daughters and sons
Gangs of 14 year old girls are kicking people to death on street corner Gangs of 14 year old girls are filming the violent murder of grown men On their pay as you go mobile phones A man in my house said hes seen the gangs of girls in the shop A man in my house said they dress in a gang uniform A man in my house said you wouldnt blink If one of these girls got hit over by a bus Two unborn children were sucked out of my body at my consent A brother and sister for my daughter and son I let my hair down after work last week A man said I looked like an earth mother With my hair around my face I wondered how any woman with children Could be anything but earths mother Whether their hair hangs halfway down their back Or is shaved to a clean and shiny scalp Gangs of teenage girls are murdering grown men On the street in the middle of the night My teenage daughter weeps for no reason in her bed My 13 year old daughter just wants to be left alone With her new video mobile phone Each second hammers us one step further into the grave xp
Re: A dickens of a morning
yeah those dusters are definately meant to be canvas i think, aren't they cowboy coats? i always associate them with the man with no name... i wish my chap was some kind of cultist but i suspect he may simply be a common garden nerd. how amazing to think that there are actual death activists, rooting for euthanasia with a little bit of the red to boot - some ultra-violence perhaps? I haven't seen The System, looking at a film still on the net it looks like it could be brighton, the street lamps are quite familiar but then street lamps in seaside resorts can look similar. I have seen Oliver, it was my favourite film as a kid and I still have the original vinyl soundtrack. As a child I heard to my dismay that Lionel Bart, the composer of the music for the play and film, had been somewhat done out of royalties and was living in poverty i sent him my pocket money. He sent back a beautiful reply and signed photo of the film cast which i still cherish. Another great actor in the same vein as Ollie is Alan Bates who did a bleak film in 1978 that i'm trying to get a copy of at the moment called The Shout - well worth a look. I love girl on a motorcycle, although i think the book. that film, along with Barbarella, awakened all sorts of queer tendencies - wonderful... xp --- Original Message - From: "phanero" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> To: Sent: Wednesday, November 30, 2005 11:19 AM Subject: Re: A dickens of a morning The High School boys. They wear those here too. they call them dusters. well perhaps there is a finer distinction.. A true duster is canvas i think. A bit alarming because that was the style of the kids who did the famous school shooting here in oregon. but its inevitable i suppose, as is everything.. Virilio talks about a 'black party' which isn't anything racial, but people who are radical activists for death.. basically a political organization based on radical depopulation theories..the party of serial murder.. I'm sure Thomas DeQuincey wouldve found that interesting as i certainly did. the urban planner as philosopher as prophet in the old Orwellian mode.. They come with leather dusters & skull armbands in the night.. rousting us from our dotty dreams of warm porridge and googlevision.. :) on a perhaps lighter note I just watched The System (1964) aka The Girl Getters http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0060461/ which must've been filmed somewhere along there.. Is it really warm enough to swim? There's some ruins in the film but I can't figure out where it was filmed. Somewhere near Brighton? The next year Oliver Reed would play Bill Sikes in the Oscar winner Oliver. Really enjoyed seeing John Alderton, and a young David Hemmings in this as well as good old Ollie R. Though I like "These are the Damned" much better because.. It's got art, and sci-fi and apocalypse.. Next up is The Girl on a Motocycle (1968) which is really almost the exact opposite film in someways.. similiar nonetheless anyway.. Madame Bovary in leather? http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0063013/ I wouldve been 1yr old when that came out. But I've seen too many tired french gangster flicks with Alain Delon.. Purple Noon best thing he ever did.. Thanks for this piece. always enjoy a cinematic peek at old Mother Albion.. lq - Original Message - From: Pixel To: WRYTING-L@LISTSERV.UTORONTO.CA Sent: Wednesday, November 30, 2005 1:16 AM Subject: A dickens of a morning every morning when i drop the kids at school after i've been blinded by the sunrise hitting the mirror sea, i drive home via Ovingdean wiggling my way through tiny roads dotted with cottages and horses and make my way back to the sea front, each time i spot the same young man walking on the pavement halfway between the wooden shed that sells logs and Christmas trees and the college for the blind that often has archery boards set up on it's grounds. come rain or shine he is always determinedly wearing the same black trilby hat and the same long shiny black leather coat and the same pony tail, his dark hair pulled tight at the base of his skull fully exposing his wispy sideburns. he always seemed a lonely sort, i could imagine him reaching his daily destination, whether it be college or work and setting himself down into some quiet corner, ignoring the fact that he is being ignored by his colleagues or fellow students, only speaking when his opinion is asked and then sometimes allowing himself to wax about his favourite guitar riff or computer game. he seemed so rigidly solitary every morning heading towards the sea front. until today when i turned onto the road that leads to the sea front and there he was, once more in his usual outfit and walking beside him was another young man, no hat and certainly no long hair but he too donned a long shiny black leather coat and there crawling on the right hand side of his neck was , a spiders web tattoo his dishevel
A dickens of a morning
every morning when i drop the kids at school after i've been blinded by the sunrise hitting the mirror sea, i drive home via Ovingdean wiggling my way through tiny roads dotted with cottages and horses and make my way back to the sea front, each time i spot the same young man walking on the pavement halfway between the wooden shed that sells logs and Christmas trees and the college for the blind that often has archery boards set up on it's grounds. come rain or shine he is always determinedly wearing the same black trilby hat and the same long shiny black leather coat and the same pony tail, his dark hair pulled tight at the base of his skull fully exposing his wispy sideburns. he always seemed a lonely sort, i could imagine him reaching his daily destination, whether it be college or work and setting himself down into some quiet corner, ignoring the fact that he is being ignored by his colleagues or fellow students, only speaking when his opinion is asked and then sometimes allowing himself to wax about his favourite guitar riff or computer game. he seemed so rigidly solitary every morning heading towards the sea front. until today when i turned onto the road that leads to the sea front and there he was, once more in his usual outfit and walking beside him was another young man, no hat and certainly no long hair but he too donned a long shiny black leather coat and there crawling on the right hand side of his neck was , a spiders web tattoo his dishevelled blonde hair shoved awkwardly to one side and his face contorted against the cold as he turned to listen to his hatted friend as he nattered on in amiable companionship. a Smike, if ever i saw one, to his Nicholas. xp
i'm killing the kids
i'm killing the kids with love i'm killing the kids with love i've tidied up their rooms they will never understand the value of true independance i'm ruining the kids with care i'm ruining the kids with care they will get used to that warm feeling that somebody is always there for them and be constantly disappointed i'm destroying the kids with tenderness i'm destroying the kids with tenderness they will become too codependant and allow their future partners to massacre them with criticism i'm murdering the kids with understanding i'm murdering the kids with understanding they will place too much value on communication and too much importance on tolerance and will become the broken innocents of their sugar-free generation i'm slaughtering the kids with devotion i'm slaughtering the kids with devotion they will be made weak and fragile assuming that coexistence is a joy and not a hidden prison of constant censure xp
Re: experiment
my name was my parents experiment but became my experiment and the experiment of the people i met during my teens my friends experimented with drugs while i experimented with my friends an experiment with cheese turned into a tragedy and an experiment with tragedy turned into so much cheese one mans experiment is another mans experiment while another man is an experiment of the first man to be continued. - Original Message - From: "Peter Ciccariello" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> To: Sent: Saturday, September 24, 2005 5:01 PM Subject: Re: experiment > I like this... > please continue. > > -Peter Ciccariello > > ARTIST'S BLOG - http://invisiblenotes.blogspot.com/ > > > -Original Message- > From: pixel <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> > To: WRYTING-L@LISTSERV.UTORONTO.CA > Sent: Sat, 24 Sep 2005 15:24:23 +0100 > Subject: experiment > > everything is an experiment > i experiment with the bed after my waking up experiment > my washing experiment seems to go well > i experiment in the kitchen with food ingredients > there is an experiment going on upstairs with the water > while the remote control experiment > has interesting effects on my housemates > > the mobile phone left exposed with and unread text message > is an experiment > the newspaper left discarded by the front door > is an experiment > the penny sized piece of soap in the soapdish > is an experiment > the bowl of washing up and the pile of un iron'd clothes > is an experiment > > to be continued... >
experiment
everything is an experiment i experiment with the bed after my waking up experiment my washing experiment seems to go well i experiment in the kitchen with food ingredients there is an experiment going on upstairs with the water while the remote control experiment has interesting effects on my housemates the mobile phone left exposed with and unread text message is an experiment the newspaper left discarded by the front door is an experiment the penny sized piece of soap in the soapdish is an experiment the bowl of washing up and the pile of un iron'd clothes is an experiment to be continued...
out of touch
for three weeks from tonight i'll be out of touch, i've been sending emails to people to let them know. but is it necessary? one of my colleagues replied 'sweetheart, for the last thirty eight years you've been mostly out of touch, so why bother letting people know about these three weeks? any one who knows you doesn't need telling.' i wasn't sure how to take this. is it funny? am i really so vague? ah well. i've been reading the mails and wanting to respond to so many over the last couple of months but i don't seem to have anything to say. i'm hoping that three weeks of rest will let my mind wander about a bit and find some new things. i'm a naturist. i have to go somewhere to be naked other than my house. this always seems a little strange to me, especially on hot days on a beach where nudity is not permitted. i can't understand what protection the little trangles of fabric are affording me? are they protecting someone else from me? perhaps they provide some form of defence? someone once suggested that it was a question of having some dignity, but i don't feel undignified when i'm naked, why would i? i drop all these ideas along with the pile of clothes on the floor and walk out into the air, i can feel the harsh fabric of other peoples expectations drifting away from me as i step into the sea and feel the cool water envelop my body, the salt pressing into my pores. i feel stripped and clean, recycled. i will think of everyone while i'm nakedly absent and out of touch, my love to morrigan especially xx xp
Re: Save CBGB
My partner has played at CBGB's a few times, the first year we were together and he was touring the US i stayed up til four in the morning to watch a streamed internet broadcast from CBGB's when he played there - he dedicated a song to me, it was called Rocket 69 :). Nowadays i see kids wandering round the streets with CBGB tshirts on, wearing the logo like it's Nike, not knowing what it is, what it means, it's just a cool looking logo that could be made up in some fashion house or another. Like Motorhead tshirts and MC5 tshirts these days. it's just like punk. the bastards bought it off the street wrapped it up in pretty paper and sold it back to the next generation. my kids can buy ready made torn shirts complete with generic graffiti and extra safety pins. ghosts of bands, venues and movements haunt the highstreet. xp - Original Message - From: "Wanda O'Connor" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> To: Sent: Sunday, July 31, 2005 3:04 PM Subject: Re: Save CBGB > Nothing is sacred anymore. We gotta help save them. > Thanks for letting me know. > > > - Original Message - > From: Alan Sondheim <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> > Date: Sunday, July 31, 2005 1:09 am > Subject: Save CBGB > > > For those who care and maybe were there or at least heard about it > > - > > > > http://savecbgb.org/ - thanks, Alan > > >
sated
i've eaten so much and yet i'm still hungry xp
everybody
'Everybody's talking at me.I don't hear a word they're saying,Only the echoes of my mind.' A version for the millenium Everybody's self medicating I can't hear a word they're saying Only the echoes of their minds. xp
Re: The Ultimate Degradation
is this done with surgical focus? xp - Original Message - From: mwp To: WRYTING-L@LISTSERV.UTORONTO.CA Sent: Saturday, June 18, 2005 6:26 AM Subject: The Ultimate Degradation The Ultimate Degradation2005http://www.kunst.no/bjornmag/mpphp2004/GBV01.auLo-fi rock-and-roll pioneers Guided By Voices are subjected to the ultimate lo-fi treatment:44,100 samples per second down to 1 sample per second, in 100 smooth, graduated steps.(This is a 5.8MB AIFF file, which should play in Quicktime or something similar.)GBV01.aumwp
why it's hard to ask for help
THE TELEPHONE IS RINGING, SOMEONE PICKS IT UP hello, hello? (ok here we go again) hello, I don't know if you can help me but do you have any counselling at your clinic? I'm sorry any what? (oh god, I have to say it again, say it loudly be firm, it's ok) any counselling, therapy, you know for depression and such, i've heard that you offer this oh, well we do, but not on Saturdays SILENCE oh (what does that mean? why isn't she saying anything else? why isn't she giving me another number or asking me to ring back on Monday to make an appointment? why is she manning the reception if she hasn't been told that people might ring up with this kind of question?) is there another number that I need to ring then? what's it for, it is psychiatric? (oh Christ!) I don't know, er, maybe, I spose, er yes hold on THEN THERE WAS MORE RINGING, AND THROUGH SLIGHT CHANGES IN THE TONE IT WAS CLEAR THAT EXTENSION AFTER EXTENSION WAS BEING TRIED. IT RANG FOR THREE MINUTES BEFORE THE TELEPHONE WAS SET BACK INTO ITS CRADLE.
Re: morrigan here
so nice and sweet to hear your other voice again my dear. you'll be on your way to the stones now, the sun is shining, there will be something wonderful waiting for you there, i can feel it in the land. xxpixel - Original Message - From: "Ana Buigues" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> To: Sent: Saturday, June 18, 2005 9:28 AM Subject: Re: morrigan here > > You know when you do something and you leave it, and then it just gets > > bigger and bigger, until you can barely go back to it, or look at it, well > > that's what's happened to me recently, with wryting and in my life > > generally. > > Yes, I know, Morrigan :) > > Hope you'll come back to wryting little by little, as well as to that place > where you have been trying to get too. > > Love, > > Ana >
Re: Watch Your Step!
Hey I love this - would love to take bits f it and use it as lyrics - i'm so often shining black with wolves - now i have words to put with the colours of thought thanks xpixel - Original Message - From: "Harrison Jeff" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> To: Sent: Tuesday, May 31, 2005 10:36 PM Subject: Watch Your Step! > I understood that he was shining, black with wolves. I understood... > that her hair, eyes, or maybe her head hair & the hair on her brows > & bottom-edge of her eyelids, were shining black with wolves. Every > hair on every wolf there was black, and shining; the sea air did us no > good... They did not get along in this world. When they will have given > rise to suspicions in his mind they will not be so well treated... We had > better write to him. > > We would do nothing of the kind > You would shine black with wolves > > Had I told THAT to you I would have made his mouth WATER > I am delighted you have got on in this world. Do not appear > before him when you are shining black with wolves, after having > unsettled him you try to console him. > >Why > do you not offer us SOMETHING > after having made our mouths WATER >
this shit
she sifts fists his fist shifts he fists this shit she shits this fist xp
Re: sq*sq / A
I've never been to Tulsa but i've heard that it takes 24 hours to get there . or was that some other place? xp - Original Message - From: mIEKAL aND To: WRYTING-L@LISTSERV.UTORONTO.CA Sent: Tuesday, May 31, 2005 5:17 AM Subject: Re: sq*sq / A THE CAVE CHILDREN OF NEW YORK ARE NEVER FREEA dime is no longer than the air of misery the day of yearning forgot. Who twisted when mounting all ages of wobbling. Hurry border. Hurray fits sat. Avenue child anagram. Who alerted taxi is the criminal of media of fight of knife a document. Sense tense, cent tense.On May 30, 2005, at 11:01 PM, Lanny Quarles wrote: Never been to New York. You two sound like two New York
Re: charm
Maybe sometimes, ones personalities is so strewn about, that one could easily mistake oneself for others at times xp - Original Message - From: "Alan Sondheim" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> To: Sent: 15 May 2005 06:37 Subject: Re: charm > Prophecies are never self-fulfilled > It takes others to fulfill them > > - a > > ( URLs/DVDs/CDroms/books/etc. see http://www.asondheim.org/advert.txt )
Re: charm
Crash - (In some parts a response to Sondheims charm :) and in some parts an echo) Second sight works in cahoots with self-fulfilling prophecy I saw you coming at me, slow moving accident, Before you even knew your brakes had failed We flung harmony and news at each other from under our battlements Sitting on leather and carpet, waiting for Christmas, Sucking up sex from our film logo teacups We logged the silent messages and filed them as interstitial notation I held up a hefty sham, transparent in it's falsity, And you gladly gilded the loopholes with camaraderie There was a perfect moment of limber and lucid transition A fraction of time, effervescent with permutations, Plumped with the tranquillity of temporal assent Though long before the path became glassy with our accord I saw you coming at me, slow moving, beloved, Before you knew, and I was already dead on the highway xp - Original Message - From: "Alan Sondheim" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> To: Sent: 14 May 2005 04:04 Subject: charm > charm > > > we're barreling down the highway it's late at night > headlights towards us veering is it us or them > we can't tell who's awake one direction or the other > there's no time like in the duel to think > we smashed against the rail just a second in midair > falling and hardly breathing before everything disappears > we've got a truck to the left of us throwing things > first small than larger than screaming slamming against us > we've got a small car we can't fight them off we spin > we slalom crashing over the edge we're in midair > just like in easy rider we're dead along the highway > i'm driving sleeping i'm seeing double seeing lamposts bend > everything filtered and shaky i can't think what's that now > the radio's off the radio's on i don't know the difference > is it you talking or me wait you're not moving > i'm not moving the world turns fast suddenly it's all over > we're rounding a bend furious lightning sudden crack > we're startled slide into the traffic down the embankment > just like in crash we're jammed and careening no stopping us > brakes give out no nothing eighteen wheels coming up fast > no stopping them we're crushed beneath no moving now > motor halts we're hard slammed through the windshield > my throat's cut i can't see anything where are you > we're hurt screaming the car's heaped on top us > night the rain the search dead cell phone we're out of luck > the pedal won't ease up we're out of control skidding > hailstorm shattered glass i swerve too fast > engine light's on gaslight oil light brakelight too > we're bullet hurtling night we've got all day > to get there > > > =
Black hole
Plastic bag rattlesnake Bicycle bell Man shouting numbers Music through walls Somethings gone wrong Shrill and sudden predatory sounds Leap like tigers into my Self imposed incarceration I walk, shrink-wrapped And murderous A grazed and flayed Quasar-headed Leaky capsule A measureless stretch of continuance In an unendurable moment xpixel
Re: skepparmöte
The word 'frunch' is my new god xp - Original Message - From: "Lanny Quarles" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> To: Sent: Friday, April 08, 2005 7:48 PM Subject: skepparmöte > skepparmöte > > [Walking slowly, on level ground: frunch-frunch-frunch-frunch. Walking at a > good pace on level ground feunch-feunch-feunch-feunch ] > > QUESTION: Is its or nationsequently tells us own lan objectived in mility. > A question to Josef Stalin. > > [Frunch Boma, Animal Kingdom Lodge Submitted by: dizgirl61. 1 - 8 oz. can of > frozen lemon juice 1 - 8 oz. can of frozen pineapple juice] > > QUESTION: Is in ministable of devering everinglomerationsequent all it tribe no class languages, but tribal stant and > nated is common language, the with refutinglomeration language of that is no economic founder the such have, distatus. > No, includinational language common languages own life and its members equally, serving with wordinationalitary human > system, which lived is not has and such of that is not only dialective or nationality. > A question to Josef Stalinis a visually-oriented waveform geometry plugin > > [Pricking Chart with Working Instructions, Card & Envelope, Needle, Eyes, > Threads & Pricking Pin. "FRUNCH", Suitable for Beginner to Intermediate ] > > QUESTION: Is intercourse be not they were taken and from thing its periods, local language, this, the difficult to the > primities a tribes coveriods, each there and their own econcept class language of nated it is to thing with the whole > language or nations and from tribes a tribe no such the subording that society, irres of Caesar empire. > A question to Josef Stalin reaching into higher dimensions > > [29 Replies to Like I said, Frunch football is going down, down and down! > re: Like I said, Frunch football is going down, down and down! en>fr fr>en ] > > Side were with referringle or Alexand composingle and it is no such have common the periods, evering here is to the > primities, but the wa. terre use Geometer's Sketch > My black terrier. My raisin of an eagle's handbreadth. My dirty bonnet of communal talkihorses. > > Stalin's Answeare: > www.fuckfrance.com Still I frighten like everything during the writing and a speaking to syllables and prefixes and > backs at backs in the shelves to books five letters to shorten a life on a word together and ten, no eleven speak of one > century and fates need still fewer type characters a syllable been sufficient the fact that we to know whether one live > or dies o this shortness of the language it not seize cannot > > * Bushman's Skillet. * > Skriv ut Skriv ut. > Vår Frunchmeny, Vår Frunchmeny. Kjellsons frunchmeny serveras på lördagar > Revolutionary War Military Abstract Card File Items Between > vad du vill men det passar för morgontrötta eller som variation för den > Phoenixes and Viper Gunboats are especially deadly. ... The Frunch'ek > Phoenix. It's a BIG, BAD DADDY. A 100mm railgun, 30 Radar missiles and (frukost + lunch). >
