“Black Holes Are Here” – the 2015/16 manifesto.

11881587_175860736084359_1061187951_n-Your brain is light years-
In that conclusion, we travel.-Your body is spice-
And we dress up to that conclusion.
-Sex-
Is sexless, long live sex.
-Poetry-
Should sound like a Neu! record, or stop sounding.
-Music-
Should read like a Pushkin poem, or stop reading.
-Art-
Should taste like yerba mate, or stop tasting.
-we are bored, and in boredom complete-
And willing to transcend the comma.
-there are no commas in space-
Coma is the state of showbiz. We have no intent of waking such a lousy patient up. At all.
We are limit, the limit has been crossed.
-multiple multiply- SAMO is dead long live KRABO.
TV is meant to be turned off, you have brain for everything, it is light years.
-Yes, make us all insane!”
Intelligence is out of fashion.
12142463_1635653013384585_663173399_nBanal!
To that limit, anal!
What if the traveler lands here, and screams: “Cornfields!”, and you ask him: “Later?”
-then the children are books-
Books should be burning, it is the only way to keep them fascinating.
-We demand treating artists like other workers, and workers like people.-
Politics out of art. Art out of politics. Let them suffocate on silence.
Dada
Street
Socialismus
-what’s this? a sci-fi novel!-
I won’t sing for exposure, a plumber doesn’t plumb for exposure, and a plum grows in the sun, not in gamma exposure. Gamma is bad for your health, unless you’re a Persean visitor.
-Alpha Persei is home-
home is Distant Clusters.
-singers are dead- there’s nothing to protest about, unless it is everything.
Who are you? Voice? What is voice? Can you sing?
-everyone was a musician- now we are in therapy.
Coma. Comma. Omma. Om.
-boogie the dawn forever-
text/pics: Kaufmann/Schoener 2015 tbccover