💾 Archived View for thurk.org › blog › 338.gmi captured on 2023-04-26 at 13:31:59. Gemini links have been rewritten to link to archived content
⬅️ Previous capture (2022-03-01)
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The weeds, as they term them, teem with thriving insects in an ecosphere unknown to neighbouring lots
This could be an analogy of the multiverse concept, but I'll distill it down to something more simple. Humans, even in the same city, divide themselves into different peergroups. Perhaps *peergroups* is not the best word here. I'll go with *penguins*. So, humans, even in the same city - even in the same *barrio*, divide themselves into different *penguins*. These *penguins* are mostly oblivious of each other. Or, rather, they choose to ignore each other. They are the differing mini-cultures of insects in abstractions of different fields.
I see this breaks down, obviously, when *penguins* are required to overlap, such as in the workplace, but I'll ignore that for now. My mind is set on the family clusters especially that I have encountered in Spain such as the one I find myself a part of at the moment. A central hub of this *penguin* centers on the *grandparents*. Further out on the spokes are nuclear family. Here the spokes are close. As you move further out from the hub, family and friend groups of this *penguin* populate spokes, but are further apart. Communication between them is more rare.
Kurt Vonnegut's *folk group* discussion in one of his books echoes this. Communities, even in this so-called interconnected world, conform to the 150 person max. After that, things get fuzzy. Family breaks down. The *penguin* breaks down. At the edge of the wheel, where the spokes are furthest apart, are the stragglers. They are also a part of other wheels. Those further in on the spokes may be, as well, but not **THOSE IN THE CENTER**.
More later...
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An aside - I am on the autobus from Belorado to Logroňo. Eskaton is playing in my ears. They rock. As always, whilst on an autobus, or in any form of transportation alone from one distant (relatively speaking) place to another, I feel a distinct feeling of displacement. The feeling is not negative. It is not even neutral. It is thrilling. No matter the eventual destination, I am thrilled to be on the way from one life (however transient or temporary) to another.
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A day has passed and the ecosphere is mown, lost to care and trimming to please surrounding ecospheres that care only for its outward aesthetic.
There comes times when one *penguin* interferes with another *penguin*'s way of life enough for a sort of purge to occur. It actually makes me smile when something like this happens, but, sadly, instead of mass bloodshed, it is mostly metaphorical. It takes the form of gossip. A member of one *penguin* becomes involved in an unsavory manner to one of another *penguin*. Usually, only the parts of the spokes furthest from the hub are riddled with this, ahem, *problem*.
In contrast, I am an exception in this regard. Marisa is very close to the *hub* of her *penguin*. I am, most possibly, not even of a *penguin* at all, but one of the rare outsiders. I'm not bragging. I've reaped little reward. Basically, I was placed here when Shambal fucked my mother, waited nine months, pulled me uncerimoniously from her womb, set me aside, boiled and ate her, then put me up for adoption. So it goes.
Except for Marisa herself, I am still not really a part of the *penguin* at all. Her mother, perhaps, is the closest to letting me in. Others are, shall I say, *wary*. I am an invasive species.
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Another aside - There are three girls a few rows up from me taking endless *selfies*. I want to rip out their entrails and decorate the interior of the autobus with them. Intestines draped over seat after seat! Old women with viscera coloring their hair! Three empty bags of skin flapping out of three smashed windows! A three spleen / three liver artistic hood ornament! This autobus would be the talk of the provence!
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The inspiration for this quote, originally, was a walk in the park in Seminole years ago. During those walks, I wrote down many aphorisms I thought appropriate at the time. The tidy lawns, possibly enforced by some absurd city code, inspired both quotes. I imagined the pollution from one insectosphere to another. Mapping this to *penguins* and humans, Newcomers to the former from *foreign* *penguins* surely, especially to the *hub*, pollute the ecosystem.
After time passes, if the pollution is not expunged, it is accepted. This is a gradual process. I am currently experiencing this process.
So **DIE!**
@flavigula@sonomu.club
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