if you wanna be heard you gotta be ready to be repeated. exerting control over art makes it sterile and dead. copyright is a mausoleum and tomb-robbers are heroes.

if we have to clutch it in our hands. words and lines and thoughts are ours to command if we are quick and fast and brave enough to take them. cope

and spit it out no matter what. high culture? low culture? i see no difference, love is love. find the meal in whalefall and quote that fucking newgrounds comment bouncing around your head all day.

life’s too short to care about anyone with employees

we were here first and were going to mulch every picket fence in front of you. art is for weird bugs and sexual perverts and subversive communist foreign agents.

you didnt make that without stealing and grasping and letting the culture sink under your skin. nothing is original so let’s not lie. take and copy and imitate but do it well.

there is no age of perfect beauty to retvrn to. art happens when your senses meet an object and not in our immortal Calvinist ageless souls. machines can paint and construction sites can sing.

rose quarter-drifting

magnesium oxide