a rumor about an old anarchist friend having been granted a government provided SRS crawls into my ear on a squatted street. laying on the hot asphalt I know this must be one of the last t shirt saturdays this year, because the fading heat from the sun evokes in me nothing but a feeling of us leaving it behind by thirty kilometers every second. that is also from where I know I have a hungover, again, first time in months - my mind works too slow to perceive anything but the deepest values in everything I direct my attention to.
the words mumbled around me tune down as I see Iggy staring down at me, blocking the sun. his enigmatic stare is still there, in his eyes not seen in years. my mind calmly reminds me of him, how he is, by flashing back memories of his wildest performances in everyday situations. politically incorrect behavior - the finest of acts - things thrown down from balconies, insults and bad jokes. in short, I remember times when I saw up close craziness made socially acceptable through stardom.
Iggy moves from blocking the sun, seating himself next to me on the pavement. my eyes begin to sparkle when I realize the immediate future bearing a real joke of a conversation. flashing the widest of smiles, he begins,
“imagine de niro as a kid, a kid with lion hair and the same sparkle in his eyes as you see in mine.” “behind that sparkle, I've come to think, must lie a very coherent mind, because only a coherent mind can perceive all potentials.”
angry for seeing how we are beaten, becoming extinct. the organism of society is forming itself to provide for the most social. social capita wins over integrity - the logical hierarchical order.
last cries before everything falls to communism. a special treat, a haiku in finnish,
a lion kid.
against social norms. fuck them. FUCK THEM.
how do you dig self consciousness up from an individual?
what is empathy? after having experienced the depths and heights of human emotion as a conscious being one can, from the being and especially words of an another reflect and genuinely know what the other is feeling.
"I am not empathetic at all."
"em, that's because there's nothing pathetic about you. listen,"
anything that my mind perceives consciously I store and remember forever. the library within extends further than the square meters of all them real libraries combined.
same songs, passenger by iggy pop, remember how it played?
i found the one who is not afraid. the king.
a part of the larp is to have a bunch of anecdotes performed while standing up.
i have given up my possessive soul. i am building a new one. all mine.
But as all several souls contain
Mixture of things they know not what,
Love these mix'd souls doth mix again,
And makes both one, each this, and that.
When love with one another so
Interanimates two souls,
That abler soul, which thence doth flow,
Defects of loneliness controls.
We then, who are this new soul, know,
Of what we are composed, and made,
For th' atomies of which we grow
Are souls, whom no change can invade.
But, O alas ! so long, so far,
Our bodies why do we forbear?
They are ours, though not we ; we are
Th' intelligences, they the spheres.
And if some lover, such as we,
Have heard this dialogue of one,
Let him still mark us, he shall see
Small change when we're to bodies gone.
sung with a rusty voice
