in the subjectified contemplation of the passage of time it becomes incumbent upon the perceiver to recognize the depth to which he or she is a product of his or her own mind. this recognition then becomes a reflection upon the particulars of societal and cultural production that instill in all of us certain ideas about how to Think and Behave. these ideas are really Ideologies that we are all slave to, they are the assumptions that many of us share beneath our surface differences and cares. Some of these you might recognize, more for their effects than for their causes, because causative factors are hidden from conscious view, although they affect both me and you. have you ever noticed how the media tries to make us all think the same, how the corporations try to make us all dress the same, eat the same foods, drink the same drinks, and get ****** up off the same designer drugs? it ain't no accident. those commercials are meant for the underlying messages that are sent, and even though subliminal advertising was banned, man, they've found other sewers within which to slink, other ways to affect the way we think. how about how the music gets us all to dance the same way; what's that all about? i thought dancing was about freedom and self-expression, not conformity or the creation of self-doubt! What about pornography and womens anatomy, the popularity of plastic surgery and the hilarity of bigger mammaries that really! and truly! look! great! but, regardless of our individual taste, what they imply is that these women weren't good enough in the first place, which means that false conceptions of beauty are in style, and have been for quite a while. which brings me to the booty, and the pop! pop! popping of cootchies, and how the rap videos show that wiggling, jiggling, shaking that keeps us brothas just'a quaking! but i digress... what i was really trying to say was, that a woman's ability to grind her box on a man's willing **** is really, really quite a skill, so just chill... and even though i'm not at all aghast at a woman who can move that *** and bring me to the brink where i can't even think, i must admit that i feel cheated and abused by forces outside of my control that have the nerve to be All Up In my mind, All Up In my bedroom and my wet dreams, coming All Up In my conception of who i am and where i'm going and trying to make me a reflection of their own predilections... it kind of blows my mind, On The Real, and i find myself thinking about where these power formations came from and who exactly is in charge of making you and i think the same way, about the same things, even though we come from different places, were raised in different spaces with different ideas about who we are and what exactly the world is and means, to us. in the greater sense, i guess it is a good thing that people aren't necessarily subject to the same old prejudicial, parochial, country-*** belief systems that made racism so pervasive back in the day. i guess it's a good thing that the media has standardized some things-extended possibility on heavenly wings, and even though racism is still pervasive here in this day, the fact that i don't have to put up with it in my own personal life by going into the backdoors of restuarants, by drinking out of different water fountains, or by using different public restrooms, is enough of an advance to make those racist backwaters that still exist in places like vidor and tulia, texas, and so many others the country across little more than an intellectual nuisance, since i don't have to deal with their realities anyway. but then again, i guess i do. i guess we all do, since we're all a part of the same experiment: we're all little test tube monkeys running around in ghettofied mazes being observed by evil nerds who have the nerve to think they are God's gift to this Earth. and don't think that by calling myself, a strong, black man, a 'monkey', that i'm not talking about white people too. yeah, i'm talking about white, yellow, brown and black. let me put it this way: if you're here, listening to my words, and you don't have a multi-million dollar trust fund, a brand new car that you didn't pay for and are look forward to managing the fate of thousands at some point in your priviledged life, then you are not one of the designated few, selected by predestination and the Global System of Economic Elitism, to be a Master of the Universe! (insert heroic music and cheesy graphics here) don't feel bad though, you have instead been selected by Fate to be one of the Unconscious Masses, those admittedly subject to forces beyond their control, but also given an amount of freedom to choose our Own Destiny that gives us the chance of being whatever we choose to Be, within the limits of our own Self-Conception as well as the amount of indoctrination that we've accepted from our own experiences with media-induced mind control. so i guess, in the end, It Doesn't Really Matter who these Fools are who think they run the world. because, really, They Don't Run Jack, except for a broke-down train that is about to run off the tracks as The Greater Forces of Redemption and Transcention of the Physical Self make themselves known in the affairs of humankind and despite our individual belief systems, or whether we find relief in the Divine or not, there ain't no denying the times, or hiding from the truth that some very basic realities that we all have grown accustomed to are about to change, in a fundamental way. the lifestyle we live is unsustainable, y'all. i hate to say it, but the unlimited use of electricity, the jacking of 60% of the world's natural resources by less than 10% of the world's population, the sheer audacity of imposing our way of life on socieities that have had their own ways of life for thousands and thousands of years in the name of some culturally-specific and non-universal concept of Progress is all going to go the way of the dinosaur, because the one thing that i do know is Universal and seems to hold true in case after case, is that what you do comes back to you, or, to put it in Thermodynamic terms: you can't win, you can't break even, and you can't get out of the game. one last thing: when i mentioned being "ghettofied" earlier, i wasn't talking about the inner city alone. the suburbs are ghettofied too, if a ghetto really is: "a place where members of a minority group live because of social, legal or economic pressure". cause - guess what y'all - in the Context of the Greater World, those of you who consider yourselves white are the minority and, in the Context of the Greater World, the suburbs, and even the united states, can be seen as being ghettofied, if a ghetto really does signify "an isolated group", isolated inside of a self-perceived reality of illusory ideologies id est, "the creation of a fantastic conception of reality" and i don't mean fantastic-"great"! i mean fantastic-"based upon fantasy", "conceived, or seemingly conceived by unrestrained fancy". but then, still waters really do run deep and the next time you see a brotha, sitting around, bobbing his head to some internal beat, don't think that he's asleep, because that man is probably deconstructing metanarrational fractures of immense stature somewhere deep in his brain, while the rhythmic pound of cosmic waves allows him to expound upon the plight of Mental Slaves. the daily grind ain't nothing but a thing that gives us the chance to get back into the swing of that natural flow, that allows us to grow, that keeps us aglow as we swing down low, beneath the emotional fires that stoke our desires as we then swing higher, for life requires our utter attention, because the ascention outside this dimension of spiritual tension is the one... true... thing. that we can all relate to despite the restrictions on the things we think, and do. in the subjectified contemplation of the passage of time it becomes incumbent upon the perceiver to recognize the depth to which he or she is a product of his or her own mind. Think about that for a minute. Cause we're all Up In It.