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PA.APP (09)

11/30/2019

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

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I’m going to climb up on that truck and take my pants off
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LINKLINK <> Tiffany St. Bunny

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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

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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..
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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________________________





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“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
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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.
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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.
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<><><><><><><><><><><> 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.
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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.
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Click Links To Experience


Headyello - Road To Elsewhere
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AkA - Wup Und Wuf
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Kim Gordon - No Home Record
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Blackxwash - Black Majik
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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
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The Revolutionaires - Drum sound
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Sindre Bjerga + Boban Ristevski
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WHEN
THEY
COME
WILL
YOU
BE
THERE

female jesus / fag jesus (steven arnold)


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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


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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.
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& 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.
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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!
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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

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


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

0 Comments

PA.APP. (06)

11/2/2019

1 Comment

 
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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.

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GO HERE FOR  JD Nelson, Selected Work
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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
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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.

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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.
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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<
1 Comment

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/

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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.

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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.'"

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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.
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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
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“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.
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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.

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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:


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___________________________ INFERNAL FORM________________________ PA.APP (03 P.A.) // (trade Use Only) __
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PA.APP (04)

10/23/2019

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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.

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"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.

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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

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

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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

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PA.APP (02)

10/18/2019

0 Comments

 
"We wondered if a cancer cell that wants to change its function can redirect energy not because it takes on new energy but because it has a stored reservoir of potential energy," says Sofia D. Merajver, M.D., Ph.D., professor of internal medicine and epidemiology at the University of Michigan


leapt up and was gone…



//////////////////////////////////// DOCTOR
I AM
                                          SPASM
        30 TRAMODOL





__________________________Whilst working inside a blue cat Richard Caruthers noticed a spinal misalignment that reminded him of
The Arc de Triomphe de l'Étoile

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HE WAS QUICK TO UNRAVEL TWINE //   MOTOR

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September, 2019. The Cave place. Best of LSD-25 closed event performance. Played special for KAOH, it was his birthday celebration.

Although^V^V^V^V^V^V^V



x
ov
xov
xovx
ovxov
xovxov
xovxovx
ovxovxov
xovxovxov
xovxovxovx
ovxovxovxov
z12.2




(all correct at the time of press)

                                                 Mrs. Mufinella Neagle Being a real woman I can take care of myself,
                                but sometimes I want to feel like a little girl on the lap of my strong man
I am the one who wants 2019 '£100k giveaway', which will see one charity awarded an amazing £100,000 donation in time only to take but to give!



OoOoOo Khao San Road, Bangkok, ko samui, ko phan gan
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somewhere amongst it all
                                                                                                                          i see a way out. but i’m not sure of anything except
                                                                                                                          the black dog’s bollocks banging on
                                                                                                                          my chin as it fucks
me in
the head.

Bayer is trying to squash one of your biggest victories -- putting the bees at risk. It’s pouring money into overturning the ban on bee-killing pesticides in France.
20 wheels                                              the following morning                                           in the HEAT OF THE NIGHT
palpɪˈteɪʃ(ə)n|
noun (usu. palpitations)
a noticeably rapid, strong, or irregular heartbeat due to agitation, exertion, or illness. the stimulants gave me palpitations.


Always walking from here to there, using up a few hours at
each end of the night. The mid evening and the early morning,
limbo times of relative calm. Jack Faith, Jack Hope, Jack
Charity begins at home. If he’s sleeping or if it’s raining,
then he’ll be sat on the hard bed, radio ear-plug, paperback
book or another tattoo. Buzz gun amigo and the art of pain.
Mr. Quiet spoke today, asking his name and does he like being
here. I’ve always liked it, Jack answered, what’s not to like
in Paradise. Half laugh and a wink, the ball starts rolling.
What’s the meaning of life? All those dumbfucks keep asking;
to play it any way you want, it’s only a game.

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WORK ETHICS
A NEED TO BE LONG
INSURANCE
IN THE BANK
BUSH
DOGMATIC TWIN TUB
ACCUMULATION
OF EXCESS
YES
FREE UNLIMITED
B SCENE
2 BEE HONEY

                                         “squeeze my lemon ’til the juice runs down my leg”

xrcreative.org/?link_id=45&can_id=52a8ac8060a66c01205d13efd5cbf848&source=email-announcements-2-the-season-of-change-begins&email_referrer=email_629175&email_subject=announcements-2-the-season-of-change-begins


dearsoil.bandcamp.com/track/b1-dylab-pete-hope-hot-bitumen-drvg-cvltvres-tuned-to-a-dead-channel-remix
Vitamin D deficiency: Study finds ‘significant’ link to depression
 
VITAMIN D supports the body’s vital functions. Lacking the vitamin can pose serious health risks such as bone deformities. A study last year suggests it can also increase the risk of developing a certain chronic condition too.
A study by researchers from The Irish Longitudinal Study on Ageing (TILDA) at Trinity College Dublin has shown for the first time in Ireland that a deficiency in vitamin D was associated with a substantial increased risk of depression (75 per cent) over a four-year follow up period.
The findings, published in The Journal of Post-Acute and Long-Term Care Medicine (JAMDA), form part of the largest representative study of its kind.
Small studies have found links between vitamin D and depression but few have followed up with the same affected people over time, while others have not taken into account other factors that can also affect depression.
These findings are important as the TILDA team has previously reported that one in eight older Irish adults are deficient in vitamin D.


There might be a place beneath the wet earth
                                         Where we become less probable
                                                               & can finally sink into the soft liquefaction
                                                     Of our eternal shortcomings
                                     We will crawl and burrow
            Gather the debris of hard won disaster around us
                                                         & nestle down amongst the appalling corruption
                                                                               Happy in the acceptance of futility
                                                 Relieved from the pressure of feeling
                   We ought to try to look as though
We might just somehow fit





>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>he demonstrated as nobody else his "savoir faire" of experimentation                PA.APP P.A. 13.41 19:10:19
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PA.APP (01)

10/18/2019

0 Comments

 
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 ear




           went



apple






                                  The Movement of

But realistically what we all want is porridge and amphetamines in a


verb |trʌŋˈkeɪt, ˈtrʌŋkeɪt| [ with obj. ]
1 (often as adj.truncated) shorten (something) by cutting off the top or the end: a truncated cone shape | discussion was truncated by the arrival of tea.
2 Crystallography replace (an edge or an angle) by a plane, typically so as to make equal angles with the adjacent faces.
adjective |ˈtrʌŋkeɪt| Botany & Zoology
(of a leaf, feather, or other part) ending abruptly as if cut off across the base or tip.


     first trip to the coast for                           raining didn’t                  used to it!                                          

 





















_______________________________one
of
the OLDER GUYS GRABbed a hold of him & i was across the street & i heard him saying “what’s
                                WR0NG with you,son? talk to me so i can help you  !! “


                        ask                                                  most questions are

      isn’t sweet but sure is
CLICK HERE FOR HONEY



Hot hospital perspex
Rigid skin weathervane
& i am the one with the salty cock
Luminous now as the blood dries
Sucking down glass
Questions of delicate cloth
Draped lovingly on breast & crotch
Dapple patterned phantoms
Direct competition for the hucksters
Tape worm counter culture
Intravenous & curlicued
Let your hair down & groove
Be aspirational irrelevance
& grease your wooden spoon
Until it drips sweetly
Pools of domination swell & glow
Passion is only flange and saliva
Bold medical intervention
Rigid skin weather vane
& i am the one with the salty cock


(fig3.)

BUGGERED MY SHOULDER TEARING THE ROOF OFF THE MUTHASHELTER
BACK SPASM FUCKERY AT PLAY
NO WORK
BANANA SKIN BRAIN DYSFUNCTION PANIC WET NEWT SALAD
OSTEOPATHY IS A PORTAL INTO ANOTHER DIMENSION
PEDRO IS OLD GOLD
LOCK UP YOUR WARTS!


            but before booking make sure you are……………                                           refund


Trusting Us to


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_____________Willow Franklin leapt up and was gone… as quick as a border collie.



Ill Eagles
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                                                  & anyway
                         we’ll probably never                               remember it
as                                                   it
                                     really happened




were you?




/////////// edited & ribbed for both his & her pleasure  \\\\\\   A PA.APP P.A. 3.03pm 17/10/19

0 Comments

Asylum Of The Birds

10/2/2016

6 Comments

 
Concepts of clarity and darknuss have been rattling around this past week. Always got to keep an eye on the space between things and not take the things themselves too seriously, nor the shadows they cast. Moments of brilliance have burst out of nowhere, leaving me stunned and unsure where to turn next. Instead of embracing the spontaneity i've let suspicion infiltrate and interfere with the momentum of creativity. Then, once i've realised, off i go towards the light again. I was once told that i don't have to choose to fear the darknuss, why not be an expert of it and enjoy it? It doesn't mean you have to be consumed by it. Once again, it's all about the space between things; the darknuss does not have to be me, but i can be the darknuss.
A chance association of images made me think of Roger Ballen's Asylum Of The Birds and it was great to rediscover it in the light of my illuminated darknuss! 


DESTROY BEFORE LEAVING

For me, music is integral to existence, no matter how disillusioned or frustrated i might get with it i'm in love with it and can never leave it.
Wrong Revolution has been a tool for releasing or re-releasing work i've been involved with over the past 35 years or so, some of it new, some of it as old as the bloody hills! Much of what's seen the light of day so far has been extensions of projects already documented elsewhere or work that had been so close to getting an official release that it burned away inside me and i couldn't just let it go unheard, even if only a few people cottoned on. Occasionally there's something which has no particular place in time and stands alone in a kind of wilderness beyond analysis or judgement; has it just happened? did it happen before? is it still happening?
One such collection of tracks is DESTROY BEFORE LEAVING (Peter Hope & Charlie Collins), and it will be the first proper release on Wrong Revolution for quite some time. Whether anyone will find it, hate it or love it remains to be seen but the 6 tracks on the EP are all concise statements of a single moment in time, whenever that might be.

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VENOMOUSLY YOURS

and still it burnt me
didn’t matter how fast i drove
or whether or not christ swung on the mirror
i could rack it up neat as snooker
triangulation
they say
is an ultimate strength
but give it a split second
a semi-conscious
double take of hair
or shadow
and the jealous heart can bring it down
to dust
just
like that

and make no mistake about it
like rust or woodworm
once it’s there
no matter what proof there might be
to the contrary
it just eases along
in the back of the mind
in the bottomless pit of the ego
waiting
until i’m out of money
and lonely
or too full up with whisky
and sad

cobra head pulls back
gets me in it’s range
strikes
the venom of jealousy
hits home
every time



BORN

Part classified
in some kind of re-tread
in a dream
next step fatigue
out of breath
close to death
willing the water to boil
swinging the axe
seeing the last wires connected
the hills wavering in the haze
ripping out nails
going for the white wash
filling the sky
unrolling the hose
looking at the blossom

on another clothes rail
magnified under green light
dipping and trailing off
inspired by the force of beauty
the stolen sounds
that are born again
as something more brilliant
more wonderful
more demanding
and suddenly happiness
is a  sure as the bright
magenta flowers
on the rhododendron tree

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Musicality  <><><><>
https://gurugurubrain.bandcamp.com/
https://rob-magill.bandcamp.com/

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