"When they poured across the border
I was cautioned to surrender
This I could not do
I took my gun and vanished."
The Partisan

What happens when the angels of fire have finally been extinguished, and deadly passion is at last destroyed?  If time spent scraping resin from the weed-pipe of love has finally been proven to be wasted; when you've been laid out flat by your own shadow, and decide to pull your hat over your face to have a nice siesta in the dry, dusty carnage on the floor of the ring, because it's clear nobody is watching, there's no one to get up for, no reason to engage a society that disregards you, and you're burned-out from running at 8000rpm in first gear for decades,

Why not check out?  What is there to write about, anyway?

There's nothing to write about.

Is there?

“I was a fighter.  Jews did not go
like sheep to their slaughter.”
Eta Wrobel

Who does the partisan fight for?  In an age of mandatory altruism, in which one is expected to sacrifice his or her time and effort for the good of the monolithic blob of state, who are the partisans?  Where are the partisans?  Surely not the state- sanctioned and controlled participants in today's fake sexual rebellion, the destructive purpose of which is readily apparent.  Namely, the paradoxical creation of an asexual society in which no normal human interactions exist, due to mutual enmity and a lack of trust between the subjects of the empire.

"The days are growing short
Patience wearing thin
Blackouts and broken trust
Leading to exodus"
Bullets & Rocks

Who are the partisans today?  Where are they?  Are they an Italian retro grrrl group, who've beaten their plowshares into swords, their Telecasters into assault rifles?  Are they armed against the centralized music platforms that keep an eye on everyone and everything, and which distribute crumbs like largesse to the starving, dying dogs, singing at their feet?  Will they sabotage the pink, fascistic machine with soul and brains and fortitude?  Are they marching down the street in your town, throwing Molotov Cocktails of desire through the broken windows of the hearts of every man they see?

Was William Blake a partisan, when he blew away the diseased, self-righteous colonizers pushing mandatory blanket passports in the Old West, distributing blankets infused with a free vaccine for the Blanket-19 virus, which was the scourge manufactured by the depopulation-happy pig-fiends of the time?

Is Toomaj Salehi a partisan, having spent 5 months in solitary confinement in Iran, for writing and performing protest songs against the regime?

What about the Anti-Putin underground in Russia?  People who are risking everything, and who are humble enough to acknowledge that they don't know if they'll have the strength to not break and spill the beans if they are captured and tortured in prison, and so are prepared to die fighting every time they engage in any operation, no matter how small?

Who is depicted in Goya's painting The Third of May 1808, if not the resistance (witting or otherwise) to Napoleon's occupying armies?  The fate of those who are terrified and pleading with despair for their lives is the same as those whose arms are outstretched to embrace their own impending crucifixion.  What is there to lose?  Has it not already been lost?

"What would things have been like if every Security operative, when he
went out at night to make an arrest, had been uncertain whether he
would return alive and had to say good-bye to his family? Or if,
during periods of mass arrests... people had not simply sat there
in their lairs, paling with terror at every bang of the downstairs
door and at every step on the staircase, but had understood they
had nothing left to lose and had boldly set up in the downstairs
hall an ambush of half a dozen people with axes, hammers,
pokers, or whatever else was at hand?"
Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn

Does the West have any partisans like that?  Does America?

Of course it does.  The country was founded on such ideals.  The U.S. is a nation of partisans.  Not Kid Rock, Ted Nugent, John Rich, or anyone who doesn't have enough love of the craft to silence their opponents with an excellent game.  Not them, and not the fake, Transsexual, wannabe partisans who apply Hello Kitty stickers to their assault rifles with the full moral (and possibly financial) support of the monolithic corporate cow machine itself.  But rather, real, actual partisans.  Military and musical alike.

Undoubtedly, they are legion.  The wannabe controllers just don't want us to see them.  Not the military ones, not the musical ones.  Because the wannabe controllers don't want us to have hope.

So, what'm I doing here (or there), and now (or then)?  Am I calling them (or you) to arms and legs?  Unite, me brothers, blindly?  On this open, public forum?  Another bulletin board in a police station, upon which we all tack intimate details of our lives, for the convenience of the artificially-intelligent functionaries at the highest levels of the same machine that wants to extradite Julian Assange, so they can make an example of him even more than they already have?

Even if Mexico is the only country in the world to actually offer Julian Assange asylum, and I happen to be in Mexico now, that isn't what I'm doing.

What I'm doing is drawing the blueprints in my mind for another album.  I haven't written anything in years, for reasons that I touched on at the beginning of this article, and which run like an abandoned Narco tunnel through half the articles on this blog, and a third of the articles on my old blog.  But what I really wanna know is,

Will you support the partisan arts?

Will you dig a tunnel under the wall of the mandatory rainbow camp, an underground railroad through which to smuggle sonic IEDs... ideas to undermine and smash the orthodoxy of self-hating degeneracy we've all been forced to pretend to embrace?

Will you smuggle musical arms and legs to Pablo Smog's Republican Army, so he can build a Frankenstein scarecrow, a snowman out of mangos?

Will you arm the Jewish resistance in the Belarusian ice forest, with leopard print and song?

If "a partisan is a member of an irregular musical force formed to oppose control of an area by a foreign power or a vast, overpopulated army of dead Soundcloud rappers by some kind of insurgent activity" (Wikipedia),

Will you support the local resistance?  Will you help me replace my recording program?  Shall we begin a currency exchange in which to convert Mexican drummers into rent?

Maybe just a 3am idea, or...

Maybe something more.

I will sleep on it,

ignore it,

and let the idea come to me,

again,

of its own accord,

while I'm lying on the dreaming mat

In my disused, dusty boxing ring.

More soon...