Friday, 4 June 2010

Stream of consciousness ain't changing for philistines

Not for philistines. Not for American bloggers with brains normally associated with woodlice. Not for anyone. Ain't even stream of consciousness. This is superconsciousness ness ness streaming from astral plane to cosmic brain to internet. There are many voices. That come in my head. Whisperings! Screamings! Children and ghosts! This is a revolution. There are no poems here. There are no book deals to be done - yet. Picasso with Les Demoiselles d’Avignon, laughed at by cretins, even Matisse. The last laugh was his. The last laugh will be mine. I am not a mere financial blogger. Money? The subject is a gateway to a higher reality, that's all.

O Master, try not to appear too arrogant. You might upset the mediocrities.

O my child, I don't care if I upset them. I am sick and tired of their amateur opinions. They have no knowledge, no sensibility. Have they devoted their lives to the one thing I am master of? No, they have not. These are the people who will quote from Prufrock under the impression (given to them by 'cultured' society) that it is a great poem. Eliot only wrote two great poems: The Waste Land and The Hollow Men. Sublime shamanic masterpieces! The rest is junk. These are the people who will speak of Orwell, when it should be Kafka. They will try to be all sophisticated and clever, with their Proust, or Voltaire. Oh, those dead writers were dead even when they were alive! But Rimbaud and Lautreamont will live forever! Maybe - feeling oh so adventurous - they will quote Baudelaire at you. Yes, a respectable demon. Do not listen to them!

O Master, shouldn't you try to please these fools? Surely, we all want to get along, don't we?

But what will please them? Should I tell them I am not serious? Should I pretend their little worlds are safe? Will that please them? Or should I tell them they are welcome to suck my cock any time they choose? Maybe that is what they have been wanting to hear from me. Have you seen them?

O Master, they're a rum bunch, that's for sure!

Fuck 'em. Fuck 'em all. O philistines, I am a storm of blood and fire! I am a creator and a destroyer. I am a satanic soul bringing visions with pains like cunting hurricanes for your hearts and minds. This is the way. There is no end to the outrage, just as there is no beginning to your intellect. There is no solution to the problem I present. I am playing a long game. Ha! Your writing is smoke in the air. It is foam in water. Do you know your Dante, motherfuckers?!