Shampoo over 100ml at airport; tipped out

By Darcy Rankin

Scrambling through sack for the conditioner at the bottom, second pass security and sweaty with ratty knots, should we tip some out Sares, it's 100ml? Nah just trash it and it leaks out into the smouldering heap of sun scorched plastic so that after were all dead some microganisms can have a go poisoning their scalps too. 

PA last call for Mr Recognise My Own Name, run out through security bomb check a mullet that'd be right. Rushing to the bus to the plane leaving Ukraine, may I see your tickets, they're on my email on my computer is there wifi here? 

Belaying the screen down to the barcode scanner. Off the tarmac sitting on the plane finally, can relax, we’re so good at that last minute rush holding hands again. Racing around last minute like an addiction, a weird kind of headspace nothing else matters no time to reflect or speculate in the mad rush typing up some article whats it going to be worth then submitr e l e a s e.

 Working working working as the house sinks into the mud the school bus gets bogged more and more with my kids on it and a big bellowing cloud comes and laps at the front step of the city, so big it covers everything, so big we can't see it, distinguish it or remember a time without it. Buzzing around like flies on a smouldering heap, taking calls and paying bills.

Defence reflex or am I just lazy and priveleged. I can't be responsible for the quality I wrote it in loike 5 minutes. then agonised over it later, cringe, that thing that I didn't think yet but splattered out - attributed to me, the process of making and the pain of the mind asking itself a question again.

What am i going to do? what is my mortgage going to be worth if I have to kayak into the office, there are problems to be fixed that don't exist yet or precisely do exist yet, but cant be known. 

"The proprietor owns a mountain with a ski resort plonked on the side like a piece of gum on the schooldesk"

The words seem to have come from somewhere else like the ideas that flow into our heads before we take credit for them. Dr Nakamats with a brain like a bucket scooping up the ideas from the sudoku hivemind in a Tokyo pool. To catch an idea requires a kind of tuning, I feel like I can think sometimes, better. Opening the mind's fruitbowl then in hen blows, Eureka, fluid minds catch the breeze and notice the sails of galleons blowing across the horizon. 

This concept of the unreal - the fictional, controls what we are allowed to see. The more that you make them your ideas and that space all fills up. Always moving - where and why?

How can it smile without lips, read a book and immediatley cant remember it, how come all the stories have an end. Inventors getting rich off tents that blow over in the wind and then patent salad, and famine.
Beauty is like death. 

Shopping so addictive why again, got that thing, got that thing, im going to be it now, or the stress of not knowing what you want to buy, who you want to be is healthier? The I don't care what I'm wearing style is so hot right now. 

Let things flow through your possesion like toasted marshmallows. Strikes you prior to some subjective good or bad grasp on it, gives you all that space to relax in and go anywhichway. 

It's coming from outside, something outside your brain is real such that you're just a little speck in a massive cloud of existence. The feeling of the thing only your eyes can see. What is this weird speeding up of time in the world. Inhabiting a world with overflowing information, such an abstract way of inhabiting space just buy a cabin simple fill up a granary and trade it for a placky swiper to use all over the world finding the best cafe to write something down in. It's the tech, the tech thats feeding us all the info they tweet, “ah i dont even use twitterloike people arent being social anymore…”

News keeps rolling in but are things getting worse, is there more drama? In a time of exponential change it gets harder to take a make a speculative regression to historicise the ongoings. 

We're trying to historicise all this bodily and ecological change, but it keeps flooding up the hallway. The change is dictating us…. almost but we're battling forwards with the news, shovelling the piling up shit behind us, so we can keep pursuing ourselves, consuming ourselves. Consumption is the distinction from nature,
Our orientation toward the future liberal realisation of ourselves, that consumption is impeded by a massive wall of existential ecological change, and our intention, the reconciliation of I am aware of me but not fully not like i can float out of my body and see me. The agrilogistical machine use of agriculture in the fertile crescent. Some of that land is severed off and turned into a human machine - a human guarantee of food. Someone owns those fields. The proprietor owns a mountain with a ski resort plonked on the side like a piece of gum on the schooldesk, so many thousand years their senior that certainly in some unimaginable way you are constituted directly by its longstanding Ashton Kutcher existence.

This bizarre property thing that seems to be collapsing in Australia as drought fire floods and waves change the land that we had thought we owned. Total reversal. Everything is exerting an influence at that scale and we are all subjects of it we are the TV show that the earthquake watches. 

The logic of Australia is this one of property, a colonial exertion. Australia is ending and the government seeks to uphold its inside and outside by focusing narrowly on this boundary between inside and outside. Nature, refugees. Such an astounding hyperbole, we have to render outsiders as a threat. The first peoples' massacre written off consciously into a twisted history of outsiderness, “these people are different they're outside and part of nature”.

There is no Nature and as everything floods in over the arbitrary boundary we try and prop it up, reassert it. Are the microrganisms in your gut nature or not. 

The line can't be drawn and is drawn for the sake of realising an identity, differentially. Holding onto the Australia, the property pushing forward on this impossible endeavour is speeding up the news and life that we are awash in. Thats outside, no it is outside, it is. Going to the festival, taking all the gear, drinking all the beer, trying to cut down to non self awareness, for an hour or a second of play, needing to go and release and play after being filed into cabinets for the year, outside over there.

We just need to flip the switch on this, overcoming capitalism is the logic of capitalism, finally getting to the outside. This is why I am a fan of Pokemon Go, its augmented potential to end the distinction between inside and outside nature and whatever, IRL and online whatever. 

Used right, this augmented thing ends the process of differentiation, and so with property, as someone catches a Pokémon in my laundry. Online graffiti. Augmented reality as a new way of being in which all things can be interlinked spatially and temporally, the consumption of self and direction of history fades away.