The alley was and has been gravel dirt since its creation and aside from a yearly summer tar streak, remained so. The dirt roads invisibly beyond the alley had all at one time become further reified from the earth into paved solids, making rigid the abstract 2d net that was piecemeal knit to keep people in the right place. This is generally perceived to be a completed process around here of the sort that finished in the dusty naive past.
But now the alley has been paved, the process is still ongoing, the grid is tightening ever-tightening, in effect easing travel the right way and maximizing time in place. The transition from the old, loose ways is not past, the fetters strengthen and tighten in real time even now.
From the grid grows 90* the fledgling shoots, cells for human stasis. Now there take the form single family homes, but bigger more efficient storage slowly replaces them like asphalt the dirt. Apartment warehousing hasn't fully arrived yet, but the Marlborough glowers eerie waiting its modern incarnations. Individual space capsules for smooth living are being perfected and a tesseracting new direction is gelling, a future hive for production and again with covid it's bining and binding. Water and heat and power are piped into our pods along with propaganda ports to keep us all on the same page. Zip deliveries from ghost kitchens and ghost grocers to feed our sedentary productivity.
The nice places to live are the ones that in some ways resist this tightening. The nice streets don't have paint on them, but harlot garish palettes are ever further dictating the rules on the roads. Unmarked, gravel roads are the weak flailings of the core which is apparatus, left hand twin specific bike cordons and stockpiled people modular strips for dentistry and bbq. Towns, cities that are themselves specialized into the growing world village. Extravagances of self-sufficiency are earthen barnacles on the metastatic nodules of the globe state matrix.
A dead night through light fiber optic why isn't it uniform? why the diversity even now? The sierras are a partially submerged block, sinking below to the west and pushing up in the east. Force pushes the whole earth ascending as if inexorable, ever upward in regiment uniform, but gravity's rainbow counterforce ch. 4s in countervail striating down the slopes in perfect infinite intricacy breaking that fucker down. A glorious carved and glowing green tapestry is a not-to-scale hyperdimensional microcosm of our true human free will and testament to the ultimate futility of this cinching vise. The Counterforce in each of us as given life by our own whims and active beauty.
Are we still caught? Counterforce regiments rolled out deployed in a numbers game?
The quiet Monday evening in early June is a pink/blue purple backlit sky and light from some other telluric source enlivens the wet green of the boughs and lawns and moss. I'm struck still and stunned by the beauty just as the naval base plays its trumpet record echoing around the town from down the rampart bluff and before the vibrating slate sea.
This is a universal sign I say to myself and stroll on down the street to the park where people gather nightly and I'm blissed gawking all smiles. An arab man and his 4 year old girl smile back and she sprints the grass alongside and pounces to grab the smallest imaginable flower from the emerald carpet and hands it to me in an act of perfect grace as the world dissolves in lightheaded spangles.
A child messenger or the inviolable purity of the will to power I'm not sure but both are God. The park is now an immanence and me too. A few more lolling strides I carve along nearly visible grains of our joint creation and hear a white dad urging his 4 year old boy on a wobbly 2-wheeler to make the circuit yet faster this time. He speeds ahead of me but his grassy turn around bogs him and I emanate an offer to help him and steady the handle bars and hand flat to back push him towards dad. But what did I do there? We were playing at the grid, training play counterforce and conspiracy me and the boy, and as long as we don't give in, unlearning insignificance.
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