STAY THE FIGHT! STRENGTH, EFFORT, AND DISCIPLINE. THESE ARE THE WATCH WORDS OF A WARRIOR -- Kevin Michael Vance
Title - Kevin Michael Vance - writer/musician/purveyor of raw materials
STAY THE FIGHT! STRENGTH, EFFORT, AND DISCIPLINE. THESE ARE THE WATCH WORDS OF A WARRIOR -- Kevin Michael Vance
STAY THE FIGHT! STRENGTH, EFFORT, AND DISCIPLINE. THESE ARE THE WATCH WORDS OF A WARRIOR -- Kevin Michael Vance

www.kevacho.com
©2002-2018
Kevin Michael Vance
Writer - Portland, Oregon


March 10, 2018

Romero's nightmare... come true.

We are a society of technological zombies.

We shamble mindlessly over concrete and gravel, stopping in mid-stride to stand motionless while we answer the fatuous call of our brightly bedecked machines which chirp and chime at us like mechanical companions; our faces lowered to the twinkling screens of our blackberry’s and i-Phones, LG’s and Android’s, Galaxy’s and Droid’s. Senseless and immobile, gape mouthed morons that only need a string of drool to complete the image of the aforementioned metaphor. We stagger unawares, unseeing, deaf, amidst a teeming world of natural beauty and incomprehensible magnificence; our hearts and our minds, our very beings captured by the colorful bubbles of the unreal, the vacuous world within a world, the world of falsities and sound bite icons; blissfully ignorant of all the wonder and horror that transpires around us; ignorant of the sometimes overwhelming physical reality that blinds and stings, and that teaches us there is such a thing as corporeal truth… whether we like it or not. And yet still, we stand idle, swaying back and forth on our heels, tapping out nonsensical messages with our thumbs and then tossing them into an imaginary ether-world to be judged, and ridiculed: George Romero’s darkest fantasies come to life. We are trapped, shackled, imprisoned… all of it voluntarily; constantly prostrate before our mechanical gods. Our own personal safety forgotten, or even, discarded in our perverted need to be connected in a manner completely contrary to our mammalian origins. Our own betterment garbled and made inconvenient amongst the sweet trivialities of social media: at once dissociative and distant. Into the unreal world we hem and we haw, we yammer and we yowl; judgment and punishment doled out in equal measures by those faceless presences hiding behind the anonymity of pseudonym’s and call signs. Information is like a vivid riot, a violent storm of vacuous images with no meaning, no purpose, and no impact. Meaning has no meaning, truth is not true, manners are rude, and privacy is antiquated. We are lost. And we are dead: the living dead. The human part of us (the best part) frozen solid in an iceberg of cold system reboots and algorithms.

I say to thee and thine look up! Raise your face into the light; release your eyes from the swirling glittering quagmire of the inane, the toxic, the unimportant. Life does not happen inside your pathetic little phone, life happens outside of it… in the real, real world.

Stop being a zombie.


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