Thursday, January 2, 2014

Will the Mockingjay Catch Fire?


The more ripened I become, which is really just that self-delusionary way of saying I am "ontologically antique," the more I realize the fact that self-deception is a double edged feature that helps conserve our psychic equilibrium -- tentatively offering an illusory but necessary species of faux-hope for we bitter clingers to bitterly cling to. Such happy figments, arriving in the form of emotional "fail-safes," caress our ears in their myriad forms. I offer as evidence the following: "That knock under the car hood will eventually go away" or "Dear Mother will eventually pull through." As humans, so often we psychologically whitewash the world, even as the objective frigid blast of reality orients her harsh dials to the unyielding indicators of sorrow and ruin.

It is possible to know something, and yet not know it: to consent to a thing subliminally while simultaneously averting our inward eye so as not to perceive its true gravity. I suppose the vague idea of an impending American revolution has been rolling around in my head for some time now, although it has remained ensconced within its intellectual boundaries and was careful not to spill over into the sphere of my emotions -- the arena of visceral reactions where the gnashing of teeth and the trembling hand takes precedence over prudence. But I know it now to be inescapable. Civil and cultural war is at hand, lines have been drawn, and the center has not held. I do not know what form it will manifest itself in, but the sulfurous whiff of rebellion is in the wind, and I find such a destiny to be unyielding.

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