Ah but it has been one year since I began this blog. This message-in-a-bottle plea for help. This psychological grab-bag to help stave off my eminent-imminent mental decline.
And what better way to "celebrate" (and I place the word "celebrate" in quotes because I mean that in the most mean-spiritedly ironically opposite way possible: "celebrate") than with pictures.
Photos of another hard and frigid, menacing and mendacious winter here upon the island.
Look:
And what does it mean to still be rendered, renditioned, incarcerated, kept and controlled here one jahr later? To still be here and for it to still be winter and for all life to be stillborn, still-lifed, distilled, stilted, silenced secreted suppurated stalled stunted stagnated stopped spotted unsupported stilled still still still . . .
Well, what do you think?
It means nothing; it means everything.
Yet, I must go on. I must continue to send out this beacon, this cri du coeur, this hopeful hopeless missive into the electronic ether of the free world!
(Hah! Free World? Is there really such a thing? Did not the world become unfree with the advent of knowledge, the first inklings of civilization, of both morality and law, guilt and rule? Or, is it the other way around? Does freedom come with law and order, with institutions and representation for all within a society? Hah! I cannot answer such questions on such a cold and heartless day, in such a cold and heartless "society" as Soybean Island!)
Even after one year, there is no more to report.
Oneninefiveseven, over and out:
Goodbye from Soybean Island
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