✝️Telling La Verdad: El Espíritu de Pascua
I was asked this week to step down from a group for saying unpleasant things on Twitter. At least I think that was the reason - the English way is never to be clear about reasons. I could (and briefly did) get into a bit of rage about it, but if there is one thing that the last few years have taught me is that people really cannot handle the truth - perhaps for good reason. Live for today - what is coming down the line is deliberately made hazy. Messengers who shine a light have to be killed - at least in an English way.
But what enables me to get through the day in this mad, mad world is the idea that I can write something real - that which appears real I might be prompted to say because in this culture nothing is allowed to be actually real. It's all a matter of opinion for those who have the privilege to think that way. The train coming down the tracks is just one of many things. The joy of endless choice. The madness of endless freedom. The world is what you make it.
I find it slightly hilarious how at this moment so few people want to write about what is actually going on. I think there are less than five people right now who can be emotional, use ordinary language and take things even halfway to their obvious conclusion. Obviously we are heading towards a holocaust so much worse than the previous one - and no, not in a million years am I trivialising - nothing could be further from the truth.
"Don't mention the war" my friend who asked me to step down said a while ago - the essence of English repression. "Don't talk about Eichmann", another old punk friend tells me - something has been lost from his soul. And definitely don't mention hanging.
It is indeed hilarious, and so so sad of course, because I say such things to prevent suffering - to alert people to the horrors they are setting in play for themselves and others. I would never want to hang anyone - I’m a follower of Gandhi for fucks sake.
During this enforced calm before the storm, there is no point getting into that rage. I have to admit to myself that I would speak the truth even if there was zero chance of it being listened to because in all the noise I like its sound. The sound of truth is an oasis for me. And because of this, I am told how silly I am. Because being sensible at this point is believing that 2 plus 2 equals 5. Because it could, right?
This brings me to the guy who was silly enough to have himself sacrificed on a certain Friday. The more you think about it, the more bizarre the story is - the more its logic conflicts with the essence of the logics of our present ruling regime - in the widest (Foucauldian) sense of “regime”. But for me - he’s my man.
A while ago I was interviewed by BBC Politics presenter, Nick Robinson. I said things that in any vaguely sane society would have resulted in a thousand public meetings, an emergency mobilisation, and a great spasm of collective effort. But all that happened was silence - thick, rigid, silence - its nothingness weighed down on me for days afterwards. Then this week an English professor appeared intending to write a book about my interview - in the context of St Augustine - The City of God and all that. I immediately knew what he was getting at. I think about the saint all the time. The sack of Rome, the sack of ….. Compare and contrast.
Maybe there are a few other people out there waiting to pop up and remind me that the human spirit has yet to totally commit itself to suicide.
In fact, in other news, I have been shortlisted by a well-known posh US magazine as one of the 25 most influential people knocking around at present.
Wonders never cease, as my mum used to say.
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