out of Context;
‘as a warrior upon perhaps a purest path to take past all perverted grace of leprous debt insane resuscitated joining hands to force the energy forth like hardcore flaneurs roaming the streets with no hope for a future setting of day and night in cycles of systematic repetition… not nihilists but hopeless idlers wandering aimlessly through dark stone columns of souls variously lit at spots like some vibrant everlasting torch or candle expelling darkness in a short halo around its view of the city, the pants are worn at the knees and see-through to some degree while these stains from the blood will not go away, and the washing machines walk among the mad unyielding fiends you get used to seeing everyday…’
out of Context;
‘i write to soothe the ragged tectonic plates of my mind while the reality quaking potential moves on from where it last left droppings of something wild to say as mutants on the edge of description… we are those mutants of previous generations always on the quest for that something which suits us best as opposed to what we are forced to accept as the best of all possible outcomes, impressed upon us the ideas that we are uncertain until in that mighty career is found the way to contribute to society as a hole that keeps vacuuming up the debris as well as the great notions that change how everything works Here, but it is only up to us as we are ever-developing into a different creature altogether in this strange cosmic incubator…’
“i am awake only in what i love & desire to the point of terror — everything else is just shrouded furniture, quotidian anaesthesia, shit-for-brains, sub-reptilian ennui of totalitarian regimes, banal censorship & useless pain …”
~Hakim Bey (Peter Lamborn Wilson); american anarchist author and poet.