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DJ Satan speaks

[large flying objects swooping to strafe the lower hemisphere]

You could be anonymous in Australia because everyone knows who you are.
Waiting to hear from you is like waiting to hear from the Bank.
The columns are still there but underground.
Sometimes it’s enough to think you could be doing something wrong, and not be doing anything wrong, to feel bad about doing something wrong, even when you’re not doing it.

Means I have a recipe book in my mind’s eye, that I know exactly how to do something bad. Not just bad, there are some recipes, in a specially sealed section of the book, that tell me how I can really be evil. My darkside’s potential so to speak. Something can click and I might be there, pawing over those ingredients to be my worst enemy, or someone else’s.

What is working as Ethics then, living as humanist thinking, when you’re not committing the crime versus when you might be thinking about committing, and how much damage that might bring, and whether or not it might actually be worth it?
Is there a performance writing that sounds like they’re making a movie up? Are there other writings that cannot be so emotive, but concern themselves with a deeper listening, or a similar suspension of belief - which I call the fourth hand - when the familiar thread that keeps us interested as readers, is actually a strange experience without explanation, without assured familiarity?

Ghosts before breakfast. Vormittagsspuk.

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