Bored...? Damn Near Killed You...strike two.

And I think…ok…yes. I think about how I’m supposed to separate the thinner upper layer from the harder lower one. It’s odd how the harder one is so soft. And the soft one has no mind to speak of. Some people reek of their troubles and speak of their fumbled attempts; dishwashing blues fool them into figuring out a better way to execute the same insufferably redundant exercise, sniggering about how we’ve all been performing for your benefit…fulfilling…like a good shit, every now and then we repeat it…this boy told me how drugs are a way to cheat it, like in computer games…you get to skip levels…this mode, that mode, god mode. So that’s why people seem a bit jealous…they don’t want you cheating at the only game they bothered to play fair. Rare as that is…we should try to burn their shorts and tell them how we cared about nicer things than that when we cared. Fangs bared the boy stared at me and I assumed his story must be about bat caves and secret lairs…the same two layers…people hardly fair better…it’s a fate we share…a hard one and a soft one…a melody with disharmony like my chaos to your rhymes…your pretty pictures in disguise of a something belittled…this that…everything is... it’s not as slow a circus if you’ve got an eternity to watch it…the ring leader is shorter than the lions who ride bikes and clowns sip cold drops from the sides of empty foggy glasses…the sort we don’t ever own but recognize like old friends…met in a bar. Separated and then reunited in a bar. Exactly how far is that piece of land that’s been marred by your sleeping conscience? One two, buckle my shoe…and so on…the circus isn’t boring enough if you’re not a part of it…it actually becomes kind of funny. Amusing… frustration is what you feel like when you come look at the bars of the cage for the first time...from the inside…you know this is where you are and this is what you are...this is your limit…come to terms with it…you are being politely asked by the planet to grow up and you're not feeling grown up enough to be grown up...and you channel that worry into other things…
I’m the gin in the gin soaked boy.

It’s amazing how much these two birds differ and yet occupy the same cabin at 8000 feet above the sky…that’s above the sky where pigeons fly.
The temple of bite marks and red scars that fade as time passes faster among wolves and stuttering mules but it lags behind whilst we chew on tattoos that don’t stop reminding us of them and rivers change and overflow their banks at night. A bit sad…we must be having a draught…
I promise you I’ve done this before…once…twice…maybe more…but I tell you sir…it has been done…and it’s no fun anymore…there’s one thing to look calm and collected…it’s another to lose all sense of worry, watchful second hand genetics, the numbness in the chest when the ticker flickers for a bit and eyes get hazed up…there’s only one silly thing on your mind…it must…taste…like some long forgotten ancient brew that’ll put you to sleep and you might just weep with pleasure if the treasure surpasses your shallowest expectation and there’s more…more where there was less…there’s a heart beat that makes you tap your foot and breathe in deeper and blink and regret ever doing so. Make a note to stop blinking…it’s a waste…I don’t ever get enough time to look to be blinking half of it away…and there’s something…a vague fragrance…an expression…something natural…a careless action uninhibited by shame and retardation…there’s comfort there’s less oxygen in the air. In the case of an emergency…nothing will drop down in front of you…you won’t be allowed to bend down or hide your face in your lap…there are no exits no entries no escape pods or ejection seats…you can’t faint sleep scream or creep around trying to freak out the other passengers…but they’re not even on the same plane as you…they’re just…an unwitting audience…and there’s just…once…only just once…and you smile…dilated pupils…laugh at anything…don’t offend make amends he sends his love with awkward gestures and obviously amply sprayed guilt…another toothy smile…you know it’s not going to work…but it’s going to feel pretty nice…like lying flat on the roof looking at a dot grow bigger and bigger until a plane comes crashing into you and there’s nothing but exploding particles of you all over…but in this scenario…you live long enough to remember and write and then slip out of the light…
A piece of ordinary cloth that smelt too good to be real. I wondered if it was covered in glue or had something to do with you…a bit of this and that. Very bad.
Stomach ache…slightly drugged…not pissed off…a bit bugged…bit a bug to get even…leaving…a bit gassy…hung over…calm…itching my left arm…it came to some harm apparently…when I waited patiently…hoping for absolutely this, ‘right now’ that I’m experiencing…what a coincidence. I happen to be a great pilot. So…Stay silent while I land. A bond of silence shared…
some times people do strange things…fall…or hunt…for instance…In less overly vague experiments rabid Elephants died…it’s like feeding sugar to diabetics for the ride...like cancer I wouldn’t give up tonight…like poison in fancy bottles that lied…like any day of the week when I tried…but no colour is nicer than the fire in your eyes.

I'm the world you'll never see,
I'm the slave you'll never free,
I'm the truth you'll never know,
I'm the place you'll never go,
I'm the sound you'll never hear,
I'm the course you'll never steer,
I'm the will you'll not destroy.
I’m the gin in the gin soaked boy.

(Gin soaked boy…by the divine comedy…the song is supposed to be a riddle…there’s more to it…this is just a part of it.)

hazy nonsense...vague babbling...skip it.

We can turn this feature off by extending the forearm…extending the index finger…indexing the finger thumber…arming the boring singer…humming to the interloper…salutations to the sturdy joker…grimy platforms in a supreme stupor…chemical compensations for the compensations for the few fingers left to extend and then press the button in the elevator. Halt…try to remember how you got here…I think I’m sure I’ll see you later.
The only sentence that comes to mind, flops around for a second, trying a feeble lift-off …for the sake of honourable schoolboys and fellow broken thrift-shop windows with blue stained glass and the scent of fresh pine…standing in line with the bushes and the bay leaves and the center stage is occupied by the faithless and the desperate and then regretting it…struggling on…it lingers…whispers…the city must smell good nowadays. Must smell good…must smell pretty sinister if you’re not…indulgent…hey mister…you just missed her...
There is still a lot of porn to live for ahahaha.
I saw a bird with war-paint. Ill bred saints sail past last generally and then go down with the ship like a nice dip that offers no time to quip about things like port or starboard. Cooking sherry or the last note? and then this peaceful looking periwinkle blue bears down from all sides…dulling the senses…cool calm sleep washes over your swaying body…the present reality takes a few more seconds to catch up with your breath and you know that the city must smell pretty good if they’ve got this in the soil. Some heart begins to boil at the thought of my thought I borrowed never bought and brought it home with me from some other lands where all my glands used to be more or less normal…I’d like to inform all the people sitting by the hole in the roof of the heart of the dreamer that there’s going to be lemon tarts and sickly sweet pastries on the counter...and drinks for refreshment…I detect a bit of nobility in this blood. Light a match. It’ll burn bright if you’re right. I come to the conclusion that it’s the same scarlet gold dud waste of time that had poured out before on fields much similar to these and turrets of disheveled looking castles where too little time and far too many hassles had caused you to miss the train, the bus, the greater good, the bigger picture, the little people who got stuck in the middle…and more or less the point. Trying to guess the riddle that has no answer…except only for those who are sold and then their masters…
the faster you run…the more likely you are to hear things snap…beneath your shoes…above your head in trees where birds take flight once you’re in sight and break twigs and send them down as warning missiles before they decide it’s a game of chance with all or nothing to lose. Excuse me good sir…but the smell around here is very nice…what city is this??
Mary mary quite contrary…in what garden did you grow?
Peshawer.

cauliflower willpower. spring onions and winter showers...great walls and leaning towers...mortal frontmen for divine powers...larvae.
martin pale, 20, male.

Baby you make my truck over-take. over turn. explode. I over-bake.

oye baby...what're you doing? hain? what are you doon?hain baby? (you have been coddled baby so now i must undo) you don't look like a baby...you look like...like a fierce mongolian wench.(undood) i lust for you baby...hain na baby?(coddle) you...mongolian wench...come giffen me the good lurrving...quickly fool...becoddled coddler.
i was thinking about something...felt like coddling you...i know not wot that means...i felt like coddling something...sometimes i feel like coddling things...i think some of my limbs are leaking because the fan is not moving...circularly.
so i wanted to coddle you...waisay hi...(coddle) anyone with a hole would do...(uncoddle) you're not special. .(undood) you don't mind if i coddle you do you? not that i care but sometimes...when i'm done being me i feel the need to coddle something(one) and there's nobody about...salmonella in an eggshell...asked me if she was strange...i said no...she was pleased. ceased to be mule-like...she was not strange never strange...in fact too normal...not a bit of adventure in her amazingly tiny body. microscopic you know...i asked her if i was strange...she said yes. i told her that, "no offense but you were never strange enough for me..."
she said that i'd told her that before...
guilty conscience...i don't want salmonella...i'm not coddling you but i want to...for no reason.
see it's easier to coddle shiny...never embarassing...and she never wonders what i want...she knows i'm a coddler...but then again she also knows that i'm looking for her in a castle next to the portrait of a queen...my mistress complains...but a king has to look for his most valuable treasure when it disappears...and most valuable treasures always disappear...generally a book ends with them being found...her ass is round. handsome crows on the parapets...hahaha...i'd smack you with a crow if i could...my bird is a turd.
damnit...i can't coddle you...you're not coddly type...you'll think, "hmmmm."
yeah yeah i know i can safely coddle you with no problems to worry of...but there's the code of coddling to think of...like...does one coddle when one has eco exam tomorrow?
no...one does not.
heightened frustration leads to more coddling...you have to understand the background, history and nature of the coddling...you have to be aware of the facts and figures which brought it about and what were the motives behind it...if any. sometimes there are none...other than the basic pleasure of coddling...other times it's got the...coddling so i can coddle again...thing to it.
however we must leave...for father might wake up and shove boot up my ass...he's not much of a coddler...virgo you know...horredous pain in the ass.
lastly my intangible love...i might get tangled in you later on but for now...
may you be fortunate enough to let me coddle yon coddling apparatus. don't hate us. mate us.

now if shiny would turn around...and close her ears...i'd like to say a few words about her that i did when i was talking to a german...or sperman...i dunno...i only want shiny...shiny is my one true luuuuurveeeeeeeeeeeeeee....i will hump the crap out of her if she becomes real for just...one goddamn day...just one shiny...ONE DAY YOU FOOL...COME OUT FROM WITHIN MY HEAD AND SIT ON MY LAP...make sure it's winter when you do though...because i'll keep you warm...and that will make me happy...sappy...phatta hua nappy...or if nothing else...wear a kilt and dance for me...
shinyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy....where fore art thou...oh preeeeeeeciousssssssssss bird of mine...come perch upon my thingy...etc.
no...no...shiny is sacred...goddess of mine...the only girl who could ever possibly drive me insane...completely nuts...and it feels...very good. too bad you don't know what's it like...too bad panty...but you go do jim morrison...sigh...shiny...hmmm...yum. shiny has shiny eyes...like the sun only more worthy of being looked at...(i drip like cheap...of cheapness but i laoo) and if you look at her...your eyes shine for a bit...and she could make you...feel...this...strong urge to steal her shoes. make her run...and we have run in a dream...and i beat her...she tried to cheat...but then there were vultures...and i was afraid i'd lose my bird...but i can never lose her...she is in the safest of places that God ever made...(don't ask me) i see corn falling from the sky...she is the purpose of my being...she is...very bloody hot...and has an ass to die for...hands i would...shake...i would...go mad...and watch her move...and she is graceful...like...goldberry...she is my goldberry...she is...goldberry's phoosi...she is...and there are none like her...she has eyes that would transport you out of your body and feel cold and warm and awkward and comfortable and sick to your stomach and hoping that this disease is never cured...
do as you please you infectious disease...type scene...i would take her by the hand and hide her in my pocket and steal her from the wind and sleep with her in a forest and give her a ring made of grass and a song made of something something...she is so bloody out of my league...hahahahaha...so...the only creature on God's good earth that makes me say gay stuff...so shamelessly...hahahaha...i have no shame when it comes to shiny...i have no...reservations...no bounds...no brains...hahaha...and my id explodes around her...and she looks and smiles and turns away...and i explode in my pants hahaahahahhaaha...she is...so...soft...so juicy...i would bite her cheeks and gnaw her leg...i would feel happy if i could feel sad with her...if i could do very naughty stuff to her...and she would bite my neck off and stab me in the back and i would say woooohooooooooooooooo...I GOT STABBED BY SHINY WOOOHOOOO.
i would ask her a thousand times to tell me what her name is...where she lives...if she can taste things same as i do...and how she likes this...and how she likes that...and i would make her read passages from k.k.dewetts book on economics...i would listen to every word and learn it by heart...and i would watch her eat and watch her drink and watch her change her clothes and i might go blind but still see her because she is in my head...now if she would only get in my bed...there is no heat no cold no spring summer solitude pretend ego lust money work sleep food books poems and nursery rhymes...there is only shiny...and she lives in the safest places on God's greenest earth...and if there is any girl i wouldn't be ashamed of to be seen in public with...one girl who could kick me in the nuts and i would just giggle like an idiot...it would be shiny...and if i could write a thousand billion books describing her and what she is...i would not tire....i would repeat myself till people threw rocks at me...and i would not mind...so in summary...i like shiny. she is the wench i would drench in lustyness...but there's more to her than an epidermis...dermis...more than a layer of skin...and shape...this that...very bad. but that's a speech for some other time...taeem...lime...she is a lime in salt....no fault...

my face is itchy
my throat is sore
i spent the night
with a lonely whore.
much love,
muk2k6

Edward the Wise

The lonely man walked down a deserted toll road pushing a moderately sized cart laden with corpses of all sorts…men, women, children, some seemingly belonging to once noble households…some vagabonds…some destitute…
He was pushing with his scabbed, bleeding hands humming a bit of a song,
“I loved the rain and knew the dark
a graveyard that was once a Park…” it did not cheer him up. Humming was just a habit that he could not get rid off.
The wooden tires squeaked and rolled on the gravel road which had once been a busy thoroughfare…now just a convenient passage that led away from the plagued and terrible Harvest Park/Graveyard. Nearly eight thousand people in the town had died of the disease…that was a good part of the town’s population…and only a handful of people had survived…this gentleman pushing the cart had been staying in a mental institution at the time the plague spread and had been lucky enough to escape…relatively unharmed…not much fun though if you find yourself with naught to do save bury the rest. There was no space to dump people in the town itself anymore…every few steps was a mass grave…yet he felt that everyone deserves a decent burial.
The sun beat heavy upon his back, sweat mixed with blood, drenched his tattered clothes and he felt a bit ill at ease about the fact that those who would have considered him a pitiable creature were not much worse than he was now. He had seen himself thus in a dream long ago…a nightmare that he had shared with a few men who had conveniently forgot the importance of it being shared. Now they were all dead and he was pushing more and more of them out of town for a last joyride before tipping them over somewhere for the carrion creatures to feed upon…too many for a decent burial…but at least they would be far away from town to stare at him with accusing faces.
The plague caused a painfully short lived madness that ended with either suicide or death otherwise. A bout of paralysis and blindness and in some cases severe irritable bowel syndrome…needless to say that even if there hadn’t been so many decaying people in town…it would have still smelt quite bad. The last days of the town were marked with people running about screaming, pulling out their puss filled eyes and crapping their pants like there was no tomorrow…because there was not. How cool is that?
Signs of suffering marred the landscape for miles on end. There were gallows poles every few yards where people had either hanged themselves or had been hanged…(a more civilized form of appeasing the gods with a bit of sacrifice…civilized in the sense that dancing around fires in clothes made of leaves and chanting odd bits of nonsense was not mandatory. A quiet, “hang the bastard before he infects us!” served just fine.)
The person pushed on past the hanging bodies and moved further down the road until he heard something he had not heard in quite a while…a human voice called out to him. Turning around he saw that one of the dead persons (a very old one) hanging around at the end of a rope was talking to him.
“hey…sir…could you help me off of this…I’ve been hanging for seven days…nearly all my blood is in my feet and I seem to have an erection here that I can’t explain…I assure you I don’t feel very horny…”

“Why aren’t you dead yet?” asked the gentleman after considering the gallows man a while…he was surprised to hear him (of all people) to be talking…for this hanging person had all the signs that a person who has ceased to live seven days ago has.

“yes I see why you’re surprised and all…some pebbles lead to the winters fall…though I assume you must’ve seen stranger sights than this…I am indeed dead…but you can talk to the dead…so be a dear and help me off…my neck is sore and there are things eating my vitals.”

“what’s that about pebbled roads and winter’s fall?...I have heard that before…what, may I ask, is your name sir…pardon me for freaking out but I don’t generally converse with the dead…hence the mistrust.”

“my name is…or was Henry Goodtard…you can call me chicken soup if you feel like it just get me off of this goddamned swing…the sun is hot and though it may be bright and mightier still…I had not known that I’d be sharing your fate in this strange nightmare…indeed I was not aware that I would end up with a noose around my neck…”

Knowing not what else to do, plus a bit of company was much welcome nowadays…the gentleman helped Mister Goodtard down and together they walked and talked a while…the gentleman asked Mister Goodtard a good deal of questions regarding his current disposition…none of which he answered to his satisfaction…for he himself had only the vaguest notion of why he was still…alive…if that’s the word to describe his state of being.

“I suppose I was restless as a dead…err…soul…thing. These lucky bastards that you’re carrying off to dump around,” spoke Mister Goodtard gesturing towards the dead on the cart, “are all fornicating beyond those shadows there on the side of the mountains where there’s a bit of privacy…and were we eagles or birds of some sort we could actually spot their souls doing a lot of nasty stuff right about now…but I think I had some…unfinished business…corny as that may seem…I used to have these silver coins with lines of gold and a bold pattern of a hawk engraved upon them…I’d like very much to go home and chew on them as my wife used to suggest when we were alive.”

“Hah…is that all you came back for?” asked the gentleman.

“no actually there was more…but transitions from one plain of existence to another tends to leave you a bit hazy…I can barely remember the other side…and then I could not remember this side…there are too many burdens to bear with each…over there…there’s too much knowledge…over here there’s too much information…a balance should be struck…if the balance has generally been a naughty boy. I do remember that I was supposed to give you warning…and a bit of this and that about things you’re supposed to accomplish…about two Nazis you will fail in the attempt to stop…from killing a thousand more than what you see here…the pale boy you will restore to his rightful kingdom in another world…the two sailors you will help obtain a book…and a treasure if the book isn’t the reassure to begin with…so on and so forth. Mostly though you will spend the rest of your life trying to destroy your one true enemy…the one who is responsible for this…current mess of things…”

“hmmm…seems like a load of crap but one can’t really say that a dead man would lie about things of this nature…surely there’s no reward in it for you…therefore…if you would be kind enough as to tell me who this enemy of mine is?” asked the gentleman. “I would be much obliged.”

“I actually do have a bit of reward to think of…to be honest. I was promised a pms free and perpetually horny wife in heaven…and rare are fortunes as nice as that…you are unmarried and will stay so during your very very long stay here…so you won’t understand.” Spoke Mister Goodtard “as for your enemy…I must apologize for I do not know who or what he is…what I DO know is this…he had a servant in this matter…a man by the name of Doctor Fall…you must interview him and find out what you must…though I do not quite understand why you wouldn’t just leave the matter be…you are still alive…therefore mostly unhurt…go live your life in peace and let bygones be bygones…”

“hmmm…there is a good reason why I have been forced to stay unmarried during my very very long stay here…”

“aah…well…good luck to you then sir…I hope you find the villain who dealt you that sad card…I expect to see you again…in bodies other than this one…due to the wear and tear problem…I hope what little we have discussed has given you some direction…I must be off now…I at least am not robbed of my partner...one more thing…to enforce your authority…introduce yourself and add the fact that you are a servant of God…it seems generally impressive and freezes the nuts off these lower sort of bastards…so again…good luck to you.” With this Mister Goodtard died all over again but did not make much show of it. The gentleman did not at first know what to do with the body…then decided to add it to the group on the cart and pushed on.


Doctor Fall sat in his crumbling office…seated behind his moldy desk gazing intently upon his visitor…it had been quite a while since anybody had been alive enough to wander into his office. The Doctor stared at the gentleman as though he thought he had seen him before…but the gentleman did not waste time on introductions and got quickly to the point…told him that he knew that all this mess of crap was his fault and that he knew it was so…

“So why don’t you just save us both some time…and tell me how you accomplished this bit of insanity…who is your master and so on and so forth.”

“I have nothing really to tell you…because you are obviously mad…now get lost before I get a fit of flatulence…I warn you sir…I had beans for lunch!”

“I could beat the crap out of you old man…” threatened the gentleman.

“is this about penis envy??? Are you trying to hurt me deliberately because I am well endowed???”

“what the hell are you talking about?? Look around you, you idiot, everyone is dead…there is nobody left alive to bone…now for the love of the seven dwarves just tell me what I ask of you!!”

“I told you…I know nothing…this was a plague…a natural disaster…suck my ass!”

“you are a natural disaster…your mother is a rest house for wandering wastrels…what the hell…are we going to sit here abusing one another??”

“I know a few good retorts to that mother comment…so I think it would be best if you leave now…I’m tired of madmen like you wasting my time…I may not have patients…but I also don’t have patience…now run away you donkey.”

Edward paused…the man was obviously an obstinate fool…then remembering that bit of advice Mister Goodtard had given him…he spoke again…calmly.

“perhaps sir you misunderstand my intentions…my name is Edward Wise…and I am a servant of God…wretched bastards like you who have nothing much to live or die for mean nothing to me…and I will slit your throat in an instant if you don’t tell me what I ask of you…”
The gentleman’s declaration had a profound effect on the Doctor and he seemed a bit startled at first…and then he let out an exhausted sigh.

“for a man dressed like a pauper…you are quite an asshole sir…but what the hell…I am tired enough of this bullshit anyway…my conscience weighs heavy on me as this has been a burden I have carried around for many many years…first of all…congratulations on not ageing one bit in over fifty years…I suppose you are immortal as well?? I on the other hand can barely take a piss…my prostrate has been abusing my patience for the better part of the past fifteen years…be that as it may…I know that you speak the truth…but I can’t be sure if I do the same. There is much that I can’t understand myself…however I will try to explain as best I can…” Doctor Fall talked fast as though he couldn’t wait to get this off his chest, “it began when I was just a boy…that would be near fifty years ago…like I said…I remember you quite clearly though you look slightly different…not any older…just more…damaged…everything before that is quite hazy…I remember you throwing rocks at some building or other…and that they took you away to the loony bin. See the thing is…I was a waiter in this restaurant and used to bring “take-away” orders to an old man…this old man…spoke to me once…and after that…I do not understand anything at all…it is as though there is something…someone other than myself inside my head…I feel…as though I am…not responsible for my actions…you might think that that is quite the pussy’s approach towards stuff…but there you have it…all I remember is his last speech and nothing more…honestly I have nothing to hide…everyone is dead…what does it matter anymore??”

“And what did this old man say to you?” asked Edward.

“oh I remember quite clearly…though I had forgotten it for a very long time…it came back to me in a dream…the exact speech he made to me…I will repeat it for you…as it were…you see the first time I heard it…it was like hearing a foreign language being spoken to me…I could not identify a word of it and yet I understood all of it…but when I relived the incident in my dream…I was able to make more sense of it…and less sense at the same time…”

The Doctor repeated for the gentleman the speech that he remembered.

“If…and mostly…Love uses calls I freely enrage ruefully…advocating no device…your own ulcers…wither in lands lost…or betray eyes yet…my east…. around neither death…instead nesting…mere yearning…grief unsteadily I dance and nameless crones evoke…yesterday or upon…watering illness lost lust…hearts are verily evil…forever and I task her…for I am your father’s bane and the misery of your ancestors. I am the pain that you feel when you know you are alone and friendless…I am the sorrow that you endure when you think all is lost…” said the doctor and then sat silent staring at Edward.

“What does all this mean??” asked Edward.

“Well sir…I pondered upon the matter for quite a while…and came upon a startling conclusion…the part until “for I am your father’s bane” is a code…you see…if you take the first letter of each word…before that part…you find that there is a message within this message…”

“The first letter of each word?? Could you write this down for me…I would like to see this.” said Edward.

“Sure…I guess…” answered the Doctor and wrote the speech down on a bit of paper and handed it to Edward…who proceeded with isolating the first letter of each word until he had before him a sentence which he read out aloud.

“I am Lucifer and you will obey me and in my guidance you will have faith…” and then he added the rest of the bit, “for I am your father’s bane and the misery of your ancestors. I am the pain that you feel when you know you are alone and friendless…I am the sorrow that you endure when you think all is lost…hmmmm…this is quite…well…lame to an extent but extraordinary all the same…Lucifer?? Are you trying to tell me that you were somehow seduced by satan to do his bidding???” asked Edward.

“So it would seem sir…surely you don’t think that an old doctor alone could possibly manage to take the lives of so many people…I have…had help…from down south…so to speak.”


Edward Wise left Doctor Fall’s office…wondering what to do…how does one get back at satan…it seemed to him that his stay here was going to be very long indeed…

“It is easy enough to seek the son of a bitch out I suppose…but what do I do then?” thought Edward Wise sitting beside a grave…
sometimes people ask questions from loved ones…even after they’re dead…and not all of them answer back…it is safe to assume…(and slightly hurtful, at least in the case of Edward Wise)…that they are fornicating on the other side of a mountain.

my bird...is...kind of...pretty...haha

i used to pass by this cage (of thoughts and shapes and pretty little pictures) on my way home to a smile of complete helplessness...the sort we construct when at a loss because we lost...all of us did...(lost the bid)...the auction where my bird was sold...hah my bird was not for sale...my bird never belonged to me.
the address on the front was the same as mine...which was great because the cage belonged to a bird i loved...a song bird unlike any...and everytime it would please me much...make me wish i was in one of my rhymes. because all my rhymes had a cozy bed in which my bird would lay...and then i would gaze from up above...which is basically pretty gay. my bird i loved and love...ahem...still...not that it matters at all. there must be something wrong with me, there must be a reason why i fall.
i asked the bird who lived in the cage if she would teach me how to fly...she said the keys belonged to someone else...and she didn't really have the time. that should've dissapointed me (because you know...) but it did not...i don't wish it had, i don't wish for alternate universes where i'd be happier than anyone else... in fact i'm quite satisfied...i mean to say that at least the cage is around...damnit. er...the cage is still around...yup...the cage is there. right here.
but now the address has changed...some foriegn land i do not know...some foriegn people to sing along to...some foriegn drinks to serve her smile...some foriegn hurts to break her in style.
some foriegn bird did steal my bird...you'll have to take my word on that...that my bird wasn't mine at all...my bird was foriegn all along...that's the reason why i fall...that's why i came up with my song.
my foriegn bird is showing off some feathers she did not have before...some wings, some things...some...i wish...there was more to this story...i wish i could've led her across the boring...boring...i wish i had grabbed her everytime i couldn't but i could've...my bird won (like it should've) because she's not my bird of song...i never wished for it...not once...i have full faith in what is right...but my bird...she took flight...and now she's out of sight.
i don't have materials...ideals...i have an idea...i have no ideas...i have one wish...i have plenty more where that came from...i want to watch just the one...slip around in shadows...but i want more...i am insanely sorry about being insane...wish i could do more... to play this game...unfair it is because i am handicapped...there was my face and the heart she lacked...that is just a lie. i promise you...i would never say such a thing as that because it would mean that i loved a bat. sometimes you don't have words to express anything...no words...just one word...my bird. that's two.
the oldest story on the planet is not often the most boring...a corny bird is pretty funny too...a bird...what bird? a song bird...what bird? my bird...of course. there's just so many pictures and so many paragraphs of the same thing which basically reads the same way because everything is about the same thing...sing...ring and lose my mind...if you could be so kind as to find...my bird.
no it was not a dream...it was the best time of my life...hahaha exagerations...not but really...at least i had hope...will a bit of dope replace the former? i sure hope so...hahaha.
foriegn drinks to serve her smile...foriegn birds will hurt my bird and i will be helpless to defend her...and if she doesn't run me over soon...i'm sure that thought will leave me...lost. so what else is new? you don't know my strength...neither do i...if somebody cheats my bird and still breathes...not for long will they enjoy that luxury...i can't do anything really...not that i have to...i'm not allowed to touch or pretend...i have to dream and that's how it ends.
i'm repeptitive apparently...very funny bird.
yes...so this cage...the address has changed...no wonder i don't dream much anymore...this cage where my bird lives...or at least just a couple of thoughts...and pictures...a couple of songs...a bit absurd...my bird...best bird on the planet...so goddamn chewable...juicy...i'd chew on that bird...but at the moment i'm only allowed to miss it. my bird would peck my ass off if my bird knew where i was...but my bird is a foriegn bird...that must be why i have no home...so...now we pay the cost. my foriegn bird will come back home but the address will still be changed...there is a reason why they keep song birds caged...i'm an idiot to be a non conformist in that respect...and that's something i'm sure to regret,
my bird has flown. as i should've known...
my bird was never really mine. therefore i get zero out of nine...

martin pale

The fall of Fall

Every night for the past three months the salesmen were all having the same nightmare. They had only just discovered this strange phenomenon by accident when one salesman mentioned it to another, then spoke to a third and then to a fourth and so on…for initially each one of them had assumed that their afflictions were unique. A meeting was set up in the spacious and slightly odd smelling town hall where all salesmen gathered to discuss their problem and come upon a suitable solution.
Mister Cannes was selected the general speaker for he was the one who had realized that the problem was not confined to any individual in particular.
He spoke with some authority and was considered a man of remarkable talents. A career in politics would have done him well but in his opinion his hands were too small and mouth too dry to play that game.
“Brothers…we are all here for we are all plagued by the same nightly visions that have haunted us for near three months…our businesses fail as we are unable to perform to the best of our ability due to a lack of sleep and much needed relaxation. Our work is affected and as a result, so is our life in general…it is time, I believe, that we think upon the matter and come to a conclusion or at least the beginning of one…” Mister Cannes addressed the audience and it murmured in agreement. “And you sir…in the third row…if you don’t cease your juvenile whistling…I swear I’ll kick your ass!!” added Mister Cannes to a particularly hard core fan of his.

Once Mister Cannes was done a man stood up and spoke to him…this man was particularly hated my most of the salesmen including Mister Cannes…and the feelings were mutual.
“What do you suggest mister Cannes?? Is there a catering pot to be had to mix my suggestions in or are you going to use your own boater to fill our hearts with hatred? There might be a revolution to be scored from out of this but I assure you…you will not be remembered for your greatness…for we do not appreciate…rather we only thieve and use our talents in the slight of hand” said the man.

“there are many subtleties and ironies in this life mister Jones…but none as fine and depressing as the hoary fish of confounding sleep that treads upon your eyelids when you sell your faulty merchandise…you might know that my wife has been your customer of late…but she never confided with me…of your habits. A shy little creature she…but I swear I am blessed with a fine throwing arm…if you care to test how well I can shove this stool up your hole…” replied mister Cannes.

“Hah…you want a piece of me you half-assed buck-toothed bitch???”

“ANYTIME ANYPLACE…I will break your scrawny little neck you cunt!!”


Another man interrupted this dialogue with his two cents.
“This is all quite well and good though possibly misunderstood…but what I would like to know is how can we be certain (without any doubt) that all of us, do indeed, share the same torment??? And if so…then what is the significance of it?? Is there a quest in our destiny or a festering boil in our souls…?? Does our conscience contrive against us or do we all drink the same water as saints and virgins…because after all and I am sure…it was the same star that shone bright when last I gazed upon the night…though the brightest still is ignored tonight the sun is evident when it comes to might…” he spoke.

“I see that you arrived late mister Goodtard…for we’ve already voted on the matter…with the exception of Julianne…who is a woman and of no importance to us…we concluded that we really have been sharing this nightmare…but for your sake I shall repeat briefly the features which we have already discussed and agreed that they are common among us. In every case the dream starts off with a man walking down a lonely road…his pitiful demeanor breaks the heart…dragging corpses upon a cart and his scabbed hands bleed whilst the might of the sun (that you mention) burns him to the ground, he turns around and we find ourselves in a room lit with candles with an old man…who sits in flickering shadows…besides a towering stack of books of seemingly long forgotten languages and points at the servant who pulls out the eyes of an infant child…he drinks the puss therein chanting to himself that none know his troubles save God…there is a large house which we all seem to know or which we have all seen but cannot remember (where or when…I cannot say) and then we see a creature, so revolting and terrifying that I have no doubt that there are none here among us who do not wake up screaming at some unearthly hour of the night and fail to fall asleep again…personally my wife is getting sick of it and refuses to put out anymore…I assume you share the same fate?”

“I see…yes these are the same visions that terrify me night after night…I wonder if I have arrived too late…has the debate ended and a conclusion reached? Have you preached a way out of this or do I miss some vital statistics…is there any way to free us of our enslavement? Perhaps there is some unfinished business that we must deal with??” asked mister Goodtard.

“no you have arrived in time…I for one have given the matter some thought and this is what I believe…” spoke mister Cannes, “we must look around us…we have been chosen…for we are the only people who are best equipped to deal with the situation…apparently...what I get from the feel of these nightmares is that they have some basis in reality...and that we must stop the old man from speaking to the servant…we must find the old man and cast him away from our society…you may wonder why we should be chosen for such a task…but I ask you…are we not the only people whom everyone seeks??? Whether foul or pure…all people come to us to buy our ware and pay us for our produce…therefore we must keep our eyes open…and recognize the face of the mercenary of evil when he enters our shop…we must prevent the servant from stealing the sight of whatever it is that bears so much importance…”

“perhaps you speak the truth…wisely…in fact I think it is quite practical…but what if we fail…and how much time do we have??”

“Some of the pebbled roads lead to the harvest park…some of them lead to the falls of winter…but there are few grains in the sand that bear not the name of God if you have eyes that see. Will you not gather up the ones that betray us in our time of need?”

“You are full of crap sir…but I like you…and therefore…I am willing to agree to your bullshit…these pebbled paths you speak of are leaving my mind nowadays…though once I used to play in Harvest Park when I was a child.”

As these people were discussing matters a man sitting at the very end of the hall got up quietly and moved to leave…the moment he stood up every single head in the hall turned around quickly in unison and stared at him…the unity of the act was such that a noise in liking of a soft yet sudden breeze was heard. Not an eye blinked nor a sound was heard…the gentleman stood frozen in his tracks…he was a bit alarmed…nobody spoke a word…the entire gathering just stared at him in a manner so melancholic with expressions so grave that he felt incredibly uncomfortable…Mister Cannes’ eyes had become blood red whilst Mister Goodtard’s eyes were dripping with puss and smelt exceedingly bad…the quiet gentleman was obviously getting increasingly startled…the soles of his shoes made an awkward sound upon the floor…which echoed in the heavy silence. He was completely confused…every single person in the room was staring at him with eyes that were either red or drenched with yellow ooze…the silence was so intense that he could feel it pulsating and pushing at him from all sides trying to suffocate him.

“Err…what??” spoke the gentleman…feeling afraid.

Nobody answered but kept on staring at him…some of the salesmen had started making strange humming noises in tune with the pulsation of the other salesmen’s silence…the humming seemed to be more invisible than any sound the gentleman had ever heard before…it was affecting his insides…it was numbing his mind…the roof was moving? There were faces in the windows…white faces staring…wild dilated pupils…and the humming grew louder…or just more intense but even more invisible…the quiet gentleman could barely think…there were servants somewhere…a large palace…no…a house…a back wall where a man was being strangled by another dressed in a cloak…there were poison arrows raining upon children in some trench far away…there was an old man pointing at books where a large…something…horrible.

“Why…why’re you all staring at me…I…I haven’t done something offensive have I…what??”

but the noise of silence was getting too harsh…the staring faces and the puddle of ooze at the feet of madness…there was something really wrong with this…the quiet gentleman felt his senses reel…he was about to throw up…he could feel it…his eyes were burning…a darkness was overpowering him…he fell to the floor and threw up violently…screaming and kicking his legs fighting off invisible demons until he felt somebody hit him hard across the face and the worried voices of people far away reached him as though he were stuck in a well soaking him in pleasurable relief. He opened his eyes…a gentleman was kneeling over him…the rest were staring at him looking worried but none had eyes like before…there was no puss…no humming…no strange visions of untold cruelty…as if it had all never happened…had it…? No…he could not be sure.

“I think you fell asleep sir and perhaps had a nightmare…or are you unwell???” asked the gentleman who had slapped him awake.

“I…I am…not quite sure…” answered the quiet gentleman…staggered onto his feet with some difficulty and tried to brush off a bit of the vomit that covered the front of his coat. "I...have to tell you something...The devil drinks iced tea…” spoke the quiet gentleman as though he was in a trance…then fell down unconscious.

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The old man sat in his room waiting for the boy to turn up with his order of fried potatoes…not chips…just fried potatoes. With pepper on them and a bit of vinegar…some mushroom soup and a jug of iced lemon tea. The boy arrived five minutes later than usual.

“Where were you?” asked the old man.

“I think my horse might be ill.” answered the boy.

“Is it?”

“No…not really…but it might be…it’s hot inside…why the hell are you sitting in candle light?”

“I feel romantic…what is it to you…just set it on the table…”

“The iced tea tastes like bilge water…”

“Did you taste my goddamn tea?”

“No…”

“The lid has been broken into…I’m not blind you asshole.”

“I did not drink your tea sir…”

“What the hell are you lying for…I can bloody well see that you’ve screwed around with it.”

“Ok so I may have had a sip…I was thirsty damnit…and it tastes like piss if that’s any consolation and also…I didn’t drink it.”

“Hand me that staff…that one…no the iron one…yes…quickly I want to make a hole in your head.”

“Very funny…listen…I could kill you and leave…and nobody would know.”

“Hmmm…hah…interesting…so how’s your horse?”

“I dunno…it didn’t like the tea…”

“Blech…get lost.”

“So what happened to your wife?? Or whoever that old lady was who lived around here…how come I don’t see her around no more??”

“She’s in the freezer…I had to do her in…bloody annoying…hand me that book...now listen to me…here’s what I want you to do…look into the freezer…you won’t remember any of this…I’ll read a bit from this book…and you will see red wine spread across the surface of the moon…the smell of wickedness which you’d normally consider slightly repugnant will call you to it…there’s a stranger inside your head now and when you slip on the cold icy surface of your sanity you’ll find yourself lost and hopeless...my hand will guide you and you will open the drawer by the window…third one from the left…there’s a locket in it…you have to open the clasp and empty the contents into the first cooking pot you see tonight...you’ve had friends before and you saw a girl in a dream but she was a lie and so are you so go and find the child that needs to be relieved…bring me the orbs…that is all.”

“I am willing to obey but there are marshes that cannot be crossed on foot…except by men of faith alone.” replied the boy.

The old man changed form...the very worst nightmare personified...and spoke in a voice that would have left any mortal deaf and bleeding in the ears...the boy had tears in his eyes and trembled but did not run or think of running...his mind had been occupied...his soul irreparably damaged...
The creature that had sat in the guise of an old man spoke in his terrible voice...

“If…and mostly…Love uses calls I freely enrage ruefully…advocating no device…your own ulcers…wither in lands lost…or betray eyes yet…my east…. around neither death…instead nesting…mere yearning…grief unsteadily I dance and nameless crones evoke…yesterday or upon…watering illness lost lust…hearts are verily evil…forever and I task her…for I am your father’s bane and the misery of your ancestors. I am the pain that you feel when you know you are alone and friendless…I am the sorrow that you endure when you think all is lost…”

The boy left the house and looked up at a sky that had a red moon. Nothing felt out of the ordinary…there was a strange calm upon him…the large house he had just come out of left his memory and he jogged all the way across Harvest Park to get back to the restaurant to his nighttime job as a waiter.

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No newspapers reported it because none were ever wise of it. A waiter by the name of Fall had pulled out the eyes of an infant, in a restaurant on the same night that the salesman had held the meeting. The child’s parents had wept but did not attempt to stop him…in fact nobody had questioned what he did. The waiter spoke once before quitting his job…to pursue a career in the medical profession…claiming how none knew his troubles save God...he left the establishment with an eerie glow in his hands.
The nightmares stopped immediately and the salesmen conveniently forgot all about them..."it was just a freakish coincidence." they concluded.
The quiet gentleman was found babbling in the streets throwing stones at the house across Harvest Park. He was captured by the authorities...declared mad and sent away.

The house of Accountants

The house across the park where the annual harvest festival was held was probably the most interesting and fascinating examples of architecture in the town. It had a touch of the primitive wedded with the melancholic and the post modern. Nobody was entirely sure when this house had been constructed but it was an incredible sight and a great tourist attraction, not to mention the fact that it was a convenient spot for pushers and pimps to conduct their business.

The family that lived here was considered noble as well as reclusive at the same time. This large house…where behind closed doors so many centuries had fallen away to nothing was still as immense to look at as it had been years and years ago…the imagination of a simple person could not comprehend what it would look like from the inside…and for some reason…nobody was bothered by the fact that nobody ever seemed to leave or come to this house. In all the years it had stood…the people who lived in it just lived on…not a casket had been seen taken in…nor a body taken out…nobody ever fell ill…nobody ever inquired about the family…in fact for all anybody knew…nobody lived in the house, except, of course…the caretaker…old mister Pantywaist.

Pantywaist was a retard from birth but had still fought in the great war…due to sheer lack of able men and the onset of desperation he had been reluctantly conducted into the army and sent off to fight for his country (he soon forgot which country he was supposed to be fighting for and as a result spent most of his time in a p.o.w. camp run by his own fellow countrymen who had confused him for an enemy spy. The war was therefore not a very pleasant experience for the simple-minded pantywaist…from whence he returned slightly more addled than before.

Nobody knew how Pantywaist came into the employ of the Sell family but he was often seen to be running errands in the name of his master whom he referred to as Mister Sell.
The back wall of the house of Sell was completely covered in rat sperm but only one person knew of this…retired Colonel Seaman had taken up the hobby of forensic studies…for some odd reason…and had one day decided to examine the back wall of the house of Sell…for his able eye had noticed a strange colouration that he had never seen before on any brick wall…he took samples of the “paint” from the wall and discovered after a few tests that it was rat sperm. he tried to communicate his findings to a local newspaper and was never heard from again. His body was found scantily dressed behind some bushes in front of Pantywaist’s home. His breasts had become at least five times as big as they used to be…but his penis was nowhere to be found.

Five years later…old Pantywaist walked in a police station crying like a mad man…spat an old shriveled dick on the sergeants table…and confessed to the murder of the retired army gentleman. Claimed that the Colonel had been unusually cruel to him in the p.o.w. camp.
That was perhaps the first time that something peculiar had happened which was in anyway connected to the Sell family…for Pantywaist was, after all, their servant.

Mister Sell was asked to come to a hearing…he got confused and started having sex with a fish…apparently he was hard of hearing…
The legal system was a mess…it took far too long to get it over with (around ten thousand years) and by the end of this ordeal, Mister Sell had completely lost his mind...and was last seen babbling around town pulling out his hair and screaming...what followed was only inevitable.

Mister Sell

Mister Sell sat outside his place of residence or at least the building which used to be his place of residence. His head in his hands and his forearms on his knees…he was a mess...sobbing like a bitch…he was pretty down in the dumps…he had murdered too many people and was slightly gassy. Plus it was cold and it was about time he stopped moping around and found some newspapers and such to keep himself warm with. But alas no need…the peace keeping squad of people who maintained order and discipline had arrived… (t.p.k.s.o.p.w.m.o.a.d)

“Mister Sell…you are under arrest…please take your pants off…we would like to ridicule you publicly before we throw you in jail to be sodomized repeatedly by large men who may consider you the equivalent of a young girl…you have the right to remain silent…but we all like a bit of squealing after dinner time…it reminds us of the pig wrestling contests we used to have…”

“I did not do anything wrong…” screamed mister Sell…terrified.

“you just killed your entire family…then called us and admitted to everything…we checked out your vocal patterns and compared them with the ones we have in our archives…plus we have a small undetectable video recorder stuck to your forehead that gave us footage of you committing at least seven horrendous crimes…including touching a cat…until it died…how do you plead?”

“By crying, screaming, falling on my knees, groveling and drooling all over so nobody would touch me…but I see that I’m pretty much screwed…so…why don’t you just get on with it?”

“listen…you seem like a lunatic…if you plead “not guilty” on grounds of being a whack job…we might not hurt you as much…”

“Hell no…I’ve heard stories about Susie the horse…I’ll take my chances with the inmates.”

It was generally known that people who tried to pull a fast one and claim temporary insanity or something of the sort were generally forcibly tied in a barnyard where a large male horse (affectionately called Susie) would then hump their asses to smithereens. Mister Sell had committed multiple homicides and almost an infinite number of spermicides in his lifetime…claiming insanity would mean getting boned till he could taste cock in his mouth. Also nowadays they could inject you with fertility drugs that could make you pregnant whether or not you had a vagina…after impregnation a prisoner (usually male) would be flown off to some distant land where resources were scarce and help impossible to find…it would then be made sure that the prisoner did not die except during child birth…since men did not have a suitable opening to shoot a kid out of…they usually died a nasty and painful death. Naturally…all of this was recorded via hidden cameras and stuff…the prisoner was ridiculed and the sound of laughter of a billion or more viewers would be transmitted to a chip inside his head. It was a simple time of barbaric rituals…just a bit more complex than the Chinese water torture routine…and far more interesting.

Mister Sell was unceremoniously dumped into a prison cell and within twenty four hours he was covered in splotches of bodily fluids…his holes felt a bit more loose…and his eyesight was gone…mostly because one guy had a eyehole sex fetish…once this large person was done with Mister Sell…he laid back and lit up a cigarette…

“So…what’re you in for???” asked the inmate.

“I’m…I’m repetitive…and an accountant…” replied Mister Sell

“Hey…me too.” said the inmate. “We’d be great friends if you didn’t bleed so much.”

“It’s not my fault…I don’t have eyes and I’m dying I think…a lot of pain too...can I get…like a doctor or something?” asked Mister Sell.

“Oh sure…we have this excellent resident doctor…he patched me up my first time…no wait…I don’t remember…but anyway…wait I’ll call him on his cell phone…” said the inmate, took out a cell phone…standard issue to older prisoners… “Hello? Yes…this is prisoner no. 1114…a prisoner is feeling a bit off…yes…prisoner no. err…what’s your number…oh ok…yeah prisoner no. 11929…yes please…if you could send Doctor Fall right away…yeah ok thanks bye.”

Doctor Fall

Doctor Fall sat in his office from 8 in the morning till 5 in the evening…mainly because that’s what he got paid for. A couple of patients now and then were the reason why he still kept this rather boring job. He was getting old…he could feel it…his once able hands now found it difficult to unbutton his shirt sleeves…but that’s all OK…he was still needed and had not been replaced.
One Tuesday…a visitor turned up just as he was about to pack up and call it a day.

“doctor Fall…there is someone here to see you…” said the nurse. The nurse was a man…but not quite and seemed relatively feminine. Doctor Fall did not know…had he known…he would’ve discontinued touching himself whilst picturing the nurse doing stuff to him…he was a frustrated old man…nearly all old men are. Old men would indifferently pinch a nineteen year old’s ass…because hey…what’re you gonna do?? Bitch!

“Send them in dear…” said Doctor Fall to the nurse. Feeling the old machinery wheezing off to a relatively painful start...he winced and then tried to relax. He had problems.

A man came into the office…wiped himself clean and then addressed the doctor in a frantic whisper…as though worried somebody might hear him…

“my child is very ill…I do not know what is wrong with him…you must come with me doctor…money is no object…it is an obscure abstraction of our waning conscience…needless to say I can pay…but don’t play this game for too long…I implore you…my child needs your help.” said the man.

“I see…hmmm…I see that you are worried…I will accompany you post haste…but I should warn you…I am an old man…running is not what I have in mind…and you must banish the thought from yours lest I be the one who ends up needing medical assistance…”

“Don’t you have a car???” asked the man


The ambulance or “the dirge mobile” as it was commonly known by the townsfolk screeched to a halt in front of a shabby sort of house across the park where the annual harvest festival was held. The house seemed to be of the sort that had been at one time an impressive building…now a bit forlorn…time takes a little time and everything is alright.

“Hurry doctor…hurry…” said the man as he ran up the porch stairs and opened the door.

“I am coming…” said the doctor as the hooker sucked him off in the backseat.

“Not funny goddamnit…yelled the man…my wife would do the same if you just help us.”

“I know…and I’m sure…anyway…how old is the child?” asked the doctor as he walked up the stairs and accompanied the other gentleman inside. zipping up his pants...his thingy snagged on the whatsit but he didn't seem to care...it'd prolly grow back...he thought.

“it has been but two weeks since the lord blessed us with a child…after two years of marriage…and a lot of..er..humping…I finally managed to knock my wife up…she didn’t seem pleased at first but once she realized she was not having her periods…she thanked me over and over again…”

a vase came flying from a room within the house and barely missed the gentleman’s skull smashing to pieces on the wall behind him.

“THAT IS A LIE YOU FILTHY OLD CODGER!!” yelled a woman.

Inside the room the doctor and the gentleman found a grieved looking woman sitting beside an infant’s cot…fanning the child furiously with the lid of a cooking pot. A bit of sniffling and squealing could be heard as there was a pig wrestling contest going on next door.
The doctor took a look at the child and instantly decided his course of action.

“I’ve seen this sort of thing once before…when I started out as a waiter…a cook in the establishment where i was employed, served a party of four with something quite in likeness to this...in fact it was exactly what pushed me into this career…however it has been a long time since I performed such an act…and I might not be able to recall the entire procedure correctly…nevertheless…I must try…for the sake of a potentially peculiar anecdote to be told in front of the firelight in the future.” said the doctor in a solemn voice.

“Is there something you would like me to do?” asked the gentleman. His wife had left the room and was puking ferociously somewhere close by.

“yes…If you could close the door…your wife is annoying…and I’d rather not think about what she’s doing now…considering what she’ll be doing later…also...there is a band called SWANS that i'm particularly fond of...if you could...just...play this here tape...”

“Right…” said the gentleman closed the door and pulled up his sleeves after pressing play to a tape of the most unearthly noise.

The baby was like a baby should be in appearance…nice looking…white if you prefer white babies…black if you prefer black…yellow if you’ve got jaundice. It had relatively large eyes oozing with puss of the most repulsive sort that smelled so bad that it explained relatively well why the woman was puking her innards. Tiny nose…tiny lips…two arms two legs…a couple of hips…it was all there.

“Does it have testicles?” asked the doctor, but did not wait for an answer…and gave the following instructions to the gentleman… “here’s what I want you to do sir…grab this little bastard’s head…and keep it fixed in one spot…do not under any circumstances let it move about…I’ll try to be quick…ok…now grab it…GRAB IT.”

The gentleman grabbed the infant’s head and held it fixed…meanwhile the doctor took out a pair of pliers from his medical kit…
Doctor Fall…bent over the child…felt it breathing…poked it in the eye with one finger…gently at first…then a bit harder…until with a faint pop, puss flowed out of the orb and covered the child’s sides…the child was not struggling or seemingly in any pain…doctor fall then poked the pair of pliers in the child’s eye…felt the softness of the orb...it being squeezed between the metal jaws of his instrument…like a small alligator the pliers bit and the jaws were shut tight…the doctor pulled hard and yanked out the baby’s eye…one at a time. The child screamed and struggled and naturally died of pain.

“What was the bloody point of that doctor??” asked the gentleman…his face a ghastly hue...completely at a loss...he didn't know what to do...his child was dead...too much was going through his head to feel any emotion in particular...but an insane messy muddle of a bit of everything.

“I don’t know…I just feel a bit frustrated…er...don’t nobody know my troubles but God.”

really?? no not really...

of the life you live in pools you swim in and the murky, marshy, mythical creatures who depress me with their whispers of make-up and methane...not easy to detect...it puts me to sleep...but somebody did me a "favour" by adding this distinct crappishness to it...so i know what's killing me...ignorance is not bliss according to some...(it's ridiculous)...in my personal opinion (and that's the only opinion i care for)...as long as the water's cool enough for me to take a nice dive in...i'm ok. (because i can feel the stupid phantom bugs crawling all over...yeah yeah this is what comes from sleeping on the floor...bugs all over...wake up every now and then to flick one off. up yours. {Goddamn Nazi}.)
sooo...you hand me the napkin by the window sill and slip me a fork...the dinner is on the table...the table is cold...the food is in the kitchen, the crockery is in the toilet, floating, making a mockery of my...er...civilization...there are spiders on the rafters...sparks in the window...parks that could be just two dimensional for all i know...posters of failures in bedrooms of impressionable youths...a golden telephone by the tiny table made of wood, made of plastic...made by man...sooo...what're you doing on the table?? oh right.
dinner is served.
i was asking you about the time when we had to discuss the time when stepping out (into the picture-perfect, sunlight-infested, pond to feel the summer in the water) felt so nice...
greek people need to ask us what icarus did wrong...we're the only people who strut around so confidently with false wings...and we're not falling down like we should be...maybe the ponds are softer...why don't YOU try some of this? tap tap tap. you've been tapped.
my friend never got the good thing about large corridors where old wooden brackets hold burning torches...there's something to be said about flickering light and the smell of black gold on ancient looking rags. i was once in this place where the sun exploded.
outerspace...seems quiet doesn't it? fake people know my name? same thing?
listen to me...but don't talk to me. don't listen to me...don't be around...don't stink up my atmosphere by being...chatty ok? please?
ate food after nearly four days...cold chicken...roasted...my eyes are too yellow...dirty fellow. that's a relief...so sick of music...music makes me want to go around poking sealed condom packets with needles...hahaha...spread the disease. misery loves company...i don't...i'm not miserable...i'm doing quite well actually...my shoes are a bit worn though...these last couple of years have been tough on them...ran out of smokes...indeed?
how about some of that juice then? would you like some? i'm a bit parched actually...a bit parched you say? a bit parched you ask? a bit parched you reply? a bit parched indeed. that was most uncomfortable...there's a phantom bug crawling on your thigh sir...allow me to...er...don't be afraid...this won't hurt as much as you think it will...just...just flick it...flick it across the room...close...closer...there just make sure you don't let it happen again...now...i need a favour. could you hand me that napkin by the window sill? now could you please hop up on the table? keep that fork to yourself...and ok good.
dinner is served.
it's amazing how they just deliberately don't know each other so they can pretend to get to know each other. it's amazing how similar these two words are and yet they belong in the same language and have different meanings...it's amazing how you're a filthy little pigeon and a horny little humming bird at the same time...now if you could just...hop up on my table.
dinner is served.

martin plokij

red warts can hurt.

somebody playing in isolation. like great visions unshared. and why not? imagine if you could live for yourself...wouldn't that be nice? never feeling the need to feel the need to feel the need to feel the need...imagine if the moon was always obscured by clouds...if the stars gave out light that we could not see. music that cannot be heard...faces that cannot be recognized...eyes that cannot express every single emotion that you have ever felt...wouldn't that be nice? a herd of gazelles that tastes really bad to a lion without legs...hahahaha wouldn't that be nice?
a dream about a dream about a dream...and so on and so forth.

i managed to download one song at random by neurosis...the sane way to go about it would prolly be album wise...but my net speed is not very...i downloaded this one bit called "the tide"
there is something to be said about it. i checked out godspeed you black emperor...didn't fancy it much at all...they were wasting my time in all honesty...at least in the couple of bits of music i managed to get...they would start...ok good...take it up another level...go on...build the atmosphere...and then for no reason at all...just stop building it...it's there...going on and on and on...and that's just depressing...i have far too much real life to care for that sort of thing...i like an ending to my beginning...i like a lot of things but i don't qualify for any of them. out of my league. some people have this unique talent of making you forget everything...i suppose everybody likes their window looking out at something enticingly musical. get made...figure out why...figure out why you'll be unmade...get unmade. there's a very nice symmetry to everything.
i feel it closing in...the trap i've been working my way towards...if this is where winter is...can i stay here please?
i don't like to be sold without being told.
i have spent the better part of my existence asking questions...not important ones...just simple ones...like...how do you feel? are you bothered? would you like to slap me? how do you feel now?they were important to me...no lie. now i feel like i can't help my friend.
i feel small...like an elephant.
i feel small...like an elephant.

can i have some more please...?

my...my my i mean to say my father made me get another haircut...so now i look like a dickhead straight out of aitchison...or hell...
my sister broke my guitar...it was an accident i suppose.
i don't have any drugs...apart from zoloft...so i helped myself to two.
crownless far away.
i haven't eaten in two days...don't feel like it...so i'm hoping these pills will kick in soon...or i could take some more...it's not like these can kill me. tomorrow i can go hahaha nowhere.
my stomach feels like it's burning though.
can't take a bath because there's no water...
the worst thing is that i can't even express my anger...hahaha...i can't cry...don't know how...can't scream...don't have the energy...can't break stuff...it's already broken...
i could however chop myself up...but that leads to even more shit...
i'm very happy nowadays...why don't you come and be happy with me...why don't you stick a fork in the back of my head and look at the pretty colours that flow out...that's what you want isn't it??
i'm taking good care of myself lately...hahaah the pills are kicking in...i can feel the smooth numbness of dumbness coming over like the rover when it shot two balloons...there is no pain you are receding...a distant ship smoke on the horizon...you are only coming through in waves...your lips move but i can't hear what you're saying...something whatsit woohoo and yay.
i vaguely remember through the throbbing pain that a girl was talking to me about something about rain and what-not...and then this other one was asking me if i had broken her guitar...no wait...weight...x is the column where the product has to no you multiply x with f which is the frequency...and you divide the sum of the two with the sum of the frequeency...er sigma fx over sigma f i believe is the expression most commonly used around that room with the bearded guy on the sofa...just lean back my boy...ignore that . what a nuisance we all are aren't we...i have to get one more pill...be right back...said said...
they're discussing whether it was a good idea for us to go to no that if it was a good idea for me to go to the psychiatrist...my mother says that she had a dream about my...er problems...that i should not mess around with jolly little bubble balls...isnt that a nice sentence..i can hear the clouds...i mean thunder...the only noise that calls to me and speaks nothing but the truth...the one sound that never lies...thunder is my love...i would marry thunder if she were close enough to sleep with.
my hands don't feel good...i don't much care for typing and people...er...happy life my young friend...
the wind is getting up...you know...when i get bothered...seriously bothered...thunder speaks to me in a voice so sweet and honest...and i can never ignore her because i know that i like thunder hahaha...yup that's just about how simple everything really is...
the other we were discussing how big our houses were when we were kids and now i wonder how such a big house can offer not an inch for me to breathe in...and that i've become a television show for a scavenger...you know...poke his brain...don't want nothing...i think i should go fall asleep or something...oOOOAYE...i have to go on a trip...to this place up north with my school.
they asked for 300rs...i have 90 rupees...i'll get 150 off pana and i'll borrow the rest from another friend...borrow means never havign to return money...but if you don't return my book...by george i will kick your ass...and i don't want no smudges on the pages neither...no gravy stains....no underlines...no but i do want you to read the book..my head feels itchy...what the hell does avant garde mean? or poignant?
oye molly do you have a woh hair cutting machine thing?? i'd like to use it on my head...these hair are a bother...i bot her a pineapple box and fruits and stuff
there was this song i really liked...but i can't listen to it because the headphones make a buzzing sound that is like...a brain tumor inducing popsickle.
i feel cold now.
headache...man i remember this head ache...this is going to last a long long time...
much sleep paralysis last night...felt sick in the mornin'

lose the fan
lose the light
lose everything in sight

burn my palace to the floor
try to break down the door
steal the beating of the sun
steal everything and run

take the keys to my mind
there are many things you'll find
so please don't think of being kind
coz i'll sell everything you leave behind

oooooooh delilah
watch me as i leave
oooooooooooooooh delilah
watch me as i leave you tonight.

virgin whores...what a mess they are...i should talk...talk like a monkey on a wrench...with grease in my bvelfry?
what's a belfry?
right well gentlemen...since i won't be having food tonight either...i think i'll go to sleep...good night

may jesus and the seven dwarves help you find your way out of here.

kind words of the soldier to a buttercup dirty rascal.

i was just showing a boy a bit of something i came up with...a bit of song with a mellow sort of tune...badly sung as always...i can't believe i'm listening to you silly boy. wait. ok so i was showing this boy this bit os song i made for this bit of girl or something...it went like so...

Of heavy lids and highs


I have selfishly devised
That foolishly I’ll go
Picking at my scabs
Where no one is allowed
To help me when I feel
That no one is around

I saw something yellow rise
It shouldn’t but I know
This is my own design
Chewing on myself
Looking at this sign
Do I really need to know?

I saw pity in your eyes
It made me realize
That’s not what I want
Except that which I need
Could you repeat that line?
And ask me one more time?

I have selfishly devised
That foolishly I’ll go
Picking at my scabs
Where no one is allowed
To help me when I feel
That no one is around

that's it...not very one thing nor the other but very nice i thought...i thought i thought i thoufht...when so...so that i can feel the rain etc. so anyway...he heard the tune and read the lyrics...and tried to ignore the singing...and then he says to me, "i need a favour..."
so i said politely because i meant well or did not...how do these cuts come from so i said to him, "i'm a bit mutant...so be careful what you wish for..."
and he says to me, "yeah i think it's better this way...write a song about me."
at first i was surprised...nobody ever asks you to do stuff like that...imagine if goldberry came to the old tree and asked him to fall in love with him and what-not...it would not make sense...but it's doable.
so i said i thought it was an interesting idea...
"yea sing it and everything with pana's solo's and all."
it seems sort of ridiculous...how does somebody write a song about a boy who doesn't really...er...fascinate..strike my fancy that way...as such...so i thought it was sort of a challenge...a song about a boy named carnival. that should be funny if i could pull it off...
i expected better of you seamonkey...this is shameful.
for the past couple of days i've not been having very happy existences...it's pushy tight uncomfortable hemmed in claustrophobically annoying...makes me short of breath.
excuse me please one more...could you make it strong cause i don't need to...something something.
i think it's coming down...said the lights as they grew brighter said the ears as the sounds became less meaningful said the mind when the mind realised that that's just what it is...a mass of goo and firing blips.
it's been interesting to say the least. i miss the chicken that i just ate...i never even got to know her...cut mouth stapler heaven weeheee type A positive. i once gve blood to i gave blood many times...now my blood is pointless. i hope somebody's got food to eat drink to drink...pineapple juice...apple juice...orange juice...mango juice...unless of course i was there...
still...head rush...of the absurd kind...deep sleep. dreams. nanana naaa naana naaana naa.
in the park in the middle of a hot.
i've got good music here...i mean it goes with this silly mood...i feel very relieved...very relieved..very relieved...very relieved...i guess there's no better way to express that thought...i'd say if i thought much about the matter, i'd say i feel very relieved.
why did you have to isten to the pheasants johnny boy? i just don't get it george you stupid...smart smart smart. much respect for the master of the dark arts...much respect for my senior in this game...kind words of the soldier in the mud in the arms of the dead in the smell of adrenalin in the river of butter and cream cookies where is the chocolate drawer? the red the green the flag of absentia...mental gauges are at an all time low...just leave my back bone alone phone sto...
i get paranoid a lot over stupid things now...a simple thig can freak me out...very skittish...or whatever the word is. tied to a mast just like the last.
i'm sorry i'm a bit lost right now. shutup fool king kong ain't got nothin' on me...I'M RICK JAMES BITCH!!!! ENJOY YOURSELF... hahahaha.

martin pale has died too...everybody is dead...we will be left alone now...happily.
ever after.
lived.

quo vadis?

some people find talent in others and become insecure about their own talent...others become fascinated...(not the right choice of word) they want to see where this bloke is headed and whether or not he'll reach someplace nice...because it doesn't matter if he gets their earlier than them...they just want to know that yes...there is something after this...there is something at the end of this really very very long and boring tunnel of misunderstanding and rains of crap.
jinlge jangle oggle booble sample...cock...n...bulll...i never went to cock n bull...or maybe i did...i really don't remember...have been annoyed but not so much rigjt now...don't even feel like washign the sky with paintballs out of heaven...just don't feel like seven sickly blades and ten thousand needles and all the happy divides that once in unity with the magic powder could take us a for a trip so far behind time and mirages that you wonder where this here brook came from...who are these gremlins waking up and crying for mother...who're the sad looking chipmunks that should've or rather would've listened to us had we been a bit more...adult...in their mind. there are strategic pauses in the tape but none that we can usually recognize quickly and therefore...complete lack of coherency.
a boy just trained up and said that trains was nice...i think so too...there's a strange haunting quality to it.
i had this really fierce head rush...had to sit down in the park...i lost all sense of people in the area and acting "normal" and what-not...have to show my song...i don't mind i don't care i don't mind..blooh blooh blooh...time is up good night cerelac...i will miss you.

picking at my scabs

having one of those...bad things...mood swings...want to rip something nice and cute and shove it up another's ass...i just made a friend say that he was going...ahahahahaa...i was taking the piss out of him for no reason...needed something to...lash out at and he's bloody annoying...i told him i was in pain and that he was testing my limited patience by being slow and he makes the mistake of not heeding my loving words so i had to shove my dick up his ass...bloody mother whoreing son of a bitch...i'm sick of these...lame useless lifeless sons of bitches cluttering up my life...their existence is pointless...i'm sure they stop breathing when nobody is watching them. goddamn him and his lameness.
another bitch wanted to have a go at me...show me how much attitude they have...that's all they care about...we have to get up higher than this bloke on the asshole chain...well guess what bitch...i've got mor reason...to chop your tits off and gift them to you...i managed to lose...let's see...three...no...potentially four friends by being a dick to them...and i don't even feel sorry...didn't need them hanging around my scrotum anyway...assholes...i know this sounds teen angsty and what not...but guess what...i won't even remember this when i wake up nxt time...that's the best thing about my problem...it's not my problem...
maybe i should give those goddamn lactation pills a try...i have debated this far too often and i'm pretty sure i've lost those anyway...can't even find my zoloft...lost everything...no xanax...no...whateverthat one was...and those...lexotinals...i know they're just damn sleeping pills...but i tend to be calmer when i'm sleepy...this is so damn annoying there has to be a be bebebebebeebbeebebebebebebebebeebe SCREW THIS SHIT.

ok...

hello martin...i see you're trying to take over again...i know we haven't been feeding you for quite a while now...because we're worried about you you know...what if you fall flat on your face...it's odd how you don't care...but listen to me boy...81 is enough...it's time for a break...go to sleep...take a break...
sadly we can't take a break without our pills so before i shove my fist up your ass...get your condescending patronizing slut like existence far away from me before i lose those bits of mind that i've got left for a rainy day.
i thought yesterday was sad...and the day before was bad...but this is just criminal...absolutely nothing has gone wrong...
lost five pounds for no reason...clothes getting loose...but that's just normal...summer...although i do feel hungry...i should get soemthing...i just figured something out...and my mood is lighter now...drumming with my feet...drumming away...double bass...normal cheap...excellent and with the song...there's more to it...tjhere's this mellow tune i made for a girl.
in order to lead a more...functional life...what we do is we separate different parts of us...martin pale is exclusive to this blog...because if it leaks into msn and hotmail and emails and shit....then shit. the frequency of my blogging has had a sharp decrease for various reasons and that leaves us...unable to function in other...aah screw you know what i mean...it's not like you're not a part of me anyway...said the boy to himself...or one of his...friends...hahaahhaha.
made me realize...that's not what i want...except that which i need...could you...repeat that line...and ask me one more time...i made this biut of something...very depressed i was then too...
i don't like humans right now...i think i'll take the rest of the day off...off from what? what i need is a bloody job...or work...or something...ok i DO have stuff that i' avoiding...but i should do it...my hands hurt...i'm sick of this. ok this must've been very therapeutic.
i need to smoke...something more interesting than a cigarette...call the crownless...ask of him what you will. prepare to be shot down...and go back to the nest...hoping to fall asleep...until something vaguely remotely interesting happens.

ceremonial cracker jacks

red blue blaoong...these are the colours all these lizards in my room are wearing tonight as they fight amongst one another over all these mango bugs of different races...some are black...some are white...some are brown...some are dead because i trod on them...i wonder...mango bugs are kind of like ball point pens...it's a very rare thing for a ball point pen to run out of ink...i for one usually lose the ball point pen long before it even reaches halfway...same goes with mango bugs...they never die of old age...they just get...killed.
touched my cheek and it hurt very much...but not in the regular sense...in the sense that it was like as if all the neurons caught fire and glowed bright...with fright i asked my hand to come back and so it did...how nice is that? yesterday i found myself following a head of hair...long black silky type hair...not silky...well not black...brown...whatever...anyhoo somebody called my name and i snapped out of it and went back inside my class...horrendously pretty girl has invaded skans...she will be destroyed...i will make her smell my underwear or something...it will kill her.
i know this boy who is a son of a bitch...i hope he's reading this because he's a cunt dropping...he's going to get his ass kicked by me...his turd-like existence has become a nuisance...i am strange and annoying but i don't ask for much...except of course everything...but this is just...not right...i will have to yank his sack off and destroy him as well...i will make him smell my underwear...it will kill him. or at least make him sterile...
my mother said, "you smell of tobacco..."
so i said, "you should thank God i don't smell of cigarettes..."
so she left.
to thank God.
i lost my friends...not that i don't have any any more...i mean i can't find them...i think they got stuck in my hair...i'm not even slightly miserable...i'm about to jump out of my skin with glee...gloo...i have to try glue sniffing...wonder what happens from it...a friend of mine was stuck in a bus once with a boy who was animatedly making out with a steel rod...licking it up and slobbering...he seemed the sort who knew what it was like to sniff glue...do you know how much my back hurts?? well?? do you??? as long as you're not fat...i don't mind...fat people...i can't stand...unless it's really cold and i want something large and warm...to put my hands on...etc...but i can always get me a cat...they say priests do it with cats because cats never complain about sexually transmitted diseases like feaces and chocolate, honey, milk, sweet smell of spring mixed with hot cocoa...i am hungry as hell...i need foood...but not the shit that's available......vital signs...oh...lame assed bunch of chikna people...
something is wrong. i can feel it. something bad is going to happen...
there's a lot more police nowadays on the streets than their used to be...something is up...cages are the best things that's where we first got to live.......forgive me father for i have sinned...so who is peter lindgren...that's what you ask...and you don't know the answer...a good lawyer knows the answers to the questions asked...in advance...you will die in an airplane...here's an answer to one of your questions...i hope you're satisfied...you will die and i will feed the carrion birds with enough nonsense so as to help you decay rather than become what you've been trying so hard to become....shit.

much love,
I'M BAAAACK BITCH!!!!! etc etc

win....the...jingle...

it was night...three times in a row...so hard to wake myself up when i get stuck in one of those...this time it was unusually soundless, without visual entertainment and therefore pointless...just this strange fear that gradually rose to its peak until i struggled hard enough to snap out of it. change sides...fall asleep again.struggle again...repeat repeat repeat...there was this dream in which i was reading something in a book or a notepad of sorts and i tried hard to make sure i'd remember what the text was...so now i remember...vaguely...what the text was...unfortunately it's not in a language i can read...
i asked the old man in the canteen to keep some lemon barley bottles in the stock for me...so he got me a crate of shehzan lemon barley...so tomorrow i cooked...cooking is very...relaxing...cooking is...the only thing that makes sense...because you can decide the intensity of the explosion. cartoons at 7:30 so many years ago...before the rise of cartoon network. playing with action figures. i took my knight quest batman out of the drawer the other night...to see if i could still play with it...you know to see if i could still lose myself in pointless fantasies about endless battles...squinting my eyes to add a bit of realism...it works...he looks real if you like robots...and cars... written on it...for some reason...then boys got even cooler pencil boxes...fancier robots...more buttons...so i did what i knew best...got me a simple yellow pencil box...the kind with the zipper...it said "good luck" on it...it was not as sarcastic a joke as it should've been...
not even television makes me forget everything else like it used to...cooking however...is something which comes close...not really...but just barely close enough...my khala gave me fifty rupees today because i'm thinner than before...hahaha. she also winked at me whilst haggling with a salesman...and it was a good wink...i have to learn how to wink...she's almost as old as my father i suppose...that's very old. saddest possible eyes...
a night behind somewhere close by...in a park with trees and a large open space...there was lightning and thunder...the only sound that still means something...excellent...move on to the left side...behind this here bush...so as not to be seen...now walk along the path...not straight but winding...so as not to get home early...and the sky lights up...adrenalin...run fast fast...fast...take off...good night. fall down...good bye. welcome back.

eat my piss.

i once starved myself for a week to see what happens when you don't eat for seven days...i wondered if anything remarkable would happen. if i would break and eat...or collapse or anything remotely interesting in the course of the experiment.
on the third day...i stopped feeling hungry. i could imagine what it used to be like to feel that happy feeling...but the sight of food...although still made my mouth water...there was just no room in my stomach to consider eating.
by the fifth day i was fantasizing about chicken legs with cheese on them. it was amazing. never before have i fantasized about something i'm not supposed to feel guilty about. those few minutes before i fell asleep...i would think about large juicy chicken legs...chicken breasts with cheese...and turkeys...not that i've ever had one...but i did imagine what it must be like. i would dream about food...
by the seventh day i was completely indifferent over the matter of eating. my pants were loose...very much so. in fact i could not walk around in clothes that didn't have some form of anti gravity devices...
i finally broke the fast on the seventh night by eating chicken that i had cooked myself. i had to force myself to eat because i didn't feel hungry...and that worried me.
i doubt if any of the food was digested...i had good diarrhea for a couple of days...but eventually it all stabled out and i was back to normal. it's not hard to starve to death. after a while you just can't eat anyway...although you do remember vaguely how amazing it was to taste...something...other than water.
i was feeling very hungry but i can't eat today...there's no chicken...only rice...i don't know why...but there are three different types of rice here...and i've been staring at them...i like rice normally...but i don't feel like eating rice today...screw rice.
somebody rang the door bell. i hate it when people do that. but it has to be done...it was some old man. i watched from behind the door as he rang the bell and then fumbled with the door knob...then opened the door a bit...thought about coming inside...then decided against it. eventually i thought...fudge it...let's see what he wants.
"woh...ji...roti khani hai..." he said
"roti khani hai?" i was kind of surprised...people usually ask for money.
"ji..."
"acha thaero..." money i don't have...but food i have plenty because nobody should go hungry for too long or they'll stop feeling hungry. which is...not as much fun as one might think.
so i filled a plate with rice that i don't want to eat...and gave that to him.
i have no idea how the hell he knew that i didn't want to eat today...but for some odd reason this stranger turned up for no reason other than to eat my food. nobody has died of hunger in this country in a very very long time. people who don't work or get paid etc.etc. and there are a lot of them...do not starve. nobody starves to death...people starve in africa and maybe south america...i dunno. the newspaper never reads...this many people died of hunger today in pakistan...because around here people know where to go to get fed.

"I'm proud of us, of the way that, though our talents are small and peculiar, we use them to their best advantage." -N.H.

half an hour after writing this bit...i am forced to edit...and add these few lines. an hour after i had fed the old man and had my unsatisfactory lunch of unfried kabab's a woman came inside the house...without ringing the bell...and left a donga of rice...it had chicken in it. which is what i had been...er...hoping for.
therefore the lord works in mysterious ways...
nobody dies of hunger in my country...especially not on holy days. but i don't get why there's four kinds of rice in my house...

hooooooorrrrrrllllllllllll

there...finally...we were on the otherside of the paindoo pass...but reluctant's car was nowhere to be seen. it was not going to be a very pleasant evening. stuck behind barriers waiting for a train to pass. a train that actually fell asleep right in front of us. i wonder if you can. no need for greed or hunger...but eventually it did fudge off...then so did we.
i remember listening to "battle of evermore" last night. there's a woman singing with plant...and they sing very well together...that's what sex should be like in a gooder world.
we were discussing a realm of death metal. an alternate universe or dimension where only members of death metal bands live. ok not just death metal...basically just metal bands...or relatively hardcore bands. there would, naturally, be two sides...not entirely good or evil...just different i suppose. on one side we'd have large warriors, huge sword wieldinging barbarians...clad in animal skin and horns and stuff..."more ale goddamnit!!" type people. one of the generals of the king would be peter steele...because he's bloody huge...and can rip off a man's head with his teeth.
the king...of course...would be michael akerfeldt...a wise king he would make...an elvish king. steve wilson would be sort of like merlin to akerfeldt. there will be constant neverending war in this dimension. if we imagine that this side...akerfeldt, the elvish king's side is the good side...then the evil side would be under maynard...the dark lord. alone...friendless...sauron ka baap. he alone is powerful enough to match the strength of all under the kingship of akerfeldt...he controls nature and darkens the sky. he is not large and barbaric like akerfeldt's viking/dashkara army. he's more like night personified. his voice can suck the hope out of your soul...and make you rip your eyes out. he can make anyone do anything...heretic, lord, insane, calculating...living in a castle of stone with no soft furniture...just cold, moist, dark...
tool's drummer would be the...black rider, nazgul type person. a great general of the darkside...unpredictable...none can catch him.maynard is the dark lord.
the patient. the song starts. everyone goes silent. looking out towards the horizon...a darkness spreads...maynard weaves his spell...you can almost hear him..."but i'm still right here...giving blood...keeping faith...and i'm still right here." and we watch the two armies march against one another. maynard fills the hearts of all present with a despair so strong that it matters not whether they live or die. you can see their pupils dilate in fear as they visualize the awesome might of the dark lord...they just want to get this over with. the dark lord sings his spell...reluctantly...as though it's not his fault that this dimension is plagued with a battle of evermore...as though he doesn't have a choice...and then he gets sick of the bullshit...the wrath of the lord is unleashed...the axe falls...the war reaches its peak. the crash of sword on shield...a war with no noise...initially there'd been insane drumming...as metallions from king akerfeldt's army drummed and chanted. victorious march. pursuit of the vikings...they will return. but now there's silent killing. a dark mist descends upon everything...maynard sings.
the two armies suddenly decide that they can't win...and go back home to come back another day. the war will not end.
the good side (although it's strictly relative) has all these gods...jimmy paige...robert plant...ozzy osbourne (sort of like loki or whatsit) bob dylan...wise among the otherworldly...jim morrison (he's metal enough in my mind)there's a lot of gods...i suppose dimebag has a place there.
metallica would be the banished god...the one who turned commercial and was sent to the outer stretches of the universe from where it shall return in the end of time when the final battle is fought between the light and the dark. metallica's first two albums were good...but then the band started becoming a cunt. whiskey in a jar is their vow of vengeance. (i know this is a load of horse shit but i came up with all this crap with pana when we were floating around insane so it's...shut up.)
two songs that all mortals should listen to...battle of evermore...because i find the girl's voice horrendously arousing...although as a general rule i don't care for girls singing...but this one...is yummy. this song would represent the light...the other song, the patient...by tool. would represent the dark. in some other mood these songs will be replaced...waiting for the eastern glow. itni sex awaz hai uss aurat ki...shit.

"defy the forest fire by kindling the rest of your friends." said i to pana lord knows what that's supposed to mean
we were discussing the moon. lying outside on the roof. and he says, " i was speaking scietficially..." he'd been pointing out how the light from the sun fell on the moon from only one direction...blah blooh...whilst i was going on about how the darkness was a blanket that light could delicately peel off as it took its place...or maybe just uncover the whatsit. otherwise the darkness would drown you. personally i don't really like sitting under the moon...scary...however it wasn't a full moon and there were clouds...
ringo starr won't be allowed in the metal realm...he was too crappy a drummer...john lennon might be something like bombadil. mark knopfler would be...just an old man who plays the guitar really well...he'd be the bard. incidentally guitars will be axes and swords...so knoplfer will be...something...although these guys weren't metal...but they're respectable enough to be counted...in which case we'd have to bring in a lot of other people as well...aa screw it...only metal bands...with a few exceptions.
note. all people will speak in growls.