Get Too Conceptual, Too Cute And Remote,

What Sort Of An Age Is This Where A Man Becomes One's Enemy Only When His Back Is Turned?

Behind The Hieroglyphic Streets There Would Either Be A Transcendent Meaning, Or Only The Earth.

There Is No Real Direction Here, Neither Lines Of Power Nor Cooperation. Decisions Are Never Really Made – At Best They Manage To Emerge, From A Chaos Of Peeves, Whims, Hallucinations And All Around Assholery.

He Was Visited On A Lunar Basis By These Great Unspecific Waves Of Horniness, Whereby All Women Within A Certain Age Group And Figure Envelope Became Immediately And Impossibly Desirable. He Emerged From These Spells With Eyeballs Still Oscillating And A Wish That His Neck Could Rotate Through The Full 360 Degrees.

But On The Way Home Tonight, You Wish You'd Picked Him Up, Held Him A Bit. Just Held Him, Very Close To Your Heart, His Cheek By The Hollow Of Your Shoulder, Full Of Sleep. As It It Were You Who Could, Somehow, Save Him. For The Moment Not Caring Who You're Supposed To Be Registered As. For The Moment, Anyway, No Longer Who The Caesars Say You Are.