Life games, music, magic and all the rest. Adventures of the fringe of the fringe amongst the.. "People's Republic of Brighton and Hove"

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Work alright

The thing, you can’t know: From eyes, a letter, a story, mission, watching, shared yearning, shared shared space yearning end. Pivot in sample, //    that each remaining artifact has changed and sings That strange reassurance in can learn, silly human, process break love force, was, end. All out. Notion

>>of final


BANG. Was you and not in this sphere, which means: Not other?

Which witch perhaps not

not anything

not ~ any ~ thing


yes and

a fly of knots

if it happens

if time happens all at once

where did you

go out?

Come in, if we exist inside

unfurling curls,

our own escape. Adrift and

I see you,

over there, past/passed human

I adrift, unstable, learning

I unreality

You no longer other

Universe unknown.


not covered, adrift


still in action


I am you.





Experience itself

A space between. A space around.

(not) this


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Summer Summary So?

So many stories to tell. Community, play, old friends in strengthening in new friends. A summer, all Brighton, all travel, all small space make own culture (especially at Supernormal Festival). All more than could be expected. Release play, learning, being ok, some vital: “right path sonny jim, carry on moar!” Laffing. Such new / old companions, comrades, compatriots.

To learn that the purpose isn’t always the purpose it seems to be. To create things that change, that facilitate this beautiful tribe and the folk in it to grow and change and sweep about, without doing what we thought or imagined (yet). To be happy for it.

This bubble afloat. We’re from the future. Gender mess gay children. A summer in Owold ASStral, reconnect through science. New dimensions (as if it isn’t big enough!), new colours, new life. We make it. Thumbs up.


Their unfeasible reality that continues, biting at heals – a terror – even to us – to our bright-arse inventive friends and their brilliant children. Dismantle of better rules of play continues alarmingly. People suffer. Sometimes we scream and hide.

Our new life is action, is a work against this work, is a work for ***^^^**** Universe/ourselves/itself. No need to have this work as punishment – it is in their interests. We’re from the future. I a mess of hopes and dreams, as ever, ever, all those forces on my side give messages of carry on, and I will. I do. Despair is a terror. Breaks happen, and we move. I stand with everyone in times of horror. Yes, and dive about on my own escapade. I just wrote this thinking of Lou Reed. (Although the formatting is not right, no matter). As I write this a beautiful tangle strand appears adrift in friends, their messages, the same message:

Here we are.