Ok, so after typing the last one, I went outside, rode my bike around, contemplated things, met a German woman in her 50's who had also just gotten a bike and was having such a blast riding it that she had scraped up her arm (she wasn't the least bit deterred, but she wondered if I had a first aid kit, which alas, I didn't).

Then I returned, sat down on a bench outside in the twilight, and read some more CrimethInc. I realize ya'll probably think I'm off the deep end, and I can accept that.

Here is the deal: The shit I have been reading merely hints at concepts that are so radically outside all the ways in which we are all used to thinking, that most of the time, I am barely able to wrap my mind around it myself. Attempting to express a little of it to others through the medium of this website in a way that anybody else will understand is a mission fraught with futility. But I continue to try anyway, thinking I may just succeed, because their madness has infected me, and I want it to infect others.

Earlier this morning, I ordered some additional literature, as well as outreach materials from the Far East Division. I'm still not certain exactly what I'm going to do with all of them, but they are now on their way. I'm sure I'll figure something out.

The last thing I want to do is become like one of those annoying types of Christian Evangelists who wave Bibles in peoples faces as they walk down the street. So I am going to come up with something more creative, and more targeted. I want to lure the dissillusioned, and bring them not just hope, but a deeper comprehension that yes, reality is in our hands. Right now.

This is not a religion, even though some of us may treat it like one. This is not a political party, despite all the talk about government and social structures. This is not a movement, nor is it a historical event. Nobody will ever see us on television. This is CrimethInc.

We fell in love in the wreckage, shouted out songs in the uproar, danced joyfully in the heaviest shackles they could forge; we smuggled our stories through the gauntlets of silence, starvation, and subjugation, to bring them back to life again and again as bombs and beating hearts; we built castles in the sky from the ruins of hell on earth.

If anyone wants some CrimethInc crap, let me know. If you're local, I'll bring it to you. If you're far away, I'll mail it, even if you're a lurker and I don't know you. I ain't joking. bitscape@bitscape.org. All the spammers already know it, so what's the point of address masking?

I'm outta here.