Why we sometimes get philosophical

“Anyway, it’s good to hear you’re coming back to Main Street, if only for a visit. It’s a rotten place to live, but that’s where they set all our prices - so we should give the bastards a whack in the kidneys from time to time, just to remind them that it’s our world too.”

Hunter Thompson

Letter to Ken Kesey

2-15-74

FEAR AND LOATHING IN AMERICA: GONZO LETTERS PART II

Simon and Schuster

(c) 2000 Gonzo International Corp

“Tie my arm to the chair, like Odysseus to the mast, so I can’t get to the keyboard.”

Love of wisdom and unintended consequences…

We’ve lost aesthetics (and ethics) to a more instantaneous culture response, the babble that becomes the 'sound byte" that becomes the marketable logo and rallying cry. But it won’t work unless we are separated from each other and kept from the truth so we can be weaned back INTO the folded logic inferences, cause lord knows we don’t want to be lonely and/or uncool. Common sense philosophy is more and more an oxymoron broadcast over the silent prayers of those that are awake and optimistically vigilant that a few more will see the enfolded nature, of nature, of nature, of nature… Current “look onto the world” philosophy is more pornographic and explicit, but cleverly engineered to hit as many hot buttons as possible, apply for credit, blinder view karma. Whenever you hear someone screaming to just sha-tha-f–k-up, they are usually the ones that have been succesfully polarized into their tailor-made time share forum seat and have been clipped/nutered to the true experience/knowledge of sharing/growing. The Swaylokian ‘Weltanschauung’ is in it’s infancy and will mature into a more viable answer that will “filter up” into the stagnant industrial revolutionaries that are still clinging to the linear assembly line of failed (dynamic) product production models.

“The Beat Generation”

http://www.rooknet.com/beatpage/index.html

Founded in 1953 by Lawrence Ferlinghetti and Peter D. Martin, City Lights Bookstore in San Francisco is one of the few truly great independent bookstores in the United States; a place where book lovers from across the country and around the world come to browse, read, and just soak in the ambiance of alternative culture’s only “Literary Landmark.” Although it’s been more than forty years since the birth of the Beat Generation, the Beats’ legacy of anti-authoritarian politics and insurgent thinking continues to be a strong influence in the store, most evident in the selection of titles.

I remember when insurgents sat around drinking coffee and thought of ways to stick it to the man…

Big companies and bully governments know that if you get rid of the independents and rabble-rousers (insurgents) you can keep everybody else in the big Mall Processional dumb and happy…

Start the music, maestro.

Well…hell yes!

I’m stunned speechless, rantless…and strangely suddenly filled with hope for the surfing world. Not so sure about the rest of the world, yet, but the feeling seems to be mutual. Pendulum swing just met it’s high point? First shot in revolution? Asteroid size rock just made water contact…effect unknown but high surf warning imminent?

I’m off to the bunker to study implications. The future starts everyday and ends when the eyes close and sleep descends. Where do we go from here…

say city lights

I’m transported back

standing over a bin of lp’schoosing

a used orange blossom special with johnny cash on the box car

and another side of bob dylan

also used

soaking up the ambiance

the ambiance

the ambulance

saw ol man vonnegut on the tv

bought his new booklast nite

21.00

21 the # of the master

read the last chapter first

he told me to re- read cats cradle

without trying

bought it for my son

who just rolled it over and left it on the big table

fill our sophicles

who was sophicles

gotta look that up

had my piphany the other day

been meaning to write it up but it’s simple

we are the ends

in the words of the 50’s

THE LIVIN’ END

…ambrose…

like strands of hair standing straight out

einstein begat ginsberg begat Dylan

Begat usall as we wish

The reiteration, the constant and common symbolic language that CAN’T be silenced, is in that which is illuminated when we close our eyes and dream analogous/synchronus dreams. The waking is the time of fragmentation, when we can be bought and sold and the wedges are forced into the minutiae of unintended consequences.

We must R-E-G-A-I-N our most highly evolved human qualifications.

Intelligence…

Responsibility…

Control…

It could be as simple a proposition as taking back some of the mind jobs from the computers. Balance your checkbook with the liquid crystal computation/memory device that you were born with.

OR it might be as complex as overthrowing the machine CONTROL devices that have taken away our jobs for the last ? years and made the jerk-off machine code writers richer than they oughta-shoulda be.

Filler-up… before the ice-nine crystals bring a man-made hell/ice age to reality.

googled Ice nine

clarified in a minute

as i red the cats cradle so long ago it was a fog

and clarified me mynd

like Indians do to butta

we are tech victims but we jus gotta

maintain the spirit embilical

its ok dont buy the …

and some of us will be o.k.

no matter what.

keep your feet out from under the lawn mower

…ambrose…

the gems are always under a rock

keep turning over rocks

Unintended consequences begat the decisions that we make in our sleep, and then like a deja vu image, man, I know I’m inspired by Einstien himself, pure genius, we announce our “idea” to the feedback pool, but like Narcissus, we are just in love with the self-proportioned/patented mental-scape, the soliloquy , the one man show-off, can I ever fill-up a stadium like nobodies business?

How many shapers are there, really? Why not make some forays into shutting down the shaping machines? Sorry, the cnc surfboard machine just didn’t work like we thought it would. The unintended consequences are just too damaging to an artistic temperment, and the argument will magnify and reiterate and crop up in another mask, but like Kokopeli, is only there to stir up the discussion and obfuscate the conclusion so the mass abusers can pick up their load of recyclables (and paycheck) and re-dock with a fresh load of craft/crap.

The rock tied to your ankle just may be your laptop computer…

Ice has a greater variety of crystalline structures than perhaps any other material. Even the end state will be diverse. Water will not be denied its creativity and its future. Nor will we. The thinning walls of the current stream enclose today what used to be, in men’s minds’ eyes the final dream, but cannot contain future dreams of what will be. We are the flood, rising above it.

Cat’s Cradle. Cat’s in the cradle. We are the end product of other means. We are the means.

You can bet at this moment in some room somewhere, your worth as a (human) worker is being ash-canned.

The human element is being written out of the business plan and the financeers are gathering up the seed money for the R&D that will replace you with a machine that can do it all. There’s probably even a robot line in the works that will replace you in the bedroom, cause after you stress out about losing your job to some pulleys and gears how will you ever complete another wam-bam thank you mam, was it good for you? Useless, retired and uneeded. The end and the means recombined in the super nova, supersized, bloated, end-o-the-world, chaos channel, all news all the time. I take full responsibility. Yes, Katrina was my black lover, whom I just couldn’t commit to in front of the wife and kids, you know, stains on the dress…

domo arigato mister roboto…

“That is why, there are clouds up in the sky, stormy weather…”

“It can’t rain all the time.” From “The Crow.”

We write ourselves out of the plan, or into it. We are the only ones with the power to do so.

Don’t read what ‘they’ write. And if you do, remember that they are writing it about their own self-worth, and writing it in the stuff from their own souls. Self-worth is incalculable, unmeasurable, and therefore impossible to diminish except by the owner. The lie is their only weapon. Be your usual jigger of wry self, and don’t believe them. When you see the lie, and feel it deeply, as you clearly do, you have already won.

Does anyone on the forum have an old Newport Paipo Stub Vector(?) (The round nose one) that I could get the rocker and template from? It’s for a Cerritos College Summer class for high school kids… I gave mine to the kid across the street to start him surfing long ago.

Nels?

Viva la revolucion!

d.

Quote:

Does anyone on the forum have an old Newport Paipo Stub Vector(?) (The round nose one) that I could get the rocker and template from

I don’t have one, don’t know anybody who does, but do know some who know people who do. Let me poke around a couple of days and see if I can hook you up.