Not-Us, paging Not-Us…

Feb. 19, 008
Black Rockalypse

Right wingers, methinks, have less faith in humanity than we do. They are the doomsday fantasy people, after all. Over here AND over there. Focused on how blameless they are for the end of time, they refuse to endorse anything practical to stop it. In fact, half of them are actively bringing it on, either through machinations toward greediness, overbreeding, or neglect.

Perhaps I’ve been watching too many of Ghost Dancer’s 9/11 documentary DVDs in a row. But what else is there to do when I’ve been sick for 3 months straight? And what else should we do but hibernate, surrounded by the same 200 people, trapped in a ghost-world, virtually ignored by the “elders” who brought us here, stalled by wintertime, wondering what the next step is?

No video equipment works. No cameras. We can’t get started on much besides documentation in writing of our whole process… most of which I’m not allowed to share yet.

happier times at cleanup’s DPW Talent Show … dust gets everywhere, no matter what, especially in all the night pictures

If this whole Not-Dome thing does open up its doors to television broadcast, I know everyone will watch it, because it’s so entirely unbelievable that an invisible group of latter-day Luddites have been invited to hearken back to pre-industrial-revolutionary tactics to teach the planet to be nicer to itself … and elite killers financed by world banks and/or big-time, government-sanctioned drug money all want us dead. Period.

We’ve been wondering if the Not-Us expected this much hostility from the private military forces of the U.S. Government. The real “evildoers,” born under the same sky that’s falling, are so pissed off at not being able to control this one thing, they’d rather just destroy it all. Here we are, battling snow and eternal flu and internal drama and crippling claustrophobia, trying to keep it together enough to enjoy this … miracle? … which proves there’s more to life (on this Earth or on other worlds) than meets the eye. And here they are, again, trying to cockblock everything.

We haven’t laid eyes on the Not-Us since January 25. Almost a month ago, and the last visit before that was 2 weeks prior. The Not-Us pretty much told everyone at the Way It Is Meeting they wouldn’t be around all that often … but Barton, if you’re reading this, come back and bring the others. We need guidance. We need to see your faces. We miss you. We’ll throw you a party.

I know I’m given to hyperbole at times, but I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to state that we’re all clamoring not to sink into the depths of despair. We even allotted two psych majors to be our counselors now — and they’re so much busier than the massage therapist in their daily duties that an open “support group” is starting up tonight after dinner.

Meanwhile, back to bed (cough cough) All my compost worms have died, anyway, so plywood scraps and leftover cardboard will now be burned to keep us warm.