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Bread + Pain + Love = Total Sex

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 Gordon W. Zealot, 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 Monty Cantsin will shine forth.

Sure, you might think as Nagarjuna put forth in his Nyaya Shastra on logic that all these names and forms are due to ignorance and ultimately this world is like a town created by a musician/magician, vapor on a mirror, but I must insist on its palpability, though temporal. Ephemeral. Occasional.

Gordon W. Zealot in his leaflet OM Taka Taka, Feb. 1987