Bitch! That’s all this wicked witch does on this blog. Well, after all, it is my blog….
The ‘Normy’ box and the woo field.
Gotta LOVE, love, love Cliff High for so succinctly describing this!
Some of us were born for the sole purpose of floating in the woo field (born in the woo). We find it very difficult to exist in the Normybox. Working in the real world makes us physically ill, nobody really wants to talk to us about important stuff (woo) and most who try, get lost 5 minutes into a conversation. This tends to help us develop a very strong LOW sense of self. It also makes some of us seriously research our own madness levels. Just to be sure. Once we realize we are sane it tends to make us feel even more disassociated from regular society.
Like Cliff has just stated in his latest video, the normybox has gotten leaky, extremely leaky. (happy dance) Then there is part of me who feels very let down because I’ve struggled all my life to go unnoticed in the normybox and now they are invading my woo and acting like they are freaking experts. Ahem. I mean, it’s great and all, its going to heal the world when the cycle is complete, however, I’m still on the outside. Sigh. So, yeah, I’m bitchy about it. This whole blog is about how to stick your big toe in the woo field, with simple examples and to quote Arlo:
…27 eight-by-ten color glossy photographs
With circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one
Explaining what each one was…
And I guess this blog is no longer needed. In a way that is good. And seeing as how the Big Fucking Contrived Covid Mess has gotten in the way of things – downright stopped most all things, facts about it were all I have really been able to say for a year in these pages.
I have been bitchy and mean and angry and sad and urgent – all because of the normybox.
So here’s my message:
Literally EVERYTHING, and I mean EVERYTHING you have heard, read or been told is true. If you can’t WAKE UP and at least consider that, it’s on you. The future happened while you were sleeping. It’s here. End of Story. Get with it or end up in the junk yard rusting into oblivion with the rest of the anachronisms. (noun: a thing belonging or appropriate to a period other than that in which it exists, especially a thing that is conspicuously old-fashioned.)
Or fight into the future to perhaps help make it into something worth existing for.