outsideinroads

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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and yet not

Doubt, holy force

centre spiral, this life with

central point in all directions, all

directions doubt. To stop

and read, encounter

words, feel

strange

strands,

never

had to

read entire

ancestry through

               colonising other’s

eyes, eyes of my forefathers

             saturated in unimaginable

disconnection grab grab

                                                             grab crab better like my family,

                                                                  like I just learned

                                                                           Gandhi did

also, in

chain

of

like Do Things Our Way but

not too much, know

place, fuck off //

territory not

all over 100 years ago

how we have shifted,

flourished, grown

and yet not,

chasm

       failure perception

Where the road

had taken us

every moment

                                                                             still

                                                                                 here.

and say No.

and remember

                                   transmutation

Hope,

Love’s wells

spring

in

 step

 we are new

  Children

     Weeping

       in the blood and

curses

of our ancestors,

we take foot

and make new

Our own methods,

Will learn

(depths, games

Nothing) from

Everywhere,

Still

acknowledge, respect, dance

only way to play with

gentle footsteps

although

                                                   loud pumping progeny

                                                        rest and grow

                                       Build new queer

                                   Future We Are

                               from nowhere direction

                                  Meet and find the others

Only when the time and stars

                                               And spells are

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Ticket #1

Sunset, Western Australia

A ticket to the Void.

Inhale,

Exhale.

Everybody,

Nowhere.

Home is a flicker of light on the horizon of vision,

Is a disjointed question, awkward stacks of suitcases,

Is the yearning I have to communicate to you its lack,

 

because you already know.

 

A still sad everything

in slowly emerging morning.

uncertainty in how we dovetail joint

these flickering wing shudders

life and

words that seem to resonate like

murmuration.

Joy when it occurs,

as obvious the rain is when climbing

and skidding down mossy paths

to Cybi’s Well.


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Mindfuck of Operation Mindfix

This may be controversial but it seems like a thing worth saying and saying clearly…. A lot of this blog by the very lovely John Higgs really resonates with me, but there’s something in it and the more or less universal adoration of it as a whole amongst the Discordians I know has left me…   surprised.. and y’know… a bit….  Well lets just say I perceive something in all of this that seems to have the potential to mellow out a really brilliant and powerful force (and a daft one) in this whole religion-joke-worldview-wtfm99-joke-religion thing. A force I personally suspect we could use more than ever.

What’s with *this*?

“It is too soon to definitively label and define, but the designer Amoeba has coined the temporarily-useful name Operation Mindfix. As he says, Operation Mindfuck is over for Discordians because it is unnecessary in the post-2016 world. From now on, the ongoing work can be considered part of Operation Mindfix.”

Operation Mindfix. Hmm…  I love getting on the self love evolution leading to world/universe wide shifts train as much as the next meditating, Aya drinking hippie – but mindfixed? Isn’t this something… else? And are these kind of platitudes the way to do it?… 

There are heavy comparisons to be made with the political and wider situation right now and the concept of Chapel Perilous (we have all been making them), and there are also comparisons to be made between the actions of the “alt right” and Operation Mindfuck.

But am I the only one thinking that to equate these things completely seems to miss so many layers of possibility, imagination and dimensionality. The most expansive and terrifying and exciting parts of these things… and the silliest and most fun ones.

Operation Mindfuck isn’t JUST to upset the powers that be, is it? Isn’t it also to free each other and ourselves. A form of persisting in folly a la Alan Watts, a form of healthy confusion, a way to make ourselves laugh and see how ridiculous it all is. Yep, it can get a lot more messed up than that too.. but are people really that free thinking and unsure they’re right just now that it’s no longer useful? Are WE ourselves, really, all the time? Are the other people you encounter? That it wouldn’t make a good part of the type of narrative construction being talked about elsewhere in the blog? Doesn’t look like it to me…….

Besides, in a chaotic world chaos may be one of our best weapons. As John himself says earlier in the blog:

“The real gut-kick is when people confidently proclaim that we should return to the pre-post-truth world, and then think about how to do that, and slowly realise that not only is it impossible but that there was no pre-post-truth world in the first place.”

There was no pre-post-truth world. And people are still looking for simple solutions. They still want those things to solve everything, to be right, to be final. And those with more power are still lying so that the solutions those people wind up going for are the things that suit those with power best, rather than the ones that are useful for people. They’re still convincing people that they are doing things for their benefit which are quite the opposite. Isn’t there… space for disruption here? Space for throwing a few of those golden apples at this wedding they so clearly “forgot” to invite us to?….

Anyhoo – some thoughts and questions, all meant with love. I could probably go on, but perhaps better not. Perhaps on numerous levels I’ve been mindfucked here… by John, by Amoeba, by myself…   who knows? I’m happy with that. Sisters, Brothers and other Siblings…   The antes may be considerably upped at present. Who knows where these next few years will take us. But I sincerely hope we keep playing with each other. And have you considered heating in this cold weather? I heard about a government funding scheme that may be able to help.


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Fivers and fats

Animal fats in the new fivers feels utterly rough as far as it goes. It would be much better if they didn’t have that in them. But is it a moment to remember that more or less everything manufactured under this current global capitalism is literally tainted with horrors and the deep suffering of living beings, humans and other animals, now, in the past, in the future? There’s no such thing as cruelty free living within this world as it stands. We can’t escape it by the decisions we make, but we can minimise it, and to me that seems vastly worthwhile. We may do so feeling every ache of it intimately. We can sometimes do so whilst being sanctimonious at others who haven’t made the same choices we have in an impossible circumstance, where there are no absolute winners while we live, here. Or we can do so lightly and with an open heart. We can take stands, whatever ones are right for us, that say that we’d rather live differently and will where we can and where seems right in our own process.


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Flash Beams (excerpt)

Such freeing comprehension of  

<          >     space

                                                                    of flow to joint energies our

                                                                    Symbiosis gives strength to

                                                                     Process

is home, is spacious, is love

is empty awareness

is flowing

is pleasure

is new found

                                                   ties, also

is paradox

is

                                                                all I can think about

Is. OK.

and I know not clinging is the thing

or releasing these

          Tugs

               being what we all want, right?

Still you are all so precious, vitally

in my heart right now.

Snowflakes dancing, everything a flash in the pan.

A shared space yearning, ill defined a….

               Broken beam

                                  a

                  wotcha? We’re wrapped, trapped in heavy furs. Did we grow

                         them? Journey through endless heavier depths of

                snow, trudges and light footed ice shoes, falling flakes, heaving darkness, tundra                  dreaming, apocalypse ahora, desolate non-embodied

                                                                  spirits.

Although a flutter with well visioned holidays there is no sense that we entered this space blind to the shadow in us, in our embracing illusion.

I discover the tools and methods I have learnt and their ineffable, indescribable value. A fathoms-worth of leaps and bounds made towards nothing but

                   Nothing.


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Parp (untitled)

The shadow, so enormous.

You know how so, as big as the light, as…

exactly.

It skitters and cuts at every vessel in you.

It tugs at your heart and spits acid in your stomach.

You know it.

The tactile and tacit pleasure

it seems is found

by those ones

in the stamping on, sidelining, eliminating

of the paths of “others”..

of

weaker others. Our complicity.

The rot at the heart of capitalism,

at the heart of these motions in nothing we

call lives.

You’re no good, what’s the use?

We pull out corners, we seethe..

We, those who find ourselves here,

we watch and move and still

we breathe and watch

and watch and breathe

and aim to let it go, we

cover our heads in wing like blankets

and sing “kill the rich! kill the rich!”

We tentacle up our faces with our

hands, we hide in the shadows,

we take refuge in the everynothing,

we yearn and weep and howl,

and the individual stories,

individual deaths

are always so much bigger

or the same, the same

and billions of atoms,

billions of stars…

I want to say “Here we are kids,

this is it.” I want to say

“Chin up, it just happened”

But No, or maybe a bit

a purge

I see you, leaving, I see you,

growing, I retch, I spit. I hear

the sound.

Party til you’re dead lads,

it’s only just begun.

But a puff of smoke,

this phantasm!

A parody of itself.. I..

don’t know how to fight,
I don’t know how to play my part in the

bursting vessels, flowing vessels,

this pipes pipes pipes,

This outwards, inwards deep deep hum,

This arena of such unbridled joy

and such hot hot empty desire,

Violence. I don’t know

How

So

I

call

on

you

again……

and

laugh.

See how we get on with that.

I love you.


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Slipsteam Lookout Post

Broad sweep of singing, wild cloaks, wild weather, not safe

as in a constant watch out for the

time to leave, as in a constant watch out

for, a constant action against

those baddies, those vampires, not just any,

as in…

and how to get across in words

this broad sweep of our cloak, this scoop up into wings,

this skin shedding, meta-morph paracosm,

this illusion, this broad stroke reality.

Head wool on the outside, mutating beasts

learning our responsibility in our reality and

so often playing out our virtual neuroses again

and again, as you said. Or in

a movement to protect from

a thing we all sense

All day,

Every day. We are not always clear about it,

and we sense it in and from the very best things, and ourselves,

as well as in enormity in this fabric, every strand and every space of the game that we must play….

And in the patterns.

The patterns.

And we speed out our activities to be ones of collaboration and

Peace. Love. And we speed out our activities to expand, to fill the

very real, very imaginary

Whole Universe. In final suspension of time,

as in / out, you, your love. NOW.

All power and vulnerability, all lost children,

all dedications, sacrifices to….

all Gods into, all shades of

this heart. Forever, forever, in growing, surviving as long as,

until it’s final. This final, final, final, always changing Never

Forever Love.