j(A)de: Look, this's fucking crazy.

Arthur: Of course.

j(A)de: No man, I'm serious.

Arthur: Me too. Everyone knows the shit's going down, yo, hitting the fan and that creek ain't never seen no paddles. And we're all waiting.

j(A)de: Waiting for what? Why wait? Why not get together and do something?

Julio: Do what? Organize a rally, a conference, a road show? Shut 'em down, take the streets, go to jail? Or worse yet, write a fucking manifesto!? "A spectre is haunting us," and "What is to be done!"

Arthur: It's old, man. It's useless, sad, a waste. We'd all do something, anything really, if we could really believe it could do something. For real. Even I'd get off my fat ass, no joke. But please: no more pontificating, no more same old same old, no more!

j(A)de: So instead we sit around and wait?

Arthur: Yeah, I guess so.

...

j(A)de: OK. All right. So what would something different look like, feel like? How'd you know?

Julio: Well, I'd say...

Arthur: Be careful, yo. There's something about this, this moment: if you say something, get it hard and fixed and all pretty for presentation and the rest, then it's not right. Everything about what we're doing is pregnant, potential, possible: breathing near by, but invisible, intangible.

j(A)de: What?

Julio: It's not invisible, it's all around us. I mean, I can draw out the new world everywhere I look!

Arthur: Yeah, but the old world's there too. And if the person you're talking to doesn't get it the way you do -- which is kind of a long shot, because most of the world is shit, man, and that's the reality most of us see most of the time -- then you lose all your credibility. The only way to speak is to stay in vague generalities -- another world is possible! -- or to be hopelessly sidelined into the small identity group that gets your particular vision.