Journals of Lord Malinov

the poetry of madness

at war with the Duke of Stupid

before dawn

a makeshift camp on the edge of the battlefield, middle of nowhere

I dreamed of a lion pride.  I understood.  I dreamed of venting my rage with a fierce switchblade.  I understand.

My dominion has begun.  The battle is on.

Has anyone else noticed the high levels of denial that seem to have infected the human race?  Perhaps denial is a genetic adaptation that provides some social benefit.  The genes are a sneaky lot, doing anything and everything to maintain survival.  Fragile and insidiously indestructable, life seems to be. 

My environment forced me into adulthood at a very young age.  Every child develops in a completely unique situation, even siblings.  There is basically no way to predict the ultimate beneficiality of any given environment - a harsh environment can make a leader or break a genius, while a soft environment can do the same kinds of harms in different ways.  The guidance of an adult makes all the difference.  Unfortunately, so few children ever mature into adulthood, so that most of our children are raised by children. 

Half the people have above average intelligence (by definition) but I would guess most of those people are often crippled by emotional problems that make their actual intelligence considerably lower than their measured intelligence.  Of course, some people panic because of measurement, considerably lowering their measured intelligence relative to their actual intelligence.

I'll define actual intelligence as the level of performed adaptive analysis during a normal stess-relaxation period.  Do I need to repeat that?  There will be a quiz later.  Oh, please don't panic, those of you who are measurement  sensitive.  We certainly won't measure you.

My yellow brick road continues to head straight toward Oz.  The sweet and kind witch is nowhere to be seen, neither have her delightful flying monkeys, bless their souls.  The poppy field just ahead is worrisome, but I asked Glenda to lenda handa.  Haha.

Everything has come together.  Calloh, callay. 

Chortle, chortle, chortle.

And with these words, the gold began to flow . . . .

Carravagio

posted by: Malinov at 12:03 | link | comments (1) |

Comments:

#1  21 September 2005 - 14:13

 

Massive amounts of denial. Very few people will admit what needs to be done, any more than they will actually do it. Modern society has a perverse way of combining the effects of a soft environment with those of a harsh one, for the worst imaginable impact on the unfortunate children. The teenager from the inner city who fights tooth and claw to survive on the streets, but whose twenty-some year old mother defends him blindly against any authority figure other than herself. So many examples... sad, eternal children...

SianNorah

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