Fontän – Fontän

fontan

The surgeon burst, just as he was getting to the good bit. Damn, he thought, damn, what a waste of a good bit. So he set about finding the bits and sewing them back together, but this was a time ensuing process, so once he was re-established, he found that he was no longer a surgeon as he knew it, and the task facing him now was almost entirely structural, something alien to a worker of shambola which he now knew he was to be. Give me a needle and dread, he asked, give me the needle, but the needle was possessed, it was moving, whirring, spinwatting and slabbing. Nowhere was this more apparent than on the structure, something made for itself, conceived for itself, executed for political reasons. And people say I’m a bit odd. Well, wouldn’t you be? But the surgeon, why do we always forget the surgeon? I can remove that lump, he said, or at least, I could, back when I knew what it was. No need, these things are brought on by anger, don’t you know, anger and frustration, and the removal of these ills often effects a cure, but you need to journey and to see, it’s a very strange experience, you often are not sure whether or not you had it, though the memory is vivid enough. I can dig that, replied the surgeon, I must admit this is all a bit weird for me, have you ever pieced yourself back together using only a memory of a subjective prior being? Yes. Yes. Yes. Every fucking day. Wakefulness is what gives me purpose, but, by god, it comes at a price, and I’m not sure what’s left in the bank. I have to save some for the son, though I, the father, have a somewhat privilege, and I get to use it, more than I did, especially now I’m beginning to know where to find more of it. The thing is sustainability. Yes, I know it’s a trendy buzzword, and for that I apologise, I dislike having to use words too, but have you ever tried communicating concepts without their context? Context is, and I think I may have said this before, everything. Everything is context. So, do I get better, asked the surgeon. Yes. But only if you want to. Find your purpose and you will automatically. Ignore your purpose and it becomes harder.

Free the computer within!

Idiomatic. My style is idiomatic. That does NOT mean I’m automatically an idiot. Probably.

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Rusty Souls – Tripnotic

tripnotic

Clarkson sold his soul
and was rewarded with a fast car
gave him such a thrill
that he thought that’s all there was
part of the deal he made
was in treating men with wither
if they happened to point out
that he’d been taken for a ride
but eventually he arrived at the end
of his sordid little pleasuredome
he had to put in concepts
all the scorn he’d sold in words
and he found that they were empty
he found that they were empty
albeit with invective
but it isn’t quite the same
where has your reward gone?
it’s stuck behind in this realm
and you could have taken riches
if you knew just what they were
life is not a lesson
it’s a song
and if you get the meaning wrong
you cannot hear the music
its underneath the engines
but above the darker ground
it could be in the air
try listening to the air
ears are more than just the holes in the side of your head
you need to know your song
its your passport to moving on

 

Thomas Dinger – Für mich

fur mich

I’d set my alarm for Now, and it had gone, as described, so I upped, as necessary. Pausing only to sip on a PowerJuice® I embarked and began, the flow led me towards Mash, in Logovila. A big swine was going down, seeping. My job, such as it was, was to ease its stupor, and for this, I required a tardis. Having entered the reverential code of confidence, the entry slipped and I was forth, spread across the problem like a one-being solution. I smiled, which isn’t easy when you’re being spread across a problem, although it was actually quite an amenable problem, we had met before, these encounters had by way of a ritual about them. Ritual writ large, and with social consequences.

Who am I to care about consequences? Here’s a pillar, suffering, righteous, full and tottering, and if I don’t attend to it, I won’t attend to it and the vibrations will cause an event, much like creation, but not as good or as longlasting. Time, I suggested, for some monotony. Interesting times, indeed.

The judge sat me down, where I was resting, and began his instruction, regarding me as he regaled me, interpreting me as he introduced me to the subject I was to occupy that day. Metapillars were needed to counteract some very obvious dangers, many of which were manifesting internally in all sorts of interesting ways… remember, we’re aiming for tedium! At least you know what will happen with it. So I was to be the foreman on the Metapillar Construction Ethos, a new team of engineers with skills so obvious we should brook no bargaining. Don’t let the ice in…

The Redundant Architects™ have been moaning again, it seems… they knew the nanobuilders were coming, and they could have got on board, but no, they insisted their outmoded ‘Innovative Technique’ was the right way for building buildings, even though most of us had cottoned on to the fact that universal harmony was better adhered to, so designing builders that could be naturally attuned to such harmony seemed the most reasonable way of achieving these effects. Why they still insist on training these new architects who will never design a real building.. I overheard some of these talking the other day. They tell of a fantastical island in the middle of the ocean where human beings design a building before its built! Yes! And these are the rationalists…

“You’re on,” I said to your honour, just as he was leaving.
“You’re just swapping one kind of hassle for another, and calling it progress,” he replied, in the shape of a wandering interlocutor, dressed as an agitator, acting like a riot.
“So you say. I’m off hunting for buried pleasure.” I love a good ritual parting, and began my treatment. Today, we dowse with the electronic tonic, that which renders us not as we would otherwise be, but isn’t everything? By which logical proximity we can but surmise: all is as it should be, except for that which isn’t, and maybe not even that. I am not to say, for I don’t know, as knowledge is only transiently useful. I ordered the cringe, hardback edition, publishers discretion, subject to criticism – no work of art is complete without the stain of criticism. Fuck the purists, they have such sweet orgasms, god I want to fuck a purist.

Fuco – Addicted

fuco

The valley of death has relocated
and now you wouldn’t recognise it
it’s a matter of life you step inside
where sunset replaces sunrise

might keep you guessing
you know you’ve seen this place before
it’s the street around the corner
it’s the world outside your only door

the valley of death has had a refit
you’ve really got to come and see it
from the cradle you can save some opinions
and you get to test them out
one by one

Cardiac Park is moving in
Soda Themepark is taking over

the valley of death has had a relaunch
you know you’ll get to see it doesn’t matter of course
life is like a box, no, nothing like a box
can you let me keep these thoughts?
they’re all that I’ve got

Poppy Ackroyd – Resolve

poppyackroyd

Everything happened at once. I couldn’t make sense of it all so I split it up into a series of events that seemed connected, which I tried to experience in succession in the hope that this would render it sensible, but the information was still too intense, so I fractured myself into myriad perceptual units so as to take in one little fragment at a time, but even these chunks were unmanageable so I had to imagine new and unheard of angles from which to perceive so as to widen the scope of the possibilities unto almost infinity as far as I could make out. Even then, I had to get the separate units to reproduce themselves at regular intervals, and still the information kept on coming. Indeed, it seemed it was expanding to fill every perceptual space I was creating. I needed to think of a new format.

Cremation Lily – Radiance and Instability

cremation lily
The word ‘myself’ implies that the self is a possession. Discuss.
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Reality is very close to the ultimate illusion; very few people question it.
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Don’t try to engage my enthusiasm on a Monday. My enthusiasm spends the day in its bed. It likes long weekends.
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Words are a lot like statistics. You can use them to prove anything. You can also use them to disprove anything.
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Is that really my mind? It looks so unfamiliar from the outside.