A man in an empty room in a vacant house. He takes photographs of the walls, the floor. He removes objects from his backpack. A knife. Twelve zip ties. A purple vibrator. A saw. He takes photographs of the objects. He stands at the window, sweating a little. Continue reading
Knots in a submarine sculpture because of red microwaves, the blow dryer, a plate of string and bundles of the nerve in my chamomile teeth, (sun kissing moon) Bee propolis dropped along my gum line to pull the infection forward into the feather pictures, loose on the frame, turn a found motor with a bicycle part ~ The best twenty five, saturated into an air that a church bell follows to the city/ Saturated in string, a hockey player skates through the Chinese moderns, weaving nudity to his paper thin maneuvering of locusts, collapsed at the hairdos, entangled in a sculpture of nudity and roller skates, string waves and artifice. Continue reading
It was a beautiful day on the plantation and I was swagging in my new designer petticoat, early adorned as per usual and carefully too. It was important, so delicate and promising that I felt there to be a sort of moral imperative, an imperative to the eros of fashion, an eros that the later heat would do nothing to sour. I observed Ellen as she exited the main house after an early breakfast while the dew was still wet on the grasses and drooled at the wetness of her feet from afar. I watched from the windows of the guest house graciously and indefinitely granted to me by Master Humpington, the master and overseer of the expansive Humpington Plantation. Continue reading
Once upon a time there was an owl sitting on a branch over a purple sunset. It was so picturesque the owl was afraid he was actually living on the front of a postcard, and indeed he was. It was a cheap old postcard in the back corner of a dusty shop that had seen better days.
To be precise: the shop had always been a sleepy shop (the kind of business that makes up for low sales volume with even lower margins) but for many years it had been a sleepy shop in a sleepy neighborhood, so the proprietor could make his rent. But unfortunately an excessive public safety campaign had made such a dent in the muggings and rapes in the sleepy neighborhood that foot traffic had improved and rents had begun to rise. Continue reading
The proceeding is a letter written to me by an acquaintance whom you may well acknowledge; or, should you please to do so, not acknowledge. But he was an eminent person, Jack knows. Was, not is. Could be once more. We shall see. I quit before this gets tiresome. The world and its seed are needless of another philosophaster, Jack knows. He was–I mentioned eminence. Recently venerated out of personhood into a figure; in China, a specter. I expect that’s 鬼. Continue reading
Description of Artwork no. 6
The artist has tried to recreate the fantasy landscape of her childhood. Wizards, castles, secret dens. This found-object and sculpture resembles one of Louise Borgeouis’ spiders, remade in lego and old t-shirts. The aim of this exercise seems to be to invoke nostalgia for the artist herself, and to screen the viewers for those the artist can consider to be potential friends, or at least enough like herself that she might consider talking to them. Continue reading
dont fall back asleep. dont use warm water in the shower; cold water induces non-shivering thermogenesis, which is good for metabolic and psychological health, and also warm water will open your pores, the fracking fluid water will get in. dont put cream in your coffee – dairy cows in the industrialized world are milked deep into pregnancy, which leaves elevated levels of estrone and estradiol in the milk, also modern milk causes excess igf-1 signaling which ages you faster, increases adiposity and insulin resistance. Continue reading
In the morning, and this is after I’ve my caffeine pills and sign in, I–between three sets of forty-five pushups and four of two over-bending leg stretches–farm fifty or sixty Lizard Brain of Poise in two sessions and take water. So, I can make twenty bucks and prop my strength up in two hours before going in. Then I’ll be doing things leisurely in Istanthor and have my news on autoscroll down the vertical of my three monitors; everything about guns, ML, MLG, AI, NSA, CIA, NLP, E3, TED, MIA, KGB, third world democracy, Cobie Smulders, and new glitch exploits in Istanthor (a ghost-infested old castle city with very exploitable ghost physics!!!), and I’ll eat noodles of some color or a protein bar or take powder,
Football Night in America
“Who are those voices?” the girl asked.
“Those are commentators—they say what’s happening in the game.” The boy dragged his finger across a tiny lizard in his hand. Continue reading
Appointment with Time-Trap Technician. Shown time as a spiral. 90 degrees out the view has changed and persistent problems seem to have vanished (visio of me breathing in fresh air in the garden, thinking ‘now, everything will be better’) only to reappear as the spiral turns inward. Current people and difficulties are just present-time versions and variations of those that have existed before. I say ‘before’ advisedly as all time is shown simultaneously with past and future running concurrently. Also, parallel streams with minor and major differences; life in other countries, planets; male, female, indeterminate, transhuman identities. Something that looks like a symbiote. Something else without vertebrae – a gelatinous, spectral jellyfish answering to my name.