Middle Fingers (Delirium)

To R. Kelly, and the God of Rap

… Everyone is talking about rationality. They want us to be analytical. They want us to be intelligible and logical. They want us to be sociable. They want us to “communicate” and be productive members of society. They want us to follow laws and pay taxes. They want us to read the news and complain about things. They want us to get married and take medicine. They want us to assimilate into the ready-made archetypes of life. They want to put us in pigeonholes. But I don’t like pigeonholes. But I do like pigeons. I’ve always liked pigeons. Pigeons are like pig eons. Eons of pigs stretch across the farm ready to be turned into bacon. Baking bacon, in the living room, I’m so baked: Eons have passed and eons more will pass before the time to comes to pass when this too shall pass away: این نیز بگذرد‎.  Eating bacon watching the TV watch me and Lindsay Lohan’s mom talking about how her daughter is the cousin of Michelle Obama out in Vega. I feel your pain. I feel it. Bacon. Bacon. Bacon. Cellar door. Celandine. Las Vegas. Lost. Bacon in the sky: pigeons. Flying. And this, too, shall pass away. Pass. Pass. Away. Away. Away. Lff! So soft… Hashtag: Bacon. ###

… She will nag to me to death. That one will go crazy in her loneliness. That one is a troll with beautiful eyes. And I will drag on…… Indifferent, undifferent as ever: apathy is an overwhelming feeling. I feel so much apathy! FEELINGS. Keep talking, please.  My eyes light up when this world shuts up. Me? Now: I just want to convey incredibly, powerful, convincing messages of “I don’t know” and “I have nothing to say to you.” Bilkilly-Belkelly-Balkally… R. Kelly says to the world (to the world) to the world: let me see you put your middle fingers up. Middle fingers up! I’m burning shit down tonight… A spathe of conversation, talking heads (decaying organic manner) talking about logic. Just live. Livestrong.  Armstrong. This Romneyic ice which carries us (2008~2012) has become very thin: the thawing wind blows; we ourselves, the homeless ones, are an agency that breaks the ice, and the other too thin “realities.” Click, click, boom!

I will kill you. Does that make me evil? I’ll kill (pace BSG). Might kill someone and YouTube it (pace an aesthetics of horror).  Consider, the Hebrew patriarch Abraham. God, from the sky, tells him to kill his son. So Abraham brings his child to the mountaintop with every intention to sacrifice him. What kind of ethics is this? An ethics of the sacred, a dogma where the particular supersedes the universal: a teleological suspension of the ethical that says what is most important, what is right can’t be made intelligible to the rest of the universe. Truth is a secret, and the heart of things is unconveryable. Insanity. Imagine Abraham trying to explain to his wife why he tried to kill their son. “Because יהוה told me too.” O O O O that Shakespeherian Rag — hell is empty and all the devils are, a shaking spear says. Who are these demons? They’re demons. We must banish them. Put them outside the city walls. Lynch me. Lff! An eye for an eye will make the whole world blind. And I’m I’m so blind with rage: I’m just a rat in a cage. Or, is the killer in you the killer in me? Justice is vengeance so put down your arms. Disarm. You’re dead now. Justice is violence; mercy is death. It is a weeping, and a moaning, and a gnashing of teeth. It is a weeping, and a moaning, and gnashing of teeth. It is a weeping, and a moaning, and a gnashing of teeth; when it comes to my sound which is the champion sound Believe! Believe! Shanti.

Image – Géza Faragó

Keep up with Andrea on google.com

More From Thought Catalog