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What Is Neoism?

Who cares about the sex of the angels? Every Neoist supplies symbols to the mythology of Monty Cantsin, publishes Akademgorod. A ghost floats over the decaying cake, the ghost of the Generation Positive, invisible international organisms. Just like Lt. Murnau's people hearts N League, or the Church of the SubGenius, or the Eternal Network. The staging of a collective dream. The total disposability of the ubiquituous media-star, one, nobody and a thousand prophets with a flaming neoteric heart pumping myraculous lymph. What if nothing is there, inside, over, under, behind? Our Neoism has many enemies, the greatest enemies being the Neoists themselves. Only thus the conspiracy may grow. Generation Positive is here to save the world, to stick a colourful mole on your skin, to fly flaming irons forever. Cool iron for delicate garments, dropped over your feet, mad with love. Wash yourself anew before wearing Neoism. Wash each limb and dry separately. All colours will bleed into white colour. A flame finds its way through the gauze to the streched skin. Blood dyes the canvas as the phase whitens. A choir of shy plants, stems romantically clutching. A rite on the living-room floor, cubic protuberances over the navel. And what will be hung on the wall but magnifying glasses, projected to enormous size? A Vittore Baroni in SMILE Vol.1 No.1, June 1985