Flat earth societies and the meta-modernism living inside me

Liberation arising from the ‘question everything’ movement of a postmodern world has officially bit us in the ass. And not in our two semi-spherical, succulent cheeks, but rather our uniform, level behinds.

A post-WWII world evolved our existence as we very knew it. The strict regulations, expectations and beliefs thrust upon the youth were destroyed, largely thanks to a shortage of resources within the home front. Necessity facilitating progression. Freed shackles created new waves of cognitive thought, stretching the previously rigid limitations of society, as this rebellion against modernist philosophy provoked a seemingly remarkable over-correction.

Enter postmodernism. Long hair, short skirts, rock music, espionage and Morpheus. What’s truthful? What’s real? Honest? False? Our value is our prerogative.

Whilst such a phenomenon opened up new worlds to both ourselves and fresh concepts alike, it slowly abandons us with, just like any other woeful philosophy, a stain smeared upon the rear ends of millennials, forced to address the fallout of reckless, postmodern critical thinking. Queue metamodernism. Post-postmodernism, for those who can stand the name.

Metamodernism is, simply, our actions to postmodernism gone too far. And a work in progress. The irrational enquiry into seemingly unanimous perceptions has facilitated manipulations of our cerebrums, corrupting our modern culture to create, in an ironic twist to the atheist emergence of the postmodern era, the worshipping of false idols and the corruption of our popular culture.

Culture decay. Constant undermining of thorough research undertaken to effectively prove theories to be true, moulding our identities that undeniably intertwine microscopically close to the way we live. Samuel Shenton and his Flat Earth Society. Question everything, right? Despite the role sarcasm has played within its growing traction, the absurdities of the notion that if we wish, one can fall off the side of the earth is a perfect example of the smears that postmodernism has left all over metamodernism’s apparent flat rear end.

The very essence of the shifting era that we have sleepwalked into. Our constant persistence in searching for new answers has distracted us from the objective truths manifesting all around us. Our continuing emotional numbness only perpetuates the cycle of emerging moronic behaviour, transitioning into modern culture to sprout as reasoned genius. All hunting for the blue tick of validation. All wishing to be an unknowingly false persona. Constructing notions from their thumbs that should infest the world through a sewage pipe. Conducted in a dangerously subconscious state. –

– Writer


The pressing words living inside me

Introductory blog. How boring. Some slow-paced, monotone narrative voice guiding you through a war zone of their groundbreaking concepts, terming this supposed audaciously outdated medium as their vehicle for transporting such unique ideas from their cushioned cerebrums to their equally cocooned worlds. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.

The words written on this page are merely loose translations moulded by tireless expeditions through the depths of isolated cognition. Produced for the ever-present longing to obtain, like every being on this globe of ours, the fictitious validation that will verify philosophical notions as superior, further perpetuating the inexhaustible journey for meaning on a colossally evolving Earth. An expedition is always better with company, right?

“It was written, I should be loyal to the nightmare of my choice” – Joseph Conrad

— Writer