Blue flashing lights pass by, oblivious to our collective trespass. A hole in the fence, hotties passing through, passing into each other. A new world cums into being, a rupture on the leisure pastures of the rich. Cruising utopia, at least for a night. Queers writhing over each other, defiling one another. Sweet melodies accompany soft caresses, the sound of piss gurgling beside a couple kissing. Determined fuckers splayed out on tarps. The line between criminality and sensuality? Sorry she’s not in tonight.
We perverted Chicago’s Marovitz golf course, had a great night doing it. Imagine the next day, a confounded golfer cautiously lifting a damp towel between two fingers, realizing all at once, their eyes passing over the sex litter drying on the sunny green.
We did this for ourselves, but also to express solidarity with the intractable freaks who held down the Weelaunee forest. Since the very first fiery attacks carried out by queers in defense of that place, we’ve laughed and cried and raged with our feral siblings. If we only defend, we end up with our backs against the wall. All it takes is some boltcutters, encrypted messaging, and trusted friends to open up new fronts in the war for the wild. No more empty rhetoric around ‘territorial struggle’ without a total re-imagining of the terrain. We carved the chaos star into the sand bunker to remind that the forest is a propulsive utopia, spreading in all directions!
xoxo
an autonomous extra-curriculars committee at bb!23
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