i got my amber back r. fixed and my sap is rising for spring, for r., for whatever reason, whomever, for self, for other, all. i put a tipi on my head made in the sixties by r. it's a new era in some ways. indigenous ways. the old ways are dying out as the old thinkers fade. there are some that cling to life and their clinging is part of the larger extinction. we are lost in an epidemic masquerade of capitalism. capitalism not democracy. democracy is lost in capitalism. democracy dies and people rise. the lost are converging. there has to be a die-off, capital die off, death has to hit the market hard, for something new as old as earth to rise. we're not living in a democracy, we're living under capitalism. it's epidemic, and devouring. money does not care for us. the system we suffer under does not care who lives or dies, there is always money to be made, the only exponential gain in an exhausted world is disaster. but we are alive, we write and read, live right, and are at play within and without the market forced deadly game of the end game capitalist masquerade. imagine—i mean, listen—life is play after all.