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Wednesday, July 31, 2019
i blame plato
Spare a thought for the torture of writing in english when the contemporary prison is to speak english. Socrates had no need of a writing machine to be an arsehole to everyone. A memorable speaking arsehole. Or perhaps he managed to upset just the right set of pr and marketing agents for prosperity. Not english anyhow.
¶ 4:39 am 0 Comments
Tuesday, July 30, 2019
lies are easy in the telling
i have a sandwhich in the gullet keeping in the insides warm as i walk to the park to see how the space has been transformed by snow. who is going to claim ownership of this star shining irrespective of the mud and scum constantly flung down here on surveillance mothership earth? when something is out of reach everyone can claim it as their own. i leave footprints in the snow.
¶ 3:47 pm 0 Comments
Monday, July 29, 2019
life admin
it hasn't worked out to be the greatest of timing.
people can walk off without paying and not have a hint of a bad feeling.
angry little men seethe and slam non stop.
set off in search of the next routine to set off from.
community is nothing to be ashamed about.
shame is nothing to no one.
a pulse is sought sucked and sabotaged.
i want to turn, but there is nothing to turn to.
¶ 5:22 pm 0 Comments
people can walk off without paying and not have a hint of a bad feeling.
angry little men seethe and slam non stop.
set off in search of the next routine to set off from.
community is nothing to be ashamed about.
shame is nothing to no one.
a pulse is sought sucked and sabotaged.
i want to turn, but there is nothing to turn to.
Friday, July 26, 2019
i hear the sound of mandolins
the writer falls in love with the imagination in a piazza of throbbing and fidgeting. a melody splutters under the affliction.
¶ 5:13 pm 0 Comments
Thursday, July 25, 2019
the animal needs to be thoroughly machined
there is an increase in sensitivity that brings with it rewards and punishments but is justified in its being as product of becoming. we are the in betweens, not quite fully of yesterday and not quite fully of tomorrow. today. hold your silence on the lines that you are in between.
¶ 4:48 pm 0 Comments
Wednesday, July 24, 2019
anna from poland seems only interested in living with rejection before enthusiasm runs out
i have a garden but i pay the rent with shop work; kentish town organic produce. if we had a kid you'd prolly be drunk all arvo and i'd be the one who'd have to look after it. all those words, i have no idea what you are talking about. you don't even know yourself what you are saying.
¶ 3:31 pm 0 Comments
Tuesday, July 23, 2019
what's really happening?
i ride through kings cross on my way to more romance, more life, more you. sunday evening slices through the suburban growth. the energy swells in the nether regions. not enough to spill over into the streets just yet. it's the burnt out butt of the end of the week, but we run to another rhythm. nomad knows no sabbath. i pedal through the great gnawing catastrophe that is camden. i can see the cracks in punk face like the salt flats in summer. over this scarified soil to a midnight oil burning in a second story window lined with cacti and orchids. knock knock.
¶ 2:41 am 0 Comments
Monday, July 22, 2019
thinking of you hope you are thinking of me too
desire is an uncomfortable state of mind that is forever wondering what it would most like to be doing.
¶ 4:46 pm 0 Comments
Friday, July 19, 2019
turning earth
pay less for a more desirable position to shit. plenty of work gardening for the rich; digging so many holes to bury brands and unappealing identities to the consumer. the cat is meowing because it needs to shit. let it out into the garden. creative protest on every other sunny day.
¶ 4:40 pm 0 Comments
Thursday, July 18, 2019
desire driven forces
the image captures all the usual eruptions staging street performances under the guise of love installations. amy and debbie start another hippy house behind the stamford hill library and we remaining are not to take this as rejection but as an increasing of the contagion. we either get new munters or a living room of a cosmic tepee to piddle off about within.
¶ 4:32 pm 0 Comments
Wednesday, July 17, 2019
the finest art to have bloomed upon this planet?
the indecisive little munters are at the barbie again throwing around a dry biscuit and talking themselves into action. the cow tolerates some milkings, dance you fucker dance. amongst all this possible what is desirable?
¶ 3:45 pm 0 Comments
Tuesday, July 16, 2019
sacred grove in my pocket
the modern is always a derivation, the contemporary derivation par excellence. if i pay rent i have a right to live stress free. i go and check on life. i want happiness to be a birthright to all life. harden the fuck up - reproductive fitness first.
¶ 3:40 pm 0 Comments
Monday, July 15, 2019
beneath a sheltering sky
come on and make something happen and stop always talking about things and actually start doing them. like have a dream and dance it out already. improvise through the errors.
¶ 3:37 pm 0 Comments
Friday, July 12, 2019
so i will type and have my orgasm
how much Dostoevsky is too much?
when the hole opens up and we all fall in.
unhealthy.
¶ 5:26 am 0 Comments
when the hole opens up and we all fall in.
unhealthy.
Thursday, July 11, 2019
derrida
sliding between the sentences and falling through the cracks in the original floorboard
¶ 5:25 am 0 Comments
Wednesday, July 10, 2019
permission for the briefest of moments
midden; a pile of shells where the ancestors would return to eat the fresh crustaceans. now that we are full we can dance connected to ancestors over shells.
¶ 3:10 am 0 Comments
Tuesday, July 09, 2019
nine to five monday to friday freedom
this one guy who regularly buys all the rotting bananas at half price came in today and asked for spinach. well i popped his eyes out of his heads when i told him that i don't have any in at the moment cause i just can't get them out of the frozen solid ground. maybe the shortage is in his head.
¶ 3:00 am 0 Comments
Monday, July 08, 2019
i am dead alive pull me aside
i got paid two hundred and forty pounds for four days work in the last three weeks. it pays the rent and the booze and food. i am floating along just fine with the only things being actively saved and stored away are the books read and the pages dusted. i just need to find out who is going to serialise my writing. that is how all the authors that stand as my models have matured; they set their thirties up in their twenties. i am over here writing like a maniac earning a third of what i was back over the in the colony in the book game.
¶ 4:01 pm 0 Comments
Friday, July 05, 2019
what is to be made of my proclivities?
i suck air to keep the neurons ticking over a bundle of sense impressions. the epic encounters wait for no explanation. the body is up against the world. there is enough here and there to start a riot. action is the battle ground.
¶ 3:52 pm 0 Comments
Thursday, July 04, 2019
shirtless
Deleuze was still a vocational scholar, even if of the old collar. Post modern mash-ups escape the word grinding machine.
¶ 5:45 am 0 Comments
Wednesday, July 03, 2019
do the right thing; put plastic people in the bin
A plastic culture is spawned when the accumulation of human toil is shifted from the nurturing home and onto an idealised free life of the nomad without sabbath. A plastic culture is so devitalised that there is no feeling of the architecture of their womb, which is all engulfing. There is no emotional investment in the single use lifestyle.
¶ 5:09 am 0 Comments
Tuesday, July 02, 2019
all in a lifetime
switch on a little piece of your unused brain to monitor the speck of nothing so self conceived as a subject, you, not taking itself seriously enough to worry. or maybe you are. watch that also. trace the existential outlines of finding a ditch to die in. start comparing ditches. publish notes.
¶ 4:54 am 0 Comments
Monday, July 01, 2019
B.N.A decoded the incodeable
Translation is an insurmountable obstacle. If you are going to tell a story then catch something of the chaos of colloquial collisions. I sit to watch the dreams hatch from the folds. Connections come down with a definite click and then the deafening blare of advertising washes it all out in the insomnial ocean.
¶ 4:45 am 0 Comments