A CRY FOR HATE

Hate is not all that we have left, but it remains the easiest we have left, and a declaration of our humanness, our aliveness, still, because ours, unlike all before us, is a world of superpowers, superpowers for all but with none of them under our control, this is true, think about it, a supercomputer in our pocket, in everyone’s pocket, a super earth-overlaying computing machine accessible with our voice, soon our face, and yet our own life, our own relevance, increasingly less so, buried beneath data and consumption, screen times and keywords, we tease our psyche, we rage against the machine, awed by it, fearful of it, hopeful through it, and even marvel that the very makers of the machine have themselves lost control, a few clever Russians confounding its algorithms, handfuls of sheltered and damaged teens manipulating its global discourse, the giddy unmasking of our truths, revealing our darkest, some do it for dollars, some for fuck it, the collective toxicity leading Americans to take aim at one another, an emerging civil war pitting one against one, all against all, for no better reason than our impotence at forcing the Other to acknowledge us, agree with us, be like us, accept like us, deny like us, faith like us, nothing else left, our ability to build, construct, create rapidly slipping away, despite all the superpower tools availing themselves to us, each of them starkly reminding us we are now serf to the Machine, we may access Giant Brain, beckon Comfort Voice — Alexa, play Mozart’s concerto for flute and harp — and instantly recognize its beauty, but just as instantly become distracted from its glory, a new tweet, a new share, the newest recommendation, barricading us from creating anything so grand as before, and so instead we make it money money money, ass ass ass, pussy pussy pussy, kill kill kill, the pharma taking hold, the lies keeping steady, but its all so fragile, like our phones we’ve hit the pavement and we get up cracked, but there’s no time for a fix, no money for a do-over, the shattered pebbles of glass weaving into our flesh, like digital bits into our brain, we stare at the broken screen, see our self, seek our self, look, look at me, see, see me, hear me, validate me, with the return response enough to keep us tethered, spinning wheel, food pellet, life on view, isolated, behind the glass, but we push forth, confident, we are the future and the future is vast, open, so open there can be multiple genders, or none at all, we can transform our sex, delete our past, erase our tracks, edit our genes, hack our brains, animal organs supplementing us, electronics enhancing us, boundless potential, but none of it nearing our soul, none unbreaking our spirit, because we like our spirit are just one, and just one in this world no longer matters, not when the aggregate knowledge, the ruling algorithm, the one screen, the Giant Brain and the Comfort Voice are always there, watching, listening, waiting, and altering how we view our self, how we view each other, making it almost impossible to even perceive value in the one, which we acknowledge makes sense because the aggregate world continues to get better, more democratic, more prosperous, we are sure of this, at least enough of the time, but people want to matter, some especially so, matter so much they embrace hate and death and killing and no, of course making sure everyone matters won’t stop this week’s mass murder nor next week’s, nor end gun crimes, nor prevent suicide, but the farther we arc our worst to the margins the better, that’s how we move ahead, but I get it, this is also the age of the non-rational, we have outsourced our thinking and calculating and decision-making to the machine and, as humans always do, we instead do what our machines cannot, and so that means crazy, emotional, faithful, joyful, hatful, violent, tribal, let the computers and processors and AI and Big Data and algorithms take care of the non-optimized human functions, I understand, I know that I can’t appeal to you using data or numbers or facts because those are already available to you whenever you wish them, which is why I will step into the irrational, me, here, to see you, hear you, touch you, to maybe help you so you can maybe help me so we can maybe help everyone find our way through this madness, a madness we did not create but which hatched from our response to our creations, so okay let’s do something to end all this hate, all this violence, to limit the mass shootings, because what if — think of this — what if all those people standing outside of abortion clinics for the past 40 years, the people we ignored or mocked, what if that’s now us, every single one of us, we are all now on the sidelines, resolute perhaps, righteous certainly, but changing nothing, not a thing, even though we know it’s all wrong, it’s profoundly wrong, it’s killing us, killing our soul, only it’s not some amorphous concept like unborn or fetus or clump of cells or, let’s face it, very few of us want to have a child when we’re not ready or don’t want to be with that particular person, not anymore, or if, god forbid, there’s something gone terribly wrong in it, poor thing, it happens, but I think of those people standing there along the walkway to the abortion clinic and wonder if that is the fate of all of us so that decades later we’re still killing off one another, innocent and non-innocent alike, because we couldn’t bring ourselves to solve the painful, we couldn’t place a hard stop on our selfishness, we could too easily look away, until 2057, say, when the mass shootings are over 100 persons each time and it happens 3 or 4 of 44 times a week, which is why, following yesterday’s mass killing, I’m now okay with any and every restrictive gun control laws you propose, seriously, have at it, even though I am skeptical it will do much good because I don’t think this is about guns, not really, instead we are dealing with a new breed of serial killer, the kind that can only bubble up in this toxic brew, but go ahead, please, try, try anything, ban, destroy, never again make AR-15s, or automatic weapons, or semi-automatic weapons or any of the other weapons that we label as automatic and semi-automatic but which aren’t but which doesn’t matter because regardless of what kind they are or make they are they bring easy death in mass numbers, because I know we have to try, we have to try to ban these things, destroy these things, not because it will end this but because we must take a stand for life, we must take a stand that we are in charge of our creations, and we must likewise make it plain to all that once these bans are in place there will still be those who try — and, sadly, succeed — at killing many, but that’s acceptable in a sense because only then, after all the rage and troll comments and posturing and laws, and failures, only then will we realize that we must restore our spirit, that’s where our focus must be, and we won’t restore nor re-affirm nor renew nor rebuild our spirit until this truth is out and clear to us, which dear God I hope is soon.