Zeitpunkt Nutzer Delta Tröts TNR Titel Version maxTL So 11.08.2024 00:00:10 11.966 0 1.044.390 87,3 Mastodon.green 4.2.10 500 Sa 10.08.2024 00:01:17 11.966 -1 1.043.309 87,2 Mastodon.green 4.2.10 500 Fr 09.08.2024 00:01:09 11.967 +1 1.042.244 87,1 Mastodon.green 4.2.10 500 Do 08.08.2024 00:01:21 11.966 +1 1.041.281 87,0 Mastodon.green 4.2.10 500 Mi 07.08.2024 00:00:00 11.965 +5 1.040.101 86,9 Mastodon.green 4.2.10 500 Di 06.08.2024 00:01:08 11.960 +1 1.039.248 86,9 Mastodon.green 4.2.10 500 Mo 05.08.2024 00:00:45 11.959 -1 1.038.268 86,8 Mastodon.green 4.2.10 500 So 04.08.2024 00:01:08 11.960 +1 1.037.299 86,7 Mastodon.green 4.2.10 500 Sa 03.08.2024 00:00:31 11.959 +1 1.036.365 86,7 Mastodon.green 4.2.10 500 Fr 02.08.2024 00:01:21 11.958 0 1.035.659 86,6 Mastodon.green 4.2.10 500
Ian Hunt (@ianhunt) · 11/2022 · Tröts: 1.716 · Folger: 326
So 11.08.2024 10:13
Wole Soyinka, Season of Anomy, 1973. 'From the archine strength and failures, what interchange effected? Within the fluid, rancid energies, what new state of being abstracted, answering a million demands?' #Oil
The pool stank of history. Slaves, gold, oil. The old wars. Sightless skulls, blood, sweat and bones, agony that lay on seabed, silenced cries forever mingled with black silt. Ever-present energies from the past, staring sockets that demanded that living eyes S€€, learn through their terror, through rings of past hoilowness, empty visions, skeletal fingers webbed 1In mud, imprints of experience signalling renewed demands . . . this spent enecrgy, this spent error, this violent, untimely cycle of waste renewed a demand for transformation. What would his paddles turn up from that rank bed of history if he dug deep enough—what, beyond the intertwining of matter and deeds! It defied a break in awareness, the oil trade flowed into a smell of death, disruption and desolation, flowed in turn into tankers for the new oil. Ofeyi fed this symbiosis with faces of prospecting teams he had chanced upon. .. the Italian covered in flea bites of every shape and hue, and thebeety engineer,scarred and mangrove tendoned, break- ing into the quiet of the creeks on apocalyptic footsteps- Bull?ous chromium tanks sprouted from the warts on the Italian’s face, the prominent veins of the other dived under his earthy flesh surfacing and re-diving like sea- serpents, curving up for a surface run of pipe-lines and ill‘l’rllftlg lfn;tio earth again. Restless eyes flitting in a treasure of fluids through burial-grounds of the unknown,
knuckles snapping to the rhythm of drills and detonators sending shockwaves through placid arteries of clay and e stone . . . rotted leaves and wood, peat, shale; yet the long latent metamorphosis would erupt. Looking up at the rich black fountains, at the protean flow that e too answered a thousand demands he wondered what answer el i s : he must make to the puzzled dead searching in the living ffor the transformation of their rotted deeds, thoughts, values, tears, bile, decadent and putrescent memories, searching for a parallel transformation to that of rotted e earth-flesh reborn into life-giving oil. From the archine strength and failures, what interchange effected? Within the fluid, rancid energies, what new state of being abstracted, answering a million demands? Embarrass me no more with your accusations, he murmured. Ask your questions of the Cartel who will drain the oil as they have the milk of of the cocoa.
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