GOTHIC FUNK MANIFESTO #5: DECLARATION
13 December, 2005
The army simmers in the December steam. It will coalesce in the cities, coming out of front porches and down the side streets to converge in civic centers and central business districts before marching out along the most important roads. It will slowly turn its way through the countryside, the hills and valleys, farmsteads and suburbs, bending towards its destinations. The destinations may be Chimney Rock. The destinations may be Stonehenge. Continue to supply: fill in the blanks with proper nouns. Persons, places, and things. It is essential that the army move out this December, with fireworks and tickertape in every pocket and books and photos under every arm, food filling every backpack: hot dogs and spinach and Marshmallow Supremes. There are hallways to be filled, and pictures to be sucked up on the walls and chalkboards in sunlight. The army moves west, always with the sun, even though often overtaken and surpassed. The spore beats the prokaryote at the end of the race, but the propagation is close. It is essential, then, that the army move out this December, circling south out of Michigan, Flint, Pontiac, and Saginaw, to meet up with Detroit. Ann Arbor is on the move. Jackson moves out with Battle Creek. The effect trickles west: Kalamazoo and Benton Harbor, then creeps north and south along the shore: Muskegon. Chicago is on the move: they radiate out in all directions, north to Marquette, west to Des Moines, southwest to St. Louis, and south to Memphis. All these cities are on the move, in this country and in all countries. It is a willfully nomadic existence. The armies are outfitted with armies of parkas and mufflers and songs, Christmas Carols and hymnals and the ubiquitous Led Zeppelin, motorcycles, hot chocolate and coffee thermoses, model airplanes, and potatoes, and sunglasses to match the careening sun. It is essential, absolutely essential, that the army move out this December.
You need writers, speakers, movers, actors, builders, engineers and conductors, and electrical conductors. So be these things. Remember: in four million years we've evolved to saturation. Do you expect the human race to be around in a million years? In one hundred thousand? In ten thousand? In one thousand? If you've even a modest doubt, you need to get in on this.
We'll be gone someday, and our remnants with us most likely. It is essential, then, to find a way to inscribe our essence upon the stars, so they can be found and imbibed by Others.
Cthulhu. Maximilien. Out out. Remnants. The Battle of Evermore. Broccoli and Cheese. Wax pop bottles. Maps and Compasses. Etc.
