By Stefan Petcov
The explict or inexplicit relationship between two identites which are necessarily constructed as opposites, and by that feature are in need of tessalating matter, is, punctually, the source of all the movement of said matter. A paradox indeed. Unfathomable and at the same time rinsed free, driven into higher ground, wetter pastures and windy forts filled with big breasted beats, beasts and where to find them.
Location services are turned on and off at electric speeds, the unfathomability of which really does restrcit their range. And their ability to navigate with any sense of precision or therelike. Low hanging fruit, like the tesla, find’s a spectre to behold, hold and let unfold, for the foretold times were better than the histories to which I so often went without wine. I was afraid that what I thought was real would become reality again. And it happened a lot. I mean, a lot.
If I try to describe to you what it feels like, and I mean, as a full audio-visual experience, to be told by your surroundings that you are gay, then I would be surprised if your RAM didn’t decide to simply give up. To erase everything that you believed to be true before then. I mean, everything.
The first time I got a boner. Carmen Electra bent over for Christmas. Gone. Now try on for size a consistently wobbling, uniform morass of sound and lighting that reacts with precision, imprecision and derision to your every thought. Everything you hear around you is in conversation with your mind.
If you’re ready, then I am. I am that I am. Peter Tosh and the man.
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