One thing we may not at all realize and that the denialist does, is that it doesn’t matter that something is true, but only that an official story has been accepted.
This explains why lies perpetuate themselves as does culture, which has the necessity of being based on lies in order to facilitate order.
The concept of a fully integrated human being.
Meaning all compartments are one. Work life, sex life, car life, all gone. Made into one thing. With the coming of the Internet, the office life ends and brings it into the home. The end of privacy inside the bubble of inclusive space reigns supreme.
Primarily though, this can be seen in one’s ideology where belief is often dichotomized from action; splintered into a thousand social bubbles. Pull this way, or that.
The individualist society’s of the past where one can play two or three, or ten sides of a fence, as seen most notably in House of Cards for instance; will take over. This is another part of what ensures the eventual demise of national authority as cultural overseer. Corporations took over the job of the post-war government stronghold and pushed it into fruition with the 60’s. Now it is the Corporation, the next centralist system to be taken down. The next paradigm, the feudal niche.
The extreme ends of Narcisism are evident under electronic conditions to begin to appear to be its opposite: the smart phone’s constant state of tactile-reflection is very mentally rutting to the ego in its collectivist message, and so to speak; goes SuperNova.
Meaning, that in imploding upon itself, (the ego) i.e. looking at yourself “too much” whether it be on Facebook or FaceTime—you suddenly realize with electronic speed, that now instead of being in an isolated living room theatre, you have the rest of the world visiting ad-infinitum.
This virtual sort of tribalism is the feudal precursor to the physical based, off-grid living we’ll be doing very soon enough. Always remember the Hunger Games and O’Brian will always be torturing us since, and as McLuhan says: Terror is the prevailing emotion in the new eras.
Aside from paranoia and joy.
I’ll add that this also joins us in a very Buddhist sort of way. This comes from the Western belief of progress and lack of relativity that the electronic jungle wipes out. Boundless space is infinite so you don’t feel so great in the distances traveled per se. Medieval is this boundless future full of fantastic, with such things in it…
From a voice file:
This is my own observation. I think that it is inherently cerebral. At the moment. At the moment. I suppose that will change when we are through media able to visualize everything that’s in our heads as some kind of (no doubt) 3d display tech, in which the viewer is now participant for real, in a void or vacuum of a million balloons he must now sort out. But even then that’s cluttered, and we will need once again to sort it out, and once again, if not permanently, overabundance of information is the problem.
Because the Internet is basically text now, and will be inevitably voice dominant in the future (with text only as subsidiary form and filter) –we instinctively have an emphasis on words as filter bits in which we are funneled most of our information whether to each other in bed making love, chatting in our cars while talking to lost loves, or building a website; it is all involvement with the same medium, over and over. Looking at nothing but what are in reality, literally, flat planes through which our eyes pass through maybe a centimeter.
We will then gain the loss of perspective of the New Guinean Jungle tribesman, forever surrounded by the trees and no perspective, nothing literally beyond a meter or two. Who thought upon visiting as Joseph Campbell and McLuhan point out, thought the buffalo on the horizon were ants. Why? Because for some moments at least, I don’t know, maybe minutes, maybe a day or a week or many years, but the tribesman literally thought the buffalo, boar sized beasts the size of three men put together, were ants crawling somehow in their vision like flies to swat from their faces, and I don’t remember, maybe they did.
“My Dad taught me many things.
Right here in this room.”
– Michael Corleone, The Godfather II
It felt as though a door had been shut on a party in the next room.
But the sound that seemed to be all around me, yet outside of me, the sound usually muffled by a shutting door, I knew, wasn’t a sound at all, but a feeling. The feeling that I was waking up on the eve of something new, big, the noise next door making me heavy with excitement.
It was a strange kind of immersive feeling. I lay in my old blue sleeping bag I think I’d found in the closet, unravelling its bright red inner lining from my body. I thought, “This is it, here it is: you’re free–finally free”
I lay in the basement of my father’s new townhouse, well, it was still somewhat new to me, he’d been remarried four years I think, at that time. It was the early morning of January 11th, 2005, I had just arrived once again from being away, which so characterized my twenties, this time from being in France, married with child for roughly a little over three years.
I’d left them, well, so to speak, after not having a job basically the entire duration of that time living in a prison with a person I discovered I had very little in common with, happened to marry, happened to have a daughter with, and stayed for that long–for that reason alone.
It had that this is a new life’ feeling. God I love that feeling, so fresh, like I’d never lifted a finger in that land before. But I was in the place I’d grown up, a few neighborhoods off from Springfield, in Annandale, Virginia.
Virginia never felt mythical, or enchanted in any way. Now it does, looking back, and each time I re-arrive there. Of course so much has changed, it’s risen into a sprawl comparable to LA now, and was well on its way, even at that time.
My dad’s old glass cased Sony stereo system with big ol’ black speakers rose up from the floor with some sort of oak or mahogany imitation wood.
I had turned on the lamp and remembered that, of all things, of all people, my old High School English teacher, Mrs. Rice, had picked me up from Dulles the night before. She was Jewish, had absolutely huge, enormous black hair, and quite a homely appearance, which was something she always would openly admit, which I always found interesting. It was even more interesting to me though, that she was once ecentric and yet, on every occasion I came in contact with her, had a talk with her, what have, you, she never talked about anything but the most asinine things.
We had a funny discussion, or rather, not quite a discussion, but a conversation in the car that was a bit different and at first made me think she was in fact the usual result of eccentricity: somewhat interesting . She wanted to know everything…Stay Tuned for More From Neal Cormier: Memoir I.