Naked Lunch

Naked Lunch
Chord Planting

Sunday, March 12, 2023

The Real Virus (Reprise)

We all have the virus. We have the disease. In some it is already terminal and in others barely symptomatic. We feel depending on the social sphere in which we find ourselves. The program was "reset". We are back in Colonial times. But as a tangent in the space-time line, history cannot be repeated. It is the turn of Others. As with Animal Farm, another administration must be given way. You already had your turn. The game is like that. By turns. So in ten or twenty years it returns to the same, it is the turn of the next. In glíglico language: áblansé figlios di buda garças límala asno Evohé!, Evohe!


It happens in all areas of knowledge. Intelligence is not synonymous with well-being. Going through the academy is not synonymous with education. And so with everything. A patriot is not synonymous with a nationalist. A feminist is not synonymous with a woman, a pan-sexual is not a fagot, a song is not art, as perhaps a shoe hanging on a fence is.


The Comanche chief wants to talk. But if he feels threatened he can't just go for the jugular. Or what are you waiting for? The virus right? There is. But what is that about? What virus are we talking about? It is an endemic virus of the region (the West) product of segregation, classism, which even splashes to Art. Observe the skins of the musicians of a symphony orchestra. Or in the film industry who is the stellar. Or Painting, what is it but all the scrambled colors. Black. Like the abyss of Being.


It's the virus. That in each cardinal point of the continent it has its nuances until it reaches the most basic of the basics in daily life. "Lend me grandma for the preferential row." "Put this piece in the wrong way, it's already too late." "Show your aunt's stratum one receipts to the university so that your tuition is low." We all have. Year. You are not. Sorry. I do. Every chance I get I try to hack into that system. I am the worst citizen there is. It's the good thing about being introspective. You realize what a bad person you are. There I discovered my pathological symptoms. Symptoms that in a sneeze of the System were transmitted to me in order to return the favor that it does me. Through each experience with communities, in one or another romance (pan-chromo-sexual), chizga and borolombo (musical slang expressions) know what a bad person I am. I admit it. Now, there are still virgin humans who are just kindness. But remember, Kindness is not synonymous with turning the other cheek as the Gospel says. Even, there is nothing more warlike than the gospel. Elementary history. People go to homilies speech to look at shoes, glans, vulvas and only listen to the part in which the priest says "take and drink from it, all of you, because this is the chalice of my blood, which will be spilled for all of you". BLOOD. And people leave blessed, SPARTA!


In all those occupational psychological tests that they now do even to order food, I always lie trying to portray myself as a person with a clean conscience. In those that are online, a notice appears that says: “Your answers are not valid since in option A. If you see the possibility of stealing without being seen, you marked that you would not do it or at least that you did not think about it. He's not being entirely honest. This will not affect your request in the application”. Psychology shows that it is natural for the human being to have motions of this type. Now, if we have weapons, what would happen?


The Kingdom of New Granada, the name that this land bears, since Colombia barely glimpses a tritone –it lacks a sharp ninth, flat thirteen, clusters– (bah! bullshit musical terminology) now receives The Vaccine. It is a colossal sized cock that will go through every sphincter if necessary. And remember that there are several doses. The host cell is what feeds the virus. THE GUEST. It's the one that hurts. The virus without it cannot feed and replicate. Each citizen is that guest.


Regarding conspiracy theories and molecular... The Social Media. They are like a catwalk of ideas. All of them have silicones. In the more local groups (internet or physical) the ideas are more real. Human. Natural. We are resentful. I clarify, I am the resentful one. No you sorry. I want to give a bullet to what moves. Touch my puree and you'll see. I break your hand. Sorry for the barbarism and bad vibes in these words, they will still be lost in this ocean of opinions.


I am also the worst of professionals for not writing when it's time but for pleasure. A professional artist must do the same even when he doesn't feel like it. Even when he knows that he is paid by someone who is not of his creed or political faction. I don't know what I will live on, but I am definitely an orthodox relativist smug. Un-fabricant. I still don't know what I dis-manufacture but at least I found a catalogue. I saw it on the table like a manual. Who left it? It's a mystery. What is meant is that I must learn to be a “nice people”. Sign up for the parish. oh! but i was already there. And also with the Rosicrucians. And with the Witnesses. And with the quantum Presbyterians. Everything is virused.


That little worm in the brain is the real enemy. Not the neighbor, not the Shaman. On the other hand, the "indigenous malice" screwed us over and we also desecrated those who were first with the mere term. The ancestors. It couldn't be more disrespectful. Sorry. I. You are not. We will continue in conflict if we do not give up the turn. Yield. For those who drive, they will realize something as elementary as that. But we don't even do it. Pardon. You do. I don't. I don't give in. I am putting the cock-tip, the trunk until I get into it with a trailer and everything. Let the Other get in as he can. You already enjoyed folks. Now let others enjoy. It doesn't matter if the cycle repeats itself. The question here is by turns. Respect the line. Let eat. Let drink. Let yourselves be vaccinated too and I'll release the patent. Thank you for your music. Let the new follow. The concert started. HOLY GRAIL!  



Dedicated to every single colombian “nice people” of my city during the lockdown. All of us we know they who we are talking about. 

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