Somebody else’s copy of The Iliad showed up in dreamtime. I’d have to share the reading time with that someone else but that was all right since there was so much else to do.
Relative to story, this brings me back to the current status i.e. reading through word by word, line by line. The ending is contained in the story whether I’m aware of it or not. The ending can only come out of the story itself.
Operational words this morning: paperwork, fetishism, individual and that newer concept flowing out of the Security Agencies’ feeding frenzies: dividuals. That’s you, me, and everybody else that shows up as one dot among billions in the agency searches for The Algorithm that will Sniff it All, Know it All, Collect it All, Process it All, Exploit it All, and Partner it All. (In fact, there’s a seventh term lurking behind these i.e. screw the Partners, and move on to Control it All. In their vast game of Connect the Dots, national security agencies like to build algorithms based on their own paranoia.)
Which brings me back to fetishism. In this case, Secure Living through Algorithms* – but commonplace paperwork is part of the same mindset. The notion a person can only be dead if the proper paperwork has been filled out in the proper way. Or, as told to me by an elected official the other day: the fact your aged father can die awaiting treatment because, when you filled out the first set of papers, his condition hadn’t evolved to include crucial symptoms belonging to another set of forms administered by a different branch of the same Department. And God forbid you should sign on the line requesting your name in block print, and place the block print on the line calling for your signature. Etc.
However. Notwithstanding growing rumors of bigger, more monstrous things about to befall us: the early barely-dawn sky, so clear. A small boy’s face as he walked home across the bridge yesterday. So proud to call out: “Salut, Lucie!” in front of his pals. Every time I ask a question during the writing workshops at his school, he sits in the back row and waves his hand like a flag caught in a wind tunnel.
Dividuals, the National Security types call us. Are they dividuals too?
*In this context, the words Secure Living = other ‘dividuals’ die when the weapons destroy their town/hospital/school/wedding, not yours.