Another week, another drip into the cultural toilet of post-modernity. (I’m sure Entertainment Tonight is on though if you look hard enough)
Have been working on pulling together some REALLY old fucking writings.
During my recent encounter with the unconscious, I awoke clutching a handful of hand written scribbles from ‘O.T Strange’ the younger.
The summary output of these twisted and desperate cries for help is ‘Contractual Obligations’
This will be released once I figure out how creating perfect pdf documents without sacrificing any more laptops to the great motherboard in the sky. (F in the chat bois)
Reflecting on those young man Scribblings, I am left with mixed feelings. On the one hand, the raw emotion is really difficult for me to understand. Emotions are something that I have spent the last 25 years purging and with some degrees of success.
Equally I’m kinda proud of the little twat for doing what he could to get through shit. Arguably in a more productive and brave modus operandi, than the one I adopted later in life.
Only I also know why the intent to purge emotions came from.
Emotion = Weakness/the feminine
Ergo, lack of emotion = Strength/the masculine
Such a hard line dichotomy would always bleed at the edges, however worked to a degree.
It is perhaps the bleeding edges where I show a semblance of being alive.
Guess this is the summed up dashboard figure, living or existing.
I can do both
But am I still brave enough to live?
And now over to Jerry with the Sports