A Crumbling Fugue of Songs
Written by Blakbeard on March 2, 2017
Despite all evidence, inhabitants of the reservoir of video souls can’t imagine that they are robots. How ironic is that— a robot that thinks it’s a soul that wants to be a machine? We’ve been robots all along, and yet we may not live to outgrow those filking colours we’ve been flying.
I don’t take Nietzschean eternal recurrence literally. Rather, I interpret it as a metaphor for how events in our lives unfold in patterns, often repetitive and seemingly beyond conscious control. The backstory is dark. We’re pre-programmed to suffer needlessly, satisfying atavistic urges while self-sabotaging via our own lurking, spurious entelechy. To put a positive spin on defeatism and self-fulfilling prophecy: as we mature, we become more of what we have always been. And that’s a comforting thought in a world with little continuity.
Dr. Yo’s Magic Lantern is not for everyone. Discontinue use and consult your doctor or witch doctor if you experience fatigue, nausea, or ennui.