Lookout! In the fraying electric nights of pre-spring break, insanity will knock on your door and sell you a fresh batch of Annoyance/Clairvoyance, a nice mix if you ask me. The cubed world of Berkeley pulsates madness--and a new idiom begins to arise from this technicolor, networked world.
WTF are you talking about? She cracked an egg wHere? When the heterosexual couple fails, 5 hour traffic jams prevent you from seeing straight. Apparently many people are crazy. And the smile grows.
From two minds comes an explosion of abbreviated sorrow, luxurious transcendence, and caustically whimsical rants. When will you see that it's everywhere? All around us? This is it. Have a seat.
Good timez = the fact that we can RECOGNIZE the repeating patterns around us. Bad times = the fact that Perf City inevitably fades along with Dancer status. Keep up now if you can-- we are deep in the throws of FOL NATION, a new land of worries, laughs, and meta-commentary. Fuck everything I write.
FOL: the collective group act of "fucking our lives." Can be a destination, an exclamation, or a verb.
But you see, FOL'in is not and cannot just be negative. In its performative state, it's a gleeful and reckless celebration of the suckiness of our lives, that we somehow find ironic, strange, and demonically wonderful. A chase that never ends. And because of this, it cannot be a lamentation. The shittiness that we willingly address makes the SPEECH ACT of declaring FOL a glowing, contagious, and addicting process that repeats, ad infinitum.
Nietzsche's Becoming-- searching for rational causes for sorrow is only a symptom of FOL's status ON ITS OWN... but inevitably, to keep going, celebrating this weird territory that only our minds can grasp, the ying yang twins (Hint: Your worthy speakers!) are re-wrting CYL (Celebrating Your Life) into a back-handed FOL that really GAF's (Gives a Fuck) - cuz in the end, we really do GAF.
"Therefore:" Fucking the world is an affirmation and act that functions as a CELEBRATION-- an odd and repeating process of contradictory realizations. By FOL'ing, we are dishing out a back-handed CYL dripping in irony and cloaked in closet brilliance,
amounting to an utter destruction of linear relationships.
What we are doing is dangerous, and you shouldn't try this at home. Make sure you have a chain saw, some peanut butter, and a tape recorder before going any further.
There are no relationships. All life is becoming. We think we have something real-- we dish out our souls, our hopes, our fake Disney dreams and receive a fat slap of predicted illness ~ it is beautiful. Hoping to reach Dancer Status (and leave our human roots behind), we always take the wrong path and end up where we started. Maybe that's because there isn't a destination?
THE NONSENSE BEGINS TO MAKE SENSE. Think about it. Nonsensical sense. "Oh, a nice & neat contradictory dualistic state. Been there. It's apparent in all of Godard's films-- a Brechtian approach, really." Oh, REALLY? Really, Governor Blagojevich? Not so fast. It's a little deeper than mere Simultaneous Living.
Much Ado About nothing! That's what it's all about. Each word I type yells -- please, read me, I am REAL, I am tangible, I am a point that you should and need to take into your pocket and carry with you. Resist. Resist. Retort.
We are steeped so deep in blood that is not ours, and we laugh at the blood that others celebrate out of their vaginas, creating tasty monologues that keep the UC revenue flowing (no pun intended). Along with this, the hopes, dreams, and lies of a binary stereotypical view of relationships flourish, as Women are Otherized, genders are separated, and the dichotomy of power reigns supreme. We want to break this solid, safe, and common path, and hop out of the Dali Llama line to construct our own peace bells. Giggle Giggle. "You are so funny," she says as she glances away from his powerful gaze. But I am all Woman! Hear me roar! No need, I can picture it, really.
So, we operate on the borderline of sanity and sanity--the EDGE, not to be confused with the guitarist from U2. What's scary and exciting is that ALL OF THIS (*motions with hands*)-- all of it-- seems absurd. Non-linear. Angst-ridden. Slow down, slow down, slow down. Maybe we are declaring war against a different type of idoling, taking the language from our philosopher buddies that chill in the texts we read before the midterms, and mixing it into a continual flux of New Speak? Come on, come. FOL with us.
The IDOLING of clean cut relationships is so prevalent. We want sense, we want it to be rational and predictable, when really it's all an icky mess of GOOOOOOOOO. You had an accident? What does that mean? GOOOOO!
Yes, staticity of reason and definitions and defining life through a structure as if life and living have anything at all to do with structure is utterly wasteful-- please, put it in the compost. Or recycle it. But nor do we preach! What this is instead is poetry-- do I have to spell out the humor? Ok, fine. H-U-M-O-R.
This is IT. If you're still here, you're HERE.
The "thisness" of life - being in tune with a murky, underwater frequency that bounces between MIDTERM-ESSAYS and toils part time when it's only NECE-SSARY/we aren't exactly high, but we aren't exactly low/ with one joint left, we only need one blow.
We are in reality, at last thats what it seems to me/ But really... F M L
because I'm william tell/thats right i shot that arrow and hit that
apple/i didnt kill my bro so i took two swigs of snapple.
Last night was bananas, but more so platanos/ 'cuz who needs English when
you're wearin' no zapatos???
(shoes)
shoeeeez
This is hardcore nooshing, another breed/FOL'ing, not assasin's creed.
Alright, we've lost it, it's true. FOL is beyond reason and comprehension, and begs other dimensions of time and
space. Firstly (and lastly), i think we should all agree that we have alternate selves living simultaneously on a distant planet-
skyline of red plateaus.
Into the Aether-- the Dust-- this conversation explodes. So as you try to figure out what the FUCK just happened- just ask yourself: why is so much emphasis placed on the "right person," the "right time," and the "right delivery"? You could really just DGAF through midterms and learn more in college by FOLing the failings and triumphs in a constant state of joy--
But yes, there is one moral: and that is that there is none. As we strive to figure out the question to #25 on the test: Please choose one of the following for your identity:
- Human
- Dancer
...we cross it out and instead write: I'm Human Dancer. Suck it. A state of constant becoming-- Neither human, nor a dancer, nor dancing human (nor a human-looking dancer wearing a leotard)--- I'm Human DANCER. Digest that.
The singularity of stupid lyrics limits the plurality of coexistence. Grammar needn't stick around for this one. I'll catch ya later, hit me up if you want Yogurt Park... (Did I just wave bye to Grammar? Maybe)
So stop in mid-air for a bit-- look at what really sucks in your life, and laugh at the beautiful inevitability of it.
Welcome to F.O.L. Nation, "Where everything that can go wrong, Does (repeatedly)" Population: 2.
Mayors (running unapposed: Katie Felber and Erika Budrovich).
PAYCE!
1 comment:
Wow.
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