The world is unbelievably peaceful at this early hour of the morning. Outside these windows is the quiet lull of the winter wind, accented occasionally by a vehicle making it’s way across a distant roadway… The clouds hang low and frigid in the sky, reflecting the high-pressure-sodium orange of the surrounding towns- small pockets of light in the deep violet night landscape of this rural paradise.
Even idiosyncratic chemical contortionists such as myself feel the strong, calming aura of these rare instances of pure perfection. Soul-purifying vignettes of what life is all about… Simple, uneventful moments that make the rest of the white noise fade away into a cosmic blip…
It is during these types of moments that the same picture, the same wisdom, begins dancing and carrying on inside my cerebellum. The stark reality: that freedom is right in front of my, and your, eyes. It isn’t the preened, futuristically inclined utopia dreamed up by so many sci-fi devotee’s. No. It is, instead, the willing, and purposeful devolution of the nature and function of “developed” society.
… A giant “reservation”, created for the purpose of allowing people the option of opting out of the current World Wide Web of economic-dogging fetish fundamentalism… A place not that different than the location described in Huxley’s “Brave New World”.
…Perhaps that is what C.A.P.P. and their associates have planned as part of the land reclamation process for their tailings ponds in the Oil Sands region. They’ll build islands out of plastic bottles and shopping bags in the middle of these massive ponds of process byproduct. Cover them over with the a thin layer of dirt, and proclaim them to be oasis of true freedom. A place for all of the hippies, beatniks, hipster’s, eco-warriors, and enviroMENTALists to flock to.
That is a more well thought out, and plausible idea than anything I have managed to dig from the ‘Opportunities and Challenges to 2015’ Oil Sands literature.
-The manifesto of the petroleum industry in Canada.
A straightforward and terrifying read. One not suitable for the weak of nerve or the un-inebriated.
A sure-fire cure for low blood pressure or mental atrophy.
I find myself scrolling through the PDF. Document at these dark, lonely hours of the night. A twisted pastime for sure. But one which offers my brain a considerable amount of input data to gestate and convert into connective receptor site’s… and to hell with what it does to my liver!
For me, this malignant document is raw source material for the defamation of the Canadian soul. Not just the soul of the people, but the soul of the country itself. A Brilliantly obscene globular stain on the face of the nation.
I am thankful that after subjecting myself to the kind of economic smut contained in that document, I can at least retreat to the calm solace just outside my front door. Where the world traces by languidly and contently. Where the distant sounds of coyotes, freight trains, transport trucks and airplanes are the only way that I know this is all not some strange, Jimson Weed induced dream.