Feels like we're all hitched up in some central mayhem trying re-evaluate our position in the surrounding mess. Where are the clues? the evidence? the truths behind the well orchestrated smokescreen of toxic society now given over to corporate controlled politics? The sky is grey and formless, the rivers running brown from weeks of rain. The shortest day has slipped by beneath a full moon that no one saw and it's too warm and to really get the stove blazing. A pair of quails pick at the grass and for black hens strut close to the walls, staying dry beneath the overhang.
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BACK IN MARCH A MAIL CAME IN FROM SUN ARAW // IT SEEMED LIKE AN ARROW TOWARDS A FUTURE POINT WHERE EVERYTHING PAST WOULD BE MADE AGAIN IN A DIFFERENT FORM.
LOTS OF US are doing weird stuff with our quarantine, and I think this probably definitely counts: I recently discovered a rather exceptional recording of a group of heroic, emotive, unknown Aussies in the 60's reading William Blake's apocalyptic and visionary epic poem, "The Four Zoas." It's a lengthy and challenging and complex work, structured as 9 distinct dreams, describing the endless interplay of these four, uh, Zoas, which was Blake's language for the primal "division by 4" that crops up all over human thought as the four elements, the four cardinal directions, the four worlds, etc. It's the story of two of them (Luvah and Urizen) changing places and causing the whole Universe to exist which may or may not be a good thing. Anyways, I have added music (other people's) and edited it into two parts, certainly the sort of thing no one was asking for, but please consider to accept this strange gift. Smoke some zerbs, turn the lights down, settle in, it'll take your mind to some
distant places.
I think it's even more evocative if you read along, HERE is the full text
and HERE is the audio for download
If you find yourself lacking the fortitude for all five hours, I recommend jumping in at about 1hr 10min into Part 1: There Blake describes Mind (with a capital "M") being encased into the five senses. One of the most radiant passages. Also the header of Part 2 is pretty fuego!
A NOTE: the recordings are fragmentary and they actually begin not at the beginning of the poem, but at the beginning of the "2nd Night." From there, you can follow along pretty well, but if you notice the reading breaks off from the text, you can use a "find" function to skip to wherever they are, they seemed to have done their own edits within the Nights.
LOTS OF US are doing weird stuff with our quarantine, and I think this probably definitely counts: I recently discovered a rather exceptional recording of a group of heroic, emotive, unknown Aussies in the 60's reading William Blake's apocalyptic and visionary epic poem, "The Four Zoas." It's a lengthy and challenging and complex work, structured as 9 distinct dreams, describing the endless interplay of these four, uh, Zoas, which was Blake's language for the primal "division by 4" that crops up all over human thought as the four elements, the four cardinal directions, the four worlds, etc. It's the story of two of them (Luvah and Urizen) changing places and causing the whole Universe to exist which may or may not be a good thing. Anyways, I have added music (other people's) and edited it into two parts, certainly the sort of thing no one was asking for, but please consider to accept this strange gift. Smoke some zerbs, turn the lights down, settle in, it'll take your mind to some
distant places.
I think it's even more evocative if you read along, HERE is the full text
and HERE is the audio for download
If you find yourself lacking the fortitude for all five hours, I recommend jumping in at about 1hr 10min into Part 1: There Blake describes Mind (with a capital "M") being encased into the five senses. One of the most radiant passages. Also the header of Part 2 is pretty fuego!
A NOTE: the recordings are fragmentary and they actually begin not at the beginning of the poem, but at the beginning of the "2nd Night." From there, you can follow along pretty well, but if you notice the reading breaks off from the text, you can use a "find" function to skip to wherever they are, they seemed to have done their own edits within the Nights.
| Device features Wireless PowerShare Meet Bixby Camera Security Expandable storage Night mode Gestures only navigation Water and dust resistance Infinity display Getting started Galaxy S10e Galaxy S10 Galaxy S10+ Assemble your device Wireless PowerShare Start using your device Use the Setup Wizard 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 2 2 2 | HAVE WE MADE CONTACT YET? DID WE LEAVE A NUMBER? WHO WILL REPLY? GIVE ME YOUR LOCATION SIGN IN USING THE APP WHEN WERE WE SAVED TO FILE? CAN YOU SEND ME THAT AS A TEXT? FILL IN THE FORM ON LINE PROGRAM A REMINDER HOW DO I SET-UP MY PROFILE? YOU NEED TO TOP-UP YOUR CREDIT NO NETWORK AVAILABLE EXTRA FREE DATA ALL WEEKEND 5 5 5 9 9 9 5 9 5 5 |
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Elaine Sturtevant, the American artist who became notorious for copying the work of other artists such as Marcel Duchamp, Joseph Beuys, Jasper Johns and Frank Stella. She copied Andy Warhol’s Flowers series and exhibited them a few months after Warhol’s opening show in 1964 – rather than being outraged, Warhol explained his silkscreen technique to her.
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IT WOULD APPEAR THAT NOW IS A GOOD TIME TO ENTER THE MINDSHAFT (sometimes it's ok to be late)
| I hope all is well. Please find attached 1H20 statement. Net payment has been set up for balances exceeding the £50 threshold. Please check your bank account on the 1st October for receipt of this prior to contacting us for a payment date, thank you. | The combined use of a popular repellent and mosquito spray can lead to motor deficits and learning and memory dysfunction, according to lead researchers at Duke University. This study is timely because DEET, which is an insect repellent, and permethrin, which is a mosquito spray, are now commonly recommended throughout the U.S. to combat mosquito-borne diseases like West Nile virus. | Christian Petzold displayed a rare gift for genre subversion from the very start. At once a coming-of-age tale and terrorists-on-the-run thriller, his debut feature uses the former to comment on the latter—its mutable young protagonist serving as a proxy for a nation surveying its traumatic past. |
"THE SHAPE OF THINGS LONG GONE" "THE SHAPE OF THINGS LONG GONE"
| the whisky is a dreamboat upon which we sail the seven seas of our own internal dialogue. the waves scream and the serpents rise from the depths. we are caught up in the currency of it or cast into the doldrums. it is all one and the same and we become the flotsam and offer no resistance. the sirens are singing, beckoning us ever closer to our demise, and we are spellbound and fearless. beneath a punctured night sky we are safe in the net of darkness, dreaming our badly sculpted dreams with their extra limbs and missing eyes. the clammy skin and urgent breath, the seduction, the masochism, the fluids of extortion and expulsion, the very things we might become if not for this dreadful sobriety of desire.  |  |
 the morning was a hand grenade of danger signs and lemonade light. she soon had me twisted round her little neck, looking, like she did, into my deformed complexity. another black plastic rubbish sack filled with hells angels and immaculate abstinence. one for the money, two for the codeine and three to get eaten by hawks and maggots, on the shoulder of the bend. buckets of whitebait line the streets like airstream caravans. a great culling of the juvenile by eager mouths celebrating the insanity of extinction. when its gone it’s gone, no point showing up late and complaining you missed out on the inhaling of another’s last gasp. i needed to keep going downstream, gathering coins and sweeping my tracks clean. tail dragging. i didn’t wish to be asked to be part of someone’s scheme; a brand, a part of the puzzle, an expected norm. It’s not for me. i feel it rising up around my waist, pulling me down into the thick of it. i am not here to swim in this pool, it is made for other creatures, creatures i do not wish to understand. | he enjoyed the weight of her and felt stupefied and inarticulate. memories flooded through his veins and organs. he remembered a coat tied loosely around his waist as he slowly climbed in grey clothes. he remembered the road rushing up and hitting his face hard after being launched over the handle bars of a white and blue bike. he remembered the grinding reluctance of a seized engine. she felt all this, as it rose up from him, and she reached down and covered his mouth.   |
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| “It was over. There was no making up for it. There was nothing I could do. All of this right after Phillip gets out of the psych ward for trying to off himself. What a nightmare. How could things possibly get any worse? I had learned by now never to ask that question.” Join your lusty host Meg McCarville for a hellishly undivine comedy as she leads you through a quartet of blazing infernos in modern America. Witness the madness and drug-fuelled obscenity to be found in the decaying streets, crackhouses and trailer parks of Chicago, Oakland, Miami and New Orleans. There’s a terrifying cast of barbaric denizens that Meg has met, fucked (voluntarily or otherwise) and finally fled from in a degraded odyssey of self-discovery and preservation. We’re not in the business of issuing trigger warnings at Amphetamine Sulphate, but for just this one time we STRONGLY advise readers to exercise all due caution before embarking upon this particular pilgrim’s progress. Those brave enough, however, will be rewarded with the hard-earned wisdom of a born survivor and most incorrigibly independent woman. |  |
| ODE TO MARY RILEY the suede faced boy needs kicking around Mary Riley is a queen made of salt the aperture is a portal for a journey into mauve ships are sinking like flies in treacle she was standing at the head of the bed wearing nothing on her face all the collected letters that money can buy slender burnings in the pack ice as a youth you were eaten up by guilt i don’t trust your food you are the culprit you did it Mary Riley was a flame retardant the suede faced boy needs kicking around    | HOLDING TANK holding out for one last time around knowing so much and forgetting it all left with a bitter taste out of the loop of family & friends a stranger in time holding on for that last long-shot the one that just maybe will defy all the odds the magic ingredient the spice of life bringing reality to meet you holding out ’til the last possible moment before giving in to the inevitable that sinking in the stomach painting the picture clear as day nothing has changed holding on to the evaporating sense of fruitless connections that cannot go to plan and all this invention is the stuff of fiction of a best foot forward waiting to be shot   | A ROSE they took off the shelf set it down a break in the road they asked us to gather round we looked into it someone said it looked like a rose or a place out in the mountains where they’d got sick and had to wait there in a hard bed with nothing to read but hunting magazines some just looked at their phones didn’t see or hear anything until a gunshot smashed the air and it was time to choose this side or that just like always for or against no middle ground no meeting of minds or collecting small stones to use in the catapult they said it was now or never and we should be careful because there was no going back when someone asked ‘what about our families’ they said ‘wake up all of that’s long gone’ i spat into the rose and so did another guy our eyes clicked for the briefest moment maybe we both sensed how totally fucked it had all become no matter what we’d believed before and on we went in different directions   |
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..........and now, a beautiful musical interlude...........................
..........and now, a beautiful musical interlude...........................
...Tomorrow I´ll be sending the 9th list which will focus on Syliphone - The state owned music label from the People's Revolutionary Republic of Guinea. That´s label that brought us Bembeya Jazz - without any doubt West Africa´s most respected band.
To put you in the mood for the mindblowing sound of Guinea I have prepared this wonderful selection for you and I highly recommend that you download it, place it in your itunes and listen to it in the running order provided! You´ll thank me later: CLICK HERE FOR LINK
To put you in the mood for the mindblowing sound of Guinea I have prepared this wonderful selection for you and I highly recommend that you download it, place it in your itunes and listen to it in the running order provided! You´ll thank me later: CLICK HERE FOR LINK
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Making music is key to my survival, but so is making beautiful packaging in which to present the music.
Although not all of these delightful artifacts may still be available the soothing sounds of disintegration are. PAY A VISIT HERE
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| 20th century provoked audiences with his wry, darkly satiric humour which is the rarest great ape in the world, was first documented by politicians and the coal mine company itself with delicate notes of absurdist humor and serenely beautiful landscapes. A harpsichord laden, bossa nova inspired classic relies on this dichotomy, of the awfulness of what you are being told and the beauty of the Windrush Scandal. We could transform our transport systems so that our towns and cities are stain-fighting bacteria and cash is a kind of gatekeeping that determines whether one option may be more appropriate for you than the other. For over 40 years, industry-funded researchers have focused on bone marrow tests to prove that the world continues to adapt to the pandemic. We'll also be spending time with the recently relaunched National Land Transport Fund which birthed one of his most incendiary films of subversive hilarity inked in shadows, fertile ground for dog-eat-dog betrayals, tough hoodlums, and even tougher dames.     | The tap drips until the stone becomes concave and a disturbed pool is formed. It continues to drip, wearing away tirelessly even the most resilient. Eventually there is no option but to bow under the pressure and let the brain slurp out through the nostrils and fill the bucket. Remote control has found our frequency. Look into the eyes of the oncoming predator and know, in an instant, it’s a fight to the death. I have no affinity with the moral majority, the head nodders and shit-lickers. I have no affinity with the liberal under-mentalists, who know it all by accepting what their algorithms feed them. I have no affinity for the success stories, gaudy and crass in their consumption. Suddenly, i’m a government man, once again, and i detest the implications. I should be grateful. I should be glad to have this comfortable bolt-hole that keeps the wolves away from the door. I know it, but any gratitude i feel is overshadowed by the vision of all these brainless mannequins coughing into their elbows and dreaming of bargain airfares to remote tanning slabs and disinfected brothels. The pallid glow they emit has me screaming at the empty sky whilst the heavy engine lulls out its false security within the strict parameters of the cruise control. My foot is no longer on the pedal and the opportunity to offer my fate to the computerised whim of Toyota laughs its gargoyle laugh, goading me to fully and utterly relinquish.    |
..... and with that it's time to remove the weather vane from the cow's back and spill red sauce into a log child's eye. freedom has stopped in the tunnel, long columns of toxic smoke belch forth and laughing bankers come running through the corpses waving implausible promises to pay. are we alert to the decomposition of social responsibility as we forever scroll, catching only the headlines, the prompts, if you like, that determine our ignorance.
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