Anachronical creed that is. Black Velvet. Tejas tea. Green.

It’s a catastrophist faith, that nothing will turn out right in the end. There’s a book called Desert that lays out the case for that.But my beliefs don’t need a Book, either.

Even if we somehow don’t burn and drown, where capital greed points us may be a worse fate. Sometimes I imagine that it’ll be a mercy to not be here for the end.

The purest communal anarchy won’t save us either way
That’s what the unholy Revelations say.
We only have this day
for to pray.

Not to a god who isn’t listening, but to the goddess who hears even when no one is there. Her name is The Moment. There are a limited number of Her left.

No matter how saintly we are, we’ll inevitably we’ll waste some of them on the prolefeed, because completely divorcing from the consumtariat is against the papal culture’s ecclesiastical decree. Especially if we’re proles of the precariat and peasants in cyberspace.

The best we can do is liquidate all the pensions and live anarchically while there’s still time.

Yesterday was not the green day and maybe tomorrow won’t be either.

But it’s the only thing worth talking about now.