A Short, Perhaps Temporary, Note

Last night, I got to yelling. The subject was particularly about the horrific mass-psychological manipulation of my generation for which “Facebook” is partly responsible. I saw that the government is finally suing them. This is long overdue. The profiles that they have made of everyone who has used the site, access to every single post, every picture, every bit of audio that was ever uploaded to it, has been, for the last decade at least, weaponized to attack and manipulate the very people who have so innocently used the network. There is good that it has brought, particularly for those that do not “buck the system”, but for those of us that have been, for the last decade, engaging in “wrong-think”, it is clear that the algorithm was, and is ever moreso each day, designed to ruin, rather than empower.

For those that understand the mind, it is clear that they have used abusive tactics and conclusions cooked up by the likes of B.F. Skinner and any number of other unscrupulous, malicious psychologists, for whatever purposes the system has deemed useful for its ends: discord, miscommunication, disinformation, reduced attention spans, artificial consensus, fear-based groupthink, etc. I could go into great detail on exactly how the subversion works, on unsuspecting people, but I won’t do that here. Many insiders from the company itself have come out over the last decade and exposed the tactics used to, basically, turns people’s minds into mush, particularly the kids.

Anyway, so I got to thinking about the astonishing level of mass-societal damage that this particular company has been engaged in (which often, as a result of compartmentalization, may be quite unknown to the very employees of the company itself), and I got to yelling about it.

Some background: Most of my adult life has been spent half in the day, half at night. During the day is when I do my job, make money, meet people, and generally live like a normal human being. At night, when I get back home to my study, or studio, or garage; that’s when I do the vast majority of my creative work. Generally, even after I’d be out at the bars listening to live music, or watching the game, or starting up conversations with just about anyone concerning political, economic, scientific, or philosophic topic, I would find myself back in my space, writing on the latest intellectual pursuit, or playing piano, or drawing up some graph or picture. It seemed in some ways that the goal of each day was an adventure that always ended up right where I originally started: doing my work on my own, in my own space. This has been one of the biggest driving factors in my life: finding the time and space to study and create. Some of the fruits of this pursuit are quite visible, right here on this site.

During these times, the privacy I have found has been vital. Although I sometimes think, and enjoy speaking as if, my cell phone is actively listening; it is in that space that I have always felt free to express myself in whatever manner I felt at the moment. This is a part of the “method to my madness”, that seems to have worked so well for so long: in that, I indulge the creative impulse that I feel at the moment. Part of the reason that I like to have multiple “stations” in my workshop: typewriter desk, computer, piano, drafting board, stone carving corner, etc. I try to make the “moodiness” work for me.

Anyway, back to the topic: so I got to yelling last night. This was, and is, a cathartic release for me. And, shortly thereafter, I had some of the best sleep I have had in weeks.

However, I’m a little bit worried. A little for the possibility that “the world heard me” and is perhaps scared, and we certainly don’t need any more fear in our lives. (Disclosure: The possibility that I’m being listened to, and that it alters my world in some respect, occupies maybe 5% of the conditionals in my mind, and usually results in me “putting on a show”.) But I’m mostly worried because my cat, Leo, has not been back since. He’s not always around at night, but usually stops in for a little while for a snuggle or two, or to watch me pace around thinking, or interrupt while I’m on the keys with a couple claws to the leg. Still, he hasn’t been back tonight, and I’m a bit concerned. That and he might have been chased by the dog up into a tree earlier, though it was hard to tell, because this cat may have been a stray.  It had Leo’s coloring, but didn’t look like him in the face. We brought the dog back in, and I heard it run down the tree and, apparently, run off into the field. Dang Paco, he didn’t get a whole lot of exercise today, and just wanted to run around and chase something…

I sure hope he comes back soon though, because if he goes off too far into the woods, he’ll be at risk of the coyotes.

I guess it can be hard for some creatures to see that humans just have to let off some steam sometimes, even when you’ve been good friends for years. If you can sense this, Leo, know that I wasn’t yelling at you. I thought I was alone. And sometimes the best way to calm myself is to let the anger pour out.

Maybe I should take up boxing.

Or join the military and help take out the criminal syndicate destroying our country.

Or continue writing strongly worded letters.

I guess we’ll wait and see.

– G

(December 19th, Update: Leo came back, and he’s doing fine. It was the day after I posted this. Happy to have the cute little fuzzball home.)