BETWEEN F*****G KNOTS, WILD DRIVES

Out there, it's as if the crazy world welcomes you again. Dried-out ideas and thoughts that are doomed to be uninhabited no longer stick in the heads of people who want to think, but the shouting demagogy that causes hysteria is all the more active. It is often not enough to just merely tempt the impossible, it is enough - at least - nowadays, if the mass-man of the given Age is now more and more savage, egotistical, or just pathetically unscrupulous.

Now he curses, tolerates, rather nauseatingly but swallows on the Spirit one more intermediate bargaining for the sake of nobler goals, because this is all that is left. Who can do anything now that the protesting limits of the free-thinking memory were allowed to wither away?! The nobler will to self-sacrifice is becoming less and less, or has completely died out, as a possible version of human support. Sly-sanda Tomorrows haunts Kában; one can never know with deliberate caution what else one could really prepare for? What should you expect?

The dirty hyena dregs of swirling centuries unexpectedly settle deep in the soul, like hot coffee with dregs of urine preparing to settle. In the depths of Existence, memories that have gone astray or are just swept under the rug are settled with one accord; self-pity, legitimate pity here - he's afraid - turns out to be not enough. - Now locked in a consuming immobility, Reality trembles and trembles, because no one can yet know where the confused World is heading! Protesting surrealism spreads in the stray souls who mutilate themselves; why is it that a memory that can't even find itself, but a wiser memory, refuses the meaning of doctrines and ideas, and instead fabricates a breeding ground for broken, pathetic ideas?! People's mouths are distorted into grins and pleas in a nonsense-grotesque manner.