Ok. So, I looked up Hypneroticamachia on the dictionary. No go. I found Hypnerotomachia Poliphili: a book written in 1499 by a Dominican monk in Venice. Very obscure. That monk was a tripper.

There are a number of subjects that I am interested in writing in at the moment. I hesitate though, because the subjects demand time an attention. I'm stingy with these things. Want to be less so.

So. Was talking to Carson this morning while driving. Talking about blogging turning juornalism inside out, about the internet. Carson mentioned that the internet was still free, mentioned that it narrowly avoided being privatized like the airwaves of telivision, radio, etc. This started me thinking about a scenario I had playing in my head about ten years ago.

It would be fair to say that I was psychotic, delusional, and acutely paranoid at the time. I picked up bits of information and history and wove them with conjecture into stories that would have made a tight little series of morden fiction, even though I was living them out as fact in my customized low-rider reality.

One scenario went like this:

Early 1960's: There is revolution in the air. The cultural landscape shimmered with an irridescense illuminated by the dawning of the psychedellic era. Change ceased to appear dangerous to the young and mentally flexible.

From another perspective, the kids were freaking out. The older, more "respnsible" members of the society were in control of the media and used it to portray the anomolous behaviours of the young as foolish, freakish brats. The cameras found the most dramatic examples of the Hippies, the Yippies, the Panthers and other revolutionaries, passing up the more subdued and coherent. The microphones zeroed in on the post verbal members of this movement, people whose experiences left them speechless. "Wow man" just didn't translate the new consciousness to the uninitiated. It served instead to alienate.

So, I conjectured that the brains and visionaries realized, on some level, that they would need to capture the media, and that meant creating the technology that the old guard would have to come to rely on. The Trojan Horse would be wheeled onto the world stage. Seen as a capitulation of the revolutionaries to the capitolists, business and government alike would open their gates and welcome in the gift of the new Tech. The internet serves as a crude mechanical model of our interconnectedness, the interconnectedness that precedes the division of country, religion, socioeconomic, etc.

The new media is free. The new journalism is free, or has the capacity to be free of commercial bias.

In my fevered scenario, the bottom would drop out of this Thechno Trojan Horse, and the minions of humanity would drop in behind the fortress of the Social Norms, and overwhelm them in their sleep with outrageous honesty. A doomsday bug for the thugs.

We should communicate freely. We should live on this planet freely. We should have access to water for free.

Should and shall share the same etymology.

My computer has been down. I went back to stone age writing. I'll fix the computer someday, when I can administer a laxitive to my financial constipation. So much to say. So much to pay.

It was a sweet gathering at the open mic last night. I counted 75 people at one point. Jamala came down to play and did a hour long set. People were transfixed on the synchronous hands of two facile players. I watched a baby that could barely stand determine to dance after watching the drumming and the dancing it inspired.

The good Dr. slipped me an envelope of green paper to help support me and these events. Much appreciated and needed this week. Gas and food will continue for a few more days. I am going to go eat right now, because I can. More later when I can get into it.