Editor’s
retroactive notes:
In a mere 30
hours or so, a minor “Syndicate” will be reactivated. A very small but
hopefully still close group of friends will embark on yet another
journey…..very possibly their last.
: ) ; ) Modest circles of friends are the way to go. There’s nothing quite like a tight-knit
group of mates. Don’t let the so-called “Information Age” fool you. As broad
and limitless as the world seems, most people still take comfort in the knowledge
that there’s a cozy and comfortable alcove in which they might find succor.
Shadow Scholar
Syndicate is here for you…as long as you need a pleasant distraction. : ) The
following “re-release” addresses the perils of the “Information Age”….and the
promises.
20 Days Remaining…..
A writer blissfully sits in solitude, bathed in the pleasant
glow of the screen whilst he astutely hacks away at the keys. To many, a mere
allusion to this scene via a barely descriptive sentence will immediately
conjure up feelings of warmth, security, and a tranquility that no
companionship can hope to match. For what actually compares to the repose of
intense work within one’s one privately confined world? Absent a requite space
within which each one of us can dream, implement, and perfect one leads a life
devoid of the greatest pleasure.
Outside the cozy realm of diligent concentration lies a
world of trivial boredom, spiteful nonsense, and petty personalities. Inside
the insular cocoon one jettisons the innate shallowness of one’s consciousness.
The focused mind remains fixated on the task at hand. In the process, one
experiences an almost spiritual elevation away from all other matters of
corporeal concern. Billions engage in this activity every day. Hundreds of
millions of pages are generated every hour as the prolific sit alone, minding
their own business and troubling no one. They seek no quarrel, harbor no
malice, and are beholden only to the desire to further hone a polished product
through their ever-evolving craft. Such a bloody shame this world doesn’t
belong to them.
“Hey you there! Yes, you! The one quietly sitting over
there in the secluded alcove happily working away. Just who the hell do you
think you are? I’m an important person you know! Yeah. I’m sort of a big deal
around here. I kind of run the show, keep the ship sailing if you will. Yeah! That’s
me. Me, me, me, me, me. I’m not entirely sure how to break it to you, but, even
as exceptionally intelligent as I am, I have these…you know… “needs”. I need to
feel as if I’m special and that’s YOUR responsibility. I compensate for my
intellectual mediocrity and utter lack of maturity by affirming myself a
specified number of times each day. Haven’t met the quota today yet. YOUR
FAULT! As of the last five minutes, I’m not entirely certain that I’m a
sparkling diamond in a rough of 6,999,999,999 complete idiots. I need to beat
my chest out. GET OVER HERE!”
“If you think I’m simply going to stand idly by while you
attempt to actually get something done, you can forget it. I need to bitch. I
need to whine. I need to remind you that you’re doing everything wrong. How
else will I be able to feel better about myself? The fact that YOU have the
audacity to sit there engaged and detached is an UNFORGIVEABLE SIN! I’m the one
who KNOWS things! That’s why I don’t DO things. YOU! STOP THAT! How can you sit
there while I’m in the midst of my puerile identity crisis?! I’M THE TALLEST
LEPRECHAUN! You don’t get to live your life. You live in MY reality. You play
MY games by MY rules. You act as a projection screen for MY insecurities. You
are the repository for MY problems.
“No escape from the drab, colorless, cutthroat,
backstabbing, uncomfortable “Me-circus” I need these surroundings to be. Don’t
even contemplate it. I’ll drag you in…or I’ll drag you down!”
Welcome inside the mind of the underachieving and frustrated
academic. They outnumber the thoughtful and kind ones in nearly every
discipline. Hell hath no fury like that of a bruised ego of a delusional
pseudo-intellectual who happens to be empty and rotten to the core. Frailty,
thy name is petty professor. One would think that a group of individuals who
have fortuitously attained professional success through the skillful
manipulation of their own individual passions would be considerate and gracious
to those who have done the same. Accordingly, those who still actively work in
their own “world” are likely to be more respectful of yours. After all, they’ve
little time to concern themselves with much else. Unfortunately, they remain in
the minority.
On the other hand, one might say that there exists a
little “petty professor” in all of us. No matter our profession, trade, or
craft, most of us millennials living in the Western World remain complicit in
“The Great Tragedy of the Information Age”. When deprived of the fundamental
human need of losing ourselves in a task, we hop on the Internet to randomly
lash out at random innocents whose only crime is to occupy our immediate
vicinity. In other words, unable to get anything done ourselves, we search for
someone close by to kick in the shins. Thanks to the Web, anything and
everything anyone ever created lies proximate and may be considered fair game.
Hence, we shit all over movies that actually had plenty of merit. We “Tosh
Down” Youtube in search of some quality Schadenfreude. We take to Facebook to
convey one of the following six proclamations, inherent in most nearly every
post, to whoever will listen:
1) “Waaah. I’m having a bad day. I need love and
attention. Pity me now! Come to my “Pity Party”!!
2) “I’m no insignificant schmo leading a completely
meaningless life! Check out the serious political issue I’m advocating on
behalf of! No one else is paying attention to this issue, but that’s because
(unlike me) THEY SUCK!”
3) “Hey! Did you that I’m in transit right now? Yeah! I’m
not stationary! I’m presently between “Point E” and “Point F”. I thought you
might like to know that. I’m on the move. I’m going places. This
car/plane/bus/train that I’m sitting in means that, by the time you read this,
I’ll be at different coordinates. You know what that means? No one can place
me! I’m all over the map! I’m special.
4) Attention everyone! Attention please! Do I have
everyone’s attention? You there in the back. SHUT UP! I have a momentous
announcement that will significantly alter the course of human history. Is
everyone listening?
Ahem. I’VE MANAGED TO COOK A TRAY OF BAKLAVA! Lest you
doubt this seemingly impossible feat, here’s a photo to prove it. There it is.
Baklava. Crispy. Flaky. Sugary. BAKLAVA BITCHES! Eat it. Oh wait, you can’t,
can you? Your poor, lonely, and likely fucking off whilst slaving away at a job
that doesn’t even allow for a lunch break! Fuck you! No Baklava for you,
motherfucker!
5) Just wanted everyone to know that I “like” Campbell’s
Soup. Everyone got that? I “like” Campbell’s Soup! Also. I EXIST! I EXIST!
PLEASE GOD, LET THAN MEAN SOMETHING!!
….and, of course….
6) “Gentlemen, Enter your Wagers.” : ) : ) : )
To a certain extent, we’re all a bunch of jaundiced
pricks, immaturely envious of the success of others. That’s at least somewhat
understandable. The skewed realities within which we live leave little room for
the requisite self-expression that validates our very consciousness. More
damning, we’re some truly needy bastards. Life suddenly no longer appears
complete absent uninterrupted “pings” emulating from our laptops, cells, or
smart-phones. We require constant affirmation. It’s the only way we can escape
the frustration of NOT actually getting anything done; of NOT being able to
lose ourselves in a worthwhile task; of NOT being left alone long enough to
carve out some inner-sanctum.
It’s not as if people should be judged harshly for joining
the ranks of “The Constant Interrupters”. On the contrary, some sympathy is in
order. Many belong to the “Interrupted Generation”. It’s a fast paced world of
in which one is constantly bombarded with ads, advice, loud opinion,
micro-parenting, nano-management, twelfth dimension feedback loops, and a
generally platitudinous background of “White Noise.” Eventually one has little
to choice but to give in and add one’s own voice to the fray. Interrupt the
quiet and productive enough times and they’ll learn….learn that they too must
act like insecure assholes in order to protect their own livelihood.
The Syndicate has always been a project geared towards the
collective. No “One Man Show” can possibly be expected to garner wealth or
fame. What brings your friendly bookie the greatest amount of joy, apart from
typing up something both existential and silly in the privacy of his own mind,
is hearing from you; hearing ABOUT you. Bear that in mind as we embark upon our
twelfth year. No “Constant Interrupter” here. Just your old eccentric
pal…looking forward to hearing from you.
We all must live in someone else’s skewed reality. It’s
called having a career. We all have far too little time to devote to the
projects that truly utilize our talents and imbue our existence with meaning.
It’s called dealing with life. It is the fate of every last one of us to be
baited and ultimately give in to those who would draw out our baser instincts.
That would be called “being human”.
Who does this world truly belong to? The loudest? The
neediest? The sociopathically shrewd ones of shitty memory? Not necessarily.
Not if you choose to stand firm. If you’ve found a way of researching and
writing on your passion for a living, then you’re a hero. Piss on those who
would stand in your way. In all likelihood, they cut you down because they
themselves are incapable of producing.
“Publish or perish”. Not a bad dictum at all. Publish total
crap if you must. Just publish. Now, with that in mind, let’s have some fun.
