there is human consciousness
there is human unconsciousness
there is personal consciousness
there is personal unconsciousness
there is collective consciousness
there is collective unconsciousness
the hell of collective unconsciousness is called fascism
it's a climate where the masses loose their interest in supporting the reproduction of social homogenity (a time where democratic forces become marionette like parvenus not to trust anymore, déjà vu, 1930ies - 2000+)
it's the soverignity of heterogenity (cette "Bataille", la part maudite)
neglecting the forces of collective unconscious means descendence to hell
a thing that is apolitical is therefore fascistic
every organization of mass elements is per se fascistic, even technologically (that's why the excluded want plasma TV instead of ideas, life, work, freedom...)
others have the nation, the state, the internet, the family, their football team
(every outburst of the suppressed social cells from the unconscious leads maybe to the next step of organizing these heterogenic forces postpolitically which would lead to a form of fascism that is already know in history)
misintegration = regression
no one is "better" than the mob, they just show complexes that we have split off from our neat little personalities
their wanton shows us our own ridiculous neurotic greed in a cultural vacuum that is nameless
(there are no "sick parts of society", the society is sick because of being in parts)
no one has the right to kill somebody else with the single exeption that the only existing law of experience is violated: there is no god where I am...
read a few books WWW, then leave your bed!
it's crowded here in the lager...
and this had to be said too...
"Quand il faudra fermer le livre,
ce sera sans regretter rien.
J'ai vu tant de gens si mal vivre,
et tant de gens, mourir si bien."
The Dark Angels are a come and go crew. They create then disappear like street art. Their works exist in fragments, particles that float, dust motes that spin before the wind that blows them to faraway places. They are individuals that work as one. Deep as oceans, as impenetrable as the night. Art urchins and poets, they dissolve before they form. They are the Dark Angels, they are discharge. They are a bloody mouthful.