Secret Night Radio

I listened to a raging howl on a secret radio in night. Embedded programming took place at odd hours, and sounded like the cries of night birds. There were lectures on linguistics and physics, but mostly it was concerned with a strange brand of self improvement which employed the strenuous mixing of metaphor with stuff more fantastic. Throwing off the tedium of a coherent subjectivity for the shifting gaze of snakes for hair, rending the fabric of space/time, that seemed the general theme, but any summation necessarily fails since the content was ambiguity in medium and message. Certain weapons one must wield from star-height by starlight. The remove is critical. It's easy to figure out why women are the most proficient practitioners of dwimmercraft. When one's will to power is met with acquiescence in the mundane world, if life concedes and rewards, there is little need to engage the fantastic. Witches spring from the ranks of the powerless. They are creatures of relentless survivalism and tremendous striving.