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

Culture Breakdown

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That crack in the structure, which when examined

leads exponential to such vivid complexity

You could never pretend to understand even your own

tiny angle, and as for beyond, your feelout senses heave and pull, strong gentle

adrift in attempts at pattern recognition, so a heavy degree of lightness appears only hope

in sundown, rise, stars, darkness. But

what is happening here isn’t that. Unpacking a clusterfuck

of careless commodification, where desire for any connection

pulls in sharp, and it’s perhaps only by chance when

something shines out brightly, a beacon of expression

from a hair matted past. Or it could appear so, something is telling you it is so, but you

find you know know otherwise. Those E.T. touches of possibility

always held more of everything than every fucking plastic print,

every snatch and grab blowback, all those yearnings

entertained, yet held back on. And the contacts made

with imagination beings are always realer than those crisp packet

monsters, those plastic lights, mythology made from sales targets.

It’s not the 20th Century anymore, and we discover we are far from that strange

stage we called home. And yet still it surrounds us.

Roots and bugs, mycelic in its rotten debris,


processing, processing, creating not just connections,

But new fertile soil.


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