I think the thing is you never really know, but you try it out anyhow, to see how it will go. Being present for the actual witnessing of it as it unfolds, Life, is all that may be realistically asked of us at the end of the day or the end of the road. Were you watching while your life flashed before your eyes? You could have done it however you wanted. Where you are is just where you ended up. It has nothing to do with what was meant to be. God, I don’t think, wants anybody to be living a stagnant fake life where they’re out of touch with reality, with nature and with the human and more than human communities and ecosystems with which our own experience is interlaced.
The internet may be all about viewpoints. Of who’s asking and who’s talking. What goes on explicitly and implicitly between them as a trade. The purpose of communication isn’t to speak or be heard or even understood. But simply to get some kind of response. It may be right or wrong good or bad, but a steelmaker helped me write this song. A kid from South Africa looking for pictures of goats helped me with this next line. I don’t know them and they don’t know me. Do I matter as a source? Who valuates sources? Is it the marketplace? Will it be self-described scholars? Will it be the communities who do the speaking, who create the discourse in the first place. The serfs who manufacture constantly at the endless loom of culture, with long arms reaching across the desk to pull the spindle back down my my.
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