The First Few Days in The Matrix Are Hardest
I’m back in the matrix. I must say, the first few days are psychologically the hardest as I readjust to Faustian/Anglo-American machine culture and the political/social dystopia the U.S. has turned into. I will transform from active participation in society (I feel happy and free when I’m in Latin America) to being a ghost again.
I despise machine culture, as so eloquently described in Man and Technics. I see these prophetic words all around me:
All things organic are dying in the grip of organization. An artificial world is permeating and poisoning the natural. Civilization has itself become a machine that does, or tries to do, everything in a mechanical fashion.
I am becoming Faust.
The Faustian [Western] thought begins to be sick of machines. A weariness is spreading, a sort of pacifism in the battle with Nature. Men are returning to forms of life simpler and nearer to Nature; they are spending their time in sport instead of technical experiments. The great cities are becoming hateful to them, and they would fain get away from the pressure of soulless facts, from enslavement to the Machine, and the clear cold atmosphere of technical organization.
My resentment of the place grows each time I come back and get badgered by Police State USA. Some customs official really wanted to know why I was out of the country for so long. I plainly told the guy in a deadpan voice, “To get away from what this country has turned into. That’s why I was gone so long.” He looked stunned and kept asking nonsensical questions and I kept giving him answers like that one. As if it was any of his business what I do or how long I stay gone. Men are now persecuted for leaving this hellhole. How did we go from being free men to asking government permission to travel?
As I drove from the airport to meet up with friends, of course rent-seeking cops had drivers pulled over all along the highway cleaning out their wallets and conditioning them to accept micromanagement of their behavior.
Women, rather than being pretty, thin and sweet now have permanent bitch faces, are fat, and abrasive now that I’m back in a thoroughly socially engineered environment that prides itself on stripping people of their humanity.
Friendships and family have broken down. Everyone remains in consumption mode when they’re on the “spend” part of the sleep-work-spend cycle. Machine-produced food is all around me, being sold at high prices. Politics permeates the air. Identity politics has transformed everyone into each other’s enemies. Even at the convenience store a “Busted” tabloid prides itself on publicly shaming those sheep who don’t obey the dictates of their shepherd. Nobody has time to have any fun because “I gotta work tomorrow.” What’s to like about this fucking place?
In other news, I’m now prepping for my motorcycle road trip coming next month. I will ghost across the nation on two wheels, while we still have freedom to move about. The natural world remains unmarred by human folly in certain areas of the country. Then comes another work cycle, either driving a truck or workamping (haven’t decided yet). All I can think about is getting out of this insane asylum again, which can’t come soon enough.
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