This week, something strange happened, and the only way to tell which way is right-side up is by blowing bubbles from our mouths and seeing which direction they float. How do we reorient? Per usual, we can turn towards the manifestotic. 

We want new forms that resist desedimentation. We want the close, the dark, the non-motion-smoothed, the non-generative. We want the wetland, the baroque, the hydrothermal vent. We want kind animal-forms, the mammalian, the endotherm. We want to communicate with non-arbitrary signs like chirps and whistles. We want new psychedelics, new archives, new methods to return to the originary link of this selective chain. We want ochre and blackcarbon to fashion petroglyphic little bildungsromans. We want a postmodernism of the manuport. We want funk. We want a pack of newports. We want to drive around all night, and we want it to sound not-corny, maybe even sincere. We want all that and more.

Often, the manifesto-form falls short. At least, it’s a start. 

Only love. Stay safe, 

Charlie Nuermberger, EIC