I long for the day when concrete becomes flammable. a firebrand, i am liquid ire through these ancient misery-cobbled cheapside streets. and whether you choose to date it from lao-tse and diogenes, or the heresy of the spirit, or a man named winstanley, or pierre-joseph and mikhail in the nineteenth century, there has always been a link between the negative and the free. and i;ve been trying for some time to find a new way of saying no to archism. and i long for the day when grammar, words, syntax fall into place. a simple gesture or clearing of the throat becomes a spark in this tinderbox metropolis. and i will nail it, my archist friends. in fact, this might be it... so stop crawling, and stand the fuck up, because it's pathetic. and start dancing, because you move like no one else. and stop begging, it's not worth it, you are stronger, and start saying no. so i don't long for the day when i will wake to a soft-focus wiped-clean slate.
I'm just hoping that the same overbearing structures will be faced with a little more faith, a handful more people saying no. and there are many different ways of saying no.