The universe should get drunk, too. Join with our drunkenness.
The universe should give up! The universe should set aside its plans! They don’t matter. They’re not leading anywhere.
Every living thing must drink! Must be drunk! Every non-living thing! There must be drunken rocks and drunken stones. Drunken skies! Drunken stars!
Everything should be drunk with us. There should be a great drunken celebration. Of all things! Of everything!
The pub. This is our Church. This is our Temple. This is our Shelter.
This is the centre of all things, and immune from all things. The world turns around us here. All things turn around us. We contemplate all things as at a distance.
Our drinking. It’s how we reach what we are not. How we deviate from the Plan – even our own Plan.
Suspension. Means, losing their ends. Means, uncoupled from their ends.
We’re holding fate back. The inevitable. We’re not letting the world be the world, at least for a while.
Keep drinking! Stay drinking! There are drunken conversations that we simply must have. A drunken intensity which we must maintain. A drunken paranoia. A drunken conspiracy-theorising. A drunken drunkenness.
Work in Progress 