"Imagine the problem is not physical. Imagine the problem has never been physical, that it is not biodiversity...the whales, the loss of jobs...imagine that it goes deeper, right to the core of what we call our civilization...that our civilization, our governments are sick and that we are mentally ill and spiritually dead and that all our issues and crises are symptoms of this deeper sickness" (138-9).
"It is time to consider the inevitable: the rupture and collapse of the last empire, us" (234). There must be some branch of physics to explain a history where alternative states exist in the branching universe, string theory of possible selves in the billions. These result from all the choices made and not made. The not made lead to the not not made in the trillions, computer chips stored in the heel of the genome back to the stone. You thought it was the head, but it is the heel. Only immigration status, financial records, inconsequential bios are head bound. But that's the problem, the known. We take alternative histories with Bowdeen's unnatural history as speculative. Only the majority and minority views make the unchanging absolute. The physics of it is a hopeless fabrication of the endless universe, white wheelbarrow beside the red chickens. If history is Alice phantastes it is majority protocol too. Science does believe in the absolute, the majority view. All histories are not simultaneously true for the majority. This explains America, Bowdeen's unnatural war being lost along side the optimistic view that we can still win the war lost. Majority history is the best of all possible worlds censored for national security. Its platitudes deny the horror of its heart. History is this Trojan horse built to hide the greatest conspiracy at the hands of the unknown cause. Oh do not ask what it, Bowdeen takes us for a visit. Meanwhile eat Wheaties. I heard on Radio Zen rule # eight, appreciate diversity, but Whitehead and Russell, Albert North and Bertrand, said that DIVERSITY IS THE NEGATION OF IDENTITY (Principia Mathematica, 216), so I went to the antique mall naked, walked among dealers, shoppers, fakers, and honest ones. Can you tell them apart as if they were alternative histories, all true, but not all good?
Like the cheek teeth of a lion (Joel) the prophet says what comes of the blessed Jerusalem and of the Chosen is its unnatural history. Our Jerusalem, a blessed American hope of the ages, of Whitman not Dario, America of Roosevelt, anti-politic, America of war on dogs, where governments tingle at the sound of money, is not for Bowden. Bowden walks miles at night in the desert past the blooming white cactus, caching water. Bowden drives at 105 out of Denver, races Hunter Thompson to the pueblos to take the oath. Maybelline and Jack, they want to get high. His compassion lies in the ditch with the wretched, upside down, fingers moving. Who knows but the words come out of the ground from some spring of Erebus, bitter water or clean, so clean it makes us see?
We have to tread lightly. There are many ways to offend. If we say Bowdeen is among minor prophets it is not just their names we spurn. Micah, Amos, Joel, Hosea, Bowdeen. None are Jonah either, lamenting the gourd with a sense of fun, swallowed here, puking there. It's what they say makes intolerable, not just in your face, but in your ear.Pray they do not get in your mind and turn you to Nineveh. "Therefor I will wail and come to America. Howl! I will go stripped and naked, for her wound is incurable" (Micah). Roll in the dust you who plan evil at night and practice it in the morning. All the graven images beaten to pieces, the high places of Judah - Jerusalem (Micah). Search out the mysteries of Esau, violence against brothers. Make you bald at the very Mount of Esau (Obadiah). They see Yah before the altar digging sheol. From the top of Carmel to the bottom of the sea, righteousness turns to hemlock for those who carry the star of Moloch. Taken away on their backs with pruning hooks. Sell and buy the poor. The top of Carmel withering (Amos). A famine of hearing where fats overflow the mind.
The takeaway after sleep is that we are of the earth. If you read this book you will get it. And earth is what we are, of the land, sea, sky and air. This should not need saying except that is the war we lost, among others, a connection to the land, which is ourselves, and to the women and children, who are ourselves. Just in time he says it, just before Google X, Square, Twitter, and Singularity universalize and monetize the human right out into orbit where they never touch earth again. And this is seen as enlightenment. Now go read History Wold.
When not despoiling the golden age with satiric anthropological theories of Orcs, or Oracles, a mockery of the primitive married to the divine, Oracles being code for "the shining ones" mated to the beastly Orc, of which continuing episodes appear, and otherwise as inventor of that submersible epidemic of obesity called Guapa Pop, an examination of the appetite of all literature as primal hunger, a would-be Swift questions the acceleration of humanity toward these and other myths. AE Reiff's investigations of art, fiction and ceramic sculpture are more or less indexed at Encouragements for Planting during business hours.
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