its 4 am and i am intoxicated by dopamine–generated by the thirst i feel to transform our world…in a few hours we will take the streets and let our beautiful banners unfurl…its the day before yet another mobilization and i wonder about the depth of our resistance… i wonder about our power to unite a force large enough to be potent–to strike fear into the hearts of tyrants and to cross psychic oceans…but we also have to understand and reckon with the ideological confusion among the legions opposing the deplorable cabal clinging to the iron throne…we are a tribe intoxicated by pop riffs–getting its politics from the land of westeros…our brains are evolving dialectically in this crucial hour—seeking consciousness of mysterious things and seeking nascent kinetic power…i grow from the comradery of friends—i pray that this toxic system meets its end…praxis is the intersectional unity of theory and practice—a revolutionary axiom as potent as they get…coined by gramsci writing from mussolini’s prison—the term, like all good ideas, has evolved with time… embraced by free-thinking marxists and anarchists alike…we must fight on every front and use all of our tools…the logic of system change gives birth to revolutionary rules…we need our revolutionary centers and our newly forming life cult—we need power and strength—we need to open are psychic vaults…our tribe is disorganized and weighed down by layers of oppression—struggling under decades of neoliberal assault and its concomitant white supremacist rationalization…today trump holds minds in thrall that he has done nothing to deserve…we are living through a historical epoch ruled by the most corrupt regime since perhaps caligula or nero—we are entering a reincarnated matrix collectively awakening to become the new NEO…oracles read the stars for signs of what is to be done—architects build the towers that will bring our queendom come…red mafia is rising strong at the behest of agents of karma–we need our street art rebel crews like pop-heads need madonna…let artists tell their tales and let our spiritual fire be roused…our rebellions must be built in plain sight but also underground…the double-helix of praxis i saw in the flames tonight—in a fire pregnant with electricity fueled by intoxicating moonlight…the flames flickered to my music’s whims–with so much viscerally charged magnetism…we must strive for revolutionary unity and to traverse senseless schisms…we become the ones we are waiting for or we will die a brutal death—we will fight for the world we want to see until our last gasp of breath

the lead image is a poster by CESAR MAXIT


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