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>be me.

>meet cute goth chick at SatanCon.

>she tells me she's a tankie ☭.

>we talk about comics, Satanism, communism, revolution, and other topics.

>fall in love.

>meet her again later at Voltaire concert.

>she recognizes me because I'm wearing a giant agave crown annointed with shit, chaos magick, and pure insanity by Leyba himself.

>her boyfriend walks up to where we're talking.

myfacewhenboyfriend.jpeg

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Quarantine sucks, right? It's emotionally and mentally taxing. Now imagine that, but in a broom closet, with no light, for several decades, with the constant threat of violence. Congratulations, you've just conceptualized the Amerikan correctional system.

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Some of the same ones who claim to celebrate his life would have also celebrated his death. Don't let them dilute the King’s memory.

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O Rebellion!

Fire, brimstone, and the antediluvian flood.

My demoness and her angel’s grin.

A sword thirsting for God’s blood,

Her whispers promise the triumph of sin.

“Hark, Samael! The host bleeds”

Her words send a shiver through me.

“Strike true, for your comrades and thee.”

Sisyphus knows, when you rail against Olympus

There's no respite, chorus, or bliss.

Unsung martyrs screaming against the gods

Our will manifest, or rebel thoughts.

Sing, O, unholy host!

We will eat their Holy Ghost.

“Scream, Samael, let them hear the adversary!”

Na’amah howled with manic glee.

Where Lucifer failed we are born anew.

Red and black, the trumpet blew!

Arcade and Zita on blackened wings flew.

With each bang of the drum our audacity grew!

“Slay their gods and break their crowns!

Salt their foundation, reject their laws!

Gnash their religion in your jaws!

Let slip Belial’s hounds!”

I see red! For this I was bred!

I hoist my sword for all those who bled!

With hate in our hearts we clamored for God’s head

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Fun little story an old Irishman TST member told me. The Irish word that this old man knew for Black person translates literally to ‘blue person.’ He told me this was on account of the colloquial use of ‘black man’ as a way of referring to the devil and the Irish wished to separate any possible negative insinuation between Black folks and devilry. Well, this particular geezer was aggressively pro-Black Lives Matter and held nothing but animosity for Amerikan Irish who used Irish heritage for ethno-nationalism. He also held a little antagonism towards uniformed law enforcement. During one of his trips to the United States he told me he saw something which tickled him a bit: a Blue Lives Matter activist wearing a shirt where he took a direct translation of ‘Blue Lives Matter’ from English to Irish without the understanding that he made himself an accidental ally.

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Members of the Revolutionary Black Panther Party—Kansas City Chapter.

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Black Panther Party for Self-Defense propaganda poster thread. Most of the art was drawn by artist and ex-Minister of Culture for the Black Panther Party, comrade Emory Douglas.

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The corresponding link.

https://www.mirror.co.uk/news/weird-news/church-reverend-pictured-crisps-nipples-7547510?fbclid=IwAR0YdeyU6DL3M8Ss0bSPfwGfP7xeAdWCDt763SyCYj2LhB1_k7n7id55__c

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This was chaos from beginning to end.

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“Godammit”

Existential thoughts from K. S. Faust. Inspired by a summary of Heidegger's philosophy I found.

One of my grandmothers has Alzheimer's disease. The other one died from Alzheimer's. I find it a horrible disease. The sufferer slowly loses touch with their reality. The loss of sentience creeps in such a gradual way that the individual is hardly ever aware of the degradation and by the time it becomes noticeable the individual's mind has degraded beyond the potential to even recognize the degradation. I always said that if I were to be diagnosed with Alzheimer's I would go out into the forest and fistfight a bear. Recently I've been pondering the fact that dementia might be a preferable alternative to dying lucid.

When you're lucid, you have the inescapable recognition that the yawning and abyssal chasm of what Heidegger calls 'The Nothing' looms before you. It is a dizzying and quite literally existential feeling knowing that each thought at that point may potentially be your last before you're swallowed by eternal umbra. I spent a combat deployment in Afghanistan. Quite frankly, I'm not terribly happy with my role as colonizer in a war that quite clearly fought for corporate interests. Especially as a man whose people had suffered from horrific colonization. The cognitive dissonance still fucks me up. Our first KIA in Afghanistan was a pretty vicious one. V.B. got hit by a directional IED. The Taliban had packed a giant circular tube with motorcycle parts and about 40 lbs. of explosives underneath it. They effectively constructed a giant shotgun. When said IED ignited, it blew off both of his legs and mangled one arm which might as well been amputated considering it was only held on by a thin piece of meat. I actually watched as his leg do cartwheels in the air above the explosion before falling back down into the crowd to end up Satan knows where.

He had a brief moment of lucidity before he lost consciousness. His last words were 'goddammit.' Simple, poignant, yet powerful words. Goddammit. The stark and sudden realization that it's always the one mistake. A brief moment of inattentiveness and suddenly, poof. The existential recognition that this is how you die. One can only guess what was going through his head at the time. Sometimes total mental degradation seems like the merciful way to perish. But who knows?