Animals Have Mercy for now and forever, it's the evil that men and women do that makes them come together. They winter frosted and froze you my friends but you got up again and stapled your twisted genome back on your head. Where animals snack and smack the bark, we inject the jewels to our pockets and they and meat meet mark
Hymn number 145
The Lovely Manger
Soft as whisper
So precious and sweet
From his head to her feet
His dad is the God of
Our Heaven and Earth,
Investing his effort,
And reaping his worth,
Signed for the season
He maketh a shine,
He's God, and his love will,
Explode like a mine.
I sling from the waist with pawing, but I don't just sit here drawing. Next time I plan to release the beasts I'll give you a call first. But not this time because there'll be no warning. People flip, switch, some turn fake about some nonsense correspondence that I just can't relate to. Or they go mad in their cars. The word cashflow sounds funny to me but if you can watch money change hands then it doesn't matter what type or range of shit you talk cause you ain't got to prove that life twists and turns and makes you crazy to make it work. Flip people flip, take switch, some turn fake about their true and inner centre, when it's cows that have given them this dementia.
I wrote this out of the pride and vanity of my own mind, out of my disdain for the mutherkind. I wrote this at my table while human society talked about the good of man. Yea, my temporal goods were excluded from the composition. Yea, my weekends spent in inkie dollars then minky dollars. Yea I wrote this as I have often wished to write, with the same ease with which I drink it I can spit it back. None of this I saw coming. Give me leave to wonder now if I am bothered to pick it back up again.
Two questions arise. Who produces this webpage, and then who reads it?
I says like this : listen you money-hungering server owners and bloodthirsty porn purveyors, that bleeding FHM website is full of lies and the lassies in it are all bollocks. It is high time they lassies realised what they were doing and put their faith in more sensible employment, such as working in a record shop, or selling programs at the game, and then you shopkeepers with your middle to top shelf nasties, would be put to shame.
And then I says to them, that LOADED website is worse, and everyone that looks at it dies after a short illness.
JOHN DILLON'S IN; WE WON
BATTY AND HIS TRANSFORMER'S OUT; WE WON AGAIN
PUT THE BOOT IN
SUPPORT THE ANGRY SIDE SPREAD THE WORD
POWER TO THE PEOPLE
The Angry Brigade
Are you going to Brian Baxter's party said Terry and I said EH Brian Baxter's pairty like? and he says AYE it's this weekend and I says EH and Terry says AYE MIN Brian Baxter says that it's his party LIKE this weekend and I just says well it's NAE LIKE I WANT TO GO OR ANYTHING and Terry says NIH and I didn't think you would LIKE and then I said well what the fucker you telling me for LIKE? and Terry says well I just said I would like to Brian Baxter’s like and I said EH WELL THEN and goes down to the offie like thinking that if it was Brian Baxter's pairty LIKE I'd better get to the offie fast before Brian Baxter's guests get there and fucking buy all the booze and I was laughing thinking that's MENTAL imagine if all the booze had been bought from the offie like and I was LAUGHING and thinking aye the FAGS AND ALL.
Marcel Duchamp appears as a signatory to the First Papers of Surrealism, although he wasn't in his day and certainly isn't today, officially aligned with the movement. It's tough; nobody works in a vacuum, and associations are only natural. And of all the movements of his day, Duchamp may have been drawn to Dada and Surrealism, although he was alwasy going his own way . . .
The document (I love 'Explorers of the Pluriverse') includes many who wouldn't now be necessarily thought of as surrealists, such as Edward Lear, and Marc Chagall. But what's typically splendid about Duchamp's input is that whereas Andre Breton is the curator 'hanging' this printed exhibition, Duchamp is deliciously described as 'his twine'.
A full scan is available at First Papers of Surrealism.
Falling asleep, and cortical vigilance doesn't fall at a uniform rate, it shifts up and down, tending to becoming lower in steps. Alpha rhythms rise in bursts but less often and with longer periods of slow waves, and little by little ideas escape us. In intervals we return to attention realising that we've just had some weird thoughts about something that weren't even related to the thoughts previous to them, and we feel we are talking inwardly to ourselves and that we've just said something that doesn't make sense, or is a made up word or phrase. The voice is accompanied by an equally unfamiliar but striking display of visual imagination. Faces are common, sometimes moving. Abstract forms, patterns, nature scenes, becoming more complex, until they are brought to an abrupt end . . .
In Byzantium, in the middle centuries of the First Millenium, the passion for chariot racing and the competition between (savour the irony!) the Blues and the Greens, ran so high that the Empire was decided on the predominance of Chariot Factions - jobs in the state, and ultimately with Justinian, the Emperor's position itself, being decided by the Colour of your favour. More than religion (itself, eventually split between the Blues and the Greens), racing filled the hearts of the populace with the necessary adrenalin to slaughter each other, to carve their slogans of hate on each other's chests, to rape and torture.
So omnivorous was the Racing Cancer that, on two occasions, The Empire almost fell to the Barbarians as the army was riven and useless to defend the city. Luck and bad weather alone saved it. Seeing at last the folly of the Racing Mania, after a particularly grueseome week of riots during which most of the faction leaders were murdered, this 'sport' was extirpated for once and for all. RENOUNCE SPORT AND ITS WAYS. Pull down this god of inanity, this art whose best creation is a tongue-tied teenage moron with an expensive haircut...
For Ten Years This Important Image Lay on the Homepage of My Website
to survive a destructive book is no less painful
for the reader than for the author
LF Celine: Voyage to the End of the Night / Death on Credit / Guignol's Band / Rigadon
Wyndham Lewis: Men Without Art / The Complete Wild Body / The Apes of God
Giacomo Leopardi: Operette Morali
Thomas Bernhard: The Loser / The Voice Imitator / Extinction / Gathering Evidence / Wittgenstein's Nephew
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Friday 21st June, Henderson's at St John's, Edinburgh
I'll be (was) reading at this free evening event in Edinburgh at 7.30PM on 21st June (not this year), with DICKSON TELFER, VICKI JARRETT, PIPPA GOLDSCHMIDT, SANDY CHRISTIE, SAMUEL BEST and EDDIE GIBBONS all on the bill.
PART TWO: The Nine of Diamonds remains the Curse of Scotland. The origin of this name is not certain but many explanations, some of which follow, are suggested. Lord Justice-Clerk Ormiston was called the Curse of Scotland and so the Nine of Diamonds (also commonly called the Curse of Scotland) was known to them as The Justice Clerk.