1st issue cover image

Le Momo

1. Having accepted our fate, we face it with the patience and apprehension of lions. I have secrets to give.
Such calls out the darkness, fate sealed, waxen and static.
How are we to live like this? Adhered to the simple promise that our time shall end and that after there is perhaps nothing more?
The answer is simple. We live up to the fullest potential of which we are capable. No, every moment must not necessarily be spent in contemplation of our end. What I ask is simply that a sense of purpose bealigned with our fate.
Why should we stick to the caul of apathy because death is near? We have nothing to show for and in the end it is all pointless.
Is it not all pointless anyway?
Does it matter?
And if it pointless, should we not make the best of this while we have it?
My friends, I do believe in this thing called soul and that this thing whatever it may be, shall live on into eternity.
I have no substantial physical evidence for the soul is not based on pure science. It is a creature of understanding, a queer knowing of the other world.
For if we eventually discover the nature of the world and these findings are only discovered through a base knowledge that there is something beyond what we see, then why should we completely doubt soul?
We are not speaking of science here. You cannot divine God by the lens of a microscope. Perhaps you see a piece of that otherness, but you cannot see it all. One sees it glimmering beneath the surface, brilliant yet dim, a mass of contradiction, more than mere logic.
So in death, perhaps we have more than simply glimmers, we may have the full glow of reality, of existence and non-existence.
We have the right to fear this bloody heap of monster, but we should not hide away from him. For whatever comes after this desperate den of shadows we call life, it truly makes us who we are.
Why should we ignore it simply to stay sane, when so much is revealed when we accept this one fact of our existence.

2. The Chaoticians---

What is a chaotician you ask? The dictionary defines chaos as a state of confusion and also the period before creation. Chaos is the void, the madness, the disjunctiveness. From chaos and destruction, we shall arrive at creation, a turning of the old mast into the tide of the new.
The chaotician asks the chaos to arrive as it will allow creation to reach fruition. Antonin Artaud understood the necessity to destroy all bounds, to force chaos out into a sleek form. Take away all that is unecessary and pile it with as much as you can. There is more to this.
As chaoticians, we choose not to venture into the realm of the mundane or the intensely particular though we admit we can be dogmatic. Unlike the hypocrite we recognize our contradictions and play them. We are the madmen and we relish in this truth though we admit it may not be the safest or most joyous road. We hate for a purpose as much as we love in this manner.
We are subversive yet we adore beauty. We are the cracks in the wall, the spaces in the breadth of reality. We are not decisive yet we stick to our system. It is confusion itself but confusion with a method.
We are scientists of insanity as opposed to reason. We would like to usher in an unseen revolution. We would like to reignite the spark missing from the arts. We are everything and nothing. Welcome us into this world.