Once upon a time we smoked cigarettes. We had quite the habit (a cancerous oral fixation that likely found form via a crude and cancerous parental template).

At some point it became a common occurrence that we would try to quit, completely and abruptly. But by the end of these unrealistic days, more often than not, we’d degenerate into smoking more cigarettes than ever.

The same was true of weekends that preceded healthy intentioned Mondays. These Fridays and Saturdays, because of imminent health and balance, would see an inordinate spike in illicit consumption — insuring the whole scheme’s collapse by mid Monday.

Eventually we understood the sequence to be perfectly ritualized — the intention being a device of absolute emptiness. Suffice it to say, that the persistence of this last phase created a wholly shit psychological environment.




This is one of the reasons we’ve come to hate utopian thoughts, or worse, utopian aggressions (personal or general). As it now seems soooooo achingly obvious that such positions are primarily, not solely, but primarily implements to cleverly offset, camouflage and/or rationalize one’s (or a group’s) currently destructive behavior.