Four of us, alone again, finally. We had a long zig-zag chat after lunch, happily NOT cooking anything much, just cube soup with stars (which looked curiously Latin alphabet). Wanted to go to the beach, but it got cloudy. I just sat and did some work for Paige (wrote the two lines of this in october 2007, the rest in march 2022), no clue what - the filenames tell me nothing, and taking a peek into them feels like a chore.
On sezam, against a rock bible thumper:
/ You don't know the Holy Writ, how will you, therefore, know rock'roll?
Now you did it. You just crossed the line, bogoradović, just like that.
First I had, on this very sezam, had to handle a bunch of barrel bottom fools who kept measuring all the time who(se) is the larger Serb, so I had to pretty much choose whether to be a Serb Of Orthodox Faith or a Bushman (chose the latter, until the smoke thins out). Not that it mattered much, I never got a hardon from nation, and in the previous life I had more trouble from my hair length than my ancestry.
But I WILL NOT let you exclude me from rocknroll for not believing, nor am I interested in digging through judeochristian tradition as if all the world's wisdom was in it. There is so much between heaven and earth, of which that „philosophy“ of yours doesn't even dream.
Is that how your granny brought you up, to install monopolies, to prescribe who can come in and who not? You are the keeper of the gate, or what?
Know what, you're free to take that closet from the house of rock, where the repentants play, those whom drug has cost (over) their heads, and now do photo-ops with missionaries and televangelists, and all those sheep who never knew for sure whether rock was an art of rebellion or art of returning into the system's fold, and take them to your home.
And I'll rather stay with those who don't need any of that.
/ Where I go, you cannot come.
You have no idea how happy this sentence made me :).