(no subject)
I had planned on communicating to a number of people, but I´m afraid I´ll have to put off details a bit longer. For now, I´m dwelling in the neighborhood of Kreutzberg, Berlin, spending my days squatting, in the sun, and perusing through silent, English book stores for copies of Alduous Huxley or Phillip K. Dick that aren´t priced at five euros or marked borrowing-only.
I´ve found love three times, lost it once, and fucked while in the presence of Polizei.
For instance, imagine me, a skinny, twenty-one something wrestled to the ground by a rough, bearded Australian with piercings, tattooes, in a wheat field in northern Germany. The helicopters cycle by and the police march in columns, I pull my purplish bandana over my face so I can´t be identified in the photographs.
In other news, the blockade we maintained lasted for two nights and three days, sleeping out under the threat of water cannons and pepper spray. In fact, Jake had his first encounter with such things as: face-breaking, water taken to violent pressures, and quite a large, Beligan dick.
The plan in the next few days centers largely around recovery (in general), dance parties (in particular), and books. The e-mail I had been using has been discontinued for now, and I apologize for the inconvenience. It would be better to contact me through sceox at riseup.net or simply by commenting on this journal.