I always think of you, and the above of you, when I hear the song below.
It's always a kind of injury, love, but sometimes a wonderful one. It's sickening to see the internet has shit over language; rolling news shit over the enlightenment; Dawkins, Churchland and their ilk shit over humanism; imported, positivist, legalistic neo-calvinism shit over religion; the left and right conspiring to shit over mercy; medium-equivalantism shit over literature; imported individualist liberation libertarianism shit over shared ecstasy and the collective unconscious.
It's amazing how the moment that our distant relations, marginal acquaintances, potential employers, police, market researchers, mobs-in-waiting, pamphleteers, moralisers, marketeers, and security services took an interest in our lives coincided so perfectly with the last time any of us made a mistake, did something inadvisable, failed, had an ambiguous thought or action, or created an uncommerical work. We're well into DDR land now, aren't we -- we all swallowed the blue pencil, not the red pen -- and I guess it will go rotten from the inside out.
Don't forget who you are.
By the way:
and
(I'm considering putting playing that Opus III track into a letter of final wishes when we draw up a will).
no subject
It's always a kind of injury, love, but sometimes a wonderful one. It's sickening to see the internet has shit over language; rolling news shit over the enlightenment; Dawkins, Churchland and their ilk shit over humanism; imported, positivist, legalistic neo-calvinism shit over religion; the left and right conspiring to shit over mercy; medium-equivalantism shit over literature; imported individualist liberation libertarianism shit over shared ecstasy and the collective unconscious.
It's amazing how the moment that our distant relations, marginal acquaintances, potential employers, police, market researchers, mobs-in-waiting, pamphleteers, moralisers, marketeers, and security services took an interest in our lives coincided so perfectly with the last time any of us made a mistake, did something inadvisable, failed, had an ambiguous thought or action, or created an uncommerical work. We're well into DDR land now, aren't we -- we all swallowed the blue pencil, not the red pen -- and I guess it will go rotten from the inside out.
Don't forget who you are.
By the way:
and
(I'm considering putting playing that Opus III track into a letter of final wishes when we draw up a will).
Bless you. k