A personal reflection on daily life in Britain during the strangest of times
I occasionally wonder how people in the future will relate to this time. For the purposes of narrative continuity and simplicity, let’s assume there is a dissolution of the old way of living and a period of chaos and upheaval ahead. The reckoning comes, and all those systems of enslavement and control and poisoning and brainwashing and tyranny are swept away. The world reconfigures, and after “The Crash” a better future comes into view that is almost unrecognisable to most of those alive today. The middle of May in 2024 is just one tiny slice in an incredible tale of humanity’s emancipation.
Having put my laptop down after just one paragraph, I realised that the opening theme is quiet exhaustion — and this is a widespread feeling. We are in a war unlike anything we have seen before, and the absence of physical hardship for most of us so far denies us the obvious combat legitimacy of sifting through rubble or searching for food. A psychopathic culture has empaths nonstop attacked by malignant narcissists, both at the individual level as well as institutionally. The abuse of denial, rage, and gaslighting is incessant, and wears you down emotionally. The longer the silent war goes on, the bigger it becomes in scale and scope.
In the past you might have been in a prisoner in the jungle, but could at least dream of home; we have no such backstop. The “home front” is the last front, and every aspect of life — shopping, education, healthcare, work, entertainment — is subtly infected with the mind virus. We are forced to pretend that life is normal in order to function, while knowing that hideous evil has entered into our realm. The only way to stay sane is to be psychotic, holding two conflicting “realities” at once. Many relationships are strained or severed, even closest blood ties.
There is a taboo about the lockdowns, masks, and jabs — and a meta-taboo whereby we also don’t discuss the taboo. The absurdity of everything we have gone through is not a mainstream staple of comedy skits, yet it self-evidently ought to be. It is as if there is an unspoken and unspeakable hope that if we all pretend that none of it happened, then there will be no consequences. Life can somehow return to how it was, a comfortingly familiar dysfunction, and nobody will have to pay a price for their misconduct or misadventure. It is intrinsically insane, yet here we are.
Many of us who have escaped from the prison of lies, and stand outside its walls, know that a reckoning is coming. There is extensive trauma from the lockdowns and uncertainty of the genocide, and I feel it personally. Longer trips away from home make me nervous. I am always refilling my car, never letting it become too depleted for me to get back home. I keep restocking my fridge, beyond anything a single person really needs, and creating minor crises of food use and rotation. Small encounters with corrupt authority suck out a disproportionate amount of life force.
In the cities there are still people wearing face masks in public, especially on buses and underground trains. Most of the Covid signs have gone, but the occasional one reminds you of the nightmare, even if it is being officially memory holed. You hear of all sorts of injection injuries and deaths, but the true scale of the devastation is covered in the fog of war. The prognosis for the jabbed is unknown, even if there are endless online videos of genuine experts — the level of harm and mitigation cannot be accurately determined by the ordinary person.
Ordinary life is suffused with a “poison paranoia” as you come to realise how many of your foods, medicines, supplements, body care products, and devices are toxic. Whole aisles of the supermarket seem out of bounds, as they are “chewables and swallowables”, but not really edibles. Every trip to the doctor requires careful vetting of advice with online research and AI bots — nothing they say can be trusted. Eating out is a particular minefield, as thing you might have eaten without thought a few years prior are rejected as unfit for human consumption.
The world of “bread and circuses” staggers on, as the average person continues to divert themselves with politics, pubs, and professional football. Yet it is so nakedly synthetic and rigged that it becomes meaningless and remote. Yesterday a Porsche Cayenne (400 bhp) zoomed past my Ford Escort (60 bhp) uphill, and I noticed how I felt. While I have no judgement of owners of fancy and fast cars, it is like being in another world entirely from the one I inhabit. The only similarity is tyres that touch the road. Without truth and justice, it’s all just lumps of stuff, and pointless sacrificing yourself in the deadening corporate world for its pursuit.
The online world is particularly weird at present. It feels like those who are awakened are being kept in their own separate waiting area, virtually segregated. Adding followers or social media marketing have become irrelevant; instead our algorithmic feeds look like they are programming us for hard times to come. Desensitisation of death and destruction; reminders of how to improvise, fix, and repair; lots of hidden history being exposed; predictive programming of potential cataclysms; coded hints of geopolitical and financial reset; incitements to get fit and healthy; quiet education in the occult.
Economically things are really tight for most ordinary people. I have become “non-compliant” with the state’s attempts to get money out of me, both out of principle as well as pragmatics. The protection racket is over, as there’s no protection, only predation; I won’t pay people who are trying to kill my family and extort me. A lot of people I know are in debt, or have given up paying utilities, or can no longer indulge in luxuries like travel and eating out. Superficially things look pretty much like they did before Covid when things were ticking along, but a lot of shops have closed down, and marginal venues for eating out and having fun are gone.
It is clear there is a bigger picture to what is going on, but how big that picture is remains contentious and uncertain. Timeline jumping, ETs, angels and demons, lost civilisations, hidden lands, artificial moons and suns, pole shifts, solar flashes, genetic ascendency, simulation theory, repressed superpowers, telepathic communication, life extension, off-world travel, suppressed technology, neutrino weapons, AI singularity, black goo, mind control grids, chimeras and clones, bloodline wars… the list goes on, and it is impossible to research it all. The best I can do personally is quietly note each one, and wait for events to offer clarity.
While our cities and towns appear to have been wired for a nightmare dystopia, these things can cut both ways, and what can be weaponised against us may also be used to detect danger, protect against threats, and heal our bodies. The skies have been strangely full of weird milky clouds, and the weather feels off-kilter. That said, whatever geoengineering is going on may be for good or bad — it is presumptious to know at this point who is really doing what and for what ultimate ends. What is necessary to cover-up protection from attack or clean-up the land might be indistinguishable from spraying poison when seen from the ground.
The media is wall-to-wall psyops, and even those who are into current affairs are tuning out of the constant programming. Whatever dislocation is coming will arrive exactly as it is meant to be, on its own timing, and attempting to disentangle the morass of nagging narratives is pointless. It seems that these opinion-forming institutions are being set up to slowly self-destruct, offering the most outrageous and absurd positions on subjects like immigration, transgenderism, free speech, medical liberty, sex education, eugenics, and purported enemies. Their relevance keeps on fading away.
A sense of the surreal infuses the urban landscape. It cannot stay like it is; there are inevitable shifts in play from what’s already happened. Genocide, treason, war crimes — they aren’t just “elite pastimes” as there are real consequences that cannot be evaded. The corporatised, financialised, virtualised society is form without substance, and ultimately lacks the essence of life. Either there has to be a brutal snapback to earlier values and practises of traditional mankind, or a radical change into something unrecognisable from the transhumanists. Covid feels like just a foretaste of sudden transformation.
When I arrive in London specifically, I can feel the energy is so very different to up in the north of England, and especially the regional towns and villages. I took it for granted that as the former capital of a empire that Britain was inevitably going to be a hub for the exchange of people and even populations. Now it all feels a bit fragile — the day that everyone knows Covid was a deadly attack and that vast numbers of people are going to be held accountable is a day on which the world changes. It has gone through upheavals before, many times, just it feels peculiarly vulnerable right now.
For many of us, myself included, there is a reconfiguration going on of how we life, who we choose to live with, and what endeavours we take on. Our values have become clearly distinct from others with whom we previously fraternised, patronised, or even married. While there are temptations to deal with the pain of spiritual warfare with alcohol, drugs, sex, food, sport, there does anecdotally seem to be a temperance movement emerging. Various people, habits, and places may have served us in the past and brought us important life lessons. Now it is time to detach and move on; they are set to crumble, along with all that is not true and moral.
I hope you liked the urban observations woven among my musings. It feels like a good time for documentary photography — the world can change in an instant. For me it is a somewhat melancholy moment. It feels like the world I was born into and grew up in faces convulsive change. While the end state is better, the transition is not easy. The level of betrayal and cruelty is hard to fathom and accept. Those who wished to erase our ethnic heritage and steal our land will not go quietly, and the present calm feels extremely time-limited in duration. Forces beyond anything we have known seem to be awaiting the green light to be activated.
The underlying malaises — maritime law, false idols, blackmail, divisive religions, bioweapons, brainwashing, forced migration, human trafficking — are beyond the means of an ordinary man or woman to properly redress. Each day has the prospect of some dramatic exposure or turnaround that liberates us from ignorance or poverty. Meanwhile, we plod on, and if you get through the day to do another, then it was a good day. A time of reconciliation to reality is coming, we just don’t know exactly when or how.
That’s OK — our job right now is to live as best we can, before The Crash.
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