Apocalypse Porn

The writing is on the wall. Luminescent glyphs in an ancient language older than mankind. It's difficult to make out the exact wording, as no memory is able to translate the cryptic forms. But, the message is clearly meant to raise awareness to the present dilemna we face. Perhaps it is directions to locate the escape hatch located in the shadows of solipsist insularity. Perhaps the figures are a portentous warning of an immanent hazard. A phenomenological representation of ontological proportions, similar to inscriptions in the sands of time. The hour glass is draining the last of its grains and awaits inversion as a shadow embraces the last fleeting moments of its essence before sunset. Remnants of Babylon. Artifacts of Atlantis. Memories of Maya. The illusion of singularity and self-hood have corrupted the collective unconsciousness into a cosmic dance of auto destruction and convulsive catastrophism. We crouch behind our own projection of social harmony awaiting the invitation to the killing floor. The infinite fractal of self justification is beginning to falter into oblivion, spinning off on an uncomplimentary course of fatalism. As we brick up the only possible exit to our possible mitigation of industrial doom, we turn our backs on the next generation and join in on the toxic circle jerk of technological tautology. Our immediate convenience is far more important than any long term consideration of consequence. Having tacitly accepted this tenet of existential angst, we no longer even empathize with Chronos and his horde. We passively accept our fate, not even flinching as the vultures start to feed on our eyes. For the bright lights of binary beautification have lulled us into a trance of tragic sedation from the truth. In a slumber, we trod onwards toward the bright light emanating from the spires of a tower which has no name and no quarter for the mortal.
It was once scratched into a wall that we are all god in the process of evolution. Intuitively, this appears to be an accurate description of theoretical modernism. Assuming we are actually progressing through stages of conscious development, this profound graffio mirrors the social illusion of industrial advancement and facilitation. Perhaps all gods are fated to destroy themselves in the fog of self-importance that follows from material recognition and deification. Standing atop the mountainous artificiality we have defined for ourselves as reality, there remains little room for considerations of continuity and deference to our creator. Having consolidated such a concept into our very perceptions of interactivity, we now have convinced ourselves we are gods. We are the process of evolution necessary for our eminence and our folly. We have created ourselves from scratch and thus, feel justified in destroying ourselves. Just as the Ouroborus devours its own tail, we have satisfied ourselves in consuming our own waste. The cyclical helix of time spirals downwards into eschatological vestiges of reconciliation. The idiot daemon goddess awakes and begins her devastating dervish swirl of deconstruction. As we fuck ourselves in succession, we are oblivious to the blade of Damocles perched immanently above our heads. Indeed, there can be nothing joyous for the person over whom some fear always looms. The sword sways in the wake of the daemon goddesses dance and begins its perilous descent into the abyss of being.

Modernism had failed yet we still cling to its vestiges like a stubborn tick, hoping it will yield one last blood meal to sate our thirst. Maybe when the atmosphere has reached its critical capacity for CO2/NOx/O3/VOCs we will simply shelter ourselves in our cars and comfort ourselves listening to old CCR tracks as the birds begin to fall from the skies. Like canaries in the mine shaft, the species of the planet are rapidly waning in number as the toxic shock of human progress begins to cross the final hurdle momentarily preventing mass genocide of the biosphere. Already, in early spring, the air quality is rapidly declining and the fogs of industrial exploitation are bellowing northward toward the poles. This winter was particularly long and grueling in S/ON which has led people to conveniently forget the immanence of global catastrophic change. As the spring progresses into summer and the air becomes a soup of particulates and synthetic pharmaceuticals global warming will, once again, become significantly salient and particularly poignant. As the elderly and infirm begin to drop in the streets, gasping for air, the majority will enclose themselves in their vehicles and maximize the air conditioning, convincing themselves that all will be resolved through denial and ignorance. The way it always has been in the first world. Through the categorical enslavement of the poor and those who have not been bright enough to follow suit in exploiting every last natural resource available, the status quo has succeeded in finally marginalizing themselves. The majority has consequentially barricaded itself into a position of maximum demand and dwindling supply. Thinking that we must drive to work, that we must produce more waste than product or resource, that we must consume at pathological proportions far exceeding our necessities, that we must indirectly endorse the death of innocents in order to maintain our hedonistic lifestyles, that we must turn a blind and ambivalent eye from all the blatant unsustainable structures of maintenance we have constructed for ourselves. No matter how guilty I feel for fucking the earth, I can still experience illusory redemption by participating in earth hour, by buying organic, by composting my greens. Unfortunately, Gaia does not care what argumentation the parasites use to defend their position of self-absorption and vanity. Just as we would swat at a mosquito siphoning our blood, so will She respond in deadly fashion. The end of time will be relatively unexpected and swift, similar to the Boxing Day tsunami of December 26, 2004. In a flash of light, in a ball of fire, in a moment of unbridled reconciliation, the goddess will strike, attempting to rid herself of the cosmic insult that has been deposited on her epithelium. The entire history of human development on the planet is a relatively microscopic endurance taken from the perspective of universal time. The planet has been slumbering in space for millions of years, and our brief appearance has awoken her. And She's fuckin' pissed. More frustrated by the pace of geologic evolution and cosmic delay than in the momentary inconvenience of anthropocentric human phenomenology, She prepares to mount a campaign of sterilization, the likes of which have yet to be experienced by humanity. Just as we would wake up in our bed infested with body lice and institute a mass extermination, so will She do the same. I find it morbidly ironic that in our oblivion and pride we have condemned ourselves to discontinuation. Seeing as our genetic recombination concealed our degeneracy in the illusion of superiority, however, it's only fitting that we now face the global eradication of our germ. For how far did we expect to advance in this time-space continuum without the logic to foresee the consequences of our colonization and indiscriminate urbanization of that which cannot be abstracted into reductive empirical components of utilitarian opportunism? Perhaps we can simply get in our cars and drive off into the sunset like so many cinematic lemmings. Knowing our capacity for prudence, we would likely take a wrong turn and drive off a sheer cliff face, frantically and mechanically following one another to our misfortune and demise. After all, all's well that ends well.

The status quo consciousness has realized and enacted a separation or aberration of the mind (alienatio) insofar as the deification of modernism and industrialism have institutionalized the separation from the source (Being). This separation has resulted in a mass insanity characterized by denial, self-justification and the normalization of untenable and unsustainable practices which have become embedded in the very fabric of our culture. The status quo is oblivious to the injurious nature of its actions and continues onwards in blindness as an automaton, as a juggernaut of industrial death. Change is secretly perceived as necessary but openly regarded as seditious and insubordinate in nature. We should no longer view ourselves as existent within nature as we have chosen (or been coerced) to regard ourselves as somehow being separate from nature, which religion has assured us is regressive and derogatory. The dualism of human perception and consciousness has created a schism in our understanding of reality and our dependence upon it. We have assumed ourselves to be superficially significant and have thus endeavored to construct an artificial world of technological contingencies in which to subsist, relying on the environment purely as commodity and property with which our exploitations secure the transference of necessary resources which we cannot synthesize ourselves. This reliance on technology has further exacerbated the divide between status quo consciousness and reality. In reality, the human race are frail and insignificant portions of a bigger picture, the scope of which is immeasurable. Yet , due to the dualism and paradoxical nature of human sense perception, we have assumed fiefdom within an artificial sphere of importance which we ourselves control and dictate the direction, nature and limitations of. This may satisfy those with dictatorial tendencies and extreme vanity, it may also garner the illusion of progress and advancement in facility and capability for a short period of time. This time, however, is limited to the present and does not possess enough prudence in order to ensure the survival of the species for more than a few millennia. From the perspective of geologic time, from Gaia's perspective, the entire screenplay of humanity is but a short play, a tragedy, a comedy of errors. We behave as if the planet belonged to us when, in reality, we belong to the planet. She made us (or at least allowed us to develop to our current state) and She can dissolve us just as easily. The grave paradoxical nature of modern status quo consciousness and behavior has influenced its members into behaving as if we were immortal and omnipotent. Characteristics normally ascribed to the gods. Are we vain and naive enough as a species to honestly believe that we possess the power and the temperance to control our own fate and destiny? Technology and its facility have unfortunately made this consideration accessible for all and concealed the more pertinent perspective that we are, in fact, simply a sentinel race of drones sent to exploit and then assassinate one another in moments of pique and assumed significance. We are vain enough to believe that our activities are destroying the natural ecosystems which spawned us (ostensibly speaking, of course) when we are simply destroying ourselves methodologically by eliminating our biological niche of opportunity. Is this due to a lack of foresight or a connivance of Atropos? With all the nobility and tactical brilliance contained within the human mind, it seems inconceivable that we would not be able to account for our own actions and necessitate change when required. Thus, it appears clear that there must be an alien entity observing us from afar (or above) which regards us just as we regard our environment, as property the ownership of which to be transferred accordingly in some cosmic scheme beyond our scope or comprehension. After all, He created us in his image (or in His nature). As such, we are doomed to consume our surroundings without any regard for self sustainability. Parasites, cosmic or microscopic, do not have the capacity to feel empathy for their host. They may not choose to abandon their purpose, as this itself would be expeditious suicide. Parasites are genetically programmed to continue on their quest of consumption and reliance. They are also programmed to evolve a methodology for concealment from the host in order that the host not remove them. Of course, parasites ultimately have a limited life span unless they can locate another suitable host to continue to sustain them. It is for this very reason that our masters plan on relocating us, placing us on another planet able to support life as we know it, in order that we continue to work and endlessly exploit and accumulate resources for intergalactic trade and commerce. We have become an alien nation of slaves, partitioned sufficiently in our comprehension and perception that we do not enlighten and rise up but still remaining intelligent enough to perform our duties diligently and relentlessly. We are property, our owners having traded us repeatedly throughout the ages of human history. Myths and deities change, but we have remained the same, stubborn and easily led with empirical worth and reward. Past empires have fallen, past antediluvian societies have disappeared from the face of the earth. We will encounter the same fate. We were designed to exploit, propagate and infest the epithelium of the planet. We have done so and now alienate ourselves. The alienation of our very being is an opportunity for evolution to progress in our absence.

It's only April and the photochemical smog is already hovering over the region like a vulture patiently waiting for its quarry to lose strength and collapse. Ah, the smell of success. The choking, asphyxiating, nauseating smell of success. Rather, suck cess. The first smog warnings are a month early than normal. Every year the smog gets worse and every year we continue to increase our greenhouse gas emissions on a national level. The surprising factor is not the smog, but the fact that we are even surprised at its morbid extent and concentration. Like a chemist gone mad, the status quo juggernaut of doom continues to titrate toxins into the atmosphere at unprecedented levels clearly unconcerned with the long term effects or consequences. Fuck the future, fuck our children, fuck the environment, we NEED to drive and consume in an unsustainable fury in order to succeed, in order to advance, in order to maintain our corrupt and self-absorbed lifestyles if only for a few more years. The apocalypse is right around the corner anyways, so why should we care? The fact remains that no matter what corrupted influence the industrial robber barons have exerted on our psychology, we must still take responsibility for our own actions, our own grievous insults towards life itself in order to exist in this Machiavellian nightmare we are languishing within. Cars are simply mobile coffins which give the illusion of freedom and dynamic motion. In reality, we are already dead and rotting in the earth like overripe vegetables that have fallen from the stalk. This illusion we co-exist within is only a measure of our limited scope and perceptual pathologies. The more we believe our senses and conform to the status quo, the more we contaminate the environment uncontrollably. This is the first generation in which our children will perish before we do. Not because of war or famine but because of avarice and imprudence. Our children will die of oxygen deprivation or they will die from gross intoxication due to all the contaminants in the food, water and air. Contaminants that modern science should have been able to prevent the generation of, or at the very least limit the production of. The problem has been that all the foresight spent on speculating about possible future eventualities has been spent from the perspective of finances and capital gain. Money will not be able to buy one oxygen when there is no longer sufficient amounts left in the atmosphere to sustain life as we know it. The atmosphere will become saturated with nitrogen oxide species, sulfur dioxide, carbon monoxide and ozone as well as litany of other gases unable to support life. Much of this toxic stew will remain in the air longer than we will remain on the planet, preventing rehabilitation efforts for generations. Of course, this may very well be the last generation able to define itself as such, as we catapult towards the brink of the apocalypse at breakneck speed and without any concern for the consequences of our actions. Technology itself is like a Trojan horse, superficially attractive and alluring but concealing a deadly and certain finality. The moon appears yellow in the nicotine like haze blanketing the urban centers and you cannot even go outside and enjoy a breath of fresh air any longer. Too much time is spent choking for air to appreciate the great outdoors. The eyes water from the assault of chemical vapors and the larynx contracts attempting to protect itself from the poisonous fumes. It is becoming cruel and unusual punishment to send ones children outside to play. It is tantamount to locking them in the garage and starting the car. We've normalized the smog, however, and we don't even notice it to the extent we used to. It's just become part of the industrial landscape. Another necessary evil of progress. One we will not be able to survive or explain away as we lay on the ground gasping for air. We have long confused sufficiency with necessity and now begin to suffer the consequences of this impropriety. Of course, by the time we truly realize the deadly nature of our mistake, the birds will be falling from the sky and we will lay gasping for air on a moonscape scarred by industrial effluent and its catastrophic corruption of purpose and meaning. I have come to know the smog well, enduring a relationship with it that is far more intimate than any lover encountered in the past. I breath it in every day where it caresses my blood at the alveolar interface in the deep recesses of my lungs. The contaminants in the air then enter my bloodstream where they partition themselves according to their lipophilia and pharmacokinetic nature. These poisons then sequester themselves in my organs, fat and interstitial spaces; lurking in the corners of my body, preparing to strike when the time is right. The smog is my contemporary lover. Ephemeral and enigmatic. Seductive and salubrious. Destructive and deadly. She takes my breath away, like a good lover should. Yet she does not offer it's return, nor does she offer any reprieve. Like a thief in the night, she steals away in a curl of smoke, hoarding any air that might still be obtainable. I have seen the future of global health and the smognosis is grim.