Kukeri

Kukeri is a traditional Bulgarian ritual to scare away evil spirits, with costumed men performing the ritual. The costumes cover most of the body and include decorated wooden masks of animals (sometimes double-faced) and large bells attached to the belt. Around New Year and before Lent, the kukeri walk and dance through the village to scare evil spirits away with the costumes and the sound of the bells, as well as to provide a good harvest, health, and happiness to the village during the year. 

sources: 1, 2

Leviathan

Post-Revolution Blues

I think I'm suffering from a light case of burn-out. Yesterday I practically pushed myself beyond my limits. I woke up at 7:30 in the morning, had a small and quick breakfast that was going to be my only meal for the next 12 hours. I traveled in a train packed with early commuters to the centre of Athens to meet with the people from my union. There we joined in solidarity with another union to block the entrance to a huge coffee shop that has been using and abusing its employees. That was an amusing way to wake up and start your day. After that we handed out a call for more people to join our union and joined another three unions to form a bloc that then marched all the way to the central square of Athens. I held the banner too.

I was hot, thirsty, possibly sunburnt already and a bit tired. I spent some time with the people I've met in the union and when shit started getting kicked, and they decided to leave, I stayed and watched and participated depending on the tides of battle I suppose. I inhaled cubic arseloads of teargas and various asphyxiants and thank fuck I was wearing a mask otherwise I may have been deadified by now. I came face to face with plenty a pig in all shapes and colours and I walked tens of kilometers.

We built and lit barricades, flung rocks, insults and other debris at cops and tried to protect ourselves and other people, some of whom didn't even want us there. That's the shittiest thing of all. To be treated like an unwanted servant. Fuck you lady. I didn't come here for you, I came here for me. I'm alive and you're still dead. Underneath the mask I'm smiling.

I met a lot of people, I like most of them and I was genuinely happy. I only had water and cigarettes, I was definitely sunburnt and dehydrated by the end of it, very dirty and tired but I was fucking happy. The explosions didn't scare me or the fire. That's not to say I wasn't scared. This was happiness resulting from fears being faced and defeated.

Today, I'm healing. Apparently the government will be changing but that won't change my life. Or the life of most other people. It'll still be "same shit, different asshole". And I'm kind of down today. I feel like a wild animal that has been caged for all its life, has tasted freedom for a day and then has been shoved back in its cage. I still have to find a shitty job to pay my shitty rent. But yesterday. O yesterday I lit fires.

Re-enter the Vomitorium

Here's the first issue of the anorthodox zine once more only this time on a different, better platform. Spread the disease.

Open publication - Free publishing

No Rainbow

This short film features scenes from two of my favourite films and one I didn't care much about. Gorge yourselves.

A simple formula for how to fuck the police

1) The police are everywhere present because they are everywhere disguised.
2) If the police function to manage disorder and are present everywhere, then so too is disorder.
3) In order to expose the police when they are disguised, disorder can be maximized. Those who respond attempting to put things back in their place are the police.
4) When the police are in the open, but disorder is disguised, disorder has the upper hand.
5) In order to implicate myself as a force in opposition to the police, I side with disorder, and I elaborate the political techniques of scamming, fraud, theft, property destruction, violence, laziness, and anonymity.

taken from "Enemies we know", the Institute for experimental freedom, www.politicsisnotabanana.com

Borf is picking their nose

Borf is not caught. Borf is many. Borf is none. Borf is waiting for you in your car. Borf is in your pockets. Borf is running through your veins. Borf is naive. Borf is good for your liver. Borf is controlling your thoughts. Borf is everywhere. Borf is the war on boredom. Borf annihilates. Borf hates school. Borf is a four letter word for joy. Borf is quickly losing patience. Borf yells in the library. Borf eats pieces of shit like you for breakfast. Borf is digging a hole to China. Borf is bad at graffiti. Borf is ephemeral. Borf is invincible. Borf. Borf ruins everything. Borf runs near the swimming pool. Borf keeps it real. Borf writes you love letters. Ol’ Dirty Bastard is Borf. Borf knows everything. Borf is in the water. Borf doesn’t sleep. Borf systematically attacks the infrastructure of the totality. Borf is a foulmouth. Borf eats your homework. Borf brings you home for dinner. Borf is the dirt under your fingernails. Borf is the song that never ends. Borf gets down. Borf gets up. Borf is your baby. Borf is neither. Borf is good for your heart, the more you eat the more you. Borf is. Borf knows. Borf destroys. Borf is immortal. Borf pulls fire alarms. Borf scuffs the gym floor. Borf is looking through your mom’s purse. Borf is M. Borf is the size of Alaska. Borf likes pizza. Borf is in general. Borf is X. Borf ain’t nothin’ to fuck with. Borf runs it. Borf has reflexes like a cat. Borf is immortal. Borf sticks gum under the desk. Borf is omnipotent. Borf is flawed. Borf is winning.

Enter the Vomitorium

Below I have embedded a zine version of some of my favourite words and images that may or may not have appeared as posts here.
I did it mainly because I've fallen in love with zines and wanted to try it out, but also because I wanted to remix some of the stuff I put here.
As always, no permission was asked. Everything was shamelessly expropriated.
You can read the zine online in its embedded form or in scribd.com itself or you can download it and do dirty things to it in your own time using the link below.
Be warned, it may cause blindness and explosive diarrhoea.

anorthodox_01

Clickerate here for private voyeurism

The Conquest of the New York Stock Exchange

Two old school chums of Eldridge Cleaver turned up at the New York Stock Exchange, their pockets stuffed with one dollar bills. When the doorman tried to deny them entry, accusing them of being "hippies", they protested, in outrage, "We're not hippies, we're Jews!" and he didn't dare refuse them.

They walked out onto the balcony that overlooks the stock market itself, and began throwing bills over the railing to the stockbrokers below. The stockbrokers all dropped what they were doing and ran around pushing and leaping after the bills until the police came to drag the two "hippies" away. As a result of the interruption in their workday, the entire market crashed that day and all the stockbrokers and stockholders lost thousands of dollars. The whole thing was caught by television cameras, and that night families across the U.S. were treated to images of businessmen revealing their true natures of pathological, fetishist greed. A few weeks later, bullet-proof glass and a thick metal grate were installed between the viewer's balcony and the exchange floor, and the doormen were instructed not to permit Jews to enter.

Yeti

I made this. I stole and salvaged and scavenged and stitched together until this poor shambling monster came out.

"Because his ways have been wise" -High On Fire, The Yeti

Tinku

Tinku is a punching festival. People shed their grievances along with their blood. Their pagan souls flutter as their fists fly into each others faces in the hope that they will die and have a good crop year. And who are we to judge them? At least they do it with their fists instead of their remotes.