“The truth is it must be the task of the revolutionary to degrade conventions that keep us at arm’s length from each other , pretending we find fulfillment in talking about our favourite supermarket products …”i prefer coconut milk with a high level of coconut extract”… oo yeah . The forms of thought are, in the first instance, displayed and stored as human language. As well as a critique of the political, a damming of the cultural malnourishment, we’re expected to suck with a content smile and a rejection of the subdued “sensible” basis we’re expected to interact with each other on .
A proposal where people dare to suggest creating art through improvisation?..get out your squatters lubricate them in your uncles armpit marinade, bash them ,kick them , quote Bakunin at them…a dastardly thought; that we should be open to new forms of meeting structures , after all the left is doing just fine as it is … ah wait”
You’re so angry, James … I suspect this is the pylon of interstellar charge which keeps your fingers moving on the fretboard and makes arcs of sparking grace through the inky styes of commerce.
“The truth is it must be the task of the revolutionary to degrade conventions that keep us at arm’s length from each other , pretending we find fulfillment in talking about our favourite supermarket products …”i prefer coconut milk with a high level of coconut extract”… oo yeah . The forms of thought are, in the first instance, displayed and stored as human language. As well as a critique of the political, a damming of the cultural malnourishment, we’re expected to suck with a content smile and a rejection of the subdued “sensible” basis we’re expected to interact with each other on .
A proposal where people dare to suggest creating art through improvisation?..get out your squatters lubricate them in your uncles armpit marinade, bash them ,kick them , quote Bakunin at them…a dastardly thought; that we should be open to new forms of meeting structures , after all the left is doing just fine as it is … ah wait”
You’re so angry, James … I suspect this is the pylon of interstellar charge which keeps your fingers moving on the fretboard and makes arcs of sparking grace through the inky styes of commerce.
Probably right OTL, but seriously, I love that sentence!