Minor novella— The No Zone

This canvas of empathy is for anyone who, ..just, man you get it. Hope you’re well.


I

6:52 a.m. as I type and it’s pouring sky water outside the window. Yesterday it was dreamscape sunglowing in the wasteland. Weather-deity is by chance being mood-appropriate.

“If you could do good things for people then you have a moral[!] obligation to Do[!] those things!… Not choice.. Responsibility.”

Not Yet Dead 2013 Uncle Ben

I feel a moral obligation to write in this manner when needed. Couple multiple reasons:

  • It critically exercises and proactively maintains one’s sense of empathy
  • This isn’t a classicist blog, rather the written partition of Crescendo Angst Cinevision
  • I can’t express without sounding not-hetero the resonance that there are those like Jamz who impress how they show up for every publishing, regardless the degree they’ve otherwise disowned the internet, as I do similarly

I separate this last one not cause it’s more important, rather it’s a crux motive.

  • I am a vending machine that not only ejects macabre snacks whether or not they reflect the buttons you pressed but it just keeps ejecting more even as you leave cursing. Trust, I of everyone in the gang would know how dirgey our content gets, regardless how concurrently silly; not helped by the fact that I’m the culmovement’s designated moderator.

So what do I do when [0] hope alters to [0] hope?

What happens when I try giving something less Nihilistic Hope and more Hopeful Nihilism?

If I only decide to arrogantly say We’re All Gonna Die things and refuse to otherwise share cracks from within the caved-in tunnel to the outside golden hour light, then I’m just covering my own band. I’m putting on Emptiness Empathy Exorcism face and finishing with regurgitated blood in my throat.

I have a moral obligation to speak to & for Kid Terry; Mohammad; a somewhere-decaying corpse with a probably-headstone above him with the word Hadrian carved; Lulu when she’s grown up and against her dad’s will decorating her room with Screw Everyone Don’t You Get It paraphernalia; Nilu so that I don’t collaterally turn her restaurant’s commercial into an A.A. PSA; anyone who also could use a bit of hope with their darkness.


Right, suddenly-disclaimer. I don’t know how but I’ve shovel-slammed nostalgia so deep into my private graveyard that it’s unequivocally replaced with a wider obliged emotion perceived as depressive-longing. Again the term’s wide-ranging and can apply to whatever, in my case almost everything ever. Oh yeah, especially when I’m the closest to being “content” or the theory of “hhrrHaAppy..” e.g. alone in the garden


As promised to our now 4413 subscribers that if something changes even slightly, I stand by my duty to self-analyze, lest put on EEE/3E/3xE face. No I’m not shoving my tongue into the mouths of who would’ve been my lustful targets, let alone my enemies’ mouths then counterclockwise-kicking them into quarantine holes in the ground and they’ll live; I’ve accustomed to doing the latter via social distancing and the internet. And this is when I’m not straight up sanitized-punching them in the face and I’m wearing a mask.

Some of the crescendo angst gang surprised me with a visit to my place last week. Granted and not diminishing their affection at all it was cause I bought a cool-ass artwork that got people to go out of the way to see me but like anyone who is otherwise traumatized by me it could’ve just been shipped with a “this doesn’t change anything” sticky note.

I’ll never have the grammatical precision to write out what it meant to me. It meant more than I wanna think even they could understand, not in the I’m-smarter way cause I’m the first to propose that I’m the stupidest living person I know outside blatantly stupid peoples. I can’t get them to understand for the same reason that my grammar skills can’t understand how to prose out the meaning. The sum of my effort then was to tell them that everything I even try to do is just as if not all about Them and Anyone out there who would get something good out of it.

Any and all system-hacking formalities notwithstanding—I’m not a director.

I’m not a writer.

I’m a clinically-certified psycho-light but I’m not a genius.

I’m barely a captain and I may not even be a good friend, let alone person. Please Whoever-Idiot I am not looking for your shoulder to lean on even if you were my bubble buddy. I know who I am [I think] and I know why anyone chooses to ultimately stay away. I’m just too much for their awesome-intensity-threshold.     There… [Nonchalant gang sign]

At least these are things I choose to believe. This in turn to become as humble and generous a human as sprainable. Cause if no one will encompassingly walk with me the whole marathon, then there must be something irredeemably unsustainable about me BUT that Could mean I’m onto something…

Say I am…

Say we are.

At whatever points anyone comes. These once-in-an-aqua-teal-moon surprises from the gang on one unmoving hand means the world—at least to me. On the other pressure-cancelling hand it doesn’t make me any less alone.

I only know those who have their own main loved ones / that 70s’ show bubble-buddy-branch. Time with my chosen bubble buddy is pragmatically sequenced since he lives with his bubble wife. Even via pandemic proportionality, it’s existential business as usual. If anyone(s) show(s) up, when it’s time for them to leave they continue moving on with their main bonds. A special guest character has special guest screentime. And if I try forcing my time as a series lead, we end up with something like NBC Constantine. They should’ve just made Keanu Constantine 2. Like Man of Steel 2. Except cultural iconography might actually come back from the dead to event-redeem itself with Zack Snyder’s Justice League. I seriously don’t remember the last time I actually looped a trailer. Huh I think it was Man of Steel?

Ok I haven’t even gotten to section 2 and I’m past 2 pages. I’m gonna break it, headbop to the Earthmover breakdown, and watch Zack Snyder’s Justice League trailer.



II

Hostility disclaimer: when you read “you”, if you know you’re one of the people I actually like, then I’m not actually mic dropping you. Though if you think I like you but I am actually mic dropping you amongst everyone from the human race… uuh Demo you’re good. Matias, Ian, B, your wife and daughter, none of this in particular order, Jamz, Kat, Reggie, Pei, Nilu, Maggie… [scrolls] again no importance-order this is cause I’m likely still perma-shroomed… Phil… Sermed… Matthew Parizot… Peter, Justin, Adam, Nic… Mom, Kenrry, in-laws… Dad I guess… Jaxon, Beau… Dave, Dan, Have a Nice Life Dan, whoever I talk to outside the society… Emily, Eli, Sam… Tamara I guess, the cat who visits the garden though you’re also a little fucker who’s biased towards being fed, I very much miss your sis, kay the rest of you guess


If you’re reading then you similar to I are in a position to partake in culture, be it giving, absorbing, or both. I passed out and still can’t think of a segue.

Concepts of the week[publishing]. As far as I’m concerned, here’s 3 propositions.

The world as it was collectively known up til corona sent it to heaven-the-real-hell and died. You’re likely nostalgic if you think you’ll live to see that world reincarnated. You’re also at least slightly screwed up if you’ll really miss a “nice things” world that includes systemic racism. I mean if you did miss it, you’ve got nothing to worry about since it’s most certainly coming with the next world, how I know all I gotta do is apply to CALQ for the 21st time and get rejected cause I’m not making a documentary on the origins of poutine.

So the holistic of everything physical and metaphysical that makes up the world or “normal” that people so desperately expect to return to—whether it comes down to the way things will practically run or people’s psychological perceptions—that normal world is dead.            Deeeaaad – picture Will Smith I Am Legend freaking out except I’m totally calm likely cause no one cooked my bacon nor do I memorize Shrek as a pastime. Hence that old world order is now the dead zone.

As the structures that we know [and that some hold dear for better or worse] obliteration-collapse, those who haven’t been crushed yet stand amongst the piling ruins of the no zone. Where proverbially anything can happen or unhappen.

As a wider metaphor look at it this way. As much as I’d lost morality towards modern cinema, the concept of sitting in a movie theatre still held up as some “golden age” standard outcome for someone who wants to share via cinema. Yet here we are today where I will gladly never sit in a theatre ever again so long as it is bio-questionable. On top of that in this dystopian civilization where the 1% appeal to the proles to go back to theatres to basically die so said 1% could resume sucking out the 99%’s money even if it’s over their lemon-lime-cold corpses. I want to see these oligarchic plutocrat pigs guinea pig their own self-cum-stained asses into those diseased rooms and come out of the rolling credits still upholding that same look of world-exemplary vanity Once upon a time in hollywood aint that the piece of shit truth. Bruce Lee doesn’t even have to show up to wreck your collective shameful asses; he already knows the game’s poison-rigged with every guilty elite out of time anyway.

Because almost nothing is concrete you may not even be aware that what you do now defines who you’ll lastingly be when this immediate horror settles down. Your excuse for going to an orgy or makeout session at the top of a fancy hill may be that you’re young dumb full-a-cum but if you have any ray-shame-dar in your wraithless body then you’ll have to reconcile with the fact that you were a mass murderer in a no zone era when being a murderer was never so abstractly legal, easy, and absolvable cause all the cool kids are doing it and contact tracing can’t round them all up and throw them in the same lustful jail cell.

On the philosophical side I have more hardcore creed than ever that nothing means anything. No more meaning than what is placed by any regardless number of people. Hence the only reason any structure exists or is accepted is enough assholes enabled or rigged it into the status quo. Slavery, 1%-driven capitalism, any form of prejudice, two-faced hipsterdom, white privilege cultural appropriation, genocide not still being acknowledged as a regular thing, these are all illusions actualized into realities, yet any and all human-built monuments are exposed as having 0 poser-power in the face of something as baseline real as a pandemic.

The same government in the province [Quebec, I’m not being implicit] I live in that expects rational people to take their regulational word for it is the same nationalistic government that bails out cirque to soleil / private sectors and fully expects immigrants, asylum seekers, and teachers to murder themselves to keep others / the economy rolling. They clearly don’t slap a date on a calendar cause that’s exactly when it’ll be safe for people to be together again and totally not corona-bone each other’s brains out. But naw of course business owners and janitors should totally do all the actual work making sure everyone follows the rules and stays safe. It’s the government people’s job to just wear suits, say important-sounding things, then go back to sleep under the daily news conference table. If I wasn’t processing the news via Amanda Kline’s beautiful haven of compassion I do not doubt the alternate scenario where I masochistically misinform myself through social media.

So what happens when illusionist structures collapse? Lots of people shit their pants hence toilet paper and the weak-minded have a weirdly hard time accepting change. This is where people mistake freewill over straight up a fascistic sense of infantile superiority masking absolute insecurity at how absent a say they have in reality.

I was discussing this with the gang—how even the scientifically-certified urgency to wear a mask could be seen as an oppression on human rights, and how imbecilically simple it should be for chauvinists to adjust their puny pride to it.

It’s illegal to be naked in the streets. Protesters generally have no indignities with that.

So what is so complicated about also considering your exposed mouth as naked? And how has no one in public health with any sense of humor not put it that way? You’re clearly unmoved by the now-fact that you could be a bio-serial killer largely at no cost. You can afford to adjust your metric on “free rights”.

Demo imagined the scenario where anti-maskers will then simply protest-react by going full public naked. This again is why Demo’s the funniest person I care to know.

People talk about free rights when really it’s just another righteous-sounding “thing” they weaponize to con themselves that they’re not pure evil. As a western Chinese I’m pretty sure if I lived in China I would get arrested and my organs unwillingly donated for spray painting the middle finger to the republic everywhere I can, yet in the states Florida for example I could die for simply Breathing Outdoor Air because the national pride of superspreading masquerades as democracy. My nonpartisan point: nothing means anything if you just use your politics as insular ammo to blow up the freakin world around you. Everyone’s an asshole and has no idea what they’re doing and if anyone even subtlely acts or preaches that they’re good / on top of it / unequivocally right, then they have the lowest common denominator self-esteem or they’re HYDRA.

Parallel to what was argued as righteous, modern stigmas of prosperity are more clearly complete bullshit than ever. A rich social guy can now be the most fucked cause his livelihood revolves around mingling while a loner living in a consistently-sanitized outhouse is rich cause they haven’t really lost anything of metaphysical value.

As someone whose attributes going into corona was no more school, no institutionally-recognized job, living with the folks—my perspective on prosperity positive-180-spins Vs. posh rich person living downtown just to show they’re worth it and contrastingly realizes they hate their domestic partner and there’s no one in the streets below to hear them climax and give them self-worth validation. This also in an era where your family just being in a care home is almost certain accelerated death Vs. just the damngod gratitude that I can be essentially useful to my parents under the same roof and that we’re able to not die from germs cause despite living in the ghetto we have this thing called rationality.

Nothing stops me from having complete ownership over the perspective that surviving off welfare is a practical conduit to being a full-time sustainable artist. I don’t need a boat. I could survive on falafels and tap water. I don’t need to be a cog to the modern day illusion of prosperity because that, just like straight up Every Single Other structure—1% capitalism, oppression, authoritarianism, opinions-or-you’re-racist-wokens, it’s all bullshit that at most enough people just let become norms.

When will the new world officially arrive—to me when a vaccine not made in Russia arrives that certified-works, to which rational people can take it and fully move on while spring breakers, hillbillies, and every-hopeless-one else can go ahead and die without dragging down any more innocents with them. Again though, the old normal’s not respawning. The dead zone stays dead and whatever fundamental damage that’s done stays so.

What I don’t think people realize enough though is that when structures collapse, different ones can take the empty place. I mean legit different, not instagram daily duck face only with a slightly different background.

And what any of us does can one-way-or-another affect where any of this goes. You want a post-corona world to be more hateful than ever, easy, in fact people make it seem instinctively reflexively so. You want a kinder more empathetic one, stop saying you’re thso busy and thso tired and do the work. Do something that actually lastingly matters, not what will make people think you matter. Cause trust, you really don’t matter. Just ask Kid #903267093 who stepped on a mine. Oh right he stepped on a mine. Fuck You i-want-2-matter-plebeian.

You wanna live more safe, selective, and shallowly than ever by zoning in on your life bonds & consumer product-equivalents of a disney movie, go ahead, it’s all the same you look fucking dead already anyway. You wanna look beyond your own tasteless biases and complacent life choice regrets, stop being a cog and Be different if you just Are different. If you’re the same as everyone else though, please stay melted in homogeny, no legit outcast wants to see you sporting an I’m-So-Weird-Therefore-Unique turtleneck t-shirt.

4:18 a.m. I’m gonna keep doing what I do even when it feels like no one will care about sincerely flawed humanity. The kind that doesn’t masquerade a bourgeois je-ne-sais-quoi-nothing attractiveness and weaponizes actual isolation into their brand of bohemian bullshit. I’m gonna keep being a damngod unkempt graceless powerpain doom-hopper cause somewhere in that sci-fi shenanigan, overdrive noise, and screaming ensemble dialogue is something that at least to me it seems like no one else is willing to try doing.

And when dogmatics are pea-brain-bleeding out their noses in despair at their comfort structures collapsing down the dead zone along with all past notions of standards and doctrines—all I see is a barren canvas to aim a difference at.

All I see is an opening—what could make the new world and the say we get to have on that.


We call it a day same as we never left.

To anyone for whatever reason lamenting “what if”...

From my vindictive self-embracing depressive-longing—
yes, it’s fuckin cool here.

So if you never showed up I couldn't care less to bring you.

Discomfort reading

Digital golem obliging…
Digital Golem: It worked though we wish we wer

Digital golem obliging…
Digital Golem: It worked though we wish we wer

Published by crescendoangstcinevision

Licensed creative vandalism

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