Bengivitis

DO WHAT THOU WILT SHALL BE THE WHOLE OF THE LAW
LOVE IS THE LAW. LOVE UNDER WILL
THERE CAN BE NO LAW BUT DO WHAT THOU WILT
The land is trying to send up shiploads of natural truths; but a layer of concrete pavement litter and syringes blockades us in. Besieged by society, our filthy cities on one side and the forces that allow us to live on the other. Its no wonder then when one wanders through the inner cities or through the potted plant forests of the suburbs you are struck with people very far removed, unaware even, of the cycles going on granting them their existence. Food comes in over seas and air and trains and trucks pre cooked, pre packaged, frozen, genetically modified, and treated with dyes to assure its aesthetic if not its nutritional value, bearing absolutely no trace of the reality which spawned it.
Today I walked in the park and I was the only person there who wasn’t insane or a bum. Now that we’ve fully alienated ourselves from the elements that provide our oxygen and sustenance we’ve begun to separate ourselves from even each other. Go into any café today and see the kind of contact going on. Cafes were once the epicenters of communication, where revolutions were planned and comradery was exalted, now people sit separated hypnotized by the swinging medallions of their laptop screens. It is not uncommon to see three or four people together sitting silently as if their friends weren’t feet from them gaping vegetatively at the monitors.
Which brings us to MYSPACE, the boldest move by the packagers and replicators of culture, the attempt to commodify fully human contact. Now exists a space (your space nonetheless!) Where communication with your friends and loved ones comes conveniently with banner advertisements and ruthless monitoring by ad execs for any shifts in preference. As if the billboards polluting the skies by the high ways, the sleeve informing you of the new season of american idol on your cup of coffee, the promotions waving at you as you pee on a urinal or the people resigning their humanity waving posterboards at you on your highways were not enough omnipresent suggestion.
Is this paranoia? Let us explore briefly a hypothetical though certainly once occurring example: Someone passionate about music puts on a concert not for profit but because of their love of the art form, where bands will perform, more than likely losing money, to be able to express themselves and their humanity. Companies like Hot Topic then PAY employees to go to events like this and gleam from the authentic expression of creativity and community something that can be drained of its meaning and who’s corpse can be repackaged and harmlessly sold for a great profit at malls blockading struggling flora all over this great country. Profiteerers are, intentionally or not, at war with that which makes us essentially human.
So now we have the great opportunity to talk to all of our friends without leaving the isolation of our tiny apartments, with the mediation of monolithic media conglomerates and at every turn of the eyeball the instruction to purchase our lives instead of live them. Finally the last remaining portion of human life untainted by the corrupting profit motive has been seized, defiled, and contained in a self perpetuating mechanism of gathering readily offered statistics from the target demographic and vomiting them back up to the unsuspecting in flashy banner ads all the while reaping the profits of simulated friendships. Reality has finally been usurped by the commodity. Stop simulating your life, stop feeding into the spectacle of “youth culture” in America, go outside with your friends and plant some vegetables.