sharing

This is the Neoist bread campaign phase. To share bread, simple pleasures. I came to Neoism in 1980/81 after hearing mythology surrounding it. My name is Cantsin, Neoist messing officer. I came across Neoism in perhaps a similar way as you have. I was a pilgrim in the parched bleakness of official culture. I was kicked out of school at 15 years for reciting Tristan Tzara's poetry at a parent-teacher night. My assistant threw buckets of wet cooked spaghetti on the guests and teachers, and we chopped up the stage with axes. I then left home and travelled to the West Coast and became a religious ecstatic and indologist. I was a celibate monk for five years. I studied the ancient art of cooking, festival cuisine, playing table and khol drums. My tabla teacher lives in Varanasi, a magical center of ancient culture (pre-partiarchal Christian). I am gradually seeing my face from the continuity of differential variables. As all inherent I'd dissolve I know that eventually the jewel like luminescence of the inner Cantsin will shine forth.