The leaves are falling in autumn's absence

Topics: time, death, stagnation, decline

2016-09-28

Christián would be proud of me this *morning* as I have resisted the urge to stumble to the toilet and relieve my bowels. Great effort is required to achieve this feat. My mind battles the urges of my body. I am cleansed in my reverence for the spiritual. I have rounded the final bend of the river and can now clearly see the sea stretching blue against the horizon. From the peak, the remainder of my days are a pleasant, even enthralling downhill rush. When I am torn apart in the delta, in my transcendence, I shall not mind the dissolution of corporal being.

What I'd really like to say is that ghosting away physical discomfort is the *crest* of the *wave* of the immediate future. Like all waves, I see this particular one from my height, just seconds before the descent. Some rustle in memories of my youth slather a portrait of a tram at the apex of a roller-coaster. My youth was a waste, so I ignore it. This *wave* of the *immediate future* shall meet me at the delta.

We collide!

The performance is simple:

It is my death coupled with the death of the future, of innovation, and of all healing through spirituality. Everyone is invited to the event. You'll be presented with a free pro-stagnation t-shirt upon entry to the fairgrounds. From the climax of the event, time shall cease to exist.

Shambal would understand.

Embrace the blackness of the static. Dynamacism is gone.

Fuck um.

tzifur (Martenblog home)

jenju (Thurk.Org home)

@flavigula@sonomu.club

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