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27/8/2020 Living in a fallout shelter

Hello world,


This is my end of summer update as we move into the autumn, or fall (across the pond). It has been an active summer, I hope for you too.


I trust the fallout shelter title conjors the same mental image the world over. The jovial back garden abode for the nuclear family to cluster together through the small hours with enemy bombers raining terror to light the night sky with mushroom clouds and shockwaves.


London, soon, should light up in a similar fashion, once again as the forces fighting injustice (in the form of eco-fascists) take on the establishment (who at this time [specifically in Europe] are on the brink of virus-[nationalist/eugenic]-fascists) to clash in street protests that are something like the ewok/stormtrooper battle as the Extinction Rebellion once again storm the Capitol. I consider this to be an insurgency - and there's nothing wrong with that.


However, this insurgency of which I speak - the Extinction Rebellion - of which I was once a part and an "arrestable," {notice the control of language thence the brain washing - you can be a hero, "we love you! we love you! we love you!" trance, bliss, nirvana, initiation, rebirth, reincarnation, cult lust and fervor, and nymphs, teen flesh in bodystockings and cherubic appeal}. Yes, my involvement with that organisation was most strange: having been, probably their best poet and yet most dissociated in the end. Going and shouting up the gaff is not a good way to sustain friend-ship.


And now I'm a cast-away waif stray in a fallout shelter from another aspect of injustice. Now I'm a charity case in a prole ghetto strip, East Reach in Taunton, where I've had the neighbors described as "smack heads, crack heads, wanna be big-men," and a slew of other sawn-off snub nosed terms for those rucking in the mud at the bottom of the pile. East Reach in Taunton.



Don't be fooled by the graffiti, or follow the money, that fella's the image of the individual on top of the pile. Am I profiling, or suggesting that this is the subconscious profile the admen were paid to put there, making it look like it was done by the neo-indigenous inhabitants of this neighborhood. This neighborhood that bears the mark of a painful decade with doubt cast ahead that there's more bad times to come.


The ethnographic scattering of third second and first generation offspring black, brown and nearer to caucasian than I happen to be - all mixed with the english stock which was mixed enough already, and the "British," identity threatened on all sides by factions more vocal than the feeble murmer of those considering themselves to be living in a Divided Kingdom, that has given up and lost faith in all its institutions of direct & integral leadership.


In truth, I found the 'Rona to be a rough but gentle mind-fuck where at times I became awful worried but now see the merit of. See, there's a theory that to unify a populace to a cause you must rally them against a common enemy. I have been drawing lotta-flak in my personal life recently which has seen me end up a charity case for a flaw in my ideological thinking about what/why/how I can ethically participate in the money system which seems to have been the cause of so much of the wasteful excursiveness of over-consumption.


OK, world, what are we fighting for at last? The same cause right? At last - the unseen enemy is here - for us to rally together to fend off as the consensus fiction we are all being brioled alive in pipes steam out the spout of the search engine in accordance with strict exposure parameters of how much of a glimpse at the truth we get fed.


We are being led toward unity of effort of mankind. It begins with the 'Rona - and from the 'Rona (which was necessary for fear of death and fear of spread of death to get us all talking a little more philosphically than we had been) it will go on to other phenomena which will be described embodied and villified just as the bogeymen of the age past were as global media makes a punctuated evolution, trying to cling on to the tenure of control they had over consensus what's what.





Contact right! Enemy hiding in plain sight. Virus fascist about to light you up in unseen war against unseen enemies.


Are you a vector? To be taken away drugged and drowned by a breathing machine, a casualty of "professional accidental mass scale mal-practice" euthanasia in the eugenic pandemic? Are you that skeptical? That lives are being taken already? The rate of conspiracy evolution has been alarming.




Then of course, social media is abundant with division and the bipolar dopamine addict can't seem to get enough of snipes firing from the shade under the bridge. Then I troll in real space-time with the pineal popper. But that's enough of a teaser for what I'm doing about the situation as I update you of the here and now realities as I can percieve them from my fallout shelter - my poet's garret, battle-station, where I do the armchair general/online narcissist/snipey thing I'm doing now. Writing. I had wanted to be a writer a long time until recently, when I realised that a lot of what I wanted to say would lack potency if my character was unsubstantial. I have travelled to overgrown places, dumps, and helped as best I could, making me stronger, but not yet self-servient, helping me to develop and learn my art better.





And the best way I have found to maximise potency of character is do build a show and use that space which I have made of myself and for myself - my hareem - to step closer to fulfilling my dream; earn a fair buck and use that to empower me righteously to breaking free from the system and honoring it's charity as I now find myself in accomodation for the homeless after experiencing what the Universal Credit lady said was "modern slavery".





So, for the time being, I have given up doing right by the planet helping to fulfil the dreams of others as a volunteer. It's time for me to do my own work, which means doing what I do best. In abstract, the work of building a small pop-up festival is very similar to being a detachment commander in the Army. And to tell you the truth I'd much rather go and do all that in my own setting and see who turns up and what happens than protest in the street anymore.





I had to develop what I was doing from mere writing to enacting what I had written about how festival people might be able to save the day - by becoming one myself. Left wheel! So now, I'm a showman for private hire or public nuisance. Halt! Stillgehstanden!





I do a grime open-mic party now under my own banner. FRONT TOWARD this is the name of my little circus and it's always going to be a work in progress, just as my pride is growing everttime I manifest my ego as a walk in roadshow everywhere I go. Feels like freedom at least, coming out, and being present. Doing me and putting an end to my agoraphobia with prosperity theory.


Why now for such a disclosure as all this?


Now that I have my own outfit, I should let you know that I will be attending the Extinction Rebellion in London (commencing on September 1st) as an observer - not one of their yellow-vested legal observers, but as someone who observes from a position that is as close to not-biased as I have managed to find in my quite varied experience. The vulgarity of street protesting has always had an image problem because it's dirty, lowly, and feral.


This will be the last time I go to street protests, because I think that we're better than that. In street protests, there is intimidation between oppressor and oppresed. Between the winner and the loser. Antagonism. Discipline versus disciples. Discipline versus disciples - and the two sharing more in common than the sum of their differences.


I don't like watching that sort of behaviour any more because of the containment of physical non-violence with toe curling foot tapping anxiousness, and the impotent feeling that front line officers must sometimes feel of being a pawn in someone elses game. The contrived nature of 'perhaos this is how we get what we want' gets to me. You see their eyes surveying constantly, looking into the crowd, looking at you, as if you were some reprehensible sub-sect of the population. Though perhaps, in that checkerboard reality where the strongman is who they say he is one could find peace and be alright with being a pawn.




I prefer to make a joke of the whole thing somewhere safe.


I don't like watching the police undergoing duress, but I'll go and do it as a final reminder of why I do my thing out in nature. My thing aims to be a reminder that I/you/we/they can all get on and move forward with our lives in unity - an experiential awakening as to what is possible when you stop fighting the system, learn how to work with it and maximise your potential as I prove the concept my self.


Cas-

ca-

ded.


I'm selling my art now. So far I have a revenue of £15 for selling three image bundles and it feels like success is on the way as my pop up free party will become my marketing platform - now only I have to wait for invitations and bookings to come and this time next year we'll be millionaires!


The next product I'll sell will be "my product" - a poetry & essay anthology, and after that FRONT TOWARD patches and #false flags - to be sold in batches.


In London in September I'm going to network and try to get myself a gig doing FRONT TOWARD and selling art from my site. Enough on this update - I have a book to write.


I am more optimistic than ever and look forward to making new friends on this journey. If you're not a brainiac and this didn't make sense - don't worry. Come and find me when I'm in the field and all will make sense - more than the fact-checkers...


more than the algorithm...


join me in the jungle.

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