A danceable solution to teenage revolution
-Roxy Music
Joseph Desire Mobutu changed his name to Mobutu Sese Seke
Kuku NgBendu waza Banga, which has been alternately translated as “the
all-powerful warrior, because of his endurance and inflexible will to win, will
go from conquest to conquest , leaving fire in his wake.” or “ the rooster who
watches over all the hens”
Terrorism is part of our History
–Angela Davis
A giant flowed by in the river of filth. Graham had a video
of porn transmitting on his suit. A cock entering the same mouth over and over
again. Amphetamine sweat dripping of skin. Poetry was being downloaded on his
phone. He felt the clock ticking. This seemed the dying down of the universe.
Violin transmissions deep from within. A group of men ran by in army fatigues
black plastic machineguns swinging on their arms semen crusted on their pants.
He kicked tampons of his feet. A car had crashed and caught fire he found it
strangely beautiful, an almost pastoral love scene, nature and technology.
A half-track pulled in front of him. A dwarf in fatigues and
one arm jumped out of the cab and grabbed him by the crotch and pulled him into
the dark of the interior. A woman with fatigues and an ugly gun was seated
inside. A man was sputtering in the corner a plastic bag wrapped over his face.
Sit down and turn that porn off.
A stretch of sand covered in burning palm trees. Faces of
the leaders were projected on the faces of the hotels. Dropping the body where it soon became covered
in a fine dusting of sand. A group of young people in beautiful swimming suits
were running in and out of the water, stopping to take photographs with each
other, drinking wine, eating cheese, fruit , and bread. Their laughter carried
up towards them over the waves. Graham dreamed of walking out in the water. He
was hosing urine out of the half-track under observation from the woman and the
dwarf who it turned out was also a woman. Jets streaked over the city their trails
catching the sunlight in pink streaks. Graham was amazed at the beauty of their
movement. They delivered bombs far away and glinting with sunlight disappeared,
their trails still reflecting the sun. He dreamed of the pilots. What dreams
are contained behind those goggles and masks?
Todo pertence a todos
“Shall we commit suicide” is an essay by Winston Churchill
on aerial bombing.
Watch a whole street disappear in this amazing video
New details of how the execution went horribly wrong….
Photos from a country that doesn’t actually exist.
The phone rang Malin set his pen down to answer it.
They are coming to arrest you now.
He didn’t know the voice
Should I run?
You can. They will probably kill your wife if you leave
though.
The phone clicked off.
Malin let his handset drop to the desktop. He looked over
his history of the revolution. In its second draft. 70% of it was finished. He hadn’t attempting poetry in years so he
could complete it. He was sure it was his legacy. He began to scrawl a poem in
the margins of the draft.
The knock came twenty minutes after his draft was finished.
Through the keyhole he saw the swaying man and women. Their
uniforms tight their baldrics and holster black and shining with polish. He
certain they were drunk. He certain they were still teenagers. Their backs were
to the door. He could not see their faces.
Vampire mice may hold the key to eternal life
Women of the world take over, because if you don’t, the
world will come to an end. It won’t take long
-Jim O’rourke
Survivors your computers may be monitored.
Federico Fellini’s working title for La Dolce Vita was
“Though life is brutal and terrible you can always find some moments of
sensuality and sweetness”
Swung, his face at last to the wind, then his neck snapped.
-Archie Shepp
Can Xue the Chinese writer, has largely been untroubled by
censors. Her tales of bizarre ailments, entrapment, and sexual menace are set
in alternate reality of grotesques and surrealism. The censors have found her
work too difficult to find political fault with. Her name translates as stubborn dirty snow. She
has found inspiration and her work has been compared to western authors such as
Bruno Shulz, Shakespeare, Goethe, Calvino, Dante, and Borges. She has also completed
studies on these authors. Tragedy befell her family during the Cultural Revolution
and she was mostly self-educated. She describes her work as “life literature”
or soul literature”
Finally we hear from the woman at the center of the
controversy
A man who I lived with years ago is my friend on Facebook. We
shared an apartment in a grim church filled city. A city I spent a year in. I received
nothing from that period of my life except a couple of books and records I
still treasure occasionally. Every photo he posts of his wife is blurred. It is
like she is totally out of focus. I have never met this wife and probably never
will, since me and this man are on very separate paths in life and will
probably never interact. Does he not realize how inadequate each photo he
presents the world, is there some effect around the wife that blurs or smudges
each photo. This man posts links to articles by Pastor John Hagee on the blood
moon with the words “interesting reading”. Hagee is the head of a megachurch that
is especially attached to political support for the country of Israel. The
reason for this is the necessity of the holy land being in Jewish hands for the
final war of Armageddon. He sees four blood moons as one of many signs and
wonders predicting these final events. I think of hiding this man from my Facebook
feed blocking his occasional reports of his, in my opinion, lunatic beliefs.
Then I think of this shutting off, this turning off a person. Sometimes I’m
convinced the algorithms of Facebook are hiding more and more of what I post,
we get more and more isolated in this electronic labyrinths until we are
shouting alone in our room, customizing more and more everything we input.
Filter everything so that blurred faces are all we experience.
I never thought of myself as depressed as much as paralyzed
by hope.
-Maria Bamford
If you like Camera Obscura try Feist
Selena Gomez takes the crop top to a whole new level.
Some vagina facts…
The soldier is more a girl than a woman. Her outfit is green
and her young face is framed by her dark hair. Her large nose flares and her
breathing is a white puff in the morning chill. Her rifle is held tight at
attention.
What will you do?
Fight.
Where will you fight?
In their land.
Will we need maps of our own land?
We need maps only of the enemy’s lands.
What roads will we travel on?
I will march on road of their skulls.
When will you stop?
When there is no more fight in them and we salt their earth
What happens if you are captured?
I will bite my own tongue off and drown in my own blood before
I say a word to them.
When you’ve begun to think like a gun
The rest of the year is already done
When you’ve begun to think like a gun
The days of the year are suddenly gone.
-John Cale
Baron was sure the sample case was
light as he drove into Mumsburg. He didn’t care, what he could sell he could
sell; the trip hadn’t been bad yet. Roadside food was not sitting well in his
stomach.
A pile of money was sitting in the
middle of the road. Bills fluttered around like the leaves of autumn. Baron pulled the car to halt to prevent
colliding with the offering.
A woman ran out of the house he
stopped by. She held a baby in her arms. The baby’s face was red from
screaming.
This object won’t stop. It makes
the funny noise all morning. I forget the words for these things.
The woman clothing seem thrown on
at random, her arm entirely out of the sleeve of her shirt. Baron held the
baby. The woman wandered away from them.
Where is my door? She said as she
climbed on top of Baron’s car and then sprawled back
Car was driving toward him. A man
opened the door of the moving vehicle and then tumbled onto the street; the car
veered off the road and smashed into a tree. The man crawled away.
Baron wondered what do with the
screaming baby. The mother looked thoroughly passed out. He thought there was
some blood coming out of her nostril.
What’s person? Do we believe this?
He heard from behind him.
A man in a suit covered in mud and
leaves was walking towards him with a cellphone in his hand.
What’s person? Do we believe this?
The man said waving the phone.
Hey can you watch this baby? Do
you know that lady?
The man looked puzzled and then
started to slowly chew the cell phone. Drool drizzled out, a button beeped.
The baby stopped screaming. It was
asleep.
People in the local community have said that the continued
presence of armed militia members is hurting business.
Several homes in Portsmouth were set on fire last night. We
have footage of the arsonist setting fire to our porch.
We are all born mad. - Samuel Beckett
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