Secret and private are hopelessly mixed up in the IP address world.
Damn all the privacy freaks and leaks, they’ve made pointless security a big business today. Everywhere is a cornucopia of outrage about the country and all that it knows about you, that it shouldnt and how it manipulates your life to suit its convenience. I have no idea what these countries and their peoples know about me, or what they can possibly use.
My identity? Its not in a piece of paperplasticrock, take all of em away, I’ll make more.
My life? I am human, I am woman. I love, I understand, I write, I drink. How is it unique?
My privacy? I have a stalker, had one for a few years now, not sure why, but sure means my life’s had meaning. Hey, it pissed off some random dude/babe enough to stalk me, thank you darling, kiss kiss bang bang.
I pay taxes, all of ’em, no cuts, no attempts. I also rage, fight, I am a street urchin with a purse.
Um think I have not a damn thing to hide, or maybe yes, ask again when im sober. On my own, just private, my deepest feelings are mine, guarded, not for sale, not for any price, but not particularly afraid,
If some cunning con did get hold of them. so be it, so be life. Their loss, of the marvel of life, not mine. I tend to view threats to my freedom very seriously, but privacy seems hyped in the average life, mine.
These rumorers and theorists, these tend to be Sheep with an accumulation past tolerance, a graveyard of secrets that burned civilizations and cut hearts, these are real weird growths.
We all like to own our souls, not turn them into marketplace muffins, but some baffle logic, and they persist, and they perpetuate.
For me, its crazy to try to kill someone to hold a secret, what the hell can be so precious? Think about it, yes, no?
Are the regular Sheep so gullible that a state secret in plain sight, revealed on website, television, someday, can convince billions and billions to change direction?
Hah. You must be fucking kidding me, a friend of mine likes to say.
Maybe not, I am no statistician, just one of the derelicts of time, a backwards double jointed crab-pelican creature, one of those wretched soldiers with a powerful will and no innate wisdom.
Damn, I want to be a star wars hero, why are my fingers making me a fucking bunny rabbit with man parts and a god complex?
My laptop is quite cranky today,
Filed under: stonehinge | Tagged: life, thoughts, writing | 4 Comments »