I have absolutely nothing new to say right now. That’s how I know this post will wind up bringing the fire. Deliver the sermon. Rip the heart out of a life force. Suck the poison from a grave. Find the truth and leave it bleeding. Sing a song and let it rot. Catch the future and fuck its brains out. Send it back from whence it came. Turn the cycle, twist the circle, run the rhythm into the ground, dig a hole until the side splits, pierce the flesh, hang the cross, kiss the cheek, take the silver…
When I have absolutely nothing new to say it means I have to abandon the momentum of every event and action that has ever transpired throughout the history of all creation which led to this exact moment in time and space because it has obviously grown stale and lame…or else I’d have something new to say.
When I have nothing new to say it means I have to let the old gods die. Resurrect the future tense. Raise on high all the blasphemous, heretical, ideologically bizarre, counterfeit, culturally corrupted occult rituals and watch as the witches burn, the portals open, the angels enter, the demons flee, the flames ascend, and the shadow emerges only to be struck down by the light of a thousand rays of nothing new to say.
When I have nothing new to say I go to plan B, throw the fucker into reverse, spin out in the dirt, blow the tires, flip the lid off the whole shebang and watch it rain with acid love deliverance from the sky. Taste the atmosphere from the inside out and receive the truth like a force of entropy worming its way across the empty void of absolution into the fiery veins of evolution’s forward march.
When I have nothing new to say I like to play…fuck around with words…tease language…rip apart and shred…reassemble, reconnect, reconfigure, revitalize, reconstitute…then tear it into pieces again.
Like a muscle that must be broken down in order to grow back stronger, so too must the world enter into stages of chaos so that a higher state of order may emerge on the other side…
Scott Thomas Outlar