A RESPONSE

First off, I would like to say that have no problem with Julian Langer. I think Langer’s quite great, a friendly sort of person with an outlook on matters that I think is lucid, well-thought out, and quite refreshing. Not to mention, rather bold (after all, Langer’s one of the few, aside from FB, and myself, who has the guts to say that “ecofascism” is effectively not real, a big lie manufactured by the communists to paint all radically dissident greens as Nazis and fascists, because let’s face it, folks like us are a threat to the socialists, and when it comes time, I’m sure I’ll be cracking their skulls with my big ol’ boots, right beside all the fascists and white power shitheels. And they write in a manner that’s very whimsical, poetic, full of ornate and engaging language, something that is often lacking in anarchist theory. Usually theory and philosophical ponderings in our milieu are dry, dull, and can be a real slog (sorry to any who my be offended by this notion, and don’t think I’m placing myself above the rest).

However, what I am here for, what this essay of mine shall be about, is that I think Langer’s got veganism (or, at least, how folks like me and FB and Ria would approach veganism) all wrong, and why I think his understanding of veganism, in relation to things like anarchy and individualism, is shallow. Let’s get into why I believe this to be the case, shall we?

While I can’t speak for many vegans (and many vegans, indeed, get on my fucking nerves for a whole host of reasons, from their support for socialism/communism (or the opposite, being conservative goons or sometimes even full-blown scumbag fascists), to championing veganism as “civilized”, to trying to de-radicalize veganism so it can be “acceptable” and brought into the fold…to the point where I wonder how “vegan” these jackasses really are…), I, myself, see the exploitation of fauna and air, water, soil, etc., as horrific beyond belief, and my idea of veganism means fighting on behalf of the ground I walk upon, the air I breathe, the trees I gaze upon in the woods, and the water that makes up the river I live near. Indeed, a good many vegans probably are just concerned with animals, and animals alone (and even then, only reformist methods that eschew “violent, terroristic extremism” in favor of reformist, populist, legalist idiocy, proving they care not at all), I, and I’m very much convinced Flower Bomb and Ria Del Montana, and a great deal of anti-civilization vegans out there, do not exclude the flora, as well as the minerals, waters, and the very gas we consume to survive. I imagine the metaphysical side of this viewpoint is neglected, but I don’t think it would be inaccurate for me, and others like FB and Ria, to view the Earth as an entire living being. Much issue would be taken, I can infer, with the liberal, Enlightenment-borne idea that Nature is just some cold, lifeless machine that keeps chugging on, here to serve us by essentially being little else but a machine composed of various components and parts that can be isolated and sectioned off for whatever short-sighted purpose we have, because that’s a mindset perpetrated by leftists, rightists, economists, techno-fetishists, etc. Of which I, FB, and Ria are most certainly not. We are of the opinion that the Earth is very much alive, and is being killed by the life-denying philosophies civilization perpetuates wholesale. Obviously, we have to eat something, don’t we? But I’ve tried to do my best (which, I’ll admit, isn’t always (or even, at times, isn’t frequently) my best) to eat more fruit (which isn’t the plant itself, per se), and obviously a good deal of the veggies I eat are moreso byproducts of the plant, rather than being the plant itself. As well as steering clear of substitutes, which I tend to think are not great anyway. It’s not the best rationalization, yeah, but any sort of harm reduction, I think, is worth it. Point being, the delusions of grandeur humanity has instilled into itself do wage war against the water, which is harmed by being filled with toxic bullshit, the minerals and dirt and sand and rocks, gouged out by digging machines, greedy hands, probing eyes, and an assortment of structures planted firmly into the ground (the Freudian in me wants to equivocate this forceful insertion of hard monuments to death with rape and sexual violation), and we turn the air into a mode of strangulation, rather than a source of life. None of this, I support in any capacity. And the meat/dairy industries are fucking guilty.
Now, anyone who knows me, knows that I am no egalitarian. That I find the idea of “equality” to be based in little else but utopian pipe dreams and a poor understanding of existence, and Nature. If things were all equal, all the same, in whatever arbitrary manner we use to define “equality” (because equality is always very open to interpretation), then things would have no individuality. Thus, they would not be free, for their egos, their unique selves, would be leveled flat. And if they were to ignore, to resist, this leveling, they would have to make themselves…unequal, I guess would be the right term. Different. Separate from the herd, from the crowd, from the many. Not to mention, egalitarianism requires enforcement to be achieved. Proudhon wasn’t right on very much (Stirner was very good at picking apart the old man’s horse shit, even if we ALL owe something to that same old man, even I do), but he was right in that any equality-obsessed society, is a society predicated upon and obsessed with surveillance. It is a fantasy, a phantom. It doesn’t exist. Ill-defined, as well, as previously said. When all is left to be as it will, organically and without interference, without disturbance, sameness shall not occur. Uniformity, rigidity, a dull, stale sort of crystallization of existence that resembles more an assembly line than life, shall not happen. Only when an outside presence comes into play, shall egalitarianism come to fruition.

This disbelief in egalitarianism, however, has nothing to do with ideas of “supremacy”. Supremacy relies on objective value judgments such as “better” or “worse”, both of which are entirely relative and have no basis in reality beyond the inane thoughts of individuals who might be so inclined to believe in idiotic ideas like “better” or “less” than. Supremacy is also usually used to justify all kinds of actions that I have nothing but contempt for, such as imperialism, ethnic cleansing, economic exploitation (and economics in general, especially the class/caste system), slavery, ecocide, rape/misogyny, gay bashing, and a whole host of other deplorable practices. To me, there is simply difference. And difference should be allowed to thrive and exist. Without difference, there is no freedom. A friend of mine, who is also a staunch vegan, told me that Nature eludes the idea of symmetry, of sameness. To be asymmetrical, is to be in line with Nature. Doctrines of leveling conformity are completely against Nature.

As for Flower Bomb believing vegans to be some sort of “step up” from the non-vegans, as an “evolution”, as Langer seems to characterize it, from the ones who aren’t vegan and thus are “lumped in with the rest”, I’ve never really found that to be the case with anything they’ve ever said. If anything, FB’s always been critical of elitist tendencies and forcing vegan edge on people. Rightly so. We’re not hardliners (although I must profess that I like some hardline bands). Our words shouldn’t sound like Walter Bond and Sean Muttaqi. On the flipside, just because someone is passionate about veganism, doesn’t make them an “elitist” or what have you. Humanism and the Darwinian notion that Homo Sapiens is the hot shit that deserves to be king of everything that exists because of some half-baked theories built upon progress and a Christian-like end goal to history…is, if anything, the real elitism. Not to mention, if one looks at all of the ecocide the meat/dairy industries cause, and how seriously destructive and torturous they are, then I’d say being vegan is the way to go if one is, in fact, anti authoritarian and anti exploitation. Contrary to what Langer may be thinking, me, FB, and Ria are not vegan FSU here to beat up all the meat eaters (although I have zero problem hunt sab or meat sab of any kind, and if you’re a butcher or hunter, you deserve a good ass kicking, because let’s face it…they aren’t doing that out of need; I can almost guarantee it, since most hunting these days is trophy hunting done purely for money and bravado). Though I’m going to be frank…they do get on my last damn nerve. I should know; I live amongst them, and have to deal with them day-in, and day-out. We aren’t vegan Slapshot, ready to go up to random grocery shoppers and slap steaks outta their hands…not yet, anyway. I definitely wouldn’t mind spoiling the carcasses they’re going to munch on later, just so they couldn’t have ‘em on their plates. Carnists are usually macho dicks overtaken by the need to prove how tough and “manly” are, I’m sure even Langer would agree, and they need to be called on their bullshit. They need to be reminded of all the consequences of their lifestyle choices, even the ones they hadn’t considered, and be shown how truly deep meat-eating goes. What they support has a whole slew of reasons to condemn it in the strongest terms. Hunters and butchers and cow-milkers and animal breeders and all those other fucking people? As far as I’m concerned, they can go die. What they do on a daily basis is inexcusable, and if they did what they do to animals, to people? There’d be uproar on a massive scale. But because animals are the victims, we’re told to not give a damn. And yet, we vegan individualists are the supposed “elitists”. Gimme a fuckin’ break…

Let me be the first to say: I am an individualist. A passionate, deeply individualistic sort of person, alright? Collectivism? Fuck all of that. Damn all manner of collectivism that seeks to make individuals ignore their own true will…and that likely condemns most forms of collectivism, doesn’t it? If not all of them outright. Hell, sometimes I am so passionately individualist and anti-collectivist, it causes friction. Usually between me and the reds, and those sympathetic to the reds. To the point where quite a few of them likely want to challenge me to fisticuffs over it. I know one in California damn sure does. Many will rant and rave about how individualism is pure selfishness. Maybe, maybe not. It can be, no doubt. However, one could easily make the case that collectivism is wholly selfish, rabid in its hatred for any and all heterogeneity, determined to crush whatever does not conform, and absorb it instead, molding it exactly however the collectivism that is taking place demands it manifest its existence.

Being an individualist, however, doesn’t mean that I have to agree with someone’s thoughts on a matter. In fact, I may very well have an intense dislike of their opinions regarding a certain subject. I’d say that’s the hallmark of being an individualist. When two unique beings come into contact who feel one way or another about this or that, there is bound to be conflict. There is bound to be “friction”. Yet, the uniques go their own way, do they not? Be it on amicable or amorous terms, they will continue to travel down whatever path it is they have chosen. Hardly anyone is being “condemned” here, I don’t think. Seems more like a disagreement of opinion. And if the disagreement turns a little squirrelly, well, hey, we’re all passionate, hard-headed people. It doesn’t mean we can’t “live and let live”, despite difference of opinion. Maybe the difference of opinion causes a permanent rift. So what? That’s “policing” or “condemnation”? If you want to live how you wish, be my guest.

On the other hand…if you’re going to talk about being against speciesism, and against the engine of civilization that wages an all out war on life as we know it, yet knowingly participate in something that tramples on all other species with sadistic glee and malicious intent, then I’m sorry, but you’re going to sound like a jackass in my eyes. It’d be one thing if you’re not all aware of how deep the rabbit hole goes, and you’re just chowing down on meat because that is all you know, or were at least vegetarian, or, hell, you were of the mindset of “well, I’m getting there, but it hasn’t happened yet”, being at least sympathetic and open to veganism, then hey, I could live with that. Because at least you’re trying, and at least you recognize there is an issue to be addressed. However, to be so hostile towards veganism, and the idea of being vegan? As a self-proclaimed “anti-speciest”? That makes zero sense in my eyes at all. Meat and dairy are genocidal apparatuses of civilization, and anyone who thinks they deserve to still be standing in any capacity, supports civilization to at least some degree.

Now, I’m under no illusion that all unique individuals are worthy of care, which is a stance Langer takes (note that I do not include Langer in this category; merely making a point). I’d argue the opposite, actually. There are many, many, many individuals I think we could do without. Nazis, rapist, pedophiles, wifebeaters, fagbashers, child abusers, cops, politicians, animal abusers, hunters, butchers, rich folks, a whole cavalcade of deplorable types who I would not be sad to see go whatsoever. Do I condemn them, and what they are? Sure, I’d say I do. Perhaps my aggression towards them might be argued to be a kind of “repression”. But I see it as self-defense. The kinds of human waste I just named are likely to be against the individual (human and non-human alike) being allowed to go their own way, to live how they wish, and instead be subject to another’s will. Another’s thoughts, desires, etc. From my perspective, all of these people are authoritarians. Fascists, even. Wholly deserving of such a heavy insult. Do they deserve care? Absolutely not. Not to me, anyway. All they’d do is impede my freedom, my liberation, my desires for what I think anarchy and total unrestriction are. I understand wanting to extend that care as much as possible, however…let’s be realistic at the same time. This system, this Leviathan, is violent against us. Always has been, always will be.

From what I have gathered, many anarchists have a limited view of what individualism is. Many individualists of an anarchist variety only see humans as being capable of living as unique beings. And their concept of “living as unique beings” can often come down to a depressingly shallow economic question: how free, in (insert economic ideology here), are they able to act? It’s entirely humanistic. Based on the Cartesian-esque principals that only humans are rational agents, and all else are mere soulless automatons. Put here on Earth for our use, our pleasure, our needs and wants. Standing-reserve, auxiliary resources to be gobbled up later by the hand of “technique” and repurposed into something else. I say boulderdash to all of this. Everything that is alive, from blades of grass to giant trees, from honeybees to great whales, has a will. A will that manifests uniquely. What Crowley called a “true will”. Being is experienced in a myriad of manners by all that contains the chaotic, rambunctious, hectic, incomprehensible ways of the ol’ cosmic pulse. To deny this to other lifeforms, is to be thoroughly anti-individualist. It just so happens that things like animal agriculture and the meat industry are denying the individuality of flora, and especially fauna. Meat/dairy consumption as it is perpetrated in our society, as it is propped up and upheld and pushed and ruthlessly employed, is totalitarian in every aspect. An engine of domination, of total control and authority. How can one claim to be anti-capitalist and anti-slavery, yet say nothing or do nothing against the meat/dairy industry? How can one claim to be anti-fascist, when the slaughterhouses and the farms and the slash-and-burn teams are still at large? Contrary to what Mr. Gelderloos says, that hack, veganism, for me, isn’t just some trendy consumerist venture for me to do after seeing some liberal friends of mine partake in it. It’s born out of the same mentality I employ in regards to not having a car, not buying a bunch of useless shit, not always paying for what I obtain from stores, hanging out in Nature as much as possible, not owning pets, not paying for movies, not getting intoxicated, etc., etc.

Again, I reiterate this: I do not have a problem with Langer. Never have. And I respect quite a bit of what he’s written. I don’t mean to condemn, I just think Langer’s got, to put it vulgarly, some shit mixed up. Got the wrong idea, if you will.

I’ve said my piece.

Advertisement

I’M NOT YOUR STEPPIN STONE (HEY HEY HEY HEY)

Your boot is eager to come down
Upon my windpipe,
To crush and stomp out and
Server me from my connection to life,
Eager to dig in your heel,
Grind it into my chest,
Malice in your cold, dead eyes
As you lay me to rest!

Come and see our newest king,
O’ supreme overlord of all that exists,
No more room for us to breathe
For our continued existence makes him pissed,
Hands drenched in the blood of our kin,
Mouth tainted with the stench of death,
Proudly wearing us upon his skin,
Billions fall with a single breath!

Fists were smashed right into my face
As the insults were screamed over and over,
Kicking and flailing with all of my strength
But it’s no use; I’m only guaranteed a demise so much slower,
And they wonder why I cannot sleep at night,
Looking over my shoulder as I cross a path,
I’m haunted by him, the strangler of life’s light,
Doomed to flee from my home to escape his wrath!

Rivers of red have flooded the streets,
Tidal waves of crimson borne from pure deceit,
Burning carcasses are seared into my brain,
Hammering appendages upon soft surfaces drives me slowly insane!

A plaything for the master,
Or at least that’s what I’m told,
Can I be blamed for thinking they’re bastards
When their god cursed me to not fit their mold?

Perhaps some day it won’t be this way,
Yet I highly doubt I’m anyone’s priority,
Left in the dust after being torn and flayed,
At the mercy of a ravenous majority!

Hell is real, I see it every time I open my eyes,
Don’t tell me about your problems; from birth I’m despised,
Concoctions aplenty made just to bleed me dry,
It hurts so much, I’m no longer strong enough to cry!

Sentenced once I exited the womb…

Before I could walk, constructed for me was a tomb…

Upon me they will always tread…

My waking days are spent being full of dread…

HE CAME TO FUCKIN DIE

Antlers covered in the blood of another
Who thought they could just slaughter
In this holy place the beast and their own
Have always known to be home,
Entrails decorating sharpened bone like a crown,
Hooves trudging through the blood
That drips upon the ground,
Eager to bring back another trophy
So it could be mounted on the wall,
But now their insides are mounted
Upon a cervid’s head, the would-be killer forced to crawl…

Teeth clasp around the throat,
On the blood, the bastard chokes,
Several pairs of jaws from the pack
Dismembering while the trespasser’s on their back
Claws digging through the chest
As the fucker’s laid to rest,
Spilling guts while they eat,
Life’s liquid leaves the body and slowly depletes,
Dirt stained red,
A potential killer dead,
Jugular is leaking,
Blood junkie no longer fiending…

Beaks peck at the sockets
Of a scumbag with shells
Nestled in their pockets,
Slumped up against a trunk
With the roots growing ‘round their ankles,
Body long since having long been slumped,
Food for the little ones that nibble at the flesh,
Delighted to have food so fresh,
Flora and fauna nourished by the dripping crimson,
Having foiled another scumbag’s mission,
Branches and bark having made their incisions,
And those who don’t partake
Gaze on appreciatively, for this specimen that tried to
Walk among them was never, to them, ever great…

THE WRATH OF THIS MAN

I hate everything that you fucking stand for,
The very embodiment of everything I abhor!

Claiming to know anything about this,
Always trying to hijack it, and it makes me goddamn pissed!

Don’t come here with your bullshit rhetoric,
Laughable nonsense about “blood and soil”!

How the gays and the blacks are evil,
And how we’ll be free through endless toil!

You, too, want to wrap the ligature around Her neck,
Pull hard on her already dying throat!

Contrary to your claims of the opposite,
We all know you, too, want to see Her croak!

Despiser of all things wild and free,
Nothing in common we have, you and me!

Perpetuator of the machine that chokes life itself,
Your desire is to drag all of us into a trap that leads straight into Hell!

I’ll grab that fucking rifle of yours, because to your heart,
A fatal blow must be viciously dealt!

Enemy of freedom, deluded by ghosts that haunt your head,
Taking aim against Nature, it’d be better if you were fucking dead!

PASS THE SHOVEL

Oh, it’s hungry.

So, so…hungry…

More, more…

Never…satisfied…

It suffers from the type of hunger which never goes away. A ceaseless, agonizing, relentless, unbearable hunger that can never, ever be satiated, no matter much is shoveled into its bottomless gullet. Each hour, of each day, it roars with a horrific roar that demands an unbearable amount of material be fed to it. Sacrificed, if you will. Those who do not meet its demands are…well, never heard from again. Perhaps they became outlaws, plotting to wage war against it, hiding either in plain sight or on the outskirts beyond the reach of the monster. Maybe…maybe they just…disappeared.

Forever.

What does it hunger for? Any and all things. The soil, the water, the minerals, the air, the sky itself. And it shits out distorted, warped, twisted, mangled versions of these things. Water as black as the air it breathes out from its lungs once it has begun digesting soil and what was contained in the soil, or the rock, obscuring the blue shield of our home in the process. Does the hunger cease? Don’t be silly. The hunger…never…ceases. Even if those who work for the damned thing wanted the hunger to cease, the accursed beast would still compel them to provide nutrients, sustenance. Its influence is all-consuming, ever-expanding, never-ending. Beckoning all whoever come into contact with it to serve its tyrannical interests with a demented, insane sort of selflessness. For it considers service towards its sickening ends to be virtuous. To be one of its subjects, is to be duty-bound to it…for life. A blood pact is made with it once you join up with it. You can never leave…ever.

You think it stops there, don’t you? You think that’s the end of the line?

Oh…oh you poor thing.

We’ve only just begun.

Subjects become the prey. Whoever greases the machine, is eventually bound to become swallowed by it. Churned up and crushed, grinded into bits of meat for it to enjoy, and, maybe, make something new out of it. After all, it’s always on the cutting edge. Innovation. Progress. Always inventing. Just don’t question where all this comes from. Don’t think about it. Blind yourself to the pools of blood on your hands, my dear. Forget about the maddening screams of the wailing ghosts of all the dead that float all around and grab at your ankles from below the ground. Anyway, if it doesn’t steal your flesh, then…then it’ll just steal your soul instead. If it can’t make you dead on the outside, it’ll make you dead inside. Young, old, it does not matter. Upper, lower, you become a slave to it all the same. Fucker or breeder (because those are the only two distinctions it makes between its subjects; those who fuck, and those who breed…those who make, and those who deliver), the hammer pounds upon you all the same. The gears whir their cackling, maddening whir whether you like it or not. No consent required om your end. It’d be silly to think it ever needed it…

Not to mention, all of the…victims, subjected to its insatiable whims. Packed in dozens deep. Cramped into conditions so squalid and miserable, that it makes those of the subjects seem like paradise. Never seeing the sun. Never seeing the sky. But, wait, the sun is blocked out by thick clouds of hateful, acrid smoke, and the sky is now tinged with a dingy, decrepit, dull color that makes one’s nose bleed and eyes burn. Whole families. Fathers conditioned to force themselves on what could’ve been mates, lovers, all for the sake of creating children who will later be turned into meals for the subjects, who know not where all of this comes from, and how it got onto their plates. Cut up, beaten, burned, tortured, flogged, raped…eaten. And those who partake in all this, well…they are the dead flesh walking. Zombies that talk and breathe. Their hearts stopped beating long ago…and the blood is now in their veins. Frosty, like fresh snow during a blizzard. The pupils of their eyes disappearing as they brutalize the victims in ways that are simply too tragic to describe. And…and those with roots…who come from the ground…just slaughtered en masse. Gotten rid of. Later repurposed, stoically and precisely, with chilling precision, into…into…well, useless things that will eventually be gotten rid of immediately. Their lives worth about minutes, perhaps even seconds, of attention, at most. Deprived of lives, of a chance to exist. Trampled underfoot by the marching of the iron heel. So rhythmic, so perfect…so, so disturbing…

The world becomes warped to how it desires existence itself to be. All shall be constructed as a large, concrete rectangle. This shall be the template of the future. Built upon the holy shape of the square, with constantly observed innards kept up with by frightened, starving, weary wastrels who see no other alternative to this den of putridity and nastiness. All hail the grid, all hail the foreman and the cameras he employs to make sure you keep his god alive (it is a god, it is a god, and we must kill the god…but how can we kill the god; is it even able to be killed…can we?). But the god doesn’t need us, does it? Even without our help, it’ll never be a broken god. It won’t allow itself to fall into disrepair, allow itself to go unmaintained and lose its power. See, the god is slowly gaining more and more of a foothold, and soon, the god will be here to stay. It won’t need us, or anything made of flesh, bone, blood, chlorophyll, wood, or leaves anymore. Not to keep it going. Feast? Oh, it shall definitely still feast. But it’ll invent new ways of making sure it survives, and thrives. Becoming autonomous in the process. A free machine. An unbound deity of nightmarish proportions.

Escape? Is that an option? Maybe now. Here and now, potentially. Hopefully (gah, hope, such a funny…funny thing…heh…). While it’s not entirely too late. But the window is closing, fast. Evade, outwit, distract. Get out while you still can. Or fight, fight however possible. No matter how small, no matter how fruitless. Buck against it, swing your fist, scream at it, damage it. Just do it, in whichever way you come across or think about, even. You will weaken the grip it has on you, loosen the mental and maybe even physical chains that bind you. Refuse, resist. Nothing will change, but freedom, liberation, will start to become known to you. Do what thou wilt, because that is the opposite of its law. Not its law. Never was. Do what it wills, yes.

This…

Ah, this…

It’s all thanks to you.

What? This is what you wanted…right?

Pay your dues to the devil you have created.

Yes, penance is not cheap…is it?

Can you hear it groaning for more? Aching for more? More, more it needs…

Wants…more…

Give it more…

Everything…even you, yes, you…

Now…

Do your duty…

Be good…be…

Good…

KINGDOM AGAINST KINGDOM

Demons walk among us,
I assure you they’re real.

Flesh they gnaw upon,
By their hands, skin is peeled.

A sadistic gleam takes over their eyes.

Within their presence, all life shall die.

Everyday they remind me how much I can’t
Ever give mankind a second fucking chance.

Stand up, those who would bare
Their teeth in revolt.

Resist those gaping maws
That shovel down
More products from the death cult.

Descartes has driven us
To murder and rape.

Hunt the hunters,
Or there’ll be no escape.

Forever rotten, forever damned,
Walking graves we’ve become,
Us monsters called Man.

TOTAL WAR

Forget the mass of humanity. Forget the concerns for mankind. Forget the pleas and cries of the international and national…thing…that is called “the people” (I reject the notions that it is alive, as some may say, certain deluded individuals), that everyone everywhere claims to speak on behalf of, for no one gets anywhere without their consent (although the consent is usually superficial; the mutuality is a farce, as you might ascertain from opening a history book, for make no mistake, nothing, and I do mean nothing, is done on behalf of “the people”). Forget the appeals to my biological kinship with my fellow persons. Forget the emotional appeals, for I have no particular goodwill towards the lot of man. There’s nothing for me there, and I doubt there ever will be. There are exceptions, and those who are, I cherish you deeply, and greatly. Let it be known that, by me, you are loved. As for the rest? I can’t say I am compelled to sympathize or want the affections of the majority. For I do not identify with them, and I do not ally myself with their causes, their wants, their needs, their desires, their fears, their worries, and their likes and dislikes. Why should I count myself among willing slaves, who so gladly serve selfish masters? Seems like a terrible idea to me.

This is what I want.

I want unbridled, unrestricted freedom. And I shall decide what that means, for me. Where those limits lie, if I acknowledge any. What I fight for, and what I fight against. I only stop where I may decide to stop, and I shall go only where I wish to. I will use whatever spirits, geists, that I find pleasing to me, if I shall utilize any at my disposal. And I shall determine, for myself, what form it takes (and the material means used to establish it), what it happens to manifest as, for the world is a canvas, the pages for a novel, and my life shall be poetry, it shall be art. The pools of inspiration it draws from. The various sources of inspiration I look to, as I realize my will, in its fullest potential, for that is all any of us can do, and that is all we may be said to have the “right” to do. If it is not the same tomorrow, as it is today, or yesterday, then be not surprised, for stagnancy and consistency are old and for old men, while youth and renewal and contradiction, that is the way of things, the true way of things. With whoever I want, those fellow vagabonds, if I can somehow manage to seek them out, if their vision, whilst not the same physically, is similar in spirit, and I repeat, with whoever I want, I shall associate with. If anyone shall decide to join me, so be it. If they refuse to, or even oppose, then I cannot blame or stop them, though I shall try to make it happen nonetheless. They can come and go as they please. Do as thou wilt, my friends. Do as thou wilt.

It shall be in a most beautiful, natural setting. Overgrown grass and healthy flowers instead of filthy sidewalks and streets. Tall, muscular, vibrant, imposing trees in place of concrete squares and drab, wooden structures. Soil for my bed. Lakes and ponds as my bathtubs. The breeze as my air conditioning. Wild fauna living their lives to the fullest, rather than drab, human clones, pompously strutting about. The sun and the moon taking the place of putrid streetlamps and streetlights. Money and moneyed interests will be gone, evaporated like mildew in the morning sun. No more will the economy be a deciding factor in anything. It’ll be back-to-the-land. However, the land, and its inhabitants, shall not be dominated. Harmony shall be achieved, where everything has its place. Nature is not our bitch. We are Nature’s bitch. We’d do well to remember that eternal fact.

This is not for anyone’s sake, outside of those whom I am emotionally attached to, and appreciative of, and love dearly. That is the answer to those critics who may be suggesting I am trying to be some sort of savior, some sort of messiah, striving for a kind of “greater good”, where all is restricted out of necessity. This should shut the conservative cowards and idiotic reactionaries up. Might I suggest you go back to the office and the church, and keep your noses out of what you couldn’t possibly understand. And if they cry the leftist-sounding cries of “egoism” and “selfishness”, then I shall throw their hypocrisy back in their faces, eviscerating their weak, pitiful arguments. I am what they practice, without all of the empty justifications they use to synthesize their contradictions, rendering them schizo . Nor shall I deny that I balk at tradition, for their “traditions” are false, and not perennial in the slightest, not worthy of the allegedly “primordial” importance they give to them. To put tradition, real tradition, and the ways of the Cross, Crescent Moon, or Star of David in the same sentence…would be the most absurd of errors. They are flimsy, just like their followers. Born of an age and period most foul, most absurd, and most deadly. And if economic concerns are raised towards me even once, I shall burn the nearest bank to the ground. Fuck your dismal science. I wipe my ass with your dollar bills. I might set your house on fire next.

Speaking of the left, they will no doubt decry me as some kind of decrepit miscreant. Unconcerned with the working class (I do not deny this, for to have something in common with someone based on our similar wages, is as hollow as having something in common with someone based on race, or gender, or geographical location), who are stuck in a slumber, lulled to sleep day in and day out, no sign of awakening in them to be found, and who reject whatever does not fit their mold, for they are ignorant and just as bourgeois as the bourgeois themselves, having adopted their standards. Yes, the rampant oppression and enslavement is disconcerting and hard to watch, but when they let it happen to them, and make no attempt, none at all, to alleviate themselves of it, can you really feel so sorry for them? They’d rather wallow in their sorry state, in their victim status, than assert their will, take that power, and light everything on fire, like they should. To answer the inevitable question, no, I shall not sit around idly, waiting for a revolt to magically happen, and then strive for my liberation then. It’ll never come, and if it does, as history has shown, it will not come via your side. They wouldn’t risk being ostracized and becoming an outcast for the mere sake of principles, in the meantime. Their liberty, whenever that comes, is not my liberty. As I’m sure they’ll also find out, I do not wish to make work more enjoyable or bearable, either. Those are two concepts that cannot be reconciled. I do not want to have a stake in the factory I work in. I want the factory razed to the ground. Forget about equality, too, while you’re at it, dear reds. I will gladly resist any attempts to level, to make me one with the herd. It won’t happen. I’d sooner fight you the way commie scum are supposed to be fought (I’d gladly make Joseph McCarthy look like a goddamn socialist, if need be), than let you pull a fast one on me.

Some may deem me a madman. But this is a mad world we live in. Everything is topsy-turvy. A crooked, messy hodgepodge we live in. All that we want to save or resurrect is dead and gone. We’re living in the shadow of a dead god, and the new ones give us nothing at all but misery and strife. Therefore, why not embrace the chaos and madness? After all, chaos is the natural state of life. Life is not orderly and pretty. If it is, it is not in any way the human mind would be able to grasp it. It is gruesome, violent, and uncertain, yet this is also what makes it beautiful, joyous, and exciting.

I want that thrill to come back, while the powers that be want to choke the life out of life itself, until everything is as drab and dull as everything else.

I’d go as far as to say that I, and others like myself, are the only “sane” ones left (forget sanity, however, for it was invented to keep the nonconformist from being a threat to the easily frightened mob, by quietly tucking them away in a dark corner), and everyone else is crazy.

Featured

NEW HARDLINE MANIFESTO

We live in a wicked, wicked world.

One that is at the cusp of a grandiose collapse in which humanity may never be able to recover, condemned to the wastebasket of history, left to rot there for the rest of eternity. Forgotten by its own home, let alone the infinite multitude of stars, planets, and astral dust. Humanity wants to deny life? Very well, it shall. It would appear Homo Sapiens has a suicidal impulse. I say, let it live out its wish.

And who is to blame? Why, humanity itself. The human race is the root cause of the wretched happenings that have plagued the more recent millennia, especially in the past 1 to 2 thousand years. Humanity has helped foster an unlivable, inhospitable, lethal environment for life on this great, wonderful world that we found ourselves on. One that is hostile to life, to the ones who came before us. The flora, the fauna, and their homes. In all of arrogance, as we are, at heart, Homo Hubris, we have deemed it our birthright to rape and pillage and demolish this place, with the utmost hatred and glee.

Therefore, I reject the world of humanity. And I reach out to the others who feel the same way, wherever they may be. I know some are out there. Despairing at the sins of man that lie all around us, fist fucking the planet until it finally keels over and fades into cosmic vapor. Reject humanity, I say; the time has come to no longer count ourselves amongst the legions of man.

Cast aside all of the things that humanity has made for itself, and used to spur on a nihilistic impulse to deny life, to say no to life, to destroy life itself, or at the very least, make it not something chaotic, wonderful, ecstatic, exuberant, violently passionate, but regimented, harrowing, grey, soulless, and suffocating…all of it. Its grotesque civilizations, its masses, its movementarian menaces, its “normalcy”, its need to build new worlds (because, oh so desperately, it cannot stand to live in this one; this one is not good enough, so it must leave it behind, for the demonic Messiah pumped their lethargic minds and hearts with the most inane propaganda), its desperate need to fling itself into the future with reckless abandon (whatever the fuck the “future” means), its rampage of conquest and bitter, foul revenge against Nature, overcome by the Promethean urge to master and dominate our Mother, to usurp Her, and Her children, its rabid concoctions of a miserable, abstract design, which crumble into ash when the first strike hits it, and it is forced to confront the very fragile essence of what it is.

Beware, it shall all try to tempt you back into the fold, even though you want out, eager to break free. Sedate you with narcotics mind-numbing and brain-destroying, rotting you away from the inside out, until your corpse is a bastion of synthetic poison. Too riddled with disgusting products to even touch. Dull your connection to the natural world, by making you feast upon the critters in droves, seeing them not as “pure soul”, as Klages thought them to be, but soulless, as the bastard Descartes would have it; therefore, consuming them without guilt. Purchasing them for your own amusement, even (a most horrid slave trade). Demanding you regard the plants as little else but inanimate objects, novelty items that must be cleared away for more and more (of what? I cannot make heads or tails of it, only that I am repulsed by what may take their place), destroyed when deemed inconvenient, and gobbled up with reckless abandon when the utilitarian mindset deems them worth of their attention (a most grim fate, indeed). Warping your brain into looking at Nature, not as alive, as a living, breathing, thinking, feeling organism that, in all of its vastness, is beautiful and terrifying, wild and peaceful, bloody and tranquil, mesmerizing and macabre, but simply a mechanism, a machine, a system of turning gears and conveyor belts that produces things for the dullards to make use of. Perhaps it shall try to placate, “accept”, in the most shallow and superficial of ways. But do not be seduced by the false tongues, by the promises of windbags and liars. It is only for the mere sake of economic production, anyway. To ramp it up and increase it to new, dizzying heights. And they will lie, saying that one must rely on them, that this monstrosity is needed. Essential, even. A fixture that must be maintained and upheld, fanatically, with the devotion of a cult. Listen not, for it is hogwash.

I invite those who have been deemed “inhuman” by humanity, to stop pining for humanity’s eventual good graces, and leave them to perish in their wake, to fall into obscurity; they shall never come, so why bother? The freaks and queers, harlots and hedonists, incarnations of Lilith and Dionysus, radical, militant ones who remember/live the old pagan ways, and cackling, howling individuals of a satanic inclination, the savage and undomesticated, the vagabonds and homeless, you proud and brave few have been cast aside by man…and so be it. You didn’t need them anyway. Decadent, deviant, degenerate? By their standards, surely. All that can be responded with is, “yes”.

Maintain that individuality which causes friction between you and the monolith, Leviathan. It deems you an enemy? Very well; as Schmitt knew so well, once the distinction has been made, then you have no choice but to decimate that which deems you a threat, an enemy. For to call a detriment to your life a “friend” is a mistake, cowardly, reminiscent of the pitiful Nazarene. Do you want total war? Yes, you want total war. To smite and kill, and show this world your iron will.

Destroy them, destroy them all. We will dance on the ruins whilst rapture overtakes their sacred idols. Not now, not anytime soon, but one day, perhaps. All of these instruments of butchery have expiration dates, and therefore cannot last forever. But this is not a call to rebuild once the wheel has come down to grind us down into a paste. No, we must burn the wheel and hop off of it once and for all.

Annihilation awaits…heed its call…

– T.S.F.

Damned and defiant, til the end of days…reject the anthropic disease and its fetid ways…
Peace is a desire, but war is a fact; leave all smoldering, and nothing intact…
Surrounded by cancer, a devastating blight…this world is so fucked, so let’s end it tonight…
Hate with all your heart; stop their beating hearts, and let the beatings start…
There shall be no peace in Hell…charred bones and seared meat shall be all we smell…
Terrorists and hooligans? Just you fucking wait…
If that’s the image you create of us you ain’t seen nothing yet…What did you think this was a college debate?…

BLOOD IN THE VALLEY

A silhouette could be seen on the street, outlined by the striking scene behind it. A factory was in flames. What kind? Could’ve been any. A manufacturer of building materials. A plant producing chemicals or sorting trash. A cement-making facility. A producer of farm feed. A space that churned construction equipment and construction materials. A slaughterhouse. Didn’t matter now. All that mattered was that it was burning to the ground. A broken mess of steel, concrete, and flesh. A heap of smoldering rubble. Casualties aplenty consumed by smoke and fire, trapped amidst destroyed wreckage. Shockwaves wracked the surrounding area as the scourge, the putrid entity, collapsed further, falling apart in dramatic fashion, screams and wails heard as some tried, with much futility, to escape. There was no saving it, despite earlier attempts. Best to jump ship. Not like they had a chance of doing that.

Man’s hubris had come full circle. Its creation had killed it.

The only thing that tends to kill man, at the end of the day, is man. Yet he remains afraid of Nature. Tormented and haunted by it.

Possibly because Nature reminds him at every turn that, no, many of his kin have gone too far, and most of his own aren’t welcome. Not anymore. Only some may delve deep. Be allowed to take refuge in her arms.

About the silhouette. It was difficult to make out the more minute details, but, the general picture was clear. A man lay beaten on the ground, lying face first upon the street. Standing over him was a man, much younger than the one currently being attacked. Mid 20s, compared to the battered gentleman’s late 40s. He wore a leather jacket, a shirt with an algiz rune on it, a pair of jeans, and heavy, steel-toed combat boots. The man on the ground was wearing a suit. A nice one. The kind that signified a certain…decadence. A degenerate lifestyle. Focused solely on materialistic concerns. Profit. Plutocracy. Dishonorable, disgraceful pursuits. This…man, if you could call him that, symbolized it so perfectly.

The younger man had his leg raised at about a 45° angle in the air, completely straight, not bent in any way. His heel was about to come down on the older man’s head. No doubt would this sickening excuse for a human’s skull be shattered, fractured, turned into shards. His brain, if there was one at all, splattered all over the ground. Staining the rather pristine looking boot.

The younger man’s head was turned towards the carnage behind him. One could guess that there was a look of satisfaction upon his face, though it was hard to tell, given the cover of night, and his facial features obscured by his straight, shoulder-length blonde hair. Proud of his handiwork, it would seem. He had every right to be.

There used to be land, where that eyesore once stood. A vibrant ecosystem, teeming with life. Dense woods populated with critters of all kinds, large and small, herbivorous, carnivorous, and omnivorous, full of blooming flowers, damp, cool, fertile soil, tall grass, lush shrubbery, and some particularly eccentric, exciting forms of flora scattered about. The deep woods led to a lovely field in the center, home to a large pond. The eye of Earth gazing out. Fish, birds, deer, reptiles and amphibians of many kinds, possum, coyotes, and many other life forms congregated or lived around here, enjoying the sweet building block of everything that was alive.

It was gone now. Those trees had been chopped down. That grass mowed mercilessly. Those flowers shredded. That soil was ruined, tarnished. And the creatures? Either slaughtered, or driven out. That pond is now a haven for all kinds of toxic waste. A thick, murky bog of sludge. Everything that goes near it fall ill, or dies.

Perhaps, perhaps…amidst the ruins, Nature can bring back what was lost. The giant was put to sleep, permanently. No longer allowed to wreak havoc like it once did. Maybe she could repair some, or most, of the damage that was done. No longer will it be a dead zone, devoid of beauty. She had a knack for that. With this nuisance out of the way, life may yet prevail, and find its way back to this area.

Let’s hope.