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DIY Conspiracy

Did ya hear that Profane Existence is back in print? Founded in 1989 PE was one of the most important printed publications in the activist DIY punk community. Check out this interview with Comrade Black about the re-establishing of PE magazine, politics and his personal stories of resistance and punk lifestyle.
Check out this interview with Comrade Black from PE collective!
http://diyconspiracy.net/comrade-black-profane-existence-interview/
Making Punk a Threat Again!

Did ya hear that Profane Existence is back in print? Founded in 1989 PE was one of the most important printed publications in the activist DIY punk community. Check out this interview with Comrade Black about the re-establishing of PE magazine, politics and his personal stories of resistance and punk lifestyle.

Check out this interview with Comrade Black from PE collective!

http://diyconspiracy.net/comrade-black-profane-existence-interview/

Making Punk a Threat Again!

“To think is not to get out of the cave; it is not to replace the uncertainty of shadows by the clear-cut outlines of things themselves, the flame’s flickering glow by the light of the true sun. To think is to enter the Labyrinth; more exactly, it is to make be and appear a Labyrinth when we might have stayed “lying among the flowers, facing the sky.” It is to lose oneself amidst galleries which exist only because we never tire of digging them; to turn round and round at the end of a cul-de-sac whose entrance has been shut off behind us—until, inexplicably, this spinning round opens up in the surrounding walls cracks which offer passage.”


—Crossroads in the Labyrinth, Cornelius Castoriadis, 1978
To think is not to get out of the cave; it is not to replace the uncertainty of shadows by the clear-cut outlines of things themselves, the flame’s flickering glow by the light of the true sun. To think is to enter the Labyrinth; more exactly, it is to make be and appear a Labyrinth when we might have stayed “lying among the flowers, facing the sky.” It is to lose oneself amidst galleries which exist only because we never tire of digging them; to turn round and round at the end of a cul-de-sac whose entrance has been shut off behind us—until, inexplicably, this spinning round opens up in the surrounding walls cracks which offer passage.
Crossroads in the Labyrinth, Cornelius Castoriadis, 1978