A Dopamine Haibun
3/11/2024 (fun with forms)
A Dopamine Haibun Con/Jur/d, 3/11/2024 This labeling, this repackaging, as hypnotizing as it is cynical, feels new. Remember the friend with the commanding name, Roman, whose wolfish presence was always welcome, unable to tear his eyes away from the TV in the faux Welsh pub on the aptly named Kensington Circus in Albany, California? He belonged to the ‘Kill The TV Cult,’ the post-punk cultural outliers who never came to grips with corporate manipulation, and their propagandists who spun doctored themselves as advertising agencies or marketing departments. He had no immunity, having never inoculated himself with the Living Image, the 24 hour VHS binge, stimulants as a necessary honey for the downing of medicines -- later, I understood the importance of including Cronenberg’s Videodrome to avoid peculiar manifestations of the new flesh -- Now? The message of othering, subjection, control is streamlined, able to bypass natural immunity, directly injected into the auric field, the superspreaders, Facebook, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter and their many imitators, play a fast and loose 3-card-monte, switching your soul for the opinions of a hyper-demiurge, hell-bent on twisting the real to accord with its perverted and misanthropic expectations, which includes -- not limited to -- excusing the Addiction Deindustrialization Daemon, with its frankly mechanistic and boring view of the world and its occupants as parasitical to the childish expectations of The Great Boy (A pre-century heteronormative childish power dynamic enshrined despite better tools for dissecting gender and genre norms) -- Don’t know how you do it, survive this onslaught of reductive reasoning, this hyper fixation on a neurochemical like dopamine turning the paradigm on its head, a familiar subterfuge for those in abusive relationships, where the innocent chemistry of evolutionary biology, one of the multitudes of reasons, you are here, enjoying the diminishing oxygen advantage, has now been scapegoated, making you responsible for the violent and deceptive actions of the criminal class (it is your dopamine, not the ADD hyper-urge substitution for personal desire) -- these very words, with their breathless secular (a deep atheism to the sentience and all powerful actions of the Invisible Hand) enthusiasm are to be framed as a maladaptive love of language fueled by my personal reliance on dopamine and, if you have followed this touchscreen scroll of languaging to HERE (where one is tempted to put an X;but doesn’t want to appear old skool, err, even younger I couldn’t quite get away with that, school) you also suffer from an excess of dopamine, a hyperfixation on compensating for the puritanical vibe of all-work-and-no-play, the denial of your right to ecstasy and happiness driven by your true self, not the plastic wrapped, repackaged versions of your life, upgraded and sold back to you, at a higher price, indicating the greater worth, once examined by the certified professional class, than the self you sold in the first place. Don’t know how you and how brave of you, to live this way, in all this, genocide in one direction, self-hate in all the other directions, and you can’t even afford to die, THANK THE FREE MARKET FOR GO FUND ME! It was simpler when we smoked tobacco, we knew we were being lied to and there would be consequences for our poverty, for our depression, for refusing to play The Great Boy’s Game of winning, disruption and exploitation -- the moment of silence, the driven outdoors because of a full body neurochemical need, the moment of quiet, the refusal to be reduced to product and seeing: Dopamine, wrong word cigarette in sunshine, red maple tree shouts, Hi!
Much love,
Con/Jur/d, 3/11/2024