Get thee to a greenhouse. Get thee to Eco Futurism Corporation’s Bandcamp page.
Seriously: get thee to a plot of dirt with a shovel in your hand, cuz that’ll do you some good, you city rat, you rascal, you scallywag. Vegetables don’t come out of some angelic magician’s ass, you know. Thou must learneth to groweth them accordingly and appropriately, because poco a poco they will crescendo into a theater of air or a forest of wind chimes, forming a barge, a door, an ohm on the underside of a wheelbarrow, an album, a pair of headphones in your ears, DIVINE HERBA, yes, these little snippets of flora, sticky with the viscosity of global warming surrounding our nonhuman temporality. Yes, just these little vaportrap tings with Russian titles, alive with green energy, because the Anthropocene surrounds us, and I will strike thee with some wildfire wordplay if you argue that climate change ain’t happening, mang. I’ve got backup too: yo Timothy Morton! It’s tfw you morph your head into a shrub with birds chatting all around your brain batter, yeah, or it’s a discovery like this starting to make sense because wasn’t your New Year’s resolution to eat more greens anyway?
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