Logo of the Museum of Vestigial Desire
The Museum of Vestigial Desire


tags: cactii

If a breech happens, new facts come to light. The cesspool of data deepens and there is more to be known for making any reasonable decision or taking any significant action. The breech is like an attack. The new data that one is forced to acknowledge can be easily seen as a surplus that does not aid the emergence of any fresh knowledge. But this new data is valuable.

What we understand as noise is only the environment that we have not made sense of. We cannot make sense of everything. We should not even try. At our core, we are actually easily pleased. As long as our platter has the proverbial silver lining, we are easily satisfied. To manipulate us, we just need to be throw a bone and we behave. We do not care about the size of the bone. We do not care if it is a rib or if it is a collar bone. We need something to distract us from the mess that we are.

Why are we a mess? We are a mess because a mess represents a state of greater narrative stability than a sorted and ordered state. A state of order that pretends to be a sign of grace is only a convenient fraud. Any honest participant in the system will accept that the floor is the only possible state of longterm stability. When we are fallen, we know that if we will remain fallen for a long time - maybe even forever.

This supposition is wrong of course, just as the construct of stability is false, so is the construct of degenerate hopelessness. Things can be bad, very bad. But seasons change and so it is inevitable that if we are still alive, we will given the chance to jump onto curves aligned to other levels in the graph. We fall and so we know we will also fly. This is not a motivational text. We are not offering you positive feedback. We are not oriented towards making you feel better about yourself.

We are telling you how the breech will happen. We are narrating how the breech will become a stimulant. We are predicting that the breech will become a potent distraction and lead you towards discovering the explosive potential of either the truth or the believable lie.

A curse aids a breech.

A curse tells it like it is. A curse tells us what we need to hear.
If only for a moment, a curse allows us to peek into the uncertainty of the flux we are trying to navigate otherwise.

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