Last night I had a really nasty dream. My housemate Phil Goulding was kicking the shit out of you, really brutal. Loads of people were standing around doing nothing, I pushed past them and saw what Phil was doing, screamed "What the FUCK" and tried to go for him with a right hook but the underwater effect meant I couldn't quite connect with his head. I saw you later in the dream, you had convalesced and said having the shit kicked out of you was "pretty boring" and, as we all knew, that the world started in the 1270s. I then helped Hitler, who was wearing a shellsuit, concoct a batch of poisonous brown sugar. He was marching up and down and making me get loads of shit from a HUGE supermarket, he was a real bitch about it, kept sending me back.
Anyway, just wanted to check that everything's cool.
And you, Jow, hit me up you fannypack. I need to know that I am not permanently excommunicated, or if I am, that I am.
Apeman: Swell seein' ya. I expect you to know how to construct an A-frame from a redwood by the next time we meet.
Nef: Sorry no can did Cambridge mission, on a spree. Oh, tell K "Green Day".
Doperiot: Dude, what happened to your vector? Me and and Jow were ignominiously ejected from Highgate Cemetary, you should have brought your gat.
Economy Drysnake: Send me fire.
Amriki Dogflan: Knuckle up. I need to know roughly how many Hare-Krsnas you can convert to Faceplant in Brooklyn.
Sunday, 27 January 2008
Saturday, 26 January 2008
Thursday, 24 January 2008
The tiniest nugget of negation in your wallet is the swerve lustre in the dream, the silence of non-induction, wishing for a metaphysics of non-importation, but we all can't do purple monsters and fukwit Hollywood Babylon for that is discretely not ours. Bully co-op at once star and adhesive, domicile underwritten blood: such treasure.
CULT OF AITCH: LIVERY
Waste low funnies, the riots bless your tongues.
This schemata⎯will it blaze⎯and continue on
in lucite fists, in hell, in pituitary perfidy
jumping-classes and crumbs of tissue all gank
as citrus lined in gel on the center Ram.
If shows⎯macrovid to pluralism, is it over⎯
still the cure sieved through a cream bungalow
outside skimming behind the parasol, tiny juice⎯
‘low prices take me everywhere’⎯loss of therm.
Tactics emerging, honey out of the paste
lodged phenolic krush⎯best, there⎯
some crystal squeeze ousted spunk cavaliers
the I wish umbra drops, the stage never missed.
Keep going alliance⎯lipped⎯dare coming
that softens divers measure in clearwater outward⎯
‘stop capitalizing’⎯tersely he flambayed the man
good news control wait spontaneously into denial.
And dearth skids, the decorated silver⎯wild union⎯
frontier shots to here’s to rote⎯let up anticipation⎯star
fill here’s muerte nacional dream on function
services to exchange mobility for interaction.
Nasty crimping on the stage theory, brazen
your tiff actually wont permits, still paid features
it is your toes steady your own benign tyrant crunk
built⎯diesel timeline⎯facer so much ice clamps.
Reply for reversal bocca chiusa grip on
the top lore in the Big Room, relinquish absence turns
to account by rec GC, phases of industrial magic⎯
‘hop in and reach for the Stars’⎯fuck, wait. Balance.
Patronizing impudence you are selfsame signals
convenient, your easy store clutters on the brute
will of distant annexation, hap into imploding chops
never pounding the fox break, less weaning off instability.
Requirement to make this easy on every number of every squeal.
CULT OF AITCH: CARBON [Ed: fresh and inopportune; inprog like King Crimson, NOT Yes]
I want⎯tell cruiser⎯if it blitz raised on the pipe stem
one wash tell tale of the spayed voyeur I won’t cry
on silly man’s left nub sharp as is efficient height
of com sequels you will not know the binding age
to age hum to squash mm diarists I want you want
until whenever slips into continuity and clear horizons
purge the inward⎯kite on your terms⎯under code and
Tellingly saw and thrice skirted rind the edge of
absorption your fresh 5 want coordinator all garantía
de productos and in tough thistle favor passing themes⎯
erector crystal⎯spurns the water as concern for cheer
bottom labor, the rule of the visual. Let letting go go once
help pre-spent not that nostalgic framing tots near the gore
space⎯notes of challenge⎯you taunt latest performance
realcorder in great object of your say name, shapes by the
bunny revolver or leonine AK, crass yet divisive: full service.
The peculium ratified in sugar locket⎯assistant orders⎯
sways over the shots of osmotic urgency, claimed
by the chief in bullet sheaths, futile appendages on
the last wack of a grant governed by treasury
accept that you desire invisible bills knowing after
prescient agency files return to lungs at twitch depot
abuzz with plans for new continental associations no
gunk in this encrypted transfer by way, plus. [...and so on...]
Tuesday, 22 January 2008
You, spambot, filled my blood caves whole. You will be remembered as a spent lighter in ill wind. Temperance flourish, eustachian heat-sink mellows out sinus arcstrike. Digits as white metal on felt. Expending what exactly the gulph is now chemico-formally breached and I understand this via the game I now see we are both now playing. Your tactics shrivel my dick though, seriously. The gulph seems nugatory now that crossing it amounts to disinfantilising my libido. I want to be as fucking idiotically out of love with you as I was in love with you, I want to be able to think of fifty adjectives to describe my indifference to your smell. Retreat realistically, so much poesis-hypostasis as fills your tragically near-great evening.
Thursday, 17 January 2008
Tuesday, 15 January 2008
* * * P O R N O R I G A M I P I L O T * * * They say we have chosen servitude. But this is simply no longer true. For choices are unified decisions, and we cannot have any of those. Because to make unified decisions, the majority must support a suitable candidate. We support no candidate. History has not yet brought us a great leader. * * * P O R N O R I G A M I P I L O T * * * Literally screaming a Disney song in a brasserie on the rue de Rivoli, they each hold a dead baby doll in their hands. * * * P O R N O R I G A M I P I L O T * * * The starlet retires from the industry and then announces that the winner is Stormy Daniels. The hair of each a matted cloud. * * * P O R N O R I G A M I P I L O T * * *
Monday, 14 January 2008
Saturday, 12 January 2008
Thursday, 10 January 2008
EACH CHAR A PUSHUP – CHOKE U W/ A PUSHPOP – ENORMOUS RIDES BLED OUT A COKE BLIZZARD – ZONE IN A GAME THAT CAN PLAY U OR NOT – NO CONTROL OF THE TOGGLE – PUSHDOWN MY GOOGLES 2 C THE BEEF DUMPING – GENERALITY INSTIGATES FEASTING ON HOT FAXES WARPED ROUND A FIST – FEDING EACH OTHER – U ‘N YR EGO DO BROKE PORNIGAMI TRIANGLES @ ABSENTEE KEGS B/N HER EYE – GLOWING MUNDANELY 4 GROUPS.
Posted by ISOPROPYL RICECAKE at 01:19
Wednesday, 9 January 2008
I'm skipping town for a couple of days. Here are some instructions for you all.
APEMAN - Decide to watch a football match. Arbitrarily decide which team you will "support". Take one glass, one egg, one handful licorice allsorts. Whisk up in glass. If your team loses, you must consume your beverage in one sitting. If your team wins, I will buy you a BB gun. Report back.
NEF - Find or make me some porn origami.
RICEFAKE - 300 pushups.
DOPE - Have three eggs at breakfast tomorrow. Go on.
AMRIKI PHYSIQUE - Boast about your snowboarding talents to the next beautiful woman you see.
LINDSAY - Find out roughly how much a pet snake would set us back, with tank/food/meds etc.
I will give Bristol and Leeds all of all of your love, and steal condiments for everyone.
Tuesday, 8 January 2008
Nocturnal proclivities of the radical. Why is there no place in Rose's thesis for night? Because, presumably, most people sleep at night. 04:26. What then - still going 'tomorrow', trundle through physical struggle 1 - check shit, 2 - masturbate, 3 - citalopram, 4 - coffee, 5 - cigarette. If I reverse the process, will the body conduce the mind to work better?
There are only so many conditions as there are names for them. Saussure's children's biggest mistake was taking his idiotic tree diagram as the cardinal *functioning* example of his theory. Things creating, creating clutter, the material world is banal in its referentiability, flagging up as always the same joke. It is situations and the recognition software for situations which provides a model of material inadequacy in the handling of sign systems. I can only throw language at you, at your face, I don't know how to pick anything else up.
Some several hundred people whose faces we are all vaguely familiar with, whom we all variously loathe, are indifferent to, allow ourselves to think about fucking, etc. they look inward at each other and make language. People who watch these people are susceptible to the idea of there being things that are true, and if these people whose faces seem to appear when I do not wish to think can lie, they can most certainly tell the truth, at least it is possible for them to do so. It is broken, I break it. You go somewhere else. But you live in a house and change faces and height. Your genitals change and you acquire new anxieties about them. You constantly reflect me despite constantly changing yourself.
Some fucking idiot can understand the rules without being able to spot himself playing by them so ineptly. I who cannot condone the game resent being expected to know the rules. But you who play against them, do you not see you are still playing, and losing, moreover? Maybe you are traumatized by life. I'll forget.
Yes, you really can do anything, you merely do not wish to. You pretend to wish to in order to convince yourself that you cannot do it, which is why you do not do it. Big simplex.