Not only morals are rotten, the very atmosphere
we live in is materially and physically rotten with actual poetry, with obscene appearences, wih venomous spirits, with infected organisms which you can see with the naked eye provided you have, like myself, lengthily, bitterly and systematically suffered from it.
And hallucinations or delirium are all out of the question here:
it is a question of this confirmed sophisticated elbow-pushing from an abominable world of souls in which every imperishable actor, every uncreated poet of the breath has always been made to feel the shameful parties making filth of his purest flights.
And no political or moral revolution will be possible so long as man continues to be magnetically held down-
even in his most elementary and simple organic and nervous reactions –
by the sordid influence
of all the questionable centers of the Initiates,
who, sitting tight in the warmth of the electric blankets of their duality-schism
laugh at revolution as well as wars,
certain that the anatomical order on which the existence as well as the duration of actual society is based
will no longer know how to be changed.
Theatre and Science, Antonin Autaud.
‘laugh at the revolution as well as wars’