At first


We have a city. A dirty little city. One filled with many contradictions. One booming. One sinking. One changing. One adapting. One making waves. One crashing down. A city safe. A city sane. A city unsafe. A city insane. All of this found, and lost. Where do you see this? Where is that? Can one believe in this city? Its future. Its past. Its present. Its lies. Its truths. Well can you? Punk? Industrial? Ghetto? Suburban. Lavish. Poor. Squalor. Dangerous.

A people. A nosy little people. A selfish people. A lonely people. People filled with many contradictions. People dead and buried. Animals in tow. Scared. Suffering. Unsure of the future. Abiding by the present. Forgoing the past. Ignoring the rest. What can be done is what needs to be done. This city has to go. It has to die. And is it? Is it in its current state dying or being born?

We sometimes think that we are human for a reason. Yet many things exist that is not. Why must a human be human? Why can he not be animal? You know, the types that rely on instinct solely. Away from the indoctrination, and exploitation. We are human perhaps, or we only believe ourselves to be. Is this what life is supposed to be like? Where must one look to see the truth? The sky? The endless cosmos? The endless ocean depths? Where is life actually lived? Or is it currently being consumed? Is it currently drowned out and directed in the eyes of madness? To associate is to dissociate. To ignore is to forget, but also to acknowledge. To see is to not see. To be is to not be. All of this comes to an end at some point, but some of us are only beginning. This is the end of life, but also the beginning of death. The end of life is end of truth. The end of what made us human in the first place. What made us an animal before. What happens now should not be stopped. It should be embraced. The socialization of man unto his own communist and fascist ideologies. We should not debate truth or perspective. We should instead invest in man and his future. For he will live forever, and die today. He needs to die. He needs to go extinct. All things must end for something, even something small and inconsequential, to begin.

This is my story. The story untold. I don't care about you, because I used to care and you didn't even recognize. Shame on me, good on you. Mistakes do happen, and perhaps we're born again. But can man find his home living with strangers and expecting to relate to them, without knowing them? It's like that book, Living Among Meat Eaters. Basically a tragic love tale, where Juliet fails to recognize the brilliance of Romeo, and instead goes home alone and eats mulberry pie with cream. He instead runs away and joins the army, thinking in purpose and how men must salvage freedom from pirates and destructive politicians and corporations drowning out our voices with drugs and bad music.



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