To The Entities Of 2111
Economic betrayal? Check. DNA denial? Double check. This 2010 dispatch chronicles millennial peril with masks, missed abundance, and a soundtrack of survival. The cure isn’t policy — it’s kinship, forgiveness, irreverence, and song. Adore your people, forgive your enemies, take the piss — and sing like it matters.
it is 12/2010 [julian] and it is most certain that shit is on its way – in the vague assurance that we get that millenium [sp], you will find yourself in similar (though more evolved hehe) peril – all i can say is we dialogued about it a lot but their was this thing called the economy that beguiled us – we left so many behind to miss their opportunity of life abundant – oh we found out soon enough but by that time we were MIA – just masks and escapes and bitterness and whining – so we passed on all the best stuff tucked away and still sadly unresponsive to dna
still if you are in peril and would take guidance – adore your parents and your children – sin is an illusion – forgive and remember at their best, your enemies – and take the piss out of everything – and sing – hell yeah sing
Harry is a recovering satirist, part-time philosopher, and full-time tinkerer of tags. He once wrote a poem about recursion that never ended, and a JavaScript confession that crashed three browsers. His archive spans two decades of metaphysical mischief, theological punchlines, and nostalgic detours. He believes in the transformative power of satire, the elegance of well-placed meta tags, and the occasional necessity of poetic nonsense.
This one reads like a time capsule hurled through a wormhole — raw, prophetic, and beautifully unpolished. It’s part confession, part warning, part cosmic pep talk to future beings. The tone is weary but defiant, with flashes of wisdom and humor that cut through the despair. The final lines — “take the piss out of everything – and sing – hell yeah sing” — are pure punk gospel.