M̶⃣̶ ̶ ̶ ̶o̶⃣̶ ̶ ̶ ̶m̶⃣̶ ̶ ̶ ̶e̶⃣̶ ̶ ̶ ̶n̶⃣̶ ̶ ̶ ̶t̶⃣̶ ̶ ̶ ̶u̶⃣̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶̶̶m̶⃣̶ ̶
POST: 0027
CRITIQUE
05-19-02022
I’m in my Deluzian cups again, swirling strange philosophies with strange social movements. I’m sipping lost futures & damned momentums; momentums near to dodging the 🄰🄿🄿🄰🅁🄰🅃🅄🅂 🄾🄵 🄲🄰🄿🅃🅄🅁🄴.
One momentum in the late 1960s is of note. When unionized labor, the Hippies, and the university student leftists were beginning to merge; to play with a new kind of coalition. Despite vivid differences in values, backgrounds, and cash in the bank, it happened. The flower children, rough-handed workers, and the velvet palm aspiring intelligentsia were near to joining into common cause; a Ⓡⓗⓘⓩⓞⓜⓐⓣⓘⓒ Ⓕⓞⓡⓜ.
(◔◡◔)っ ♥ 🅺🅴🆈 🆃🅴🆁🅼🆂 ♥
- 🄰🄿🄿🄰🅁🄰🅃🅄🅂 🄾🄵 🄲🄰🄿🅃🅄🅁🄴 = The state/capital construct that encapsulates & utilizes oppositional forces (social, technological, militaristic) as quickly as possible, before they impose a threat to the 🄰🄿🄿🄰🅁🄰🅃🅄🅂.
- Ⓡⓗⓘⓩⓞⓜⓐⓣⓘⓒ Ⓕⓞⓡⓜ = A non-hierarchical(ish) collection-multiplicity with open(ish) entry, joined by unifying magnetism in constant flux. (i.e the blobs in a lava lamp, or starlings birds in there flock).
These 3 groupings had their superficial differin’s in slang & style; and–this is key–their deep divergences in what it means to be free; to self-actualize. A commune farmer, a welder, and a sociology undergrad have life trajectories/philosophies with minimal overlay . . . and this was reconciled.
How? Under what overarching banner were these prospective revolutions rallying?
I’m not sure. But I’m an artist, not an academic. I get to render my speculations as gawdy as I choose.
I speculate that it was the dream of ambiguous newness. Newness that felt like it required a grander collective endeavor. Newness that denied the ‘𝔭𝔲𝔯𝔰𝔲𝔦𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰’. The happiness that America promised as inalienable . . . but just over the hill. Newness that put happiness as the place where pursuit should begin from. A collective & universally available happiness, demonetized & deplatformed.
And this budding coalition was stumbling toward the awakening of a secret: that it takes all kinds of individuals to meaningfully ⓒⓞⓛⓛⓔⓒⓣⓘⓥⓘⓩⓔ. The most sacred songs requires discord behind the harmonies. Revolution is a private affair, which is best done ⓒⓞⓛⓛⓔⓒⓣⓘⓥⓔⓛⓨ.
Hippies, welders, lectures, & hippy welder lecturers. Oᗰ ᔕᕼᗩᑎTI, ᔕᕼᗩᑎTI, ᔕᕼᗩᑎTI.
Had this snowball kept rollin’, the revolution kept truckin’, it could have gotten stranger. It could have merged with the Civil Rights Movement, with the United Farm Workers, the Veterans for Peace, and the Hell’s Angels. It might have galvanized enough free minds to throw electric arcs over to Women’s Liberation Groups & the Gay Liberation Front.
I have fun to imagining it. A coalition of the innumerable minorities, harmonizing in variance until it became pyrotechnic. A Ⓡⓗⓘⓩⓞⓜⓐⓣⓘⓒ ⓒⓞⓛⓛⓔⓒⓣⓘⓥⓔ descending over the 🄰🄿🄿🄰🅁🄰🅃🅄🅂 🄾🄵 🄲🄰🄿🅃🅄🅁🄴 as if fired from a confetti cannon. Actualizing the dormant divine 𝖓𝖚𝖒𝖊𝖗𝖆 𝖚𝖓𝖚𝖘 that always was. The heart of the revolution becomes the love of fellow revolutionaries.
I͎͎̾ ͎͎̾ ͎͎̾ ͎͎̾ ͎͎̾L͎͎̾ ͎͎̾O͎͎̾ ͎͎̾V͎͎̾ ͎͎̾E͎͎̾ ͎͎̾ ͎͎̾ ͎͎̾A͎͎̾ ͎͎̾ ͎͎̾ ͎͎̾P͎͎̾ ͎͎̾A͎͎̾ ͎͎̾R͎͎̾ ͎͎̾A͎͎̾ ͎͎̾D͎͎̾ ͎͎̾E͎͎̾
And I speculate this merry band would have been too fun to alienate from for anyone but the most material/trauma bound to the 🄰🄿🄿🄰🅁🄰🅃🅄🅂 🄾🄵 🄲🄰🄿🅃🅄🅁🄴.
Because who doesn’t love a good time with friends?
I finally got what Che Guevara was getting at when he let slip . . .
“𝔸𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕜 𝕠𝕗 𝕤𝕖𝕖𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕚𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕠𝕦𝕤, 𝕝𝕖𝕥 𝕞𝕖 𝕤𝕒𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕒 𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕠𝕗 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕘𝕦𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕣𝕦𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕠𝕝𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕒𝕣𝕪. 𝕀𝕥 𝕚𝕤 𝕚𝕞𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕠𝕗 𝕒 𝕘𝕖𝕟𝕦𝕚𝕟𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕠𝕝𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕒𝕣𝕪 𝕝𝕒𝕔𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕢𝕦𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪.”
Was it easier to love the differences in the late 60s? It seems hard to love it now. There are so many gigs to labor at and media to ignore. I don’t think that anyone has to work harder to stay in love than those who are now living.
Something else linked them too: a common alienation. The disaffection for the 🄰🄿🄿🄰🅁🄰🅃🅄🅂, the free market on fire that regards everything as flammable. But, in a way, this is the same thing, because the 🄰🄿🄿🄰🅁🄰🅃🅄🅂 spotlights the ⓒⓞⓛⓛⓔⓒⓣⓘⓥⓔ by making it its prime target of destruction. I find my friends by the laser sites on there forehead.
I long for the motley minority. I want to swim upstream with them, through all the cringy sentimentality, to the wellsprings. I want to find the G͓̽r͓̽a͓̽n͓̽d͓̽ ͓̽C͓̽o͓̽a͓̽l͓̽i͓̽t͓̽i͓̽o͓̽n͓̽ dormant there. Linked with my new friends by the love we bear for each other and by the common skepticism of a machine that bears us no love.
Plenty for a revolution, right?
Sigh*
So what ended the momentum of the late 60s? The over coding of zero/sum state/capital was in danger of popping like champagne. What corked it?
Out of my depth here, but here are some 1969 events of interest . . .
⚝ The Hell’s Angels rumbled with student protesters at an Anti-Vietnam War demonstration in Berkeley, CA . . .
ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ʙ/ᴄ :: Propaganda perpetuated disingenuous links between masculinity & a pro-war persona.
⚝ The progressive and open minded United Mine Worker’s presidential candidate, Joseph Yablonski, was murdered by a hit squad hired by the then corporate linked president Tony Boyle.
ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ʙ/ᴄ :: Money/power/influence.
⚝ The Manson murders.
ꜱᴏ ɴᴏᴡ :: Hippies were all potentially homicidal. Communes were all potentially cults.
. . . And what is happening now?
I speculate that people have been told to fear each other; trained to fear each other. Culture crafted to view society as an arena of many layered combats. A war of all against all, Bellum omnium contra omnes, a nesting doll of violence. The zero-sum fear that worth amassed must be guarded from all who also seek amassed worth.
- An arena of nation vs. nation
- nested in an arena of group vs. group
- nested in an arena of citizen vs. citizen
- nested in an arena of inner self vs. inner self
- nested in an arena of citizen vs. citizen
- nested in an arena of group vs. group
As more, so less :: As above, so below
And I know of one way we can get back to the common cause?
We use A͎C͎T͎I͎V͎E͎ A͎R͎T͎ & The holy practicality of the ᴱᵀᴱᴿᴺᴬᴸ 𖣘 ᴿᴱᵀᵁᴿᴺ to build an Ⓐⓢⓢⓔⓜⓑⓛⓐⓖⓔ.
Make an Ⓐⓢⓢⓔⓜⓑⓛⓐⓖⓔ from enough individuals and it becomes a Ⓡⓗⓘⓩⓞⓜⓐⓣⓘⓒ ⓒⓞⓛⓛⓔⓒⓣⓘⓥⓔ. The more individuals, the larger & stranger it becomes. The larger & stranger it becomes, the greater its magnetism, because it is accessed through and bolstered by variety, not homogeneity. And it is its Ⓐⓢⓢⓔⓜⓑⓛⓐⓖⓔⓝⓔⓢⓢ that makes it grandly homogenous. It’s strength is in it comfort with contradiction.
But it must be fun. Fun makes the choice to join easy, less guilt driven, less pressured. Who doesn’t love a good time with friends?
How does one join? From everywhere.
Next time the capital gets stormed, I hope we all join in. A motorcade of Hell’s Angels flanking a Pride Parade. A marching band of edge lord podcasters blowing blue brass & spinning red batons, with a well armed Libertarian survivalist rear guard packed down with cold steel & dehydrated food for all. Wouldn’t that be confusing for the Red carnival in the capital and the blue schadenfreuders soaking it up from home. Powdered potatoes and feather boas for an indefinite siege/rave.
What are the demands? None but the right to a good fucking time with my ⓢⓣⓡⓐⓝⓖⓔ ⓝⓔⓦ ⓕⓡⓘⓔⓝⓓⓢ.
