item #9031

During any climax, thickly-guised as some kind of revolutionary, some kind of soldier, I stage proletarian scenes, propagandistically, as a mind-movie, as a kind of escape. Despite this, I confess, my favourite god is Mars - because of his dissatisfaction with domestic life rebranded as a love of war. Generally, like Mars, I tend to be over-protective myself. I, too, long for a kind of dispassionate anger, some kind of moot overthrow of, say, grey dictatorships. This is the way of revolutions: they revolve. In them, soldiers force workers to work; in some utility-driven underground. This, I know, is entirely fantasy. But I am still alive.