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Old George Orwell got it backward.
Big Brother isn't watching. He's singing and dancing. He's pulling rabbits out of a hat. Big Brother's busy holding your attention every moment you're awake. He's making sure you're always distracted. He's making sure you're fully absorbed.
He's making sure your imagination withers. Until it's as useful as your appendix. He's making sure your attention is always filled.
And this being fed, it's worse than being watched. With the world always filling you, no one has to worry about what's in your mind. With everyone's imagination atrophied, no one will ever be a threat to the world.
There are worse things than finding your wife and child dead.
You can watch the world do it. You can watch your wife get old and bored. You can watch your kids discover everything in the world you've tried to save them from. Drugs, divorce, conformity, disease. All the nice clean books, music, television. Distraction.
These people with a dead child, you want to tell them, go ahead. Blame yourself.
There are worse things you can do to the people you love than kill them. The regular way is to just watch the world do it. Just read the newspaper.
The music and laughter eat away at your thoughts. The noise blots them out. All the sound distracts. Your head aches from the glue.
Anymore, no one's mind is their own. You can't concentrate. You can't think. There's always some noise worming in. Singers shouting. Dead people laughing. Actors crying. All these little doses of emotion.
Someone's always spraying the air with their mood.
Their car stereo, broadcasting their grief or joy or anger all over the neighbourhood.
This isn't anything new.
Experts in ancient Greek culture say that people back then didn't see their thoughts as belonging to them. When ancient Greeks had a thought, it occured to them as a god or goddess giving an order. Apollo was telling them to be brave. Athena was telling them to fall in love.
Now people hear a commercial for sour cream potato chips and rush out to buy, but now they call this free will.
At least the ancient Greeks were being honest.
You tell yourself that noise is what defines silence. Without noise, silence would not be golden. Noise is the exception. Think of deep outer space, the incredible cold and quiet where your wife and kid wait. Silence, not heaven, would be reward enough.
The trick to forgetting the big picture is to look at everything close up.
The shortcut to closing a door is to bury yourself in the details.
This is how we must look to God.
As if everything's just fine.
---------------------------
I didn't write that, I just edited it a bit. It's from Lullaby, written by Chuck Palahniuk.
I just found that probably the most truthful and honest thing I've ever read in my life.
He's a fantastic author. If you liked that, buy his books.
Big Brother isn't watching. He's singing and dancing. He's pulling rabbits out of a hat. Big Brother's busy holding your attention every moment you're awake. He's making sure you're always distracted. He's making sure you're fully absorbed.
He's making sure your imagination withers. Until it's as useful as your appendix. He's making sure your attention is always filled.
And this being fed, it's worse than being watched. With the world always filling you, no one has to worry about what's in your mind. With everyone's imagination atrophied, no one will ever be a threat to the world.
There are worse things than finding your wife and child dead.
You can watch the world do it. You can watch your wife get old and bored. You can watch your kids discover everything in the world you've tried to save them from. Drugs, divorce, conformity, disease. All the nice clean books, music, television. Distraction.
These people with a dead child, you want to tell them, go ahead. Blame yourself.
There are worse things you can do to the people you love than kill them. The regular way is to just watch the world do it. Just read the newspaper.
The music and laughter eat away at your thoughts. The noise blots them out. All the sound distracts. Your head aches from the glue.
Anymore, no one's mind is their own. You can't concentrate. You can't think. There's always some noise worming in. Singers shouting. Dead people laughing. Actors crying. All these little doses of emotion.
Someone's always spraying the air with their mood.
Their car stereo, broadcasting their grief or joy or anger all over the neighbourhood.
This isn't anything new.
Experts in ancient Greek culture say that people back then didn't see their thoughts as belonging to them. When ancient Greeks had a thought, it occured to them as a god or goddess giving an order. Apollo was telling them to be brave. Athena was telling them to fall in love.
Now people hear a commercial for sour cream potato chips and rush out to buy, but now they call this free will.
At least the ancient Greeks were being honest.
You tell yourself that noise is what defines silence. Without noise, silence would not be golden. Noise is the exception. Think of deep outer space, the incredible cold and quiet where your wife and kid wait. Silence, not heaven, would be reward enough.
The trick to forgetting the big picture is to look at everything close up.
The shortcut to closing a door is to bury yourself in the details.
This is how we must look to God.
As if everything's just fine.
---------------------------
I didn't write that, I just edited it a bit. It's from Lullaby, written by Chuck Palahniuk.
I just found that probably the most truthful and honest thing I've ever read in my life.
He's a fantastic author. If you liked that, buy his books.
Page:
Irony is Chuck's big thing.
"You have no mind of your own. You must think for yourself. You are not a beautiful and unique creature. This world sucks. You are victim to commercial pressures. Buy my book and see how to think for yourself. See how I point out all that is obvious in today's society. Aren't I witty and shockingly honest? I'm fearless me, I'll tell you how shallow and stupid you all are. But only if you buy my book"
I picture him sitting there laughing and thanking Fincher for his "Everything is out of control. As demonstrated in my new shocking book".
I'm not knocking anyone for liking him, I just laugh quietly at his "anti-groupthink" attitude, but likes us all to buy his book.
*shrugs*
I'm on the cusp of some sort of revelation. Something is building and I dont know what
"You have no mind of your own. You must think for yourself. You are not a beautiful and unique creature. This world sucks. You are victim to commercial pressures. Buy my book and see how to think for yourself. See how I point out all that is obvious in today's society. Aren't I witty and shockingly honest? I'm fearless me, I'll tell you how shallow and stupid you all are. But only if you buy my book"
I picture him sitting there laughing and thanking Fincher for his "Everything is out of control. As demonstrated in my new shocking book".
I'm not knocking anyone for liking him, I just laugh quietly at his "anti-groupthink" attitude, but likes us all to buy his book.
*shrugs*
I'm on the cusp of some sort of revelation. Something is building and I dont know what
Old George Orwell got it backward.
Big Brother isn't watching. He's singing and dancing. He's pulling rabbits out of a hat. Big Brother's busy holding your attention every moment you're awake. He's making sure you're always distracted. He's making sure you're fully absorbed.
He's making sure your imagination withers. Until it's as useful as your appendix. He's making sure your attention is always filled.
And this being fed, it's worse than being watched. With the world always filling you, no one has to worry about what's in your mind. With everyone's imagination atrophied, no one will ever be a threat to the world.
There are worse things than finding your wife and child dead.
You can watch the world do it. You can watch your wife get old and bored. You can watch your kids discover everything in the world you've tried to save them from. Drugs, divorce, conformity, disease. All the nice clean books, music, television. Distraction.
These people with a dead child, you want to tell them, go ahead. Blame yourself.
There are worse things you can do to the people you love than kill them. The regular way is to just watch the world do it. Just read the newspaper.
The music and laughter eat away at your thoughts. The noise blots them out. All the sound distracts. Your head aches from the glue.
Anymore, no one's mind is their own. You can't concentrate. You can't think. There's always some noise worming in. Singers shouting. Dead people laughing. Actors crying. All these little doses of emotion.
Someone's always spraying the air with their mood.
Their car stereo, broadcasting their grief or joy or anger all over the neighbourhood.
This isn't anything new.
Experts in ancient Greek culture say that people back then didn't see their thoughts as belonging to them. When ancient Greeks had a thought, it occured to them as a god or goddess giving an order. Apollo was telling them to be brave. Athena was telling them to fall in love.
Now people hear a commercial for sour cream potato chips and rush out to buy, but now they call this free will.
At least the ancient Greeks were being honest.
You tell yourself that noise is what defines silence. Without noise, silence would not be golden. Noise is the exception. Think of deep outer space, the incredible cold and quiet where your wife and kid wait. Silence, not heaven, would be reward enough.
The trick to forgetting the big picture is to look at everything close up.
The shortcut to closing a door is to bury yourself in the details.
This is how we must look to God.
As if everything's just fine.
---------------------------
I didn't write that, I just edited it a bit. It's from Lullaby, written by Chuck Palahniuk.
I just found that probably the most truthful and honest thing I've ever read in my life.
He's a fantastic author. If you liked that, buy his books.
Big Brother isn't watching. He's singing and dancing. He's pulling rabbits out of a hat. Big Brother's busy holding your attention every moment you're awake. He's making sure you're always distracted. He's making sure you're fully absorbed.
He's making sure your imagination withers. Until it's as useful as your appendix. He's making sure your attention is always filled.
And this being fed, it's worse than being watched. With the world always filling you, no one has to worry about what's in your mind. With everyone's imagination atrophied, no one will ever be a threat to the world.
There are worse things than finding your wife and child dead.
You can watch the world do it. You can watch your wife get old and bored. You can watch your kids discover everything in the world you've tried to save them from. Drugs, divorce, conformity, disease. All the nice clean books, music, television. Distraction.
These people with a dead child, you want to tell them, go ahead. Blame yourself.
There are worse things you can do to the people you love than kill them. The regular way is to just watch the world do it. Just read the newspaper.
The music and laughter eat away at your thoughts. The noise blots them out. All the sound distracts. Your head aches from the glue.
Anymore, no one's mind is their own. You can't concentrate. You can't think. There's always some noise worming in. Singers shouting. Dead people laughing. Actors crying. All these little doses of emotion.
Someone's always spraying the air with their mood.
Their car stereo, broadcasting their grief or joy or anger all over the neighbourhood.
This isn't anything new.
Experts in ancient Greek culture say that people back then didn't see their thoughts as belonging to them. When ancient Greeks had a thought, it occured to them as a god or goddess giving an order. Apollo was telling them to be brave. Athena was telling them to fall in love.
Now people hear a commercial for sour cream potato chips and rush out to buy, but now they call this free will.
At least the ancient Greeks were being honest.
You tell yourself that noise is what defines silence. Without noise, silence would not be golden. Noise is the exception. Think of deep outer space, the incredible cold and quiet where your wife and kid wait. Silence, not heaven, would be reward enough.
The trick to forgetting the big picture is to look at everything close up.
The shortcut to closing a door is to bury yourself in the details.
This is how we must look to God.
As if everything's just fine.
---------------------------
I didn't write that, I just edited it a bit. It's from Lullaby, written by Chuck Palahniuk.
I just found that probably the most truthful and honest thing I've ever read in my life.
He's a fantastic author. If you liked that, buy his books.
Page: