poetryrepairs #241 v17.09:101

author : title
GIUSEPPI MARTINO BUONAIUTO : “Bio-Mechanical Protocols”

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"My New Diary"

Like Winston Smith, I think it’s time to start a diary. Follow me now: it’s April in Oceania, The cruelest month, The silly season, printemps, A regular I see London, I see France. I see Winston’s Underpants. If you catch my drift? La Primavera: Vivaldi’s rocking the Juke box and the vote, Botticelli’s painting, A mural on Jerusalem's wailing wall. My diary will be hard evidence of thought crime. Thought crime: one of the more severe varieties of Religious experience & the most psychotic form of mental illness, In a category known as antisocial personality disorders. Thought crime means never getting into any serious trouble, Until you’re caught, can we at least agree on that? So, we'd better add the DSM to our stack of essential literary classics. The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Published by the American Psychiatric Association, Providing a common language, A shrink’s Esperanto. DSM-IV codes classify mental disorders. The DSM: a Frommer’s travel guide & User’s manual for life on planet Earth. So, like Orwell's Winston, I start a diary of my own; but Unlike Mr. Smith, I address my message to the here & What’s happening now, not the future, not the past but N-a-zayer, N-a-zither NOW. That's right, I write for the present: “If thought was ever free, it is not free now." If truth exists it is a closely guarded secret, Although McLuhan’s observations hide in plain sight: “The new electronic interdependence, recreates The world in the image of a global village.” Which makes us all global village idiots. We are no longer different from one another; The age of groupthink is here. I write to you from an age of security & surveillance, Warrantless search and predator drones, An age where no man is ever truly alone. From an age of standardization, replaceable parts, Whirling dervishes, dabblers in spin control, Newspeak and doublespeak, Atlas shrugged, drugged and fugged, The new world order: All but the faint of heart need apply, … "I send greetings.”

poetryrepairs #240 v17.09:101

“Bio-Mechanical Protocols”

Bio-mechanical protocols govern my identity And are implanted while I sleep. My brain--my weak and weary CPU-- Is replenished, my discs defragmented. A suite of magnetic & optical white rooms, Cleansed free of contaminants, Gun mounts & lifeboat stations Manned and ready, Standing at attention, saluting British snap-style, Snap-to and heel click, Ramrod straight and cheerful: “Ready for duty, Sir.” My mind is ravenous, Lusting for something, Anything to process. Any memory or image, Lyric or construct, be they short-term Dailies or deeply imprinted. Fixations archived one and all In deep storage time and space. Memories, some subconscious, Most vaporous; others--the scary ones— Eidetic: frighteningly detailed, Extraordinarily vivid. Precise cognitive transcripts; Recollected so richly, rife and fresh. Visual, auditory, tactile, gustatory, & olfactory reloads: Queued up and increasingly re-experienced. The bio-data of six decades: it’s all there. People, countless places & things cataloged. Every event, joy and trauma Enveloped from within or, Accessed externally from cloudy storage devices. The random access memory of a lifetime, Read and recollected from cerebral Repositories and vaults, all the while, The entire greedy process overseen, Over-driven by that servile British bat-man, Rummaging through the data, In batches small and large, Internal and external drives working In seamless syncopation, self-referential, At times paradoxical and infinitely looped. “Cogito ergo sum." Descartes stripped it down to the basics but There’s more to the story: Thinking about thinking. The curse & minefield for the cerebral: Metacognition. No, it is not the fact that thought exists, Or even the thoughts themselves. It is the thought's information technology That baffles me, adaptive & profound As any evolution posited by Darwin, Beyond the wetware in my skull Dwells an entirely new operating system. My mental & cultural landscape are now one, Machines connecting the two. It’s what I am and what I am becoming. Once more for emphasis: "It is the information technology of who I am. It is the operating system of my mental and cultural landscape. It is the machinery connecting the two." This is the central point of this narrative: Metacognition—your superego’s yenta Cassandra, Screaming, screaming in your psychic ear, your good ear. “LISTEN: the machines are taking over, taking you over. Your identity and train of thought are repeatedly hijacked, Switched off the main line onto spurs and tangents, Only marginally connected or Not connected at all. Yes, something has happened to me along the way. I am no longer certain of my identity as a human being. Time and technology has altered my basic wiring diagram. I suspect the sophisticated gadgets and tools I’ve been using to shape & make Sense of my environment, have reared up, Turned around on me. My tools have reshaped my brain, Remaking my central nervous system. Turning me into something simultaneously More and less human. The electronic toys and tools I once so lovingly embraced, Have turned unpredictable and rabid, Their bite penetrating my skin, septic now, A cluster of implanted sensors. Content: currency made increasingly More valuable as time passes, Served up by & serving the interests of A pervasively predatory 1%. And the rest of us: the so-called 99%? No longer human; Simply put by both Howards--Beale & Zinn: HUMANOID

poetryrepairs #240 v17.09:101

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"My New Diary"

Giuseppi Martino Buonaiuto is a former commissioned officer and veteran; employed later by one of the more obscure government clandestine services. He holds numerous graduate degrees including a Masters from the Kennedy School of Government, Harvard University. He is retired, splitting his time between two gated over-55 lunatic asylums, one in northern New Mexico and the other in southern California. He was born and raised in Brooklyn. His two children know him by another name.