Today is the first day of the month 9: September. In Spain, as in many other places, I suppose, things kick-start on this very day. The funny thing about the way in which the yearly activities activate in very specific date in Spain was completely new to me, 25 years ago, when I first arrived in Barcelona.
Sometimes I arrive a little late. That’s part of who ï am. I’ve learned to live with that. It’s shown some sort of trait around the person ï pretend to be, and/or am. In any case, ï think ï’ve gotten to used to the adaptation of the flexiblest. This is my motto. And seldom, when you are late, the party has already started without you, but then you turn yourself into and adaptive piece of a moving and dynamic ecosystem.
That’s what happened to me 25 years ago, in 2001, like a very personal space oddissey, when ï landed in september in this beautiful city ï live in: NEW barcino. Back then it wasn’t called this way. It was just Barcelona. But hey, ï like to keep my narrative coherent with the nature of my transformed vision of things, such as the renaming of every single name across the nouns expectrum. It’s not just a mere excercise of literary audacity, which it might or might not be, according to which sort of critic you trust, but what it is for sure is simple excercise that may be put to the test, regardless of how many people indulge in the confirmation or denial of accepting this NEW name, or in a broader sense: this NEW game.
The fact is that things have taken a shift towards chaos and uncertainty, and the distopias are lining up among themselves with the literature and fictional narratives that tried to prevent us from all the different evils we are now staring at, as they have somehow taken their masks off, and we’ve been lured to believe the sanctum creed of a NEW sort of rule and time, that’s supposed to be lead by whole bunch of dickheads. The manosphere has reshaped its narrative and it’s taken the form of a group of techno bro’s who are teaming up with old power-driven teams, in order to lead a phony corrupted distopia that place them at the heap of a pedestal that has replaced gods and nations, into islands and NEW territories where IA rules according to the biased trainning of their master minds.
Don’t take me for just another pessimist scratching the surface of the latest podcast that has come accross the timeline that ï’ve trained to bring me this kind of doomed terriotories and their nemesis. We are certainly in a weird and corrupt time, where we’ve been fed some recurrent lies, with old and new mechanisms becoming absolutely transparent to the eyes of an awakened, yet kidnapped, society. The old and NEW göds can’t take it any longer.
So here’s the thing. We could go the theather and see the Odissey, and take on a Christopher Nolan journey towards a common place where the ancient and the current quimeras are dancing together to fulfill the ultimate essence of our society: to cope and go on.
The truth is that ï’ve been there before. ï’ve already experience the doom of time and space, and the rather delicate skin that support matters as they are, and yet withholds a status quo, always unwilling to change, until the bubble bursts. So ï’ve been expecting this blow up, but ï’ve also seen the momentum of those who were dancing around the fire, praying to a different diety than the one and only, in which all of us would come out resiliently refurbished from the ashes of the solemn collapse of our societies’ great pillars.
For quite some time, ï’ve dugged my head into the ground like an ostrich who’s quitely finding meaning in the vast darkness bellow in the underground. ï was compelled to dance with the intermediaries of those two worlds, as if ï was preparing my self for the collapse and reconfiguration of a NEW system emerging from that special moment in our collective experience. Singularity from a completely NEW perspective. Or perhaps, from the very old and ancient perspective, that has been compelled to drive humans to the biased aknowledgement that we get to experience by the very same boundaries that makes us unique, transitory and mortal. Death, as already experienced by the ancient cultures within the geography of what is now NEWMEX, NEWUSA, and NEW américa, as whole, with that thin waist smack in the middle of the great NEW contingent: tico commons.
El salvador needed a place to be born at. The tico commons was a natural fit to the NEW order of things. And in this equilibrium, a NEW set of rules emerged from this promisedland. Thou shall not macho. The miniculinization era. Grand father first.. Father God, that is. And the rest will follow.
Let’s begin another cycle once again.