We live in an age of profound cultural rot. There is a stench of dying all around us. There is no life here. What passes for literature, film, drama, poetry, art of all kinds, is bloodless and barren, the agitprop for a regime of shrill Human Resource mediocrities.
It is FAKE and GAY.
Go read the novels short-listed for the big prizes. Whatever of poetry still even exists. The undifferentiated fare at your local theater. If your spirit has not been reduced already to zero, to NOTHING——and if you are reading this it must not be the case——what you will find will burn your eyes. You will feel like your veins have been scraped out with a rusted spoon.
Whereas art is meant to inspire and edify, this culture is meant to demoralize. It is meant to turn you against yourself, to debase you into submission, to condition you to the pod. Enough!
We do not have to accept this. Outside this longhouse of putrid moralism, a frontier awaits us, a new virgin territory. There are worlds yet to be discovered. Ways of being that do not reduce us to a state of meek, unrelenting surrender. There are portals. Enormous and powerful energies latent in the graves of pre-history, waiting for a hand, a mind, an imagination to retrieve and transform them into the creative spirit that will light a new way forward. It has always been thus, and will be again.
We must EXIT FROM THE LONGHOUSE. We must seek, together, mutations and new possibilities. We must demonstrate through art, through story, through symbol and invention, what it means to leave this rotten place behind, to give life to a language and a temperament that is not afraid, that will not passively abide the cruel and craven bugmen who presume to rule us.
This is a calling that transcends any partisan sniping, any lowly ideological pissing contest. Let us raise ourselves and each other above such things. Let us imagine a passage from this place to another one. Let us stake out the path. Let us dream it into existence. Join me. The only way out is through.