impeach cheney

[brian carroll]

  here, time is divided, separated into
  many simultaneous private spaces.

  that capitalism, it would seem to be,
  an economic method turned into a
  social organization, the privatization...

  over there, what was seen on TVs of
  others is the failure of economics, the
  failure of people to be economically
  sustainable. while social fabric here
  is dismantled, sold to highest bidders.

  an existential absurdity, even rightwing
  talkshow hosts decry encroachment of
  social space, as their voices are threats
  to a final profiteering of consensus view.

  what was imagined, naively most likely
  as too simple, is that the organization of
  society on social principles, likewise, may
  exist within limits, though in another way.
  none of which can be conceded by true
  believers in institutional machine-nations.

  that there may be some truth to the role of
  private money in economics, and public
  interests in social development, and that
  these may somehow be able to work in
  diverse forms of organization, weighted
  across a spectrum of options and politics,
  that with rights of some basic nature for a
  people of some 6 billion on earth, that in
  some way there may be a commonality.
  not identical, maybe neverso. though a
  continuity between peoples, places, the
  spaces, times, even if unstable, chaotic,
  able to organize, reorganize, and change
  in ways more than the madness of wars.

  if the bubble that is the unshared present,
  here, shared in time not in space, divided
  is the sense, and some private aspect of
  one individual's demographic rises up a
  bureaucratic ladder to then re-present an
  unreal, ideal, utopian pseudo-person of
  an economic policy that is resolved by the
  humanism of its social policies, how it is
  a more enlightened path, the bureaucrat
  as the communicator, the public service
  announcer, commentator, public intellect
  trapped into speech spaces, times, codes.

  the 20th century was privatized, even if
  social policy was 'public' in nature, more
  publics await, changes, transformations,
  challenges. more privates, of a different
  kind, possibly incommunicable in media
  saturation, deeds alone as one continues.

  to be 'public', here, is absurdly to be said
  to be 'communist' - the polarization of the
  ideologies of the Cold War era engrained
  into psyches, possibly, psychologistics of
  relating or not having to, the vanity of being
  able to ignore everything outside a small,
  cloistered worldview. burden of proof not
  on heretics, but on priesthoods to deliver
  long-awaited utopias from flames of hell.

  entirely possible, merging of public-private
  worlds, the 'group' that threatens stability of
  ideologies through different economics of
  bargaining, maybe 300 toothpastes is at
  some point enough choice, maybe multiple
  copies said to be originals, are really still a
  copy and redundant, except for challenging.
  maybe there are some truths yet to be able
  to be communicated, even less by choices
  than by ignorance, or limits of imagination.

  what if, it is often wondered here, a social
  organization and economic organization
  could have some publicness and private-
  ness, some autonomy yet responsibility--
  instead of equivalent of the fundamentalist
  religions never talked about, that exist as
  equal that of church-state in the sciences
  as belief systems, as faith, priests, popes,
  swirling goddesses, tongue-tied into the
  apocalypse at the end of media-language.

  i am afraid. to speak, yes. to write, yes. to
  think, yes. to act, yes. i am afraid to make
  any choice. to question anything. to wonder.
  i am scared, for myself. in a shared public
  space. i want to be able to visit elsewhere,
  while stuck in the inner workings of a state
  of affairs, a bureaucracy possibly out-of-
  control, possibly even on purpose to force
  the ideology that rules the mean streets,
  onto the world mind- it is a violent stress.
  everyone hates where i am from. many it
  seems would gladly kill, as we have killed
  and many without knowing, another fate.

  how to get to another world. another place
  that is shared, different, yet not against the
  basic fabric needed for peaceful change. if
  that is wanted, needed, maybe not. worlds
  reflect what is projected here, in a sublime
  way the passive-aggression of force waits,
  patient, palpable the threat of further strikes.
  all of which reinforce the monster that has
  now arisen, some culmination of a dream,
  though in another realm of the unbelievable,
  often said of here, its best qualities are also
  its worst. an integrity exists to get through a
  time of change, yet the space remains inside
  divisions, inside concepts unsuitable for the
  realities faced-- the interfaces well beyond
  knowledge, sheer interaction a glue holding
  all together from falling in upon itself as one.

  as one public, many privates, one private,
  many publics, in transcending the 'digital'
  logic of the hardware and software flip-flop
  of rhetoric, middle zones betwixt, between,
  liminal, what can be possible by changing
  of understanding, of perceptions not by way
  of managing consensus opinion and some
  knowledge bases, yet integrating them and
  all the unknowns and letting the world start
  to figure itself out, each person, a place of
  unique and common belonging. strangers
  living in other mindsets, everlasting clashes.

  the force of tension, felt. in the air. hovering,
  waves, compression and vibration- against.
  against the against. anti- the anti-. not yet
  beyond, stuck inside a contradiction, waiting
  for reconciliation of worlds, times, spaces, it
  may never be possible unless it is needed-
  and if the least is the most, it will not happen
  quickly, unless it is necessary. what will be?
  the worst, it is feared, will bring further worse
  things, the chasm of some nightmare staring
  up and down and every angle upon the self.
  invisible, all day is night, all night, daylight.
  no sense, non-sense, how to sense, reason,
  no one cares, if less is more, if a spectacular
  can make change wait another day, a choice.

  as an individual, i want to belong to a group,
  of people. people. citizens. not nation-states,
  human state, individual and the collection of
  us. public and private realms, the world in a
  beauty it rarely gets to share with many, the
  connections built on sharing, ideas, dreams.
  no money in that, except of value that is a
  basis for a worthwhile life. here, one is not
  a full citizen, unless astute as business. it is
  not the worst quality, unless it is the measure
  of worth, which is, the economic dimension,
  which is then further divided by its privatized
  dimension, and then this scaled up to 'all of
  the world' as the dictates of the superpower,
  and its pantheon of friends. that was another
  world, now forever lost to history, thankfully.

  why is it not appreciated, the importance of
  the social dimension to cultural experience,
  it is wondered how the world of franchises,
  of repetition, of a programmed environment
  is assimilated in minds yet unconsciously so,
  pavlovian, the shopping cart an extension of
  the .US hand, when if meeting the people in
  a world other than abstracted information of
  demographics, may be a trowel of a gardener,
  the pencil of a poet, the knitted blanket for a
  grandchild, things not so different, possibly,
  from other places though invisible details of
  no 'real' value outside some fundamentalist
  view of worth, value, meaning, place, energy.

  there is a particular torment in knowing of a
  pain being inflicted by a mindless machinery
  of a place, fed by an encouraged behaviorism
  which, at the same time, is unchallenged by
  reason as it has escaped its context, theorism
  facilitating further extension of belief systems,
  it is just around the corner, in another word or
  language or belief added onto the present one.
  it is never going back. never archaeology, not
  underneath, always in realms of superstructure.

  these are partly true, partly accurate, partly a
  pragmatism, yet without the ability to jump into
  a new context, a new millennium beyond the
  constraints of the old, minds of adult infants in
  relation to what is known in details, versus a
  view of the whole, able to be comprehended,
  considered, explored, a new basis for relating.

  off the map, one visiting .RU or eastern europe,
  or the middle east or anywhere, that is how it
  seems. not just for reasons of anger afar, but of
  the ideological extension elsewhere of what is
  now attempting full control here, that that threat
  is greater than the other, that the self is suicidal
  to change, will kill itself, not as martyr or sacrifice
  for a greater cause but a lesser cause, a lesser
  reality, a lesser possibility, a destruction of the
  future to regain an impossible past experience
  detached from the larger public, some deranged
  vision of a very poor rich person, who believes
  their wealth is of knowledge and truth, when it
  cannot be achieved through a power of money.
  it is happening here, yet it is also being pushed
  back, has been for several weeks, now months.
  there is a threshold. it has been reached. and it
  is the silence, incommunicable, beyond saying,
  that no matter the brutality that may be ahead--
  many are locating a similar public space of an
  agreed upon benefit, beyond political division.

  the worst offenders of this ideology may be the
  people here who purport to stand against the
  current system while exacerbating its forces,
  and their deadly consequence outside groups.
  feeble is the ego to a true public, beyond the
  control of another private sphere, to harness
  and exploit it further for another demographic
  utopia. time, space, place may be getting real.

  what may be next, and for who, is unknown. a
  future hangs, within grasp, outside of reach. in
  silence, one can see it, there. here it, there. a
  hope exists, there. the void, is here. absence.
  loveless. extinction. the death of lifelessness.

  fear, sorrow, in being hated. in knowing wrong,
  yet trying still. in others, to please give another
  chance. what if many simply said 'i do not know'
  and we must work together to find a way ahead.
  unrealistic. idealistic. stupid. fantasy. nuclear war.

  who cares of governments. what is a constitution
  of a person, not post-person persona's personality,
  a living breathing being whose destiny is tied to all
  others in the decisions now made, and not made.
  naive, maybe, that friendships will outlast the pain.
  and, then, the work will begin, to make things turn.
  in the ways that are possible, suspended, waiting.
  the release of those forces, energies, area also an
  unknown. not a simple peace, yet a complex turn
  of events of a world scale, intimately local, which
  every person could contribute their unique skills.
  to realize the impossible, what may be considered
  unreal, giving up something to get something more.
  maybe it is illusions. maybe it is hatred. maybe it is
  power. maybe it is money. maybe it is conceit. and
  maybe it is already given up, privately, by many,
  and somehow language needs to be transcended
  and the physicality of bodies need to start working.
  a remaining factor is, there is so far no money in it.
  it is a different kind of profit, a balancing of cultures.

  this is shared, realizing it is probably arrogant to
  write this. quite stupid if a citizen here to do so, too.
  in that it will not help individually or communal wise.
  and may incite anger and hatred for positions, both
  for and against. though wrote as it is obvious here
  of a spatial division (of labor, of mind) which is at
  the crux of the blockage, adding this onto private-
  worldviews/psychologies, encouraged by training
  people by social engineering an economic class,
  calling it social policy while its society is now gone,
  and to see the threads hanging on, regrouping into
  other web weavings, reconfiguring, to regenerate
  as another thing, yet to be seen in larger scales.
  given the improbable nature of past events, it is
  of greatest concern not who Bush is running with
  for the presidency but who Cheney will be picking.
  if it is an impossibility for him to continue in office,
  it would seem most likely it will not happen yet as
  with other improbabilities, that makes it most likely.

  Cheney must be impeached, now, to move beyond.

  Cheney must be impeached. that is the end of words.
  the end of language. where reason begins here, and
  how to change a pattern of destruction, fear, loathing,
  deception, brutality, into places where people belong.


			IMPEACH CHENEY.