Generation Ur…

Key Word

Ur…: is the non word that some adults use in different situations whenever they delay their speeches.

What you are about to read are words for all and none!

By  way of introduction this is the story of the “lost in translation” group of people inhabiting the desert of the real. This is a personal account of the self-censoring youth (my age class); the youth that voluntarily rendered its spontaneity vestigial. A vestigiality that gives a sense of psychedelic ecstasy, a sense of temporary vacation from thinking, where everything is ‘bright’ and appears luminously ‘right’ for the analysand has lost control of his willful ailments and predicaments.

Note that in the next paragraphs I care not much about the sympathy related to criticisms. I will say what I wanted to say in the manner I want to say and without castrating the “dusty balls” in the flow. I will be seeing to the preservation of relative pungency in message hereby written.

Coming back to the major issue i.e. Generation Ur (GU, hereafter), it is a generation in the age of Googled articles and systematically improvised speeches driven by the mass of overwhelming availability of ready made ancient wisdoms of the world (that is to say GU is more of a generation of discovery of the anamnesis of the ancients than invention, that needs passionate thinking, eccentric experience and ones own personal authority to signify and realize the prototype). It is a generation that says what I doesn’t mean and mean what it does not want to say. It is a generation that trembles at the sight of divergence of opinions and thoughts. It is also a generation that strives to save, protect and share the knowledge of its forefathers in the name of democratic and human rights. The people who fathered GU gave it a gift of servitude to tradition, a tradition with a missionary impulse to pass on a heirloom of ignorance. It is a progeny of the pre-1989 world of controlled ideas, institutions, cultures and behaviors.

Despite 1989 marking the dawn of new forms of freedom to access and share what exists in the form of knowledge and pseudoscience alike without obligatory attribution to to the primary source GU is machinated by a culture of self-affirming oblivion. The extent to which it could subjectively and clearly (without boringly repetitive delays in parlance) its feelings, sentiments and convictions without pruning their original propositions and primeval intent has become a rare quality owned only by a few individuals with “a rage to master.” Instead a culture of pedantic appeal to statistics and linguistic castration has taken shape, I dare say!

The monotony (sameness in tenets and appeal) in the monologues delivered, in the appeals made to the “Numbers Game”, the mainstream schools of thought, the prevalent political culture of apathy and sympathy, the robotic precision in the pronunciation of words, the unusual tendency to cling to the hundred pound words,… in one way or another reminds me of their Juvenile Generational Frustration (JGF). In my personal opinion this an Altschmerz. Altschmerz in the The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows defined as “weariness with the same old issues that you’ve always had—the same boring flaws and anxieties you’ve been gnawing on for years, which leaves them soggy and tasteless and inert, with nothing interesting left to think about, nothing left to do but spit them out and wander off to the backyard, ready to dig up some fresher pain you might have buried long ago.”

Their frustration came from their pain, a pain that they experience for they feel deprived of their purposes and repressed in the freedom of thought they attain, but they knew not the reason for this state of affairs or how they could cut the Gordian Knot short to experience, at least negative freedom – freedom from the metaphysical limbo they are trapped in. Put differently, their emancipation comes after a journey to the land of gnossienne – “a moment of awareness that someone you’ve known [in this case, ones own inner self] for years still has a private and mysterious inner life, and somewhere in the hallways of their personality is a door locked from the inside, a stairway leading to a wing of the house that you’ve never fully explored—an unfinished attic that will remain maddeningly unknowable to you, because ultimately neither of you has a map, or a master key, or any way of knowing exactly where you stand.”

Putting aside the irony in their defensive position, they have consented to blindness unto their acts of silent acquiescence to folk psychology and the dominant frivolous mass ideology that paralyzed their efforts in trying to find out the extent of the contagion of willful ignorance.

The tragedy in this narrative is the very recognition that GU is a self-sacrificing generation of youth – whether implied and or expressed – subject to obscure and ridiculous authorities that overwhelm it without inspiring reason than a ‘blissful’ ignorance, unsophisticated superstition devoid of taste and rational temptation, rituals lacking variety and obvious guiding principles, defenseless obedience that forces it to recite generations of pedagogical ‘psalms’, worshiping ignorant and evasive culture of argumentation and conversing, left at the mercy of political elites and academic demagogues born out of ‘state of nature’-style dread of the present and frustration about the future.

Generation Ur is a generation that deflowered, is doing so and will do so in the future its “rational virginity”, its individual capacity and natural tendency to think and speak for oneself in ones own power. It has deflowered itself just to appease the ignorati and to be confused by the consequences and always trying to “run away from the pain” of explaining and diagnosing the ailment it suffers from as far as it stays in the same swamp. As such it could be argued that there is nothing more harmful than surrendering ones power in the subjective utility of language for a purpose one thinks proper, though not intentionally hurting other’s emotive needs.

For me GU is to old to talk to, to fat to flee (caught in a limbo), and to young to listen to for the charm of curiosity they should naturally develop and own in their manner of conversing and writing have started to evaporate like morning dew for they those qualities were left unattended in an arena of brainless wolves, in favor of unquestioning and conformist, hereditary assimilation which had gradually resulted in homicide – a selective and indiscriminate ‘killing’ that targeted the Self (primarily represented by the Ego), the agency that is responsible for spontaneity, the natural not premeditated recitation, uncensored for statistics sake flow of ideas, either Promethean, thinking before acting or the opposite, Epimethean. The homicide is in turn the brainchild of the new breed of freedom.

Per se, slavery is the new freedom. I don’t consider humans without self-recognizing being (just humans), creatures devoid of a sense of existence in their own way and in the image of their world views, higher beings, precisely human beings, lacking essence in their awareness of time as conscious human beings. They are rather humanoids; humanoid robots executing the social algorithms: Ignorance is bliss! Self-denial a catharsis! Mimicry is the epitome of humanness! Pop culture is the apex of rational evolution! Science and technology are the panacea to problems humanity faces!…This amounts to being the manic-depressive robot in the movie “The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy”, trapped in the monotony of everyday life and eternal survival instinct.

In the end , if I am to make a speech, write an article or a book, act a theatrical performance for the sake of being equally conformist, ‘humane’, oblivious is the rest, then where is the point where I have the assurance that I am the sole builder, owner and manager of my individualistic ‘metaphysical terror’, the tremor to be felt in my expressive language in the spirit of its randomness, unexpectedness, owing no one and nothing? This question left unanswered (“left unopened”) as it is and unquestioned otherwise for further clarity, a generation that demonstrates its ideals and ideas out of obedience than out of necessity, curiosity, or an interest in teaching others (or else why not enlightening) has fallen into the fearful reverence of improvisations of the ignorati that gets its ideas and ideals from the individual and “burn him at the stake” for deviating from their dilettantism. To expand a little, this marks the beginning of the end, the end that signifies and justifies the need for a generation with the guts to speak about itself, for it self and to itself in a manner that doesn’t resemble in various ways the strict observance of socially ‘pregiven’ rules of engagement in the plethora of expressive thought.

If unquestionable obedience to creeds that do not ask and tell anyway could empower a society or the individual by deliberation or by chance, the strictly obedient majority (the statistics) would rule the world (hence no need for thinkers, innovators, geniuses, discoverers, statesmen..etc of whom all are individual qualities). That is to imply the mastery of acolyteship than argumentative apprenticeship of the vast majority.

So I dare say leave the shackles of blending in behind, the heavy words to the philologists and conforming to your surrounding without knowing why to the survival instinct-laden chameleon and grab your spontaneity “by the horns.”

Wrapping up: Tell the world what you have experienced in the then, are experiencing in the now and will experience in the uncharted territories of the hereafter in Sincere Subjective Simplicity (3S), for in 3S lies subtlety hiding in the open. Choking oneself with the vernacular parlance and the bitter pill of self-sacrifice is nothing more than conversational and literary boondoggling, a waste of time and above all being the center of an irresistible boredom and disgust. I am recommending an end to this masquerade of trying to unwillingly blend oneself in. I am resuscitating the spirit of randomness in coherence and natural divergence, that blind conformity in the manner of our parlance and in the composition of our texts. Hence, “spontaneous etiquette to the universe.”

Published by Hibamo Ayalew

Very recently I've come to the decision that I've to say what I've to say in ways I wanted to say irrespective of the "feelings" of the mediocre creatures out there crawling the earth in search of solace where there's none. Seeking wisdom in the Desert of the Real.

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