Last week, my hometown of New York canceled these missions. They kind of, kind of canceled the mission. Some places are still enforced, children still have to wear masks, taxis still have to wear masks, our strict owner opens the door at any time to make another order…
But nominally, for now, until a cyber-pandemic with the characteristics of the coronavirus hits unexpectedly, or until we need a lockdown for “climate,” aliens or Russians or whatever they say, they said, These authorizations have been lifted. No authorization.
How am I feeling? Oh hooray, I guess. Our host was kind and occasionally generous. They “give us our freedom back”. Long live. They have succeeded in turning basic independent existence into an acquired privilege. Long live.
So if you really want to know how I feel, I feel numb and annoyed. It felt as if a mass rape had taken place and the rapist put on his pants and left. We are here.
A Tale of Two Bartenders
Funny times emphasize what’s inside. So here is the story of two bartenders in interesting times.
The first bartender I will never forget. It happened in the first few days after the task was introduced. I’m all for the fact that the venue complies, but I don’t want to argue with the owners, I just feel quietly abused. So, I waited outside the bar. It was late at night and the lounge area was technically closed. I found a spot in the “outside” dining room, which had been roped in most of the time, and I was working on my business and thinking about my thoughts.
A bartender noticed me and came up to me and asked what I was doing there. I wasn’t in the mood to interrupt, so I made some vague polite remarks. But he figured it out and said, “It’s not right for you to sit here. Come on!” After saying this, he took me in and passed the “documentation” check. Then, when I was already in, he told me, “This is so much better!”
That bartender, I will never forget. He made me feel like I was alone again. That bartender, I will never forget.
Another time, I waited in an empty bar hall by the door. Again, it’s very late. There was hardly anyone else in the bar except the bartender and the guy I was waiting for. Obviously we went out as soon as we got our drinks.
Then the bartender ordered me out and he acted like I was a dog. When I asked him if he liked acting like this, he said he was just following the rules. When I asked him if he liked following the rules, he said, “Actually, yes. I do.”
That’s my birthday. This is a very wrong thing. But it’s funny, I don’t remember his face. That bartender, that “good German” bartender that I had forgotten about.
Who owns our bodies and our opinions, anyway?
This is a good question. A very good question to ask. If we have our own bodies, like free people, why enforce it? Why do they let free people lose their jobs and happiness based on medical choices? If our good lords can “give us our liberty back”, who put them in a position of deprivation of liberty in the first place?
By March 2022, we are two years away from “two weeks of flattening the curve.” What the hell happened to us? Where has our privacy gone? Why are our self-proclaimed masters able to escape abuse? Why are our fundamental freedoms shrunk to a point?
Dr. Meryl Nass recently issued an excellent blog post The listed facts show again that there is a lack of any rhythm, reason, empathy or truth behind the task – moreover, the task is wrong for whatever reason, only for human reasons.
They were wrong because isolation was wrong — but worse, as Dr. Nass showed, Untouchable Medical Product was never proven to stop transmission. We always knew it wouldn’t stop the spread. They know it too. So why?
As far as our freedom to think and express our ideas, why have they squashed that too? What is all this censorship for? for our good?
As someone who was born in the Soviet Union, I think it’s largely not for our good. I’ve seen that movie before and it’s not good for anyone. So why don’t they let us breathe, and we find out what’s good for us from the inside? Isn’t that what free men do?
Two weeks to flatten free memory
On the surface, it doesn’t seem like they’re going to actually end the mission. Like, really end them, forever and ever, without any conditions or tricks. Like, really really end them, promise to never do it again…it would be appropriate, but there is no such plan. They are addicted to “emergency power” and intend to keep it because they like to keep it. So how did I feel after the delegating in New York was lifted but not really lifted? I feel numb.
I’m fine, but I despise apartheid and I’ve actually forgotten what it’s like to walk into a restaurant like it’s 2019. I learned not to think about life in restaurants, museums, or gyms. I’m fine, I won’t suffer for it. I just don’t have any desire to go unless it’s a non-compliant place (and those, which I love).
Surprisingly, I haven’t been to an official music venue in over two years, which is weird because all I do is music. But I don’t want to go, even now. It may change over time, but at the moment, I don’t want to go. Isolation is not cool. They betray the core of art.
I’m not angry or in pain, I’m just not interested in their business. I don’t understand their business. I don’t want to pretend that nothing happened, we’ve moved on. There was a war. Betray something basic. It will heal one day, it will heal soon, but it needs to be faced from the bottom of the heart and when all parties are ready. This is true healing, and this is how healing works. It needs a heart.
let go of our joy
This attack on our sovereignty and joy must stop. It has to stop. We are spirit and water, not fear and mechanical clocks. Our good lords have abused us, and they love it. So, our kind lord is an abuser. But at least we know.
About the author
To find more of Tessa Lena’s work, be sure to check out her bio, Tessa fights the robot.