out of Context;
‘more magical of quaint slight connections between artist-music-audience… i feel like we will meet again with the like of these two Kevins in the near phuture, even if it does require the power evoked by new Nny Ppy music roused from the deep, but for now i look forward to the Killing Joke concert in the close-by in the city farther away than Here… maybe fifty dollars will get me a chance to meet them on top of tickets and driving there, and i better have my custom flag ready to give…’
out of Context;
‘the retrolink jerking-off in the sinking grave god gave him, at last trying to reveal a past some sense of the spectral anchor, but fighting back the mortal yearn for connection seems antithetical to the human condition… may the false fates first move out of the skeletal antechamber that is my head, to grasp another possible belief in reality fostered by the words and truths of other people in relatively similar situations, but always under the generally upheld auspice of the human being… an organism both mammal and lizard, as the hot courses against the cold in rivers within the soul…’
out of Context;
‘we get automatically confused when entering into a foreign experience, at least the first run through, and then afterward there is no question of process or means… sometimes letting our trust get away with us, allowing a particular aspect of the system utilize us as an example somewhere, and even letting the system put additives into the water supply just to teach us a life-long lesson of how to adapt to a toxic environment…’
do we really need this now?
the ghosts of the past bait us to think raw thoughts on our own… breeding dismay at our own actions… from where does this ephemeral holy spirit come?… this salty gooey fluid from between the thighs and in-between the eyes and ears… a jolting sensation that brings temporary satisfaction and comfort… feelings only seen in the interactions of coitus extreme experienced to dreamy pleasures witnessed only amid the few potential inhabitants… ectoplasmic orgasmic joy… the recreation in explosions and bursts of wholly unknown substance… a quintessence that truly defines this place we find ourselves within… the stroking gesture warranted through the cash and crisp barter for services rendered as the fluid is expelled… maybe true happiness lies in not having to shoot a load across the room… lies maybe in the tender embrace of another instead of the lip-smacking …
out of Context;
‘the electric impulse is always there, and always has been, even as we would try our best to forget it or make believe that we can control or manipulate its validity… there is no ending if there is no stopping, and Here is where we go when it is time for the next steps to infinity, this is where we all meet the same walls and learn to dismantle them in order to renew… the forces that we have become are inescapable, but not without relent’
The parallels are everywhere Here… Sleep equals death equals ether equals time/space equals birth?
What exists after we awake?… Birth into sleep and back around again.
original songcraft by C.Michael Keaton
excerpt; ‘this blue ex-cremate
the burning of the burnt-out
depressed to the point of this
single-minded, detail-less bullshit
into flux of sadistic, sedated incidents…’
Burgess Meredith is the obsolete librarian…Orwell was to literature what Nostradamus was to divination…and then history made effigies of us all…
out of Context;
‘Ephedrine has been known to stress the heart in large quantities, but I have been careful in my proactive use of these tools, these blessed particles of quickening. I begin to grow weightless of the mind at those points in life where epiphany and reality are one and the same…’
