MASS MEETING Revolving Doors or Musical Chairs (a series of unsettling events)
la classe ouvrière etc.
what had begun as an overt Manifestation of the Right to Assemble in Protest had been disbanded—in Fact and in Memory—to the point that nobody remembers the red bandanas, the blue bandanas, the water cannons and traitorous canisters of tear gases halted by hordes of open umbrellas: in the water droplets and steam appeared the Rainbow’s Spectrum (spectral masses); bands of color swath the streets protected by armor of hard-hats and yellow-vested interests while some dressed in Black. They had forgotten all of this, and also the predicted fall of Medoc’s Mass Media Feed (whose misfaits were unmasked with impunity).
Any why this herd Amnesia? bcuz On To The Next THING: that’s why!
A lurking microscopic evil in the form of a great PEST where the nameless pan-urban outbreak situation triggered a very complex Situation: first there was a great and staggered SCREAM throughout the entire City that lasted for 12 hours of light and 12 hours of darkness. Then the Great Buyouts. It was hence that the Outbreak situation triggered a Media Reaction and Medoc as well as the Blackwoods drew the Citizens to the screen feed again and fear kept them feeding and isolated except to shop in the depths of the Hive where calm fermented horrifically (for a while...) Thus the autoroutes and peripheriques were abandoned and the streets and by-ways were deserted as Mass Meetings were banned or severely restricted.
However, this was [merely] an adolescent phase and a fear-phrase spread by word of mouth, by droplets of saliva some said, others by the fleas on city rats, lurking on surfaces hard and soft, a lurking darkness from the wet-markets [WE COULD HAVE PREVENTED THIS], transmitted through urine and feces, maybe sewage gases, or simply propagated as an airy miasma [we could have done more] but the fear phrase outspent itself (not yet)
so that nobody remembered the cause of protest on the back burner in this swamp of red death, masked, black death and the rigors of yellow fever—a Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome that some citizens and even experts ventured to conjecture might just be one of the catastrophic effects of pollution after all.
But after some months of lockdown the fear phrase had all but outspent itself, and this before it had made the truth manifest
(be Water)
and so people had forgotten the toilet-paper buyouts and how many lucky rabbit’s foot charms had been horded in the stockpiles of Neutral Grain Spirits and canned goods from the canneries
nobody remembered the old norms
nobody remembered the new normal that was now old
because business was business as usual/ streamlined
an ancient technocracy resurfaces in the plight of plague—
time, ennui it revolves (resolving itself?)
for a few months of great prosperity
Prosperity reasserts itself; but here the shit really hits the proverbial fan [beyond the barricades is there a world you long to see?]
what was in the beginning only a Manifestation of protest becomes Revolution outright
where memory of the guillotine, the barricades, but especially the Commune, in Mass Meeting unbanned,
and the folk assert
dissidence in the Public Thing with Roman nicknames
the Barricade
[again
they have taken to the perennial streets]
do you hear the people sing?
glorificamus te?
About the Creator
Rob Angeli
sunt lacrimae rerum et mentem mortalia tangunt
There are tears of things, and mortal objects touch the mind.
-Virgil Aeneid I.462
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What Nobody Warns You About Growing Up
Nobody warns you that growing up doesn’t happen all at once. There’s no clear moment when childhood ends and adulthood begins. It sneaks up on you quietly, disguised as routine, responsibility, and small decisions that suddenly feel heavy. When we’re young, we imagine growing up as freedom. We think it means staying up late, earning money, making our own choices, and living life on our terms. Adults look powerful from the outside—confident, certain, and in control. What nobody tells you is that most adults are still figuring things out, just like you were, only with higher stakes. One of the first shocks of growing up is realizing that no one is coming to save you. As a child, there is always someone to fix things—parents, teachers, elders. A bad grade can be explained. A mistake can be forgiven easily. But as you grow older, the safety net thins. Mistakes start costing time, money, relationships, and sometimes self-respect. You learn that accountability isn’t just a word; it’s a weight you carry every day. Nobody warns you about how lonely growing up can feel. Even when surrounded by people, there’s a quiet distance that forms. Friends you once spoke to every day slowly drift away. Not because of anger or betrayal, but because life pulls everyone in different directions. Jobs, families, priorities—all rearrange your circle without asking for permission. You stop expecting people to stay forever and start appreciating those who do. Another thing no one talks about is how often you’ll doubt yourself. As a child, you dream without limits. You want to be everything at once—successful, admired, fearless. Growing up introduces comparison. You see others moving faster, earning more, achieving milestones you haven’t reached yet. Social media makes it worse, turning life into a scoreboard you never agreed to play on. You learn that confidence isn’t permanent; it’s something you rebuild again and again. Growing up also teaches you that hard work doesn’t always pay off immediately. You can do everything right and still feel stuck. Effort doesn’t guarantee results, and patience becomes one of the hardest lessons. Nobody warns you how exhausting it is to keep going when motivation fades and only discipline remains. Yet this is where growth actually happens—in the moments when quitting feels easier than continuing. Then there’s the emotional part no one prepares you for. You start seeing your parents as human beings, not just authority figures. You notice their fears, regrets, and limitations. Sometimes you understand them more; sometimes it hurts to realize they didn’t have all the answers either. Growing up often means forgiving people—not because they apologized, but because holding on to resentment is too heavy. You’re also not warned about how your definition of success changes. It stops being about applause and starts becoming about peace. A quiet mind. A stable income. A few people who genuinely care about you. You learn that happiness isn’t loud or dramatic; it’s often found in ordinary moments—coming home tired but safe, laughing at something small, sleeping without anxiety. One of the hardest truths of growing up is learning to let go. Let go of versions of yourself that no longer fit. Let go of people who can’t grow with you. Let go of timelines you once believed were fixed. This letting go feels like loss, even when it’s necessary. Nobody warns you that growth and grief often walk together. Yet, despite all this, growing up gives you something valuable—clarity. You begin to understand your boundaries. You learn when to say no without explaining yourself. You start choosing what matters instead of chasing everything. Strength stops looking like loud confidence and starts looking like quiet resilience. What nobody warns you about growing up is that it will break you in small ways—and rebuild you stronger in others. You’ll lose some innocence but gain wisdom. You’ll trade certainty for understanding. And even on days when you miss the simplicity of who you once were, you’ll realize you’re proud of who you’re becoming. Growing up isn’t about having everything figured out. It’s about learning how to keep going, even when you don’t. And maybe that’s the lesson no one warns you about—adulthood isn’t a destination. It’s a continuous act of becoming.
By Hanif Ullah 6 days ago in Fiction
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