out of Context;
‘at the day-to-day work i do just to survive in this world fascinated to the death with the entertaining hive mentality as grown-up children with so many harsh responsibilities paid insufficient funds to meet the needs mocking like school-age children as though it were all such an adult place outside of the workplace, but it becomes a time to loosen these high standards once within the confining anything that might resemble professional boundaries to which jobs have always projected onto me at some level to a thoughtful state of mindfulness in both action and intent which others i work with seem to disregard once they punch that time card to start the work day off, this irritates me to no end even though i observe my own two sense sucked into the childish abyss justifying this mainstay…’
out of Context;
‘the vines writhe alive weaving the pattern together an unknown growing from a root of dark potential learning something for itself, a wisdom subtle and lurking like the lady of the lake to present the weapon of truth to the right person who will charge through lessons and make an example for the rest of us, but we each have some variation of agonist/ alienist heroics deep within us timed to be patient with the action though it would appear to ooze slowly as the lazy avaricious desire of the population so thoroughly comforted and sheltered with no role specific until we discover it on personal questing to reveal the self as it appears to each of us… we were conceived with an eye toward the ideal of the population becoming enraptured with its convenience culture jam…’
“The aim of art is to represent not the outward appearance of things, but their inward significance.”
~Aristotle; ancient greek philosopher and polymath.
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.
~John Sayles on youthful differences between screenwriting and story writing.
out of Context;
‘this tidal debris left remaining Here and much more of that corpse-like feeling and pale lodged in a random state lost in thought angry somewhere, lurching out of the nowhere from beyond the coffin lid exploded into wide-mouthed strike as the leech drives towards a pulse inside the throat as the hungry monster or ghost might attack in a fake world where we do not try to actively understand each other without some incentive to the expenditure of energy, and the system takes the place of that desiccated form leaching the love and faith away into a processing to transform the impulses into filth and lust and depravity openly corrosive to once precious ideas of natural wisdom… a telepathic social neurotic toxin fed to us throughout our lives Now…’
“Revolution is not something fixed in ideology, nor is it something fashioned to a particular decade. It is a perpetual process embedded in the human spirit.”
~Abbie Hoffman; american author, political and social activist.
out of Context;
‘conscious and sinister Mankind that rapes and pillages the land, its resources and its native peoples bound… always taking and devouring the little lambs and sheeple as sacrifice to the lord god ‘progress’ in a blind sense of honor and faith, it is this blindness that inflicts itself from within though not afflicting the sense of one’s vision necessarily, but that of complacency and stasis created to uphold a certainty of decay and ultimately a stillness transcending the hurry and bustle of the current human extremes of comfort and caution…’