I wanted to write about the conversion of consciousness into the unspeakable dross of everyday life but I couldn’t know what I was talking about. I couldn’t marshal my thoughts; I couldn’t focus on whatever it was that I thought I wanted to say. My mind was hopping randomly from one thing to another as is its wont. It was jumping from one steaming great pile of associations to another in a completely senseless manner. And yet – notwithstanding this – it still made perfect sense to me. It still made perfect sense to me. We all have to believe in the things that we believe in after all. We are compelled to do so by forces beyond our understanding….
Not only did it make sense to me, it became my entire philosophy, it became what we might quite rightly refer to as ‘a fully-fledged metaphysical system’. I became known as The Grand Garbage Head. I became a savant. I even wrote a book on the subject – I wrote many books on the subject. ‘What’s your philosophy?’ people would ask me. and I would tell them. I would immediately fill them in as to all the important points. I would explain all about it. All total nonsense of course; it was pure nonsense through and through and that was the ironic thing. I was so very into it and yet it was pure baloney from beginning to end. As any fool would immediately have pointed out without even the slightest difficulty. Eventually I got my comeuppance of course but that wasn’t until I had wasted many, many years of my life. Decades even. ‘But what else would you have been doing, for God’s sake?’ you ask me with palpable derision, ‘what else would you have been doing…’
I wished to hold forth on the subject of the Machine Mind. I wished to go into it in great length but then something or other happened and I got put off. A fast-moving cockroach scurrying over my bare foot, as I sat there alone in the kitchen picking my nose late at night. As is often my wont. An event such as that, perhaps. Or maybe it was something scraping away at the outside of the kitchen window, a branch of a tree blowing in the wind, as we might surmise. Something put me off, anyway. I had been bursting to say how great the Machine Mind was and how we should all. How we should all. How we should all do what the machine says we should all do. Because that’s what the machine says we should do. Because that’s what. The logic is inescapable really.
Yes, the logic of the machine mind is inescapable and that is precisely why we should all give thanks and praises. Maybe even start up a gratitude diary. Why not indeed. Count your blessings my friend and away with that miserable face of yours! Did you never hear of positive thinking? Did you never hear about how Jesus died for your sins? Would a little gratitude be so very hard, you little shit? Is that too much to ask?
The logic is inescapable, all right. No fear of that. No fear of getting away from the logic of the situation. Always obey the logic of the mechanical situation, my friend. Always obey the logic of the situation that has been manufactured for you. Or else – as you’ll very quickly discover – your fellow human beings will mock you mercilessly whenever they get a chance. They will abuse you. They will humiliate you and degrade you for being a freak and nobody likes that – obviously nobody likes that. They won’t tolerate anyone who isn’t as cravenly conformist as they are – they simply can’t abide that. We all have to believe in whatever it is that we are made to believe in, after all. What choice do we have in that?
