To readers real or imaginary:
Apologies for my recent absence/devolution of blog into fractured series of brief links to cryptic images. Storms brewing out in California, personal and obligational clouds et al, and have been feeling less proud cephalophore torch-bearer, more the fellow above: looking around for the head that never left. If he also had conjunctivitis, as I apparently do. But forthcoming writing on: why Communist love means your name permanently has an "and" bound to it, back to salvagepunk proper, what happens when you treat "surrealistically" what is already recognized as surreal, nihilism-ornament-decay, fascist aesthetics and bundled contradictions, dark anthropology, other things that end with -wolves. Return to formless is imminent.