141297812

I am growing soft as a jellyfish and with a will. I dote on it. Poke a stick into me and see what happens. Roll me over and step on me a bit. You see, I am not very much bruised. Maybe a tentacle or two lopped off-but tomorrow i will grow others. I am turning into water. I am volatilizing. at 981/2 I trun into steam and vapor. I reintegrate when it rains. yesterday, when it was so cold, I became completely frozen. Today I'm thawed out again.side by side with the human race there runs another race of beings, the inhuman ones, the race of artists who, who, goaded by unknown impulses, take the lifeless mass of humanity and by the fever and ferment with which they imbue it turn this soggy dough into bread and the bread into wine and the wine into song. out of the dead compost and the inert slag they breed a song that contaminates. i see this other race of individuals ransacking the universe, turning everything upside down, their feet always moving in blood and tears, their hands always empty, always clutching and grasping for the beyond, for the god out of reach. i see that when they bellow like crazed beasts and rip and gore, i see that this is right, that there is no other path to pursue. a man who belongs to this race must stand up on the high place with gibberish in his mouth and rip out his entrails!