Fuck the army.

Experiment to understand and realise, just how difficult a task it is to exist as a concious being with an unconcious mind. To have your physical actions regulated - Heartbeat. Blinking. Sweat, fear, cry. Salivate. Shit, piss, scream. jack off in the latrines.

These are things we are used to controlling. Things we have been doing, with varying degrees of independence, since we were very small.

We break up this monotony with creative thought like water at dawn, disturbed by lurking waterfowl.

The army is the foulmouthed redneck bastard who smells like a brewery and lurks in the reeds at the end of the lake with a shotgun resting in the crook of his knarled elbow, waiting to blast your creative thought out of the water the moment it pops it's blinding white head up.


Fuck the army.