covidianpsychosis
I should like here to deliver an interim treatment or report, regarding the nature and the constitution of the true and the thoroughbred ‘Corona Believer’. By ‘Corona Believer’ - I am referring here to the fully ‘mass formed’ psychotic ‘Branch Covidian’ victims of the manipulation; the ones delivered unto the walls of clinical insanity. (30% of humanity)
I should like for us now to come to consider how to know them better - these meek defeated dying slaves - one might call them fairly as en masse - a toxic contaminated butt plug - forced by the heavy meaty thumb of a drooling maniac, into the living anus of our dying society.
I should like here to consider ‘imagination’ - human imagination. The human imaginative faculty, the power of fantasy and the facility, ability and propensity for creating stories. Human personal creativity, in the fluids of one's own particular being. I want now to examine what that is, and how it is presently functioning and disposed; in relation to the typical the run of the mill, fully converted, baptized and condemned and ‘born again’ psychotic ‘Covidian’.
What is the fundamental function of imagination?
Imagination is our facility for obtaining a surviving sanity in the context of human awareness. It (imagination) presents a connection to a living and a meaningful stream of ‘other/s’ of worlds, places, times, bodies, possibilities and beings. In its operation (imagination), we discover that we are not alone, but that we are a part of a greater whole. This is ‘meaning’.
There is an order and a sense; an existence, and we have obtained it - in our imaginative speculations, or even merely in our sense of it (our imagination) existing there in us, as a possibility; an existing and a sufficient ground state; and that we do have an imaginative facility as a perpetually available contingency (a way of being safe with ourselves, even if we be alone). We are comforted and reassured, and we can be with and we can abide ourselves, and others too. This is self-reliance.
Now I want you to consider how things might stand for a body not imbued or endowed with any functional imaginative faculty whatsoever.
In this state (man, as void or voided of any imaginative capacity); one is now totally alone, and fixed entirely in the present moment, but not in any spiritually productive or existentially rewarding state of awareness or appreciation or apperception of the unity of nature and of all things - not, the self, as eternal pleromatic awareness in a connection with the fundamental luminous original essence of being; which is of course, now seen to be itself, as imagination. There is a circle, and we can touch it here, in existence, in imagination.
One is thus, in the body denuded of imaginative capacity, alone, entirely, and now and merely, a dying, a revolting, stinking and expiring bag of meat and water and phlegm and shit, without any possibility for meaning or connection - because now the self exists unaccompanied, isolated and completely disconnected from any awareness of any ‘other’; and without any chance or hope for any purposeful orientation or intention in relation to anything.
The self now; knows only of itself and of nothing other than itself. This presents as a pure agony of infinite limitation and meaninglessness and as a disastrous terror emerges; one experiences now ultimate horror; Death, while in the living state.
Now we can return to the modern Covidian psychotic; because we have identified the state of terror which is the background and the spectre and the goad that has urged and seduced him into delusion and into infamy and into vice.
The modern Covidian psychotic, discovering himself eventually as entirely void of any sufficient imaginative capacity, either as originally, or as having developed and arrived in the self-insouciant misapprehensions of pathological self-neglect - to the same point.
This potentially terrified existentially decomposing cripple, this sorry fucked up bastard, is now an obligate ‘consumer’ of ready-made imagination, fantasy and stories (meaning) sufficient to temporarily slake the thirsty death which forever stalks and mocks him now. These ersatz meanings are delivered into the hospice of the skull of the desperate invalid in the stories, deceptions, meanings and fantasies of our media and our devices.
But if only this man might think for himself; ‘I have neglected my own imagination, I have left it fallow for too long and now it has abandoned me and returned to source. But might I one day call it back to me?’
If he went so far as that; he might return to us, but he does not. He cannot be bothered with it. He is lazy. He stays there, just where he is, obliged to absolutely passive reception of artificial and insincere media fantasies (Covid - 19), and there receiving only, and giving nothing.
Rather, he simply consumes what is delivered to him; whatever it is, and he cannot form any judgement regarding it, because now it is
Transaction
Created
1 year ago
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Language
video/mp4
English