The Spirit of Raving, submitted by Zack. If you've read the preceding article you know that an ideology of hatred gets on my nerves to no end. What you might not know is that the reverse can be true. A philosophy based around peace, love, unity, and whatever the "R" stands for, can be just as horrifyingly bad. The Spirit of Raving goes into incredible detail about just why raving is a great way to heal the world and bring us all closer together, assuming we all want to exist together in a world where we are constantly doped up, dancing around like morons, dressed in brightly colored clothing, and listening to shockingly bad techno music.
Ethereal gossamer energy joining each of the beautiful party people, forming a greater collective conciousness. The positive energy flowing from one bright smile to another speaks of ancient, more innocent times; and possible futures. For this brief instant the active ten percent of the human brain submits to the more primal ninety. A memory of a time before cement cages and aloof societies. A humanity that was a part of the world, not apart of the world. The freedom of living life, the exhilaration of evolving. The global power of all the lifeforces around us, and being one with that energy.
Agh, fucking no! There is page after page after page of this stupid fucking crap on this site. It is so goddamned annoying when someone cooks up their entire philosophy while high on drugs. Way to go! I'm going to go smoke some crack and write a 500 page book about how if we all just sit around in an abandoned casket factory smoking rock it will bring the world closer together. Here, let me give it a go:
Diaphanous spectral static binding each of the cracked out drug fiends together, forming a greater collective consciousness that lusts for rock and will suck whatever it takes to score some more. The unity of purpose flowing from one bloodshot gaze to another speaks of times when we used to sit together in a cave, our bellies bloated with worms, subsisting on the flesh of those who died from starvation. For this brief instant the active ten percent of the human brain submits to the crack-addled endocrine system. A memory of a time before clothes, fabricated shelter, and human language. A humanity that was a part of the world, not a festering scab on the ass of society. The freedom to do crack whenever, wherever, and however we wanted. Yesterday I smoked up at 8 AM, toking rock from inside a broken bathtub and wallowing in a puddle of my own shit, and I didn't care. I just felt joined with the others in the room. Missy with her veins blown out like a Good Year tire from shooting up every hour, Red Eric and his arms broken from punching brick walls while wasted on angel dust, Candy and her three kids tied to her feet so they won't run off and eat a needle when she starts having seizures. We are all as one.
That's it, I'm joing the Christian right and I am shooting a fucking missile at every rave I can find.
TOTAL WRECK - crazy-eyed hound is covered in cobwebs, has a vespiary on back, graffiti on side and savage thirst for boat fuel. Frankly, I'm in over my head. He's in room 115 at Motel 6, yours free. 555-2851
Yes, it's the perfect form for surviving a car crash. But it's also the perfect form for so much more, like surviving the trauma of reading any news headline in 2016.
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