dealing in now.
The Perfect Crime.
No Victim
No Witness
No Crime Scene
(in the holonomic database there'll always be some scantily clad trace)
They went about their business pretty well together. there wasn't much to say, not because it had been already said, more that they didn't have so much to say to eachother.
They went around the block to see if they could find anyhting worth having. And also to see what was happening down by the canal. They felt pretty certain that they could combine their way of going about secrtetingthemselves into the main business of the day and return to enter that dismorphosised world they liked to close up in.
When she opened th door I didn't recognise her. She had her hair down to her shoulders, her headscarf nowhere to be seen, and her legs and arms bare.
There's a bourgeoise sensibility at play here.
There's a feeling that we dont really animalize ourselves in the front of strangers. Also there's the notion of the confessional to be worked on. That it can only really take place stuck somewhere up on the fourteenth floor, not in the immediacy of this lot. though i'd like to. Fuck.
And no one said a word when grandmother told the rest of the family about her affair with that old gentleman with the white hair that was always sitting in the bar in the afternoons between four and six and that was how they met when grandmother filled up the coffe machine and said a few words to him and he answered Are their any flamingos in england these days? and she started laughing no understand that this was something new something that she had been longing for all her life an opening to something different to something that was not protected and proofed in the regular way, something that meant that this life was worth living and had a certain meaning and was filled with good and nourishing surprises such as the ones she had dreamt of when she was a young girl
I watched them gathering in the courtyard below. it was time to move on. I was bored of this area and the new breed of 'East enders' who had recently taken over.
the kitchen window from the fourteenth floor flat provided the perfect vantage point for dropping the piss balloons. Shane and barry had been collecting them all day, drinking way too much to keep the rivers running. now they were drunk as fools and getting piss all over their fingers and trousers as they tied up the final balloons.
they were waiting for the right vicitm to pass by and for awhile, they stood their silently, watching mother's with prams pass by. listening to the sound of traffic, the room filling up with that piss and beer smell. it was may and the heat was scorching on the 14th floor. the shadwell social housing complex that this flat was in was named after the roman god Juno, just as all the surrounding buildings were named for other roman gods--hermes, hector, etc...It was the sort of place where a piss balloon was always flying from a 14th floor window, as if they'd been thrown by mischievious demigods with too much time on their hands.
Grandmothers mustard was the best ever she made it herself from thet yellowish powder she bought at the pharmacy and mixed it with winegar and some sugar if she wanted to for the sunday steak that the family always was longing for with green peas and onions that had boiled together with the meat in the pan in the owen and jelly lingon berry jelly and the brown sauce that they never saw any other day in the week and it was all soon finished and then came the dessert the rice pudding with cherry jam and after that everyone was totally full and stuffed and happy and without any bad thoughts or what so ever
The pages of hedgerow porn ran together as they got rained on. The advert for microwave food bled into and mixed with some kind of copulation scene. There was a tanorexic woman spread her legs for skyscrapers in New York. Whiskey poured out onto asses and cocks. A freshly scented toilet cleaner spray bottle attempted to join in on an already rather confusing group fuck. Shantel's bio washed out and blended and simply became "Peace of Mind You Just Can't Buy".
ok we cant have the mustard here by 12noon as we'll still be tit fucking and the like
thus unless there's any other suppliers who could do it that you can find
we'll hold off for the payola
and prepare something low level for the launch
and then follow up with the other at a later date
ok
best
j
what did the buddhist monk say to the hotdog vendor?
make me one with everything.
a pedophile and a little boy went into the woods together. the boy said, "these woods are dark and scarry." The pedophile said, "what are you on about? I'm the one who has to walk back alone!"
why are blondes like cow shit?
the older they get, the easier they are to pick up.
what's black and white and read all over?
a newspaper.
;i'm going to add rabbit bo to chicken-boy, an earlier outing I once went on, in poetic form. And to that add the red glyph drssing up game i quite enjoyed for quite a few years. rabbit boy a meeting of boy and rabbit. its all in the parts and yes like the car is the sum of its parts no less and deifinitely no more.
another dose of nvdram please and make it a double, quick
Julia Roberts, that old guy that was living among the disabled and mentally disturbed, that was living among the outcast of society, that was crawling around in the sewer systems like an infectuos little kreep, wasting his time between intake and outtake, like a living sewer system himself, what came in came also out but in another shape, in another form, as another substance, like the well know biological system, but still so incomprehensible, still so covered in myths and legends, still so difficult to see clearly
The White Cube in Hoxton square was the obvious target.. They were having another Gormley show and what could be more satisfying than seeing a load of casts of his body smashed up and scattered all over the old street market. There were plenty of old style headcases who'd been decanted to Poplar who were more than willing to come back into Shoreditch to wreak a bit of havoc.
It was the ideal place to gather, a balmy Summer night and they were dishing the beer out to all and sundry. Of course it was so long since there'd been serious class warfare in the area they had no idea they were fuelling the troops for a massive bout of ultra violence.
Some of the hipsters thought the proles had turned up dressed ironically, they weren't expecting them to start throwing beer bottles at the crowd before storming the gallery and wrecking the Gormleys. The mob surged across the floor ripping and tearing the resin casts and running back outside with severed heads held aloft. The security were in a panic but had enough to stand well back. They weren't getting paid enough to challenge the enraged hordes and weren't particularly bothered about protecting the Gormley toss either.
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Ah p>"Oh sorry. I thought this was my room."
Barry and Shane stared blankly at her and she noticed some sort of foam on their heads. she spotted the strawberries on the bed.
"Are those strawberries? I haven't had one in ages. Do you mind...I know this must seem rude but, would you mind if I took some?"
They gestured to her to go ahead and help herself. she took the whole basket and walked out of the room, shutting the door gently behind her.
She knocked on the next door.
"Esther, are you in there. It's me Sabrina. I've got a treat for us."
sort of psychedelic old Jewish lady "Bubbie psylocybin" they called her
zombie in a schroedinger's cat costume every actor, zombie and futurist was gathered to hear the lecture a celebrated writer was giving about the subject Vera Markowitz had written a book called "the cat's out of the bag" and as everyone knew, this was the pet subject of zombies everywhere
spouse She loved to get married all the time, jumping into churches of any type of religion, and superimposing her fake existence to that of the real person, thus stealing from these real people the only more important day of their life, that of the dream, that of the moon, and love, so she could fuckup it all, make strange noises and kiss someone else's
A what of what!!? Like the cat that walked around like a human being, without fur, but with clothes and shoes and a hat
Or like those babies sucking old bubble gum from the wall of disruption, the wall of the house of that witch, Samira the Cat, the lady who used to fuck daemons and Gods, and who never cum
I got another fucked up encrypted text: LOVING FATHER SPORT MANAGER
This one seemed to be using the obituaries page as the cover text
p>If she cam and visited me I wonder what kind of walk we could go on Theres got to be a route that mixes up and mirrors all this stuff that keeps bubbling around in my hothouse head i guess thats a part of the key in keeping it real, is not to expect domani convergenceor whatever that expression is he keeps trotting out in momnets of stress, rather its to bring up some of his things (thats the other thing tho', what are my things?) and offer them up to her and she comes along with her stuff and unpacks soem of it (not all, god forbid) in for him to rioll aroud inBicho bola, spanish for woodlouse Roll on down wth her side by side, though one a bit faster than the other, anhey ho, off they go in their separate ways, each with the auto-icon of the other held to their chestsI love Jeremy Bentham only because he made himself into an Auto-Icon I also blame him as one of the cruelest thinkers around Utilitarianism only works in a fascist organisation because mathematically it cna only ever work iff (if and only if) all terms are commensrable, ie equally understood by all memebers of the group Benthams Auto-Icon doesnt have its head any more well it nevcer did, his real head having been discretly placed between his legs and a wax likeness made from Benthams death mask popped on his embalmed body A few years ago the whole thing was conserved and the shrunked blackened head replaced again between his legs For a while it'd been kept safe every since some students took off with it to play some prolonged made up game of football come kiss-catch otr whatever
at this rate she'd be out of the black eyeshadow by the end of the month and where was the money for more going to come from? two thousand jobs, 16 years of professional schooling, articles in the highest ranked critical journals and she was still bound by the constraints of cool and beauty still in need of more self confidence still hemmed in by her own identity she remembered her early years in camden, sneaking onto barges and into films smoking smoking smoking anything and everything feeling righteous, feeling shit she had to laugh thinking of it eyeshadow, what a waste of her mind!
we could enter a totally new area, an area that was filled with breathable air and good water and even substantial food like fruits and vegetables and cereals and all that tasty nourishing stuff that we need everyday for to keep us going for to keep us trying to realize at least something of our dreams, of our longings, that keeps us going on generation after generation searching for something that hopefully can give us some sort of answer of al the questions we have for this totally incomprehensibel, this that is us all give from the beginning, but are being taken from us so quickly, like a grip that can't be avoided, can't be escaped, as it seems, as we use to believe and as so many have been thinking of how to turn it in another way, upside down, to change the rules
which suddenly started to move their arm, as if greeting Mussolini It was shocking! The yuppies answer to the Roman gesture was spontaneous and ready, as in a ballet, or a carillon 523 was telling the zombies about the kids revolt, when Samira, completely naked and without animal fury, started to scream:
"I am the most beautiful cat of the Kingdom of nowhere, come zombies, possess me now", moving like a cat, thinking like a human, exploding like a bomb
"Shut the fuck up, sweetie", said Esther Bluecheese, while, moving towards the zombies with her mustache and the big nose and the big ass, she grabs a teenage undead and
For as long as Shane remembered he had wanted to be a Goth, the problem was proving one was serious enough to be allowed entrance to study as a fully fledged wearer of black It was important though to improve your social standing, and being a member of the newly formed church was a sure fire way of getting to meet the right people You had to decide at a fairly early point though, as the Punks would never view you seriously after such a decisive step - and they were a pretty influential group in their own right The admission process of the school of contemporary goth studies included a comprehensive examination including listing all the 80's goth classics, whilst dancing without smudging your makeup by looking too happy Barry wasn't too keen on this development as Esther had once told him that
So thats why, when you thiink about it, whenver Ester was in the same room as Esther, she always was facing the wall as if the teacher had told her to go stand against it Bentham's idea was that all the dead should be stuffed and they became their own memorials There'd be no more statues or graves just stuffed loved ones hanging aorund the bedroomor whatever of course there'd be a pantheon of worthies (where he'd be of course) the naughty ones he thought wouldn't be destroyed (too cruel) rather they'd just be turned to whatevr wall they were near Nice, 'eh!
Barry was inspired by the lecture and decided to apply at Monumenta, a Baccus Normal Form school for "Public Art and Totem Management" It was not a full degree program but you didn't need to have rich parents or some kind of bullshit on your resume to get in there The first bit of the admissions process was easy They did a retina scan and full body scan followed by a credit check They also checked his market potential using a crappy open source vector analysis program but that shit usually just gets ignored or munged in with some useless stats that make the bosses feel powerful and informed The final step was to type an essay on a touch screen in which he had 6 minutes to describe his background, motivation and beliefs and how they would be relevant and suitable for his chosen course of study These essays were only ever read in cases of credit fraud or on admission appeals but they would do an automatic textual analysis to filter for obvious freaks, whackos and fee-dodgers After a 3 hour wait in the admissions lounge, the process of application and acceptance took about 40 minutes
Most zombies used to attend the incredible school of the "Happy Looping Death", a para-religion for non completely alive and not completely dead people who would engender new relationships and find incredible ways to network within and without the real world in order to reach a better consciousness of the end before the end was completely started, or finished Esther decided, after the short relationship with the dead teenager, to join the school Problem was, Esther was not dead, nor alive, no zombie She simply did not exist, which normally would allow her to attend any interesting course without having to enroll In this case, though, she could not gather the passfrase to access the network of 'lonely dead hearts', or the chat-room 'solitary non-beings', or the multi-user dangeon game 'control-M/fuck-U' That's why she decided to kill her new lover to steal his identity But the guy was already dead, so she understood that the only way to destroy him was to convince him to be alive, so to send him free in the streets of London, trying to hack reality and interact with people His name was Aymerquack, and he was completely stupid
All the disabled, all the retarded, all the misfits, all the mentally disturbed, all the sick ones, all the ones that was suffering from cancer, the infectuos ones, the old ones, the smelly ones, the short ones, the black ones, the yellow ones, the ones that could not speak, the ones that could not hear, that could not see, the ones that was two, the ones that was three, that was many, that was everybody, that was you, that was me, yes all of them on their way out to Leyton What could they do? Nothing more than heading out to Leyton In their wheel chairs, on their stretchers; crawling and dragging themselves forward, like snakes or half dead pigs, like in the WWI
523 had been trying to get them all to go to rave in Leyton, and he usually got on quite well with Aymerquack, being of similar mental capacities These raves were huge, and involved listening to the new type of hedgehog trance that the kids were into these days Zombies weren't allowed in, as ravers tripped over their bandages causing health and safety worries - so they both had to dress up as railway repair workers (the flourescent colours confused the hedgehogs enough to get away with it) This was to be the setting where Esther was going to stage her elaborate plan
Aymerquack, Esther, Samira and 523 decided to go to a rave in an abandoned ball bearing factory in Leyton, a perfect place to lose the boundaries between zombies and living people Samira decided to take care of the drugs, she had some psilocibina left and she knew how to get some very good Pluranio at a convenient price She disappeared in the horizon on her sky-bike, and came back in less than half an hour, while the others were still walking towards the location Esther never stopped talking, while 523 throw up a couple of times in a corner, and the little zombie did not emit a single sound
A few people had texted saying the party was going to be massive we pushed through the thickets of buddleia and ivy and emerged in a dusty courtyard We found a way in through a corridor of palletes and bonfires encircled by tyres The stairwells had been painted black and on every level the glyphs and sigils became more intricately layered There were banks of broken TVs and walls of speaker cabs and some kids on the roof setting off military flares
there were no starbucks on the walk to the rave at the ball bearing factory in Leyton there were chips shops, off license shops, internet cafes and a section of social housing developments named after roman gods Barry rang bell 523 in the jUNO house, to pick up Ester and hopefully find some drugs Barry had already drunk a bottle of cough syrup his head was in the cloudswith the fucking roman gods, he laughed to himself
if barry were a roman god, he'd be pissed about having a buildig as shit as this one with his name on it i mean juno, please, would she be caught dead in a place with flourescent lights and screamin dirty babies? Ester came on the intercom
So thats why, when you thiink about it, whenver Ester was in the same room as Esther, she always was facing the wall as if the teacher had told her to go stand against it Bentham's idea was that all the dead should be stuffed and they became their own memorials There'd be no more statues or graves just stuffed loved ones hanging aorund the bedroomor whatever of course there'd be a pantheon of worthies (where he'd be of course) the naughty ones he thought wouldn't be destroyed (too cruel) rather they'd just be turned to whatevr wall they were near Nice, 'eh!
Barry was inspired by the lecture and decided to apply at Monumenta, a Baccus Normal Form school for "Public Art and Totem Management" It was not a full degree program but you didn't need to have rich parents or some kind of bullshit on your resume to get in there The first bit of the admissions process was easy They did a retina scan and full body scan followed by a credit check They also checked his market potential using a crappy open source vector analysis program but that shit usually just gets ignored or munged in with some useless stats that make the bosses feel powerful and informed The final step was to type an essay on a touch screen in which he had 6 minutes to describe his background, motivation and beliefs and how they would be relevant and suitable for his chosen course of study These essays were only ever read in cases of credit fraud or on admission appeals but they would do an automatic textual analysis to filter for obvious freaks, whackos and fee-dodgers After a 3 hour wait in the admissions lounge, the process of application and acceptance took about 40 minutes
Most zombies used to attend the incredible school of the "Happy Looping Death", a para-religion for non completely alive and not completely dead people who would engender new relationships and find incredible ways to network within and without the real world in order to reach a better consciousness of the end before the end was completely started, or finished Esther decided, after the short relationship with the dead teenager, to join the school Problem was, Esther was not dead, nor alive, no zombie She simply did not exist, which normally would allow her to attend any interesting course without having to enroll In this case, though, she could not gather the passfrase to access the network of 'lonely dead hearts', or the chat-room 'solitary non-beings', or the multi-user dangeon game 'control-M/fuck-U' That's why she decided to kill her new lover to steal his identity But the guy was already dead, so she understood that the only way to destroy him was to convince him to be alive, so to send him free in the streets of London, trying to hack reality and interact with people His name was Aymerquack, and he was completely stupid
All the disabled, all the retarded, all the misfits, all the mentally disturbed, all the sick ones, all the ones that was suffering from cancer, the infectuos ones, the old ones, the smelly ones, the short ones, the black ones, the yellow ones, the ones that could not speak, the ones that could not hear, that could not see, the ones that was two, the ones that was three, that was many, that was everybody, that was you, that was me, yes all of them on their way out to Leyton What could they do? Nothing more than heading out to Leyton In their wheel chairs, on their stretchers; crawling and dragging themselves forward, like snakes or half dead pigs, like in the WWI
523 had been trying to get them all to go to rave in Leyton, and he usually got on quite well with Aymerquack, being of similar mental capacities These raves were huge, and involved listening to the new type of hedgehog trance that the kids were into these days Zombies weren't allowed in, as ravers tripped over their bandages causing health and safety worries - so they both had to dress up as railway repair workers (the flourescent colours confused the hedgehogs enough to get away with it) This was to be the setting where Esther was going to stage her elaborate plan
Aymerquack, Esther, Samira and 523 decided to go to a rave in an abandoned ball bearing factory in Leyton, a perfect place to lose the boundaries between zombies and living people Samira decided to take care of the drugs, she had some psilocibina left and she knew how to get some very good Pluranio at a convenient price She disappeared in the horizon on her sky-bike, and came back in less than half an hour, while the others were still walking towards the location Esther never stopped talking, while 523 throw up a couple of times in a corner, and the little zombie did not emit a single sound
A few people had texted saying the party was going to be massive we pushed through the thickets of buddleia and ivy and emerged in a dusty courtyard We found a way in through a corridor of palletes and bonfires encircled by tyres The stairwells had been painted black and on every level the glyphs and sigils became more intricately layered There were banks of broken TVs and walls of speaker cabs and some kids on the roof setting off military flares
there were no starbucks on the walk to the rave at the ball bearing factory in Leyton there were chips shops, off license shops, internet cafes and a section of social housing developments named after roman gods Barry rang bell 523 in the jUNO house, to pick up Ester and hopefully find some drugs Barry had already drunk a bottle of cough syrup his head was in the cloudswith the fucking roman gods, he laughed to himself
if barry were a roman god, he'd be pissed about having a buildig as shit as this one with his name on it i mean juno, please, would she be caught dead in a place with flourescent lights and screamin dirty babies? Ester came on the intercom
well, some friends of mine and I, we do a voodoo art performance piece it's got a big following, actually
hmm, is that right?
well, i mean, i'm not going to brag about it are you on facebook?
no, esther said
oh, well, cause i was gonna say i could send you a link from there
i don't like art esther said and she took the pill and walked to the ladies bathroom it was filled with ladies of course, in really baroque clothing they were teasing out their wild white powdered bouffants and nattering about boys and other girls that weren't there one of them said something about the dj
who is that little pig? dj soggy chips?
yeah i wouldn't fuck him with my eyes closed, a bag over his head, and john holmes' dick tied on him
that's disgusting you should be ashamed of yourself, didn't you read english at oxford
brat
slut
oh no! i lost my contact lens in the sink
esther stepped into the stall when one of the girls shuffled out and
EXIT RIGHT
black cat
ENTRY LEFT
white cat
There you are Napolean, there you are againwhat have you got there in your little hand limping along like that poor little ol thing yoiu come on give me alooksie at you little foot poppetahh lets see aw you've a wee skelf stuck right in there ssssh dont fuss soon have it out in a jiffy hey do you think this will do i mean can it mrealy be that we can write all this stuff just me anf =d you together and wipe clean all whole thing with of course the irony you were talkig about embedded in itall hows this buti going to read though if its selected? thers a great thing going on again with the endo-exo thing going on with refernece to that question of the unreal or real pretty hard core paople would just keep it inside here, writing about the matter in hand, the material under the feet, rather than abstract away into the realm of hand-mepdown histories and panicking about whether whassherface is going to reappear a sthe not so living or living, when for fucks sake they
damn lost a thread to go off on there this associative thing is starting to bug me but then its a pretty fair representation of where i'm at, a good time slicing of lifefor the life-novel
We crossed the footbridge spanning the M11 and headed back to the Central Line There was some party going on in a bookshop in Kings Cross, it was bound to be a good session When we got on the tube there was a massive crowd of ICf getting ready for a massive ruck I was into following them to indulge my appetite for extravagant displays of brutality but my mates were more into getting down to Housmans to start the afternoon's boozing
When we got into Kings Cross there were old bill everywhere gearing up for tons of football aggro We slipped down the side exit and into Caledonian road where a small crew were gathered on the pavement outside the shop I'd been looking forward to this one for a while Someone had wheeled a sound system into the shop and the windows were blacked out The old Peace news offices upstairs had recently been vacated and had been transformed into my own private HQ
Was that the disabled? That occupied the motorway? People say so And the retarded, and the old one, and even the too old ones, the infectuos ones, the miserables, the mad ones, the butal ones and the silly ones, the sick ones and the ones that could not see or hear or smell or whatever they could not do Peeing or shitting or eating or sleeping or screaming or living or dying or socialize Yes, God knows what they could not do They were so many that kreeped and crawled out on the bridges Like Leon Theremin, he was there among them even if he had declared that he should solve the bridge-problems Even though he was there crawling out on the concrete constructions like a little baby
to destroy the Terminal Beach They called it that because it was 20m slope covered with old broken CRT monitors It was some kind of minor waste management scandal a few decades back and now it was mostly a spot where birds and the ocassional unemployed mathematician hung out There were rumors that some famous East End mobsters were buried there Rent-a-cops and thugs would practice shooting there
M4/M25 junction My best guess was that he was trying to disrubt the building of terminal 43 - yet another crazed zombie plan, they liked exotic holidays and life on the beach, but had to live in London due to the theatre scene I met 523 during a class on avoiding garlic flavouring on food (part of vampire awareness week) He had got some support from the Goth church, including a whole array of exploding crucifixes - his plan was to strap these to a robotic
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