Do you wish you were here? Exchanging a walk on part in a war for a lead role in a cage? Who said that? A singer, perhaps.
We are the last of the tourists. Outside is desolation, a ravaged planet that used to sustain life until we visited the fuck out of it and installed our dysfunction as the norm. We are the last to bear witness, staring through tempered glass at the untempered ravening hordes. We share a bucket of popcorn, munching as we observe. It’s a kind of reality tv writ large. Plato would have loved it.
Do you wish you were here? A tourist in your own land? You were lost years ago. Swollen and bloated, a dead goldfish floating in a bowl. We threw you out without regret, although it’s fair to say that I miss you now. That I wish you could see this. Our fears come true.
The citizens chafed impatiently at the least touch of authority and ceased to care even for the laws.
Good old Plato. He knew. Society had to fall, like the Goddess of Democracy in that Chinese square. It seems so long ago that we had hope to shatter.
In response to a Past Postcards tweet, Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd and elements of Plato.
I read something this morning, in the moments I spent trying to numb my brain with social media mundanity. I read a tale of woe, one man’s struggle to be heard above the babble of we the chattering masses, we who report from the front line of existence, we who don’t know how to shut up.
I think about this periodically. The way social media has become a rolling news service of the contents of everyone’s heads. I say banal things on social media all the time. I also filter out the majority of my front line reportage. It’s just too dull.
My mundane analysis is this: those in power don’t want us to live in community. We are better divided. More manipulable. Once, we congregated in pubs, social clubs, churches & other public spaces. Once, we fomented resistance to the powers that be. Now, we are sold cheap booze to numb ourselves in private and put into a catatonic state by reality tv. Social media is our outlet. Our data is used to sell us more stuff to numb us, while we conduct conversations where nobody listens, pouring out everything to specious friends we never meet.
Modern life is wonderful.