WRONG WAY STREET

PA.APP (12)

1/17/2020

(the listening experience)
I don't like all of it.
                                     But then, I'd never expect anyone
         to like all of what I do either.
If I tried to make
                                  what everyone liked
            then I'd be just another
                                               dead swan
              on the great fuckin' pile of
                                                                 dead swans

We do not accept funding from anyone who wants to compromise the cosmic textures of the universe of eyeballs that follow you through the dream space; rabbits emerge from black voids, in response to a column written by Bob Jones in which he called for a new “Māori Gratitude Day” where Māori bring Pākehā breakfast in bed. Among toxin-exposed children, the researchers found that the proportion of cognitive loss that results from exposure to chemicals used in flame retardants, called polybrominated diphenyl ethers (PDBEs), and organophosphate pesticides increased from 67 percent to 81 percent. He occupied a commanding oak armchair of sorrow, poverty, loss and the general end of this god forsaken planet. A failure to reckon with this history would be a failure to properly contextualize the president’s current threats to combat, highlight, or heal sociopolitical invisibility. (let us know if you'd like them gift-wrapped).

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

The show of otherworldly electronica. This week, I focus on the Buried Treasure Records PLUS there's a treat from the band Revbjelde of epic proportions.
Special thanks to Alan Gubby of Buried Treasure (www.buriedtreasure.bandcamp.com)

LISTEN HERE

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

In your drift you are generous green, reaching up to touch clouds and swaying easy on the aftershock. One man limping through it as dislikes clash head-on with a rose hue of misdemeanor past. Ventilated for high activity, shrewd in a tight spot and captivating in an ordinary sense. She was ready for the fluster but somehow it had dwindled down to just a small glass jar’s worth of inconsistencies. Some weird and over stated emporium came riding in under the cover of dark and set up shop, right there, in our faces. Prime sites and prime targets scuffle tooth and nail-file for an unaffiliated opportunity. A pyramid sale. A corner table. A quick modification. Even a hot date with an homosexual amputee. What could be more real than bad narcotics and a cosmetically accurate face mask? Driven out of the room by my mind and whipped through the doorway in defamatory hostage threats. So many stooping to pick up what they have yet to drop, unrealistically convinced all they desire will be on the floor in front of them somewhere between here and the indescribable evolution of the merest unconvincing time-saving hand tool. Fresh up and willing, holding the fort and placing left foot after right in this huge and pointless race to be forgotten too quick by too few. Reality check. Not much figuring to do but still scratching the surface of the fontal lobe, the rats nest of glimmering destitution scenarios and hopeless investments. Twenty years ago i was fresh out of patience. It closed it’s door on me and i stood back and watched myself rise up from the ineptitude of it all. No one even asked to see my ticket.

XXOXXXOXXOXXXOXXOXXXOXXOXXXO///=====

????? > METAMORPHOSIS OF A BURNT OUT BUS PT.2 (a.k.a. All Aboard) << |||}{

WALKING TALL WITH A 9 YEAR OLD

Turned out in contemplation
of something older
the jam glitched and turned into a sour jazzfuck
enough of that
enough of wishing on a stocks and shares portfolio

Never be fooled by a man in a suit
the uniform of deceit and
unconvincing superiority
the ultimate symbol of the con and the lie
they need your support for authentication
but luckily they are incapable of dressing down convincingly
an empty glass never looks full

I put my head into the waterfall and found its truth
not that it was ever in question
the sliding backwards
the holding on
and the clash of conversation under the
pixelating summer light
as it glints lancing shafts of brilliance through
the native bush
one voice talk goat paths and rotten wood
whilst the other younger voice chatters of
international youtube followers and monetaristic software value

The water slaps me in the face
dropping from the heights like a bun of tricks
the sweet sound of foolish humanity
wise enough to not
take itself seriously
and all this barely an hour from my back door

PH 18.01.20 top - JEANNE_BROUSSEAU / bottom - MRS_GEORGE_DUNHAM

WHEN ALL ELSE FAILS THERE WILL STILL BE THIS MOMENT. AT THIS MOMENT I AM LISTENING TO RVCK // YOU CAN TOO IF YOU FOLLOW THIS LINK

STORYOFHISSSSSSSSSTORYOFHISSSSSSSSSSSTORYOFHISSSSSSSSSTORYOFHISSSSSSSSSSSSSSTORYOFHISSS

NOSTALGIA

nostalgia |nɒˈstaldʒə|
noun [ mass noun ]
a sentimental longing or wistful affection for a period in the past: I was overcome with acute nostalgia for my days in prison.
• something done or presented in order to evoke feelings of nostalgia: an evening of TV nostalgia.

ORIGIN
late 18th cent. (in the sense ‘acute homesickness’): modern Latin (translating German Heimweh ‘homesickness’), from Greek nostos ‘return home’ + algos ‘pain’.

British scientist J.D. Bernal: “[Bernal] envisioned the consummation of rationality and desire not so much as making human life better, but of transforming the human into some sort of posthuman species-being.” Bernal published a book called The World, The Flesh and the Devil in 1929, which foresaw how
[…] scientific corporations might well become independent states and be enabled to undertake their largest experiments without consulting the outside world […] The world might, in fact, be transformed into a human zoo, a zoo so intelligently managed that its inhabitants are not aware that they are there merely for the purposes of observation and experiment.

M O R E I N F O H E R E

I)I)I)I)I)I)I)I)I)

always more to listen to than i have time for // always worth more time than there are hours // always something unexpected that i can't always afford // always having to move forward as i glance back at the wake of invention. W8

C L A R I F I C A T I O N - listen here

>
>
>
>
“We protest against recent events that claimed hundreds of Iranian lives and announce
that we will not be present at the Fajr Festival,” PA.APP (12) P.A.

0 Comments

PA.APP (11)

1/3/2020

0 Comments

Looking OUT into Blank Skin Life and dropping the baton. The cut is the same as always and GRAVITY is forever on the side of the falling U.S. Bombs. We are strange vertical MEAT captured in tins or plastic sheathed on POLYSTYRENE trays. Commodified and consummated.
Helps alleviate pain in knees, heels and aching legs caused by stress when walking. Dipping in and sluicing out as the GAME unfolds. A strange light emanating from under the carpet. Wishbones cover the threshold and get stuck in our claws as we CRAWL in, coughing from the thick smoke of ignorance and glorification. Where is my SPECIAL hamper? without ever focusing on what made it problematic in the first place. NOW the radical wind buoys up our apathy and disappointingly offers more favoring of today’s ableism in disabled people’s futures. Cache can be router and network based, so if both devices were on the same network, it may be possible for both of them to be cached on outdated content. Heavens above, is this not the opposites of the choice between saving a GIANT Panda or a GOLDEN Eagle?
"I was previously so paranoid that it became the truth. A nation of stalkers and snitches.
I never caught taxis for a while and took the batteries out of radios."

Yuri Suzuki, Sound of the Earth Chapter 2 (2019)

FIRMAMENT

don't speak up or out
stay quiet
don't compete
already too many empty words
and token gestures
small rumours
of great events
that never happen

the trees are falling
the earth giving way beneath
our wheels and our minds

jump clear
make it count for something
for anything

the eternal flies
circle and buzz
and now we see the dancing ghosts
in a tragic dust
of failed dreams
and dynamic indifference

today it starts to change
the past grows soft
decaying from the centre
losing heart
the shape distorted
with a great
fermenting
of nothing more

firmament |ˈfəːməm(ə)nt|
noun literary
the heavens or sky: thunder shakes the firmament | figurative : one of the great stars in the American golfing firmament.

(Faux Fauxtograffi VIETNAM 2019)

Karnow found that, as widely advertised, the Communist regime, after putting thousands of South Vietnamese in harsh reeducation camps, and driving thousands more to flee the country as boat people, has changed course dramatically; up to a point, it encourages private property, capitalism (including such bourgeois distractions as golf courses and fashion shows). It has eased party controls and invented new views of "socialism" attributed, after his death, to Ho Chi Minh: "Under socialism, the poor should get rich and the rich get richer."

How to get a job often comes down to one elite personal asset, and many people still don't realize it
Up to 80% of jobs are filled through personal connections, yet networking is vastly underestimated as a key to getting ahead in a career. That needs to change.
North Korea Nuclear Timeline Fast Facts
Read CNN's North Korea Nuclear Timeline Fast Facts to learn more about the country's nuclear capabilities and efforts.
West Belfast: Two men arrested over attempted murder in Poleglass
The victim, who is in his 20s, sustained head and facial injuries in an attack on Sunday morning.

(Christian Voyce 'Saturday Abstract' 2019)

Marcel      Duchamp, “Why Not Sneeze?”
          (1921/1964), painted         metal
                 cage, wood, marble,                 cuttlefish
    bone,             thermometer.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""+++++++++++++++++==================~~~~~

FEATURED LABEL ///////
This one got me from the G E T G O .
N o S T I L E V o ///// LINK https://cvltnation.com/cvlt-nation-interviews-khristopher-reinshagen-founder-of-nostilevo-label/

<><><> ALWAYS FELT LIKE I WAS MISSING SOMETHING. NO LONGER AVAILABLE. CASSETTES TOO EXPENSIVE TO POST TO NZ FROM THE STATES <><><> & THEN I FIND RANDOM DOWNLOADS ON ARTIST SITES {}{}{}{}{} BUT WHERE ARE ALL THOSE OTHER RELEASES??????????????????????????????? <> THEN THEY RE-APPEAR AS $1 DOWNLOADS STRAIGHT FROM THE SOURCE ±±±±±±±±± WHAT's NOT TO LOVE ?/\?
Bandcamp LINK

FROM MUTHASHIP TO DEAFNOISE

On this occasion i take different parts of my head out of the equation. The idea of what’s right and what’s wrong is flawed. There’s nothing to it. Inside the bone-dome i find plastic bottle tops and license plates, half smoked peace pipes and scorched underwear. The toxic cloud hovers overhead, casting shadows of doubt and unbelievable heroes. I straddle the donkey and covert messy orgasms and floral bedspreads. There’s no safe path out of here, they’ve all been undermined. Either that or reconstituted into Action Meals (We Kill for Your Thrill); (the consumerist product of the year for the 3rd time!!!) Bad positioning will get you in the end, the funnels will block and the ramps will jitter to a strange crystallized contraction, new wings will sprout but they won’t come to anything, failures and haphazard functionality all twisted up in nipple clamps and anal retribution. My mask slips and i punch myself in the face. Clickety fuckin click, goes my unhinged shoulder; nails turning black; eliminated from my only means of expression; coconut calcification at the edge of the hoopla dictorium, oh yeah, for sure, they tell it like it is except it ain’t nuthin like they see it. Look around you, we all smell a rat and you’re just there twitchin’. What the hell, what’s a man meant to think these days? This street or that street, it doesn’t matter in the end ‘cos no-one’s goin’ nowhere. Simple progress. Keeping it all ship-shape. Predictive text. Restrictive sex. Addictive hex. Reflective perspex. There’s something about the present that is nervous, a high water mark of confused misunderstanding or a fistful of straw and a sagging camel. Is there a way to distance ourselves from the melee without completely detaching the consumptive drip. What’s nourishment and what’s poison? Is everything interchangeable depending on perspective?

FROM DEAFNOISE TO MUTHASHIP

It's a wonderful world but I think I'm the only one saying that. We've killed all the animals and those that remain, we've imprisoned them. We divided up the land with essential infrastructure that the rabbit warren is now a confine. No more wondering on the free land of hope and glory because the focus is on the car never mind these now ever decreasing pedestrians. I had a walk and the path ended. Who gave cars priority over these old way back ley lined tracks? In times where cows and horses once trodden led by the cheeky milkmaid who always had a handy hand for those with lusty ways of the country air. I still myself to look closer at the end of this path and can only hear/feel the cacophony of these machines whizzing by, gleefully ignoring the 30mph speed limits. What was it like back then, back before the Industrial Revolution? What did we hear? What did you hear? The wind rippling on the trees? The silent glide of passing clouds? A river nearby and crows cawing on the drystone walls? Could we wander at freewill then? Were people more contended? The early call to plough the land with the raspy breath of the Shire Horses keeping a keen eye on the Four Horseman? Even though I have the windows closed, I hear passing traffic. Everything is just traffic. More traffic today compared to yesterday as the car dealers flog off their broken lies of freedom on the road. Have we really forgotten the past? What's the point of archeologists if they can't tell the dire warnings of the past? War is perhaps the greatest equaliser of all these days. What a decade to look forward to as the powers that be gleefully rub oil stained hands and push for more rocket missile programmes. For whose benefit? Mankind? Man Kind? Kind Man? I doubt it somehow. It's like saying Humanity. Whose Man Is It? A contradiction of the phonetics. Perhaps it is my speech impediment? Perhaps my deafness is the voice of God? Silence. Silenced. Tinnitus? The voice of unreasonable. Psychosis. Chronic Paranoid Psychosis. Paranoid Delusional Psychosis. Why do they write such words in my medical records? Perhaps I am doG<ma?

Shou-Sugi-Ban
One way to achieve the charred effect, is to use a gas blow torch. This creates a carbon layer on the exterior that preserves and emphasises the grain of the wood, protecting the timber underneath. The charring process prevents the timber from decaying, makes it weather and UV resistant, and also significantly extends its fire resistance.

50:50 mix of raw linseed oil and turpentine. (Turpentine is a thinner and helps drive the oil further into the wood.) The charred surface is very thirsty and takes up oil quickly.

////////////////\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\//////////////////////////////\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\//////////////////\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\//////////////////\\\\\\\\

I already have several music projects lined up for 2020 and will be looking, once again, to collaborate with Dirk Naguschewski whose collage work resonates deeply with me and illustrates visually my sound construction / deconstruction. It doesn't matter how many times i look through Dirk's work, i still discover new things. The simplicity is contagious & the juxtaposing magnetic.
SEE MORE HERE

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
KANGAROO - D.H. LAWRENCE
Surprisingly relevant and current, despite being almost a hundred years old.

'One of the sharpest fictional visions of the country and its people'
Gideon Haigh

English writer Richard Lovat Somers seeks broader horizons than those of fading post-war Europe, and so, with his wife Harriet, he travels to Australia to discover for himself the people and the way of life in this vast land of opportunity.
All too quickly, however, the Somers are caught up in an urgent battle for the political future of Australia. Richard struggles with his past and his personal ideology as he finds himself in a deadly tug-of-war between the mesmerising fascist Kangaroo and the feisty communist Willies Struthers.
In this semi-autobiography novel, Lawrence express his own gospel of personal integrity, and with vivid insight penetrates the realities and illusions of the Australian outlook – its gusty individuality, its self-conscious democracy, its open-heartedness and its volatile resentments.

(Contains products which do not contain any animal products or animal by products such as dairy, meat, eggs, bee products etc. All products in this category have been declared as Vegan.)

I am an interesting and not boring girl, from the very childhood I have been active and cheerful. You can not get bored with me. When I get into the company, I always behave myself and bring zest to the company. In the house, I am calm, balanced and I bring comfort. I also behave with dignity in guests. I want to know the world and be happy! I like to do a lot of things, I like to learn a lot, I like many kind of sports, I am ready to try everything that does not harm my health and examine the roadblocks patients face in accessing medicinal cannabis. In Japan though, fake food is a whole other story. The town sits in a valley where two rivers meet. This encouraged strong local handicraft production, and Hachiman became known for paper, knives and indigo dyeing. About one in 12 men and one in 200 women experience color blindness, with the large majority of those cases being anomalous trichomacy, a type of partial color blindness in which colors lose their vibrancy. Please see our schedule of unusual hours .

Same water....................////// and this too was------------------------------------categories ___________________prudence and over_______________________________________________of other seasonal alterations compared______________________no real _________________Under the new__________________//// easier finance options_________________criminality----------------------------& great _____________________________discussion. (------sexual persuasion). Consumers are............................//__________ “false-flag operation.”

Vaporwave is an Internet-based microgenre that was built upon the experimental and ironic tendencies of genres such as chillwave and hypnagogic pop. It draws primarily on musical and cultural sources from the 1980s and early 1990s while also being associated with an ambiguous or satirical take on consumer capitalism and technoculture.[3] Early incarnations of vaporwave relied on the sampling of sources such as Japanese city pop, smooth jazz, retro elevator music, R&B, lounge music, and dance music from the 1980s and 1990s.[6] The music consists of "brief, cut-up sketches", cleanly produced, and composed almost entirely from samples,[3] along with the application of slowed-down chopped and screwed techniques, looping, and other effects.[5][3][12] Critic Adam Trainer writes of the style's predilection for "music made less for enjoyment than for the regulation of mood," such as corporate stock music for infomercials and product demonstrations.[20] Musicologist Adam Harper described the typical vaporwave track as "a wholly synthesised or heavily processed chunk of corporate mood music, bright and earnest or slow and sultry, often beautiful, either looped out of sync and beyond the point of functionality.

GULF AUDIO COMPANY LINK

and is not responsible for the petition content. Click here to stop receiving updates about this petition. PA.APP (P.A.)11

0 Comments

PA.APP(10)

12/7/2019

0 Comments

                                                                 A spasm in which life is continually lacerated
on a beach of a decapitated
                   chicken, the absolute, base embodiment of all human                                experience. Crawling
           through sand like insects across a
                                 rice field in a loincloth in drag                                                 and nearly naked with grotesque
                     movements in a spectacle of heady sexuality
                                                                 and chronic illnesses caused by nuclear war.

Tatsumi Hijikata 深瀬昌久: スイカを喰う土方巽(大),
photograph by Masahisa Fukase, “Tatsumi Hijikata Eating a Watermelon (large)” (1970)

“good” and “bad” or

“beautiful” and “ugly”

disruptive and farcical

embracing a young woman

supernatural weasel

viscerally chomping

painted white

used in a 1965 performance

Tatsumi Hijikata 鳥居良禅: 肉体の叛乱 (男根), photograph by Ryozen Torii, “Revolt of the Body,
Tatsumi Hijikata Wearing a Golden Phallus” (1968)

LISTEN <><><> GUN CLUB <><><><> Watermelon MAN <><><> LISTEN

It is December. Perhaps it should be summer. 41.8002° S, 172.3337° E. Rainfall exceeding all expectations. And still it Rains. And still i catch up. Various from November.

TOO PISSED TO HIT’N’RUN

i have track flood blinkers
i’m an over- thinker
sticking tape on windows
blocking every chink of light
so i might sink into oblivion
and disappear into this demonic night

all these black neck kissers
needle sticking well wishers
too pissed to hit’n’run
blocked in by twisted strings
all flicked and uncrossed
until i’m lost at last
to all and everything

Q

Quarter of everything
goes to the guy with the wet mouth
make no mistakes
about his appearance
he is not a fresh
strawberry & cream tart

Quieter than ever before
the crack has filled with silence
on either side
there is a soft shuddering
as the space
becomes a defined anti-form

NATURAL BORN SCOUNDRELS

they just don’t quit
they just tuck right in and bite
first your hands and your neck
then your lips and eye-lids
they are a slow death of sorts
drop by drop stealing your life
swooping down
and in and around
it doesn’t matter how you describe it
or what you think
nature is going to kill you
and there’s not a thing you can do
today i feel it deep in my muscles
as they peel from my bones
and all i can do is carry on
just like i did before
hoping the pain won’t get too much
but really not having a clue how long
i can keep it up
how long i can shrug it off
caught up in the midst of a shift
old guard and new blood
reckless dreamers with 2-stroke engines
and tungsten tips
heavy tales of K-code finales
as the bio-security scoundrels
break out the heavy weapons
because what you can’t see
can hurt you
and we falter and slip down
in-between the roots
the sawdust clogging our airways
and our fears manifest
microscopic and ultimate

//////\\\\\\ In Abadan, Iran, on August 19, 1978, as the Cinema Rex audience watched Masoud Kimiai’s The Deer (1974) — a rebellious, street-level drama starring Behrouz Vossoughi, one of Iran’s most versatile actors — four individuals barred the entrances and doused the theater with gasoline. An estimated 400-plus people were killed as the building went up in flames.

Following public shootings in El Paso, Texas and Dayton, Ohio, which totaled in 31 deaths, Universal Pictures are withholding the release of factional satire

This is the latest example of reactionary governments blaming fictional creations for societal ills in the face of real-world horrors. Khoshbakht refers to this phenomenon as “mass graves of collective consciousness.” \\\\\\//////

PEOPLE vs. OIL vs. PEOPKLE vs. OPIL vs. IPOLPE vs. LIO vs. PESOPLE vs. UOL

over 50 people, from toddlers to grandparents, danced in the streets
a bright pink Mercedes, an oil-covered seabird and a fax machine
Shopping, or as an economist would refer to it, consumption, is the lifeblood of a modern economy, making up over 70% of all economic activity.
After his military discharge, his father became a furious alcoholic, abusive, and unable to hold down a job, so the family was supported by his mother, who had dreamed of being an actress.

___________ ______________ ___________________ ______ ___ _____________________ _________

They say this is California, a collective effort and a real good time. It isn’t. It’s a run down backdrop of Ugly Street, a rip in the fabric, bad blood on the floor. She walked as tall as the next man, swung her hips and flashed her eyes. Deep within someone else was sleeping and they were full of contradiction and feelings of despair. She just kept going, right on into the river, hardly slowing down as the grey slew of it pressed in around her like a physical assault. She changed her name, bought a different bag, held her breath and aimed for the opposite bank. She’d heard there was a mud village, less than a days walk away, where the Shaman had a candy-store and wore diamanté earrings. The women of the village lived between branches, elevated from the hard packed earth, in pulsing houses of flesh and bone. She was driven on by the corrupt possibilities of re-birth, mass-suicide and sublimation. Emerging from the shallows with a trail of striped polythene in her wake she shook herself like dog and crashed into the undergrowth growling and sobbing. Everywhere and nowhere had called her constantly. She could never keep still or settle into the kind of routine thought to be normal. It was strong and wild out there, the stem was bent and the signals clicking and sparking as the connection failed.

Side effects mild, brief with single antidepressant dose of intravenous ketamine
National Institutes of Health researchers found that a single, low-dose ketamine infusion was relatively free of side effects for patients with treatment-resistant depression. Elia Acevedo-Diaz, M.D., Carlos Zarate, M.D., and colleagues at the NIH's National Institute of Mental Health (NIMH) report their findings in the Journal of Affective Disorders.

Studies have shown that a single, subanesthetic-dose (a lower dose than would cause anesthesia) ketamine infusion can often rapidly relieve depressive symptoms within hours in people who have not responded to conventional antidepressants, which typically take weeks or months to work. However, widespread off-label use of intravenous subanesthetic-dose ketamine for treatment-resistant depression has raised concerns about side effects, especially given its history as a drug of abuse.

"The most common short-term side effect was feeling strange or loopy," said Acevedo-Diaz, of the Section on the Neurobiology and Treatment of Mood Disorders, part of the NIMH Intramural Research Program (IRP) in Bethesda, Maryland. "Most side effects peaked within an hour of ketamine administration and were gone within two hours. We did not see any serious, drug-related adverse events or increased ketamine cravings with a single-administration."

greetings! thank you for the support on our digital download sale. please write if you experience any trouble

PA.APP.(10) P>A>//////////

0 Comments

PA.APP (09)

11/30/2019

0 Comments

In our version of history the world is flat and oval with deep lateral grooves where demons and despots breed. The great scythe comes calling 3 times a day, regular as clockwork with a vast orange blade. Sleep with one eye awakened to the possibilities of broken dreams. New manifestations riddle the barren eternity, thoroughfares and dwellings etched into the surface, denying sacrifice to the outer-dimensional blade. And from these complex warrens, open to the sky, all madness is magnified as it comes up against a wall, over and over again. A maze beyond conclusion in which we must suffer constant restriction or stand up to be cut down, like corn. To size. In his prime. With certainty. There is a point when history starts repeating itself. The burning quest to define infinity. The snake, as a circle, consuming its own tail. All is looked over with god/man morals invented by the man/god in order to be the imagined reflection of some higher energy. Celebration of ego will always cut off its own nose. It will always be worse than ever. Limping backwards into the future/into an early grave, clothes burning and the stink of rotten magpies, heaped up, in the heart of the land. The beast is on the roof again, ripping off the gutters and rattling the chimney. The phaunos is risen, his seed to be spread far and wide.

The idealistic facade of manicured lawns
and homogeneity is easily
                                                   cracked when considering the statistics.
                                Cisco is 45 minutes
                                                                                   from the nearest town, and
has no running water,
                                                                                   grocery, gas station, or residents.                Anticipating the public’s rejection of government, trans and queer models
                                                                                    with their trucks
presenting opportunities for subversion and creative destruction in and
                                                                            around Tel Aviv, Jerusalem,
                             the Negev desert, and in the occupied West Bank.                       suburbia as a haven for nuclear families
                                                                                             first, women in the town were not allowed to work,
                         thus stabilizing the point of existence, the rustic lifestyle, desert climate,
                                                                                              second, African Americans were barred from living in Greenbelt, an exclusive invitation to a ‘money can’t buy’ experience.
                                                                              With the mantra “in the world, but not of it” nestled into the hillside ruins of a Palestinian village bombed and evacuated during the 1948 War.
                                                                                      Economy’s inaccessibility was intentional.
           Though entrance is free, parking is not.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHQHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I think a lot of people have feelings of low-key imposter syndrome all the time

I’m going to climb up on that truck and take my pants off

LINKLINK <> Tiffany St. Bunny

<><><><><><><><><><>

<>

passing amongst people

i see myself as a black space

slightly dulling

or dirtying

whatever colour they are bringing

to the party

<><><><><><><><><>

<>

hundreds and hundreds

of miles covered every week

jangling to the insulting conflict

of combustion engines

at once parachutist

fat hog rider and charioteer

it’s hot work for a cold horizon

yin-yang and military edition

plum jam

IF YOU ARE INTO : dull corporate operators, echoes of the synapses, vending machine music, text-to-speech hysteria, under the influence drum incursions, modulating machinery until it breaks, unnecessary untrue information, sticky dancefloors, garageband aficionados, techno-mutations, third parties provocations, hard-to-draw-a-line genres, tangible psychedelia, obscure naivety...to be continued...
https://ooh-sounds.bandcamp.com/album/shit-shine-no-no-no-no

(SEASONAL ALTERATIONS MAYBE APPLIED)

Bill was hog-tied and naked and they were pissing on him. Do you pay your money and take your choice, or not pay your money and still take your choice. O ye of little faith! Bill didn’t know anymore. He was beyond himself. Maybe they’d towed his car away. Whose game is this? I am an anti-christ. Always so many fragments flashing through the branches in sunlight and moonlight. Pushing into the corners and accelerating hard out. Inventor of the lozenge technique, which states:- Any human encounter should be measured by one lozenge. If you feel ok after the lozenge has gone, be warned, the likelihood of you wanting to kill yourself, once alone again, is increasing whilst you are deluding yourself. Choose a lozenge that works best for you. They were there again. Bodies, rough hands, pulling him this way and that, pushing into him. Bill was floating up now. Transcending. Whereabouts on the line do we put ourselves in order to leave the corporeal impediment. How extreme must the mining be to find that vein of riches beyond all value? How much later must we leave it? How much further must we fall? How much is lies and bullshit? How much is that doggy in that window? Watch this space. Dogs get feral. Voyeurs and exhibitionists. Symbiotic couplings of intimate disintegration. A personality split. A comb with false teeth. A rugged hetero from a romance novella. A smear of blood on a toilet seat. 5 minutes, that’s all we’ve got.

..oo)00-00(oo..

Alvin Baltrop
Born December 11, 1948[1]
The Bronx, New York City [1]
Died February 1, 2004 (aged 55)
New York City, New York, U.S.

Chat isn’t just chat in New Zealand, it’s connection, possibly the only social interaction of a person’s day, if they are isolated, out of work or lonely. I have been all of those things, and I have valued casual exchanges as proof that I’m still human, still worth talking too, when my feelings and mind seem to be telling me otherwise.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________dilapidated buildings burn surrounded by debris, firemen, and police_________________________________________________________________________conveying the radiance of non-white skin, of red patterned towels, and of green-tinted walls_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________moments of intimacy and sex, steel beams and rippling water___________________________gas stations, parking lots, and underpasses, many lit only by street lamps________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ridges of buildings and bodies curve in their shadows; men wear their pants around their ankles or nothing except socks and shoes____________________________________________________big hair, jewelry, and eyes________________________

?????????//////////////////////////////////////////////////
“There is no such thing as liberty,' she heard the quiet, deep, dangerous voice of Don Ramón repeating. 'There is no such thing as liberty. The greatest liberators are usually slaves of an idea. The freest people are slaves to convention and public opinion, and more still, slaves to the industrial machine. There is no such thing as liberty. You only change one sort of domination for another. All we can do is to choose our master.”
― D.H. Lawrence, The Plumed Serpent

Re-Dub // DENNIS ALCAPONE >>> Listen HERE

IGGY POP - If You're Going To The City >>> LISTEN here

Ecko Bazz - KYUSA EMBELA >>> Listen HERE

s.soo - TYMAN >>> LISTEN HERE

THE SUMMER LURCH. Moving into it. One day clouds and rain. ONE DAY UNRELENTING CLARITY & HEAT. This to & fro is loved by sandflies, they swarm around my head as i split rounds of Beech. THEY SWIM in my eyes. My lips are swollen from their biting. After a mast year there is an increase in the numbers of mice, rats and stoats. PLAGUE PROPORTIONS. The Government has a policy of poison. Aerial drops of the contentious 1080. Abuse is common for those in the Department Of Conservation. CONTRADICTORY claims hold their ground. It cannot end well. Those with most guns are also the most REACTIONARY. I am the man in the middle with nothing to defend myself with except for a well used toilet brush. It is not my argument. PREDATOR FREE by 2050 is a fictional buzz-phrase. The POLITICIANS are afraid of losing face, looking stupid or incapable. And so they tell stories that CAN NEVER BE TRUE. We have zombie possums too. There is a poisoned rat in the shed. I have to watch the flies to see where it is. It's in and empty cider box along with a used vacuum cleaner dust bag. The numerous rubbish sacks in the kennel are a go-to venue for vermin. Soon the maggots are falling out of the torn plastic bags. I always seem to be the GARBAGE MAN. More rain is forecast this week. I will do my best to keep moving. The sandflies at the lake are vampires, swift and blood thirsty. You have to be a STRANGER or a MASOCHIST to chose this as a holiday destination. Later, the wasps will come, also in plague proportions. This country is PURE in comparison to many others and as such ripe for exploitation. The fields are over filled with dairy herds. The land not good enough to support them. And so chemicals are employed to kill weeds and artificially grow grass. The rivers take up the over-spill. The farmers are slaves to the banks who crack the industry's whip which demands that every last drop is milked. BOVINE mutations rule the economy. If REAL CHANGE can be implemented it will be done over spilled blood and SCREAMS of rape.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

In Iraq, the wives of soldiers have traditionally cut their hair as an act of erasing their femininity, viewing hair as both sexy and holy.
Dreaming is a gift. The ones you killed will return to you in your dreams.
Today, protesters in Iraq wash themselves with bottles of Coke, which helps minimize the effects of the gas.
Iraqi security forces began firing live ammunition and tear gas at civilian protesters.
They catch the grenades in their arms and throw them back at the police.

You are solely responsible for any action you take as a result of this message. PA.APP.(09)P.A.

0 Comments

PA.APP (08)

11/15/2019

1 Comment

I left a hundred bucks poorer and was ridiculed by my friends for my frantic attempt to procure a crowbar on a .Saturday evening. Peaceful protesting is a basic right, enshrined in Article 38.c of the Iraqi Constitution. This new drug was so euphoric and visionary, so positive and mind expanding whilst a major victory for keeping dark money to ban the chemicals.

<><><><><><><><><><><> report came through last night around <><><><><><><> electric paradise of a swollen <><><><><><><><><><> shameful to realise <><><><><><><> Further efforts are being <><><><><><> no longer divisible <><><><><><><><><><><> typical of an era of deep <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> communications worsened and as nightfall <><><><><><> howling was <><><><><><><><><><><><> noticing the gauge <><><> empty.

Americans are increasingly moving into bunker communities, like this Vivos xPoint complex in South Dakota.

I’d been lucky enough to get hold of one of the few remaining inflatable psychedelic tunnels. I’d got it from a hard-nosed white haired Grandpunk who’d met an untimely end when four Percenters had gone walkabout with a one of their Scaerosols, which are high voltage, high pressure canisters that, for the victim, have a similar result to dropping an electric toaster into the bath. The Percenters had waited up a stairwell and then blasted out the Scaerosol as the old Grandpunk was making his way up, not only did he go totally St. Vitus but then went arse over tit, with a few helpful kicks, all the way down six flights of concrete steps. I was just coming down the street when old Grandpunk was spat out into the street, still spasming epileptic style, followed by the braying Percenters, me ducking quick into shadows and long gone in a flash. I circled back around and found the body semi-charred and terminated where it’d been left. I’d known old Grandpunk as long as you know anyone these days, and although you get hardened to seeing folk you know get wiped out it still fucks with your head, makes you angry and irrational and leaves you thinking maybe you should just give in to it, go out into the midst of it and at least try to take some of those fuckers out with you when you go. So i rolled him over, face down, lifted up the back of his studded coat and helped myself to the tunnel. I’d been on the look-out for one of my own for long enough, its magic was that it could get you out from under and under from out, it wasn’t always reliable and once you entered there was no guarantee as to the duration or intensity of the ‘Trip’ but it was one of the last means of escape or entry when your back was against the wall and your face was pressed into the dirt. And here i was, weighing up whether to break out the tunnel to get into this fenced compound or to try and find a loose thread in the fence. The cutters were no good here, the magnetised thread fencing that was used everywhere gripped hard onto any metallic implement almost like a cocoon, completely restricting any movement. This thread fencing was super tough too and the only way through was to find the start of an unravelment. It wasn’t clear how these unravelments began, it seemed unlikely that it was a fault in the manufacturing process, but some of the old folk said they were caused by insects that excreted a tiny blob of glue-like liquid which literally ate a small hole into the fabric, thereby allowing the insect to reel in lengths of the thread in a kind of back to front silkworm / spiderweb fashion. What the purpose of this was… who knows, the rip was only ever 3 or 4 centimetres long but if you could find it, pick out the broken thread and gently pull it out and downwards it would continue the rip until it was big enough to get through. This is what i was looking for but the fence was probably 100 metres long and focusing on the tight cross-hatching made the eyes blur and the head spin.

Click Links To Experience

Headyello - Road To Elsewhere

AkA - Wup Und Wuf

Kim Gordon - No Home Record

Blackxwash - Black Majik

week in
week out
the music
keeps coming
to the point
that i
can barely
remember
just what it is
that i need to
revisit
re-listen
consume
invest in
physically
emotionally
digitally

Aziza Brahim - Sahari

Raed Yassin - CW Tapes

The Revolutionaires - Drum sound

Sindre Bjerga + Boban Ristevski

WHEN
THEY
COME
WILL
YOU
BE
THERE

female jesus / fag jesus (steven arnold)

Ultrasound Specialists
Dear Mr Carruthers
Re: Peter Hope, DOB 01/05/1959, NHI
Thank you for referring Peter to Koru Ultrasound.
Clinical History:
Koru Ultrasound
31 Oxford Street, Richmond 7020 70 Bridge Street, Nelson 7010
P: (03) 541 0050
F: (03) 541 0051
31 October 2019
sprained left shoulder with a crow bar on the roof of a house
Examination Findings:
The long head of biceps appears ruptured proximally with a fluid filled sheath for a length of approximately 4cm.

The subscapularis tendon appears thin and variable in echotexture in keeping with tendinosis or healing partial tears.
The supraspinatus tendon appears normal.
The infraspinatus tendon appears normal.
There is marked thickening of fluid within the subacromial bursa.
There is bursal bunching on abduction of the arm.
Abduction is unrestricted but painful.
There is no evidence of joint effusion at the posterior labrum.
The possibility of a 25 x 4 x29mm teres minor tear is suggested and the patient is tender here.
The AC joint appears normal and is stable on forward flexion.
The coraco-acromial ligament, suprascapula & spinoglenoid notches all appear normal.
Conclusion:
Proximal biceps rupture
Possible teres minor tear
Subacromial bursitis with associated impingement. Suggest orthopedic consult

In 1989, after a number of police
raids on their warehouse in
King's Cross,
MWC left
the country
and travelled to Germany

where they became
notorious
for
building giant sculptures
out of old machinery and car

parts, one of which was
'Käferman',
a giant human figure with
a Volkswagen Beetle for its chest,
offering a Bird Of Peace sculpture that overlooked the Berlin Wall towards
East Berlin and the regime of
East Germany.

& Then This Mutoid Waste Company

............................................................. PA.APP. P.A (08)

1 Comment

PA.APP (07)

11/8/2019

0 Comments

THE MAKINGxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxNEW RIDICULOUSxxxxxxxxxxxxxxMORE. CAUSTICxxxxxxxxxxxxxOF WESTERN ERRORxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxTWENTY-NINExxxxxxxxxxxxx,CURIOUS AND IMPRACTICAL. xxxxxxxx OF DENTISTRYxxxxxxxxxxFISHxxxxxxxxxxxx! IN PALESTINE THEYxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxUNDERxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx AND COMPLIMENTARY WHORES,xxxxxxxxxxxxxx NEARESTxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxFAMILY COMMITMENTSxxxxxTARGET PRACTISE. WOMEN ARExxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx CLEVERLY EXPLAINEDxxxxxxxxxxxWELCOME. HOWEVERxxxxxxxxxBETER ECONOMYxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxHAND STITCHEDxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxSCREENSxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx. xxxxxxxxxxIMMACULATE ANDxxxxxxDESIRABLE.

During the conference I was invited to perform a qigong demonstration, also received an award for my work in spreading qigong around the world. This was a real honour for me, and also for Long White Cloud Qigong!

https://www.theguardian.com/cities/gallery/2019/mar/12/london-transport-distinctive-fabrics-moquette-history-in-pictures

To what do i offer myself up? There’s a feeling that it will be do or die, and often i care not which. As i said the waves keep rolling in faster and more polarised. It’s always new and always the same, a weird repeating mantra that i never quite grasp the words of. Passing clouds in the night as i stir sedated and turning away from the monkey at my side, reminding me always of a lingering death. More pills, more smoke, more juice. What’s your excuse, the same as mine? None of this matters when i’m steering the tungsten tips through the branches, shaping the leaves into contorted throes of animal death and sculpting instantaneously disappearing moments. Moving forward where it’s all so obviously an unimportant flash in the pan.

The Street Photography of Matt Weber
As a former self-described ‘mediocre’ graffiti artist and taxi driver photographing the streets of New York since 1978, Matt Weber has explored countless miles throughout the city and seen a little bit of everything.
The subjects in his photographs range from fights to embraces, from the homeless to 5th Avenue, from Harlem to Coney Island. The sensibilities in his work portray a photographer who has always been in tune with the rhythms, the community, and the ideals of the true New York – both the good and the bad.
>>>>>LINK<<<<<

80830380830380830380830380830380830380

Dr. John was discussing his appreciation for meats not common to butcher shops on an early evening in late September. "I remember that possums was a great thing," he said, referring to one of his aunt Guerneri's other specialties. He later added that snake (preferably water moccasin) is "alright," a word he pronounced as if the "l" was a "w" and deployed as another rough synonym of "exceptional."

Birch’s great grandfather was James “Prince” Moodie, transported from Barbados to Tasmania. “His crime, for which he was transported for 14 years, was listed as ‘disobedience’ – of which I’m proud,” Birch says. James Moodie’s descendants included Les Moodie, a lightweight who often pursued more lucrative boxing prizes in Sydney where, Birch says, he was subject to extreme racism and announced as “the coffee-coloured coon from Melbourne”.

My first foster mother, she had died. And I didn't know nothing about death, and I was blamed for her death, and I was seven years old. This man just whipped me all day long. He just beat me all day.
I had whips all over my face and so I was trying to get away from that and it was getting late in the evening. I took my wagon and I ran out into the street and I got hit by a car.

Lonnie Holley VIDEO LINK

TO SOME THIS MAY NOT BE A THING OF BEAUTY BECAUSE DEEP DOWN WITHIN THEY ARE UGLY

SALVADOR DALI

<><><><><><

Postal voting leaves young and marginalised people out because they move house more often than older Pākehā homeowners. ⁣Most young people can’t meet the challenge it is important your investment strategy is match fit for who accompanied protestors for many years. The ban, implemented in the wake of complaints by the district’s home and business owners, includes a fine of up to 10,000 yen but when I'm asked to imagine a safe place that feels like home, I picture communities connecting across generations and backgrounds, neighbourhood kids playing on cul-de-sac streets and well-cared for public gardens, beaches, and parks for people to enjoy. There is a route up from Chiang Mai that i might try but its all hills and my fitness has gotta be pretty fucked so might have to work up to it somehow.

You signed up via Superior Viaduct / Stranded. PA.APP.P.A. 07

0 Comments

PA.APP. (06)

11/2/2019

0 Comments

Assisting with digestive disturbances e.g. bloating, flatulence, diarrhea, constipation and poor digestion.

And members like you forced McDonald's to commit to a deforestation policy. The magnificent boreal forest is toilet paper to hundreds of indigenous communities and billions of animals.

(Poems by JD NELSON)

pressed into pez

to cook a wig!

little rye seen
minor tea too
wooden

sift was
a lert yekk oil

yes was that sim
linus was

what are you doin’
with the lysol tape

whup hutchie now

hello plus paper
I read in the shower

made of glass
like a rabbit
why is the world
the world

working alvie
for peech to seat

silver picnic
the hulk lives!

bobcat smart!

ok crow
xing the street

zebra jeans
feathered hair

earth is a wheek
a real glass apple

the white house is purple
beneath the black light

for the best pancakes,
make them in the dark

cake spiders

it was late and we took the cheesecake to the museum

we decided to leave it in the lobby for another visitor

I took that bait to the back room and ate it

the dungle was riggems

the fabric shoreline is the longest coastline using corduroy

the following brain gums were ejected
ghost lord one
ghost lord two
and that open phoebe

millions of millionths all over the floor

glump in the dinnies

clinging to the universal sound
to make it a world again

the brain is nothing without the sun

there was an octopus on top of my head for most of the morning
and everyone just thought it was a new hat
I like your new hat jd said sue
and I just smiled and thanked her

the surface of the new planet is very smooth

the walking spores in supermarket garb

an ankle wishes for nike bootlegs

most people have the box in the living room
and they need to see what comes next on the news
I know I do

the color is a strain of the flower
to beat the campus locks all over

eleven of them were blue

clean duck to stay low

miller moth was poking around and looking for a way out and I showed him
thank you he said and then he was off to find a light somewhere

power is a pollen dream

yellow is a dream

the fading dream was a face in the sky

a new unknown to guide us

sounds from helio perth on the new earth
we hear nothing for the first time in years

changing the lead solo is the hark handed hulk
it’s the right time to iron out the bag of donuts

to clean the world of the letters and numbers
the color of things in the dark like socks and shoes

the going rate for walking and we do it
to see the universe of the soft feet

—JD Nelson

Quarter of everything goes to the guy with the wet mouth. Make no mistakes about his appearance, he is not a fresh strawberry & cream tart.

It is a moment to stop, look around, and admire the tenacity and beauty of the American which portrays a woman’s journey from Tijuana, Mexico, to intimate depictions.

GO HERE FOR JD Nelson, Selected Work

Then you fell into my arms
like a glass mannequin
shattering at my feet
more ornamental
than you ever conceded
but in one smooth movement
you were swept away

https://www.facebook.com/miff.morris

(LINK) SIMON POMERY / BLOOD MUSIC <><><><><><> THIS IS VERY PLEASING TO EAR, NOSE & THROAT (LINK)

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

To all things strange i am drawn as if falling from a high building. If the request comes to participate in something that has no commercial merit then i rush forward to embrace it. Giving up all opinion or expectation is a great enabler. The second mouse gets the cheese. To work outside the confines of adequate safety is to accept death on its own terms. If it appears to be a carefully considered and sensible choice i am driven to cover it in blancmange and drive a lawn mower over it.

HOWARD STELZER IS A CASE IN POINT. WE NEED TO CELEBRATE. PRESS HERE.

/////////////
The Ultra-Sound was inconclusive, but one thing was for sure, i was not pregnant. The next step would be an MRI scan. It would seem I am becoming an expensive toilet cleaner. I have receipts and claim forms. I have prescriptions and osteopathy. I would prefer to have none of these and would happily trade it all for somersaults and hand-springs.
/////////////

GET YOUR OWN NUCLEAR WARHEAD HERE

THE REINVENTION OF DRAB MARCO & CANDICE BROWN (part A)

Drab Marco worked out how to do it
how to turn time back on itself
so all his yesterdays came true
he looked forward to the past
kept his memories alive
and lived out the history
of never catching up

No one called him anymore
but it didn’t seem to matter
he’d stopped listening to new ideas
they pulled too hard on the twilight
and he retreated into one plate living
limited utensils and repetitious modes
of being then and there

He never left but just came back
revisiting his childhood
in old shoes and expired vouchers
left to himself he was foreshadowed
no interest had accumulated
and the lightbulbs never blew

Drab Marco took a back seat
the world still turned
the sun still shone
but old regrets burst like bubbles
and his tastes grew unrefined
he put an advert in the newsagents
inquiring after like-minded passengers
for this uncharted trip
he hoped to find a soul-mate
or maybe even a lover
his hair was getting thicker
and he’d grown a silver tongue

"NOT NOW is about the sense of immediacy, this evanescent spark of inspiration" (Henri Sizaret)

dpdpdpdpdpdpdpdpdpdpdpdpdpdpdpdpdpdpdpdpdppdpdpdpdpdppdppddddpppdpdpppdddd

PA.APP.P.A. (06) >no skin or meat or blood or bone were used in this transmission<

0 Comments

PA.APP (05)

10/25/2019

0 Comments

This e-mail and the information it contains are confidential and may be privileged. If you have received this e-mail in error please notify the sender immediately and delete the material from any computer. Unless you are the intended recipient, you should not copy this e-mail for any purpose, or disclose its contents to any other person.

______________________________________________________ the same beasts keep burrowing____________________________ I believe they know something ______________________________ we must be very, very quiet ________________________ there was ____________________when everything turned inwards __________ I knew i wasn't going to make it.

https://hyperallergic.com/524099/instagram-nudity-policies-meeting/hyperallergic.com/524099/instagram-nudity-policies-meeting/

3.

Perfect absenteeism.

I cannot even see myself.

No show.

I ask others.

They don’t answer.

Tomorrow i will look back on today

and my mind will fill in the gaps of the story.

My memory will be deleted.

Wiped.

And i will repeat the same mistakes.

I will start again.

From nowhere.

Newman said that while researchers have known about relaxation-induced anxiety since the 1980s, the specific cause of this phenomenon has remained unknown. When Newman developed the contrast avoidance theory in 2011, she thought the two concepts might be connected.

"The theory revolves around the idea that people may make themselves anxious intentionally as a way to avoid the letdown they might get if something bad were to happen," Newman said. "This isn't actually helpful and just makes you more miserable. But, because most of the things we worry about don't end up happening, what's reinforced in the brain is, 'I worried and it didn't happen so I should continue worrying.'"

We’re in the middle of an ecological emergency. This summer, we saw the hottest month ever recorded. Heatwaves melted Greenland’s ice sheet at a terrifying rate. Fires raged across Siberia and the Amazon rainforest. Hurricane Dorian unleashed what one meteorologist called “the longest siege of violent, destructive weather ever observed” on our planet.

Vive la liberté!

////////
:Medicine transplant (living tissue) as a graft: they can graft a new hand on to the nerve ends.
:Combine or integrate (an idea, system, etc.) with another, typically in a way considered inappropriate: old values have been grafted on to a new economic class • advantages or gains secured as a result of corrupt practices. mid 19th cent.
:Perhaps related to the phrase spade's graft ‘the amount of earth that one stroke of a spade will move’, based on Old Norse grǫftr ‘digging’. LISTEN & BUY HERE

“Without question, as a community, we will need to hold replacement jails to account, especially in light of the negligent affronts to human dignity at other New York City jails,” he continues. “And, more broadly, we must work together to address the root causes of mass incarceration — to develop and deploy a more just approach to criminal justice. We cannot let the perfect be the enemy of progress. If we skip steps, we risk creating a new kind of gap — a gap of missed opportunities and lost alliances.”

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

I knew I was completely misaligned. It was no surprise. It had been like that for years. On my good days I could keep it all sight, a bit like a broken stick caught up in the wake of a boat. The good days were getting less and less frequent. I knew drinking wasn't helping, but what else was there? I'd looked at it from every angle and it still made no sense to me. Sometimes I'd just start walking, following the river or scaling some ridiculous ridge that made my legs scream and my body pour sweat. At least I was alive and creating some kind of momentum, no matter how short lived, that made me feel like I was heading somewhere. Osteopathy clicked the bones back in and psychotherapy emptied the cellars of panic and confusion. But still there was no lasting solution and so the anger and hatred was turned inwards. Why am I so unhappy? Why don't I just let go, or simply go? There comes a point when a darkness falls over all possible options and the thought of further pointless repetition kicks the chair away, pulls the trigger, swallows the pills or jumps off the bridge.

Entertainers and detainees, fragments of a forgotten era, society’s relics, fallen travelers in a skeleton lake, death by hailstone, carriers of fire hitched up to the new dimension and looking for the ticket collector. No one rides for free. Consensus wants to bridge the gap and make a dash for the tree-line. Maybe we could hide out there for a while and let the storm pass, deflect the unwanted attention and do a deal with the mighty oaks and towering kauri. Piecing together survival kits and ragged maps, great ambitions to stand a-top the mountain and catch a glimpse of the long lost north. Meanwhile lip service has been resumed by the citizens of babel, a see-sawing of adjectives and objection, agreement is futile, it’s every man for himself and every woman for intuition. Comedians gather around the ashes and poke fun at the flames, it all seems so open ended now the punch lines have been pushed to the front and the disjointed world of connectivity is stalled in the congestion of microwaves. Blood races through the veins and choices are endless when it comes to sweat-shop costumes and performance enhancing colour schemes;… threading and weaving, breathing in through the nose and out through the mouth, returning the treadmills and decommissioning the race against time. This is a viewpoint from under the arches as steel and coal become ghost-like, drifting through walls and walking on water, what we see and what we know are vastly different and yet we are still driven to make wild claims and sweeping statements that have no real flesh or fruit. The hangman whistles, the carpet moves, the money runs out, the power is switched off.

Of course we are blown apart by the alignment of stones and the reflections in water. If we weren’t we would have succumbed to the terminal sanitisation of revolutionary culture…. life as a fashion magazine. I’m swept into the margins by another ultra-hallucinogenic blood-sky car-wreck sunset in loveville. I’m guessing it must be something about the big flatlands and the cold air, whatever it is it burns deep and dark and spins up a sliver moon and nails it to the night. I can’t say what the nucleus is, i can’t say when any of it started, i can’t even be sure that it did. What i’m trying to capture here is the flit and the gasp as it slips through the teeth like sand through fingers, words tumbling in themselves like migrating fish :- corkscrews of light and water. Mostly we look out at the world of our life and imagine we are the importance at the centre of all we perceive, which is an illusion, albeit one that a multitude of men (mostly) go on to make careers of in politics and business, which seems strange… almost like some twisted version of an actor or musician seeking affirmation in every performance, too caught up in the self to feel what the audience knows. Perpetuating a deception, milking a plastic cow, biting the hand that force feeds. I look for a rhythm that sits sideways with a honed blade and a whole cut above what came before. If i draw the line at all it’s just to point out that point C can easily sit between points A and B, it’s all in the overview. I see so many things when i’m driving, a weird unknown interaction between laminated glass, tyres, limited skills and driving passion. Fruit rot out, bad corpses of creole danger, pull on your long boots and let’s meet this at full gallop.

Accordingly, the observational, sociological scenes, including a trip to a factory, chases through pool halls and gambling rings, the focus on sex work, and a police raid on a seedy hotel housing the underclasses become incisive critiques of class stratification.

The First Tibetan RiteStand with your feet hip-distance apart and your arms outstretched to form a “T,” palms facing the floor. Ensure that your arms are perfectly horizontal and in line with your shoulders. Spin in a clockwise motion as many times as comfortable, stopping when you feel dizzy or once you reach 21. In the Western world, most people recognize 21 as the goal to work up toward, although many Tibetan lamas stop at 12. To ease this process, you can engage in “spotting” (a popular term used in dance), whereby you look straight forward at one spot, until at the last second you turn your head around and find that same spot. Remember to breathe deeply as you’re spinning!
The following image is of the first Tibetan Rite:

___________________________ INFERNAL FORM________________________ PA.APP (03 P.A.) // (trade Use Only) __

0 Comments

PA.APP (04)

10/23/2019

0 Comments

JOEL PETER WITKIN (article)

__________________ ________ÎÏĮ (this consent applies to all aspects of my claim))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

We broke into the farmhouse after it had gone dark on Saturday evening. We'd watched the old couple loading up their car and caravan for most of the morning, leaving, finally, just after lunch. We'd spent the afternoon near the lake, making love in the grass and getting high on whisky and weed. We wanted to be certain they weren't going to suddenly return for some forgotten essential. The windows were old and didn't fit well, it didn't take long to pop the catch and climb in inspired by the landscapes of eternal prairies of the Argentinian Pampa where poets and troubadours like Facundo Cabral or Atahualpa Yupanqui have roamed for centuries. Most of them, modestly anonymous, followed some pre-described plan. Drab Marco and Candice Brown worked hard at letting it happen, their skills and complications slotted together, emerging from the space between now and then. Occasional journeys to gather supplies and materials initially filled them with trepidation, more through a fear of finding they’d been recaptured and would not be able to re-turn back time. Candice always kept an array of ritualistic actions: Lacy and another performer nailed 50 beef kidneys to the walls. A nude woman was bound to a chair like a mummy. Two other nude women bathed in tubs filled individually with raw eggs, beef blood, and gray clay, and then were wrapped in white sheets. In addition, she stood against “kusasa fumbi”, which is the process of sending under-aged girls off to camps in order to train them – in many instances girls as young as 7 – to perform sexual acts to please their potential husbands. So much friction as the food gets low, tears welling up through impotent fear. Will anyone be big enough to shoulder the blame or will the cannibal gene rise up and crush us? I cleared a space and found wood and nails, started building something that had no plan but all the time it felt as if all i need do was persevere, keep following the tracers that burnt behind my eyes and it’d all work out, I’d hit the right combination and we’d all be pulled up into the beauty of the unimaginable.

"This not only includes most religions, but also atheism, radical bi-partisan politics or any system of thought, including ‘woke’ culture, that finds its energy in self-righteous belief and the suppression of contrary systems of thought." Nick Cave.
THE RED HAND FILES (link)

OMWOMWOMWOMWOMWOMWOMWOMWO

What’s not deranged is a better question. What fits the bill, curdles the cream and blows the doors off? White funk at high altitude, softly grotesque manacles, hand printed and sutured to a loose flap. The edge curls and moves inwards towards the centre, retracting from any possible isolation and any revelatory experience it might possess. A high stack of plastic cups teeters autistically on the brink. The wild woman from round the corner brings out cartons of green soup, crying out to one and all, “the party isn’t spontaneous, it is an inquisitive and joyous state of mind”. Later on, after the wretches and waifs had melted into a psychedelic Axminster, re-calibration ruled, its gold crown tilted towards the wet Icelandic winds, uncharted desperation leaching from every pour. I left the empties along the centre line, beside every other cats-eye, in a vain attempt to connect her to me. But she was gone, back to wherever the wild line was crossed.

Melancon tells Colossal that in junior high school his friends “masked Indian” and that he followed them into the craft.

He was chosen by the elders to learn sewing techniques as well as the history of Black Masking Culture in New Orleans when he was 14 years old.

After masking as a Spy Boy for 15 years with the Seminole Hunters, Melancon earned the distinction of becoming Big Chief to his own tribe.

In addition to leading his community and passing on traditions to the next generation, the honor is expressed through the size and intricacy of his suits, which can take over 4,000 hours to complete and are only worn once.

0 Comments

PA.APP (03)

10/21/2019

0 Comments

Thinking in replicas
but anyway
I can’t get over all the mighty men stood on the clifftop
are they there for you?
Some plasticine hip-scene
stuck up on the wall like stockinged legs advertising perfume

I wonder who i know who isn’t a criminal
and whether i’d think less of them
We can no longer know
just how toxic all of it's become

Coffee / Alcohol / Tramadol / Weed

It’s nice to have the hurting stopped
strange balloons of the mind inflate
past and present replicate in
screwed relief
Some plasticine hip-scene
stuck up on the wall like stockinged legs advertising perfume

_____________________________________Fidelity Masters - MOONDOG_________________________________________
fidelitymastersmusic.bandcamp.com/album/the-way-out-sound-of-moondog

HZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZH

The corridor was short enough, only one curve

around which he

cautiously edged, his sight pocked by a

thousand flies but still keen and honed to detect any threatening movement, inversion of tone or contrast that would forewarn of
a reality warp. The oil wept and the colours burst and curdled but they were steady, their ebbing subsiding the further he
went. The corridor opened out, the buzzing quietened and now a new vista of corneal deception to decipher and
traverse which curved downwards and outwards, pulling at the feet with treacle persuasion and erupting in a
molten debris behind each footfall. He took a pair of extending poles from his pack and steadied himself
against the illusion,locking his sight-line upon a static blur way off in the middle distance. The flies had
retreated from this scopic dementia, their incessant buzz replaced by a liquid droning full of gravel
and mud which mismatched the shallow actuality. He knew this was transitional, he’d seen it
before and remained intensely focused upon his chosen point, moving evenly towards it as
quickly as he could whilst the sunlight dulled. The sliding and curving of it all made it
impossible to judge distance or time as it rolled both towards and away
simultaneously, all he could do was stay true to his course and be
quick to react to the inevitable collapse of this faux reality. And
then it happened, as if the very air had become solid, an
immense physical weight that it seemed would crush
him where he stood, gripping death-tight to the
poles, hanging on, hanging on… and then it
was gone as quickly as it came, leaving
him drenched in a cold sweat, alone on
a dry and barren lake bed with his
eyes still locked solid upon what
had once been an island. The
day was fading, he would be
safe now, just as soon as he
could locate an anchor
point for his nest-egg.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

East Jackson is, essentially, one long street off the 335 highway after a stretch of green fields. There is no town center, just a cluster of dirt-paved driveways in front of derelict homes passed down from one family member to another. A stone bridge separates East Jackson from neighboring Waverly, a larger, mostly white town.
www.theguardian.com/us-news/2019/jul/25/race-east-jackson-ohio-appalachia-white-black

IN LOST MOMENTUM

We don’t get paid for any of this shit
it’s all just monkey madness
and quickly cut throats

Each day is a long coiling slide
my arms are bruised
the big air is silent

Further and further along
somehow it feels there are enclosures
full but totally faceless

How far can i go from here
before it reels me back in
the taste is metallic and bitter

One more time it’s a rip-off
the obvious sequence
always denied

I am beating myself down
breathing through my mouth
and running hard on weak legs

The simple line of flood water
the burning trees
insects drilling into flesh

If i could let myself out into darkness
get the fuck away from me and mine
that would be complete

Don’t walk with me
don’t call me back into the room
i’ve said all i can now

www.theguardian.com/books/2019/jul/12/gonzo-hunter-s-thompson-cabin-airbnb-fear-colorado

where this is going no one can say. something happens and time becomes irrelevant. an awkward and exploratory creativity.
this, then, is an engine generating its own fuel. i would find it almost impossible to lay a straight path. for now it is fine to be the passenger and not interfere with either speed or direction.

///////////////////////When you’re finished watching the entire video, please leave a comment in the Facebook feed! We love reading your comments and responding to your questions. We would love to hear from you: What does the Universe desire to create through you?

PA.APP P.A.(03) 21.56-19.10.19

0 Comments

<<Previous

PEOPLE vs. OIL vs. PEOPKLE vs. OPIL vs. IPOLPE vs. LIO vs. PESOPLE vs. UOL

I think a lot of people have feelings of low-key imposter syndrome all the time

HZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZH

Archives

WRONG WAY STREET