phone and left this journal for a week.
You see? We focus on what they tell us to - the glamorous future - so much that we give them the infinite present which in turn, diminishes our future.
We got fuckin' scammed, and no screaming at the staff for a manager is going to fix this, Karen.
We have to walk away. boycott these peddlers of primitive instinct validators and do the hippie thing...
... Be here, now. ugh, it feels cringe just saying it, but those oddballs had it right.
The streets are deserted this early on a Sunday morning, the only other life on the whole block is in the form of Sanji, Standing behind the counter of the offensively fluorescent 7/11, he smiles at me through the window while i smoke my last cigarette with anticipation. I check the time once more before i pull the glass door open “happy 2:35 it is again Sam. How are you?” he greets me. “bloody brilliant Sanji” I shout through the store in my rush to the ATM. I run over the shopping list in my mind while I punch in my pin.
“Available Balance...” “... Error. System Offline”
This is the error I was hoping for. At 2:35am on every second Sunday the 7/11 ATMs go offline for a periodic reboot. In this 40-minute window you can withdraw money you don’t have; up to the $1000 daily limit. I withdraw my $980 and quickly run over to the 7/11 across the street to repeat the transaction.
Around the block from my unit at “Junkie Towers” is a bar with convenient business hours. by the time I get home from last nights payout, I get some patchy sleep amongst 7 hours of silent anxiety, and head to this bar, trying to collect a ticket to freedom in the form of a Pokie machine jackpot. The sun is up and the bank has updated my account status "$-980". I just left my job because of my asshole boss. And my mum is not welcoming me home without the money I owe her for renting the kitchen floor where I sleep; the stakes are high.
My attitude, along with my play credits, slowly decline through the day, with rare small wins that are each celebrated with another bourbon & Coke, until finally. I leave with half a pack of smokes and a painful heat running from my spine to my head, engulfing my body with hate and despair. This is my life. I’m a piece of shit, and always will be. People don’t change. there is an enormous chasm between me and everyone else. So what kind of fucked up life is going to be laid out before me?
This was me, day in, day out for years, instant noodles and frozen lasagne. Drinking everyday, often before noon, with more vices and bad habits than anyone I knew at the time. Self-pity and a victim mentality. When you think like this - live a life like this - there is nothing else. A giant wall surrounds you and leaves no instructions to escape. This is who you are to the core. A product of your genetics, your conditioning, your habits, your friends, your thoughts. self-help books are dreams and bullshit schemes, and nobody is willing to reach out and help you. Your kind don’t change, but even if you could, you would probably be uncomfortable living any differently. The rest of the world has forgotten about you.
But this is bullshit! And you know it, too. The more you convince yourself that you suck, the less you believe that you’ll ever stop sucking. But you can never annihilate the thought that you can change and grow and evolve and live a better life than you started with. The power has always been there. It’s just that nobody thought to give you the damb tools!...
... What the fuck were they thinking?
MISSION
To provide the tools of practical education, community, and techniques and systems necessary for the underrated, underprivileged, disadvantaged and disheartened to move forward in the direction they desire; not to live like others, but to live how they dream their lives should be.
To assist people – however I can – in acquiring freedom. Freedom from debt, freedom from a negative self-image, freedom from the adversity that I’ve lived amongst. .
A toxic government operates similarly to the way a toxic Husband does. To push to “take care of” as many difficulties and inconveniences as possible, in exchange for loyalty. However, loyalty implies the ABILITY to leave, but the CHOICE not to; on the contrary, this is what I would call dependence.
If we have a police system, we no longer need to protect our neighbours and families.
If we have a welfare system, we no longer need to worry about our elders and disadvantaged.
If we have a food safety administration, we no longer need to worry about what we eat.
The list is almost infinite, and all these “services” are non-negotiable.
So what should we do with all this spare time? Well, the taxes that this system runs on is up to 45% of your income, rent is pushing 30% of what’s left if you’re what the big banks call ‘financially healthy’. You’re most common option is to sell your time, and in exchange you’ll become (like the wife of a toxic husband) simultaneously dependent on, and defensive of this system. and what’s left of your day will be fighting off the temptations of consumer goods and additional conveniences; micro-escapes…
…what if – like the wife who secretly develops her independence until one day the husband no longer holds power over her – we as a community start to learn the skills and internal systems needed to begin the process of divorcing our narcissistic captor? This is more appealing to me than a violent revolution. Our system has always told us that competition is healthy, so let’s give our system a competitor.
Don’t fall for the Monocracy’s illusion of democracy through voting booths. That’s the husband screaming “do you want the drunk me or the angry me!?”. Instead, play the game while learning skills that would benefit a society that looks after itself.
We no longer consent to the machine or its parasitic passengers.
The machine runs on extraction
- of resources
- of time
- of attention
- of life
The machine plows forth, converting nature into packaged products, and living souls into digits on a screen, leaving behind it a trail of death and wasted life.
We deny the parasitic passengers of the machine. They try to manipulate us to "hop on board" with Promises of glamour, or Threats of misery, only to subsist on us until we have no choice but to find fresh souls to sustain ourselves, too.
Many of us have riden on this ugly thing. Those upfront warned us what lay ahead, hurling ourselves overboard was less painful than we thought. We landed in the gardens and decided to stay here.
The garden is cyclical. It gives back everything that it takes. We create and it regenerates. We trade, grow, fix, share. We close loops and compost our failures.
The laws of the garden dont resist the rules of the machine; they supercede them.
This is our quiet insurrection.
Our declaration of interdependence.
The future is circular.
The future is local.
The future is already growing through the cracks.
.
When Meta introduced the world to the VR shithole known as the 'Metaverse' in 2022, I decided to try to buy shares. But being from Australia where it's painful to invest overseas, I decided to go for a CFD position (I won't nerd you out with the details).
I created a Plus500 account and threw some money at it. maybe $700.
A few years later I recieve an email update "Meta dividend".
Like when you find $20 in your jeans pocket, I was excited to find out what my past self had done when he had some spare cash.