Monday, 7 July 2008



Feeling trapped?
Are those handcuffs?
Oh no, they’re not mind locked?

Freedom, free e dom, fr-eee-dom, FREEDOM! What actually is it?

A concept, a reality, a belief, a fiction, a paradox, the meaning of life, the great invention, an unattainable ideal… just for starters. Getting to the bottom of it involves firstly climbing the mountain that it is. Makes you feel like a bookish Bear Grylls.

Yes, simple? No.
So what do you fancy?

Is it all just a deterministic illusion mapped out to our every fibre, follicle and cell leaving us to continue down an ultimate goal of required actions to consequence making us predictable cell machines completing bodily requirements just to stay breathing.

Negative freedom? The freedom we so desire is beyond our capabilities and unable for us to experience. This, now, being all. Until evolution gives us those nifty armpit wings.

Even worse is the philosophy that you can feel condemned to be free, compelled to seek that which doesn’t exist. Now that is depressing.

Or you can strive for what a great philosopher once said; “The real thing.”
© Coca cola corporation

Freedom in the attempted experience of it; seems to be an amalgamation of all these ideas. We are grand cause and effect conscious machines but with minds capable of more than they can even imagine. And yes in effect the human condition is one of under-fulfillment, fantastical idealism and bodily development slower than our mind desires.

The ultimate liberation of desires, beliefs and restriction is at odds with the human races current dogma of War for Freedom.

Freedom is this and beyond this, so I’m not gonna sit around defining it, cos I just sat round and defined it.

Born free?
Lets clear this one up. You’re born from the genes of usually a government controlled and religiously legal, married couple. In a state institution; hospital. Their inclinations, personalities, traits are spliced into you. With your name, social status, and health already assessed and assigned all without choice of whether you want to even live, here, now, or ever. Don’t worry, as Jean-Jacques Rousseau knows, it gets worse.

You, now.
That phone bills just come out and your landlords wanting your last months rent. You have to wake up everyday to go to a belittling job while seemingly counting the hours till you have the briefest of brief times off to excessively drink-drug it to make you feel the absolute opposite of the work you eventually sober up to realise you’re late for. Y’know It almost sounds controlling. It almost sounds like you don’t want to do it, correct me if i'm wrong but it almost sounds as though any other freer life you dream of, watch on TV, listen to, hear about or read is a shed load better than the one you’re in. Correct me.

Oh geez you got it bad, those South African starving crybabies with Aids are just attention seekers. N what’s with them Afghans growing heroin all the time, they’re just dope ‘eads. Them peeps with no legs and arms suffering from itchy-itis don’t even work for that ill equipped council flat. Don’t get me started on them Burmese and North Koreans, just look at em, ohhhh we’re so poor, with those gold statues and gigantic stadiums of opulence, you can’t hoodwink us, we got Sky Travel mate.

Dreaming’s free
Yeah dreams are free, well, no, not even dreams are free. You ever dreamt about getting fruity with your slightly sexy neighbour then up pops Louise with thread veins and report updates needing completing. You finally get back to dreaming and down to peeling their shirt off to reveal, an almighty pair of, gas bills! Wake up red eyed, sweating and pinned by a gigantic green veined thigh in a bed full of debt. There is no rest bite; you think your mind might be telling you something? All that brain hopes for is weekends of alcohol overdoses resulting in widespread neuron destruction. Being stupid for a brain is retirement, the shithead.

Too busy. What, Top Gear’s on?
Look at yourself; take everything your brain is telling you about the seemingly pointless manifestation of your human incarnation and listen. We’ve developed as a society to embrace material possessions and ultimately have gotten trapped by this illusion of freedom. I know it’s hard cos Gio Goi have released another slogan t-shirt in pink and there’s the figures for today that need sending off to head office. Your minds still preoccupied with the subtle implication of your housemates’ derogatory statement in relation to your previous relationship, but hold on, HOLD ON to the idea that none of that stuff is important.

That it’s just tertiary filling for a cake you hate anyway. Use yourself as a ball and hit that twat. Slap the hell out of the British, Christian, form filling, complaining, complying, untrusting, by the book, composed cunt you are and breathe. Breathe some life into those awkward arms; be autonomous with your true self.

This is the good part. I know you’re scared, you’ve never even had a mohican and those anarchistic men in make up genuinely scare you. Go against the urge of seeing something ugly and bolting, head down, very swiftly away from it all. You know, friends know, everybody knows heroes of justice and freedom are cool, well not the fantastic spastic four or really Spiderman much and definitely not Superman or Catwoman but what, Ironman is it now? Yes like Ironman minus iron and open to femininity.

Now listen to yourself. Don’t do what your society is telling you, you should do, be free. You have complete freedom over what you experience in this life if your names not Dr Deterministic. For example say when you’re on a bus and some annoying scally is playing her crazy frog Jean Paul RnB remixes. Tell her, “My dear please turn that off you docile don’t –even-know–if-a-good–tune-raped-you-in–the–starfish!” As long as a few more commuters swallow their cowardice-laden demeanours, she’ll turn that tinny phone off.

If you don’t want a Jehovah calling round; invite them in and never let them leave, ask them where they live and pop round every morning for a chat, bring your magazines Animal Antics and Slaughter house 5 to share with them because as they say God has many incarnations, like that goat fucking the blondes saintly spirit, look, no look it’s biblical.

If you don’t want to be charged a 1.50 card fee for a beer in a pub, tell them to get a sign saying, ‘we are probably the wankest bank in the world.’

If you want to dance at 3am high on some shit you had no idea what it contains at the 24 hour Tesco, bring a receipt.

Because it’s the only way to get the message across to the larger world that statistically there can’t be that many insane people in the local area. They’ve just realised not to give a fuck about any-ocrity.

In fairness, they’ll label you insane, but the insane are quite actually the sanest people you’ll know. Their society reclusive brains have ultimate freedom to do whatever crazy presumption that head rests on. By being crazy or labelled crazy you are now free because to be free so it seems, is to be insane.


Now for Political freedom
Don’t be a moron who thinks that freedom is real in this time in any archetypal socialist collectivisation. Look around this flagrant controlled existence and if you don’t like it, just move! That’s the only way people will understand and get the societies they realistically desire, is that too easy? Get some trashy facebook group devoted to which place you’ll all move to get away from the shit you’re experiencing.

Don’t listen to people who tell you we have a free democracy listen to people who tell you you’re the most watched, most controlled society in the democratic world and fuck off. If you’re that fucking free why is there so many people in Britain, currently 60 odd million of you. Looking around complaining about the situation but going to work five, six, days a week and paying any tax, fines or charges thrust in your forgiving faces.

Here’s an idea, if you truly think that living in a cold as fuck, belittling, imprisoning land is so overwhelmingly great then change those things that grate on your marrowbone. Moan about people like me giving your astounding country a bad name. Tell off those socialists taking issue with small parts of it, which you personally, can ignore, go on tell them!

Or, protest, complain, withhold payment, down tools and don’t work because the main reason we continue to function is because of two simplistic principles, money and compliance.

Universal Declaration of Human Rights

This’ll save us. Ever read it? Yeah, one world’s societies answer to freedom on paper and coy subterfuge in practice. Omittance is the glutinous order of today.

Everyone has the right to recognition everywhere as a person (Guantanamowww).

No one shall be held in slavery or servitude (most Eastern European illegal immigrants might disagree).

Everyone has the right to join trade unions (unless you work for: Asda, Wal-mart, Mc Donalds, Kettle Chips, Tescos, Nestle…)

No one shall be subjected to torture (Iraqi torture? still no custodial convictions).

No one shall be subjected to arbitrary arrest or detention (45 days without charge is taking the piss out of this one).

Everyone has the right to freedom of thought, (unless it’s against your Chinese leader)

Everyone has the right to freedom of opinion and expression (other than if it’s against a government issue, anywhere near parliament ay Gordon).

Everyone has the right to equal pay (except women paid average 1/3 less than men).

Everyone has the right to reasonable working hours and holidays with pay, (unless you need money to live and or happen to be born under dictatorship or military rule).

They also have another brilliantly misanthropic one the Cairo Declaration of Human Rights in Islam due to conflict with Shi’a law. Lets just say women and non-Muslims won’t be too chuffed.

Recently the UN condemned widespread violators in this statement. “Hey you flouters, yeah you, we know who you are, we got sanctions, that’s right. So you better not want any uneconomical American cars or cheap old Pokemon toys.”

The English situation
The English translation of freedom means, “to love.” The inherent implication is a fabulous start. But you heard of the 60’s, that went tits up because no one believed it could last. No one thought this fun could continue albeit a few who did continue and suffered outcast status worst than the robotically resurrected corpse of john ‘bonzo’ bonham touring Quaker lodges. English people from the 70s and 80s were fighting for their freedom to work and survive and build something. The 90’s in England gave us the lovely delusion that we have that, and it’s new and cool. We breathed out but by the next intake, air had been sidelined for sour restricted policy and self-loathing. So hating being British by the English is almost considered a rule if you don’t want to appear fascist.

The thing is another English translation of freedom is “de nile.” Denial of a freedom until it’s taken away from us, denial that we can change things. Most importantly, denial that we can change or do anything about it. Denial that letting people exercise their own judgment will result in anarchy. The underlining denial is a denial that we are adults and an assumption that we are children incapable of being whatever we want to be.

Large portions of our existence are tolerated because we are too polite or we feel the need to keep the peace, not make a fuss. Still the 'free' person who pretends to be free but in the end behaves like his parents, friends, boss, partner, etc. Forces him to be locked for life. His excuse is that he is like that because he likes it and he chooses to be like it; that continues the world over.

Free to be…
Ultimately, we are the kings and we should have freedom of the city we live in. But as we should or already be aware of our city is not ours. There is the trap of our misgivings perpetuating the mirage in societies’ development of rights and freedoms to blinker the true perception of consentual slavery…Living unhappily ever after.

Still there is this vague hope that deep beneath our feet is a cluster of freedom inspired revolutionaries pro-creating till their numbers exceed the worlds’ underground pipes. All bred with elephant sized backbones, waiting till the abomination of humanity gets to its logical hurtful tipping point. For them to then launch out from the sewers in a scene reminiscent of the Teenage Mutant Turtles (minus coordinated headbands.)

With cries of hopelessness echoing the streets. They will show the numb abandoned populous a convicted whit and biting conversational thought befalling all oppressors, confounding all to agree to collectively gaze up at the forgotten stars, and see the other worlds looking back, thinking:

“ Them humans took their pissing time.”


D said...

Freedom hey? Define it? Tough goal to set. I couldn't define it for anyone else, though it's pretty damn obvious when someone needs it. Freedom for you might only at times be the same as how I define freedom.

Ultimately though, I think the only freedom there is is freedom from mortality, when it's all said and done. The most freedom I've smelt has been when I've been at my furthest from the mundane (mundo means of the earth) ... for some freedom might be to have name, or an address or sight or good health.

All I know of freedom is that when I am near it, it feels fucking good.So, therefore, I'll keep looking for it because the search causes my privelaiged arse no pain .

And you? Do you have it? Do you want it? Do you know what it is?
Are you responsible for other's?

I was in England recently, and I felt NOOOOOOOO freedom there ... not a bean of the stuff.

I live in the old British penal colony, and this land isn't free. Know anything of the successful genocide in Tasmania?

In fact, late at night when the mist settles in the valley, sometimes I think I can hear the land still screaming from its recent colonial imprisonment and indigenous peep's bloodshed.

I shrug.
I ignore.
I continue.
I give thanks.


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