Entangled

2

I am trying to sleep. But I can't. I remember of a guy in a small room, surrounded by screens. Red bull, coffee, guarana. His face is red. His eyes are bloodshot. He hasn't slept in days. He is obsessed with the faces he sees on the TV and computer screens. He starts yelling uncontrollably. A pin holding a fema camps map falls down. Talking heads on CNN blow out a cloud of smoke. They go down first. NBC, MBSNC, CBS, Bs, they follow. He yells and cries. He looks at the wallpaper made of photos and newspapers. Bush, photos of him with petrol princes and sheiks, banksters, terrorists, Clintons, serbian bombings, Obama, drones. He rips it off the wall and throws it into the bin. He cries and falls n his knees. With the burning bin at his head he takes a fetal position. He cries until his voice gets a raspy tone , he cries until his voice is heard no more. He cries until he cant cry no more.

Finally the good guys arrive. One of them, kicks him. the others stop him but drag the guy out of his room. "Nut-case", "wacko" "such a waste of money" "gotta work 2 month to afford such a screen" "There's one left, we can watch the game"

One screen. A talking head. Vile, joking, a smirk. For him, for you. you can see it too. Looks closer. But not too close. They'll suck you in.

I know that guy. that guy was me. A few years ago. A promising journalist, writer and professor. A bum. a mental patient. an outcast.

And now, a promising journalist, a moneymaker, a deceitful strategist. You see, they messed, with my mind, so I decide to mess with them. All of them.

That moment when you cant trust nobody. It hits you. And when it hits you it stings. You, know that moment at night where it's just you and God. Everybody else is dim. But you think you re so damn important. And as atheist and self sufficient as you are, you know that when the fan hits the, well when shits hits the fanny, HE is there. But you still look for a fellow man to trust and be fooled by.

When you are so sick with the big screen, the Machines, the CNNs, the foxes, cnbsc, you turn to those who appear to be speaking "truth to power", and then you see big activist, Hero of the masses striking a deal with a media outlet, ran by a slave owning, sheik, when you see the rebel journalist, making an industry out of lies, cover-ups and deceit. When you see everyone that you though they were right and true, covered with a thin layer of colorless but damn stinking crap then you re thinking if there is a way to mes with them just like they messed with you. And you think if it's a way to bypass the ordinary joe, just like you, a way to go around him and not harm him, a way to fuck them up. Only them, the holders of state sanctioned, elite sanctioned truth.

You wonder if there is a way to counter and hit their machine, their propaganda power plant in a way that wont harm the goat, the sheep.

Taking a Baseball bat to that TV set, is the first thing on your mind, smashing and breaking that ipad, that iphone, where the Hero of the Masses, applauds the goat fucking sheik owned media as the voice for the voiceless, the heart bleeding liberal, true socialist, hardcore money binging capitalist inside, the life loving money grabbing, blood money cuckservative pushes money away to the chosen land.

That's the first step. But then it's just you, ignoring them, impassible to their lies, cutting out, any connection to them.

But that's a band-aid to a missile made wound. Soon, you're an outcast, an antisocial, a nut.

Most people try to stay sane or appear sane. But sometimes sanity looks like insanity to others. And sometime people push their obsession to the corner of their mind.

This airplane for example, we re all relaxing in our seats. Everybody knows there is a chance, 1 in a 100000, in a 10000 or 1 in a 1000. It doesn't matter. There is a chance we could go down and crash and burn. This thought would make everyone on this plane, hyperventilate, cry and scream ignoring every rational, cold logic decision. But they don't. Most fear death. It's the thing they fear most. They'll do anything to push this thought aside. Now anyone who would make em aware of this very thing, would be arrested and labeled as a nut.

"Im sorry sir, do you know whats the crash rate for the company we ll flying with" My co passenger is sleeping or he just relaxing with his headphones on. But someone heard it.

They shift their focus. Suddenly they look at me. I remain silent. For th rest of the flight, that someone will perceive me as a potential threat. I just got inside his brain, his neurons are on fire. Electric impulses are zapping through his brain.

I take out my pills and take a few. I uncork my bottle and gulp it down. I start breathing deeply. Now he is starting to calm down. I'm in the same position as him. Just an overtly concerned citizen.

Or am I. However he perceives me, the thought of a crash is going to stay with him.her until he gets off the plane. Maybe he ll try to push it away, but it will come back. In waves, stabbing, stinging a bit. The thought that he might die. A fact. It is very possible that we all might die. But, man people will push the truth as far as possible if it doesn't suit them, if it pushes them out of their comfort zones, their safe, secured zone.

I relax, lay back, chew on a pill and think about the guy back in the room with the TV screens, slowly going mad. He was a victim, just like the gentleman whose focus I immediately shifted through a simple suggestion. I lay back and smile calm. I'm getting better and better at it, every day.

o