"Who am I? If this once I were to rely on a proverb, then perhaps everything would amount to knowing whom I 'haunt'".
"There is only a tangle of norms and mechanisms through which THEY hold together the scattered tatters of the global biopolitical fabric, through which THEY prevent its violent disintegration. Empire is the administrator of this desolation, the supreme manager of a process of listless implosion."
Where do I go now that I am here?
What past lives or inane insane ravings
could I circumscribe onto a few choice pages?
Do I fear losing a voice I might never have had?
A kingdom of the marginal
I am the obscure ruler,
The exploding fragments of my desolate ego, the subjects.
I have time to murder and so little income
so little true subject matter
so I wander round wherever is prescient
and return always to my point of departure.
We have gone.
We are never coming back to the place we were before.
Each primary fragmented instant is a molecular motion which will never replay itself in the same manner.
We are fucked, however, in our fucked-ness, discover our true power.
We must find our territory
even if it is the territory of the obscure
even if we will never be leonard cohen
even if we are footsoldiers of minutia
we must decipher where we are marching to,
for we are in exile and can never come back.
Thusly, heretofor, from this point on
we are on the move...
Rolling, roving, ranting and raving.
Somewhere we will go
Sometime we will have it.
We have gotten here
From here on out
Everywhere without the shadow of the terrible ashes of empire is home far as I'm concerned.