In the House of the Hangman 922-930

En passant, is a big pig, per se, a bad pig? [Is “trying to” the weakest link?] where the hermit is doing tapas and seduce him, my pretty, it was good per se, and it was, and is, especially good, considered in relation to a kitchen gadget per se, 1 went to the karaoke, Simon says, Azure is my top note and then I Z-sale to the apex. There among Doctors DIONYSUS, sole of the archivists fit to wear ivy and dance to the aulos with all of his footnotes in Paradise. Amy says, I didn’t have the cash on me. In the desert you will be invincible, says Luke. Explanation of Benefits: Confusion of inspiration with alchemy with the sniffing of wrists. Your thin skin, your peripherals, the baseline ratio, isn’t it a cradle? TRING! For o yes, we do rely. As I hold the card-stock mounted Instamatic photos and stack them after looking, I find flaws both in the processing and in the way this inexpensive camera accepts light – halos appear, and parts are whited out. I’ll trust my instincts to be instincts. If one thing means nothing, then everything does. I’ve dipped a stranger’s sores in my fat. Your restored hyenas, etc …; they pivot like demons without ego, captain. I’m a spiritual clam full of vertigo and leak. Hello, my orifices entreat nations to quack. Pardon, divine sap, pardon. Ah! Pardon! What about worms! Okay, let’s not be demonically correct. I have medium sized breasts so I do have some cleavage. If I wanted to fit in I’d make them wear huge sunglasses. By the middle of the night the grass is still red because CNN is in your spleen, you know? Like everything that revolts your brain only works because your brain has to go, yes, there’s a little CNN inside our acronyms, no matter that they would go through the drywall, or the fake rock, or out the other. There was only a public outcry / When the hedge animals started to collapse / the “check brake fluid” light is on again / you tell me. Where are the iPhones? In photos, Earth is an iris drowned in pupil. Chow fun, asparagus, sour tofu, brown rice, and tiny chicken. I love my blue head. Do they really play JFK “all the time” on “regular television”? SIR, OUR DIGGING AND PLOUGHING UPON GEORGE-HILL IN MOLAR CHAOS IS NOT UNKNOWN TO YOU. HASHTAG: OPEN PUBLIC CLOUD. HARD THORN AND SOFT ETH. I have listened to the testimony of a mother who sleepwalks to the grave of her [massacred] son, attempting to resuscitate his body. The radiation required to do this was sufficient to kill me, but I did not, at that moment, die.

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The two pieces we heard complemented one another perfectly. Andrea Williams’s zoomorphic ocean of white noise and animal sounds conveyed, and then blocked, the illusion of being “in” an environment. Brilliant. While Pod Blotz’s piece was a truly horrifying (in the best way) forcing of coexistence upon one. The photos of quartz and the sounds made me feel I was being pushed through metamorphic rocks. Then there was the human, clad in wet rainbow shreds. Monstrous half illusory glimpses of an eye, some teeth. We fight for something that has nothing to do with any of us. Fuck the high fructose response unit. “Gently bowed and carefully plucked strings rise above the humming hiss, lo-fi noise and molded field recordings.” I mean I don’t swap souls e.g. some guy without language thought the Pacific was god’s toilet, when all the time it was really ours.

So take off your tinfoil hats, people,

this is wartime,

eat your pimiento cheese.

WARNING:

WARNING: side effects may ______________ (brink)

… like the spirit bear soon to drown in tar sands oil

… A Gasmask, a Chrysanthemum, …

… Like the Russian bear in the circus, riding a bicycle …

[Note: Sources: 922. JBR (part of a collaboration with Anne Gorrick, which I thought should be commemorated in ITH. The collab is based on a wonderful poem by Lynne Behrendt, “This is the Story of Things that Happened”, which we are mangling beyond recognitions by means of various freeing constraints. This bit includes bits from Google searches, and from Angelos Sakkis, Travel Log With Homer On My Mind 2011, Simon Jarvis, Dionysus Crucified, Amy De’ath, “Fast Eddy”, in Caribou, Luke Roberts, “Feast Days in the Desert”, in False Flags, Marianne Morris, “untitled”, in Untitled Colossal Parlor Odes, Anne Gorrick, the collab and email, Timothy Thornton, “Hunting Tungsten Out”, in Jocund Day). 923. Geoff Tuck, “‘I’m clean man, I’m clean! (The Paranoia of Time at Carter & Citizen)”, at Notes on Looking, 23 Apr 012 (on Craig Doty and Greg Wilken); JBR. 924. Sean Kilpatrick, “‘Transliterate mistranslations of Arthur Rimbaud's Une Saison En Enfer”, at Boston Review, 13 Apr 2012; Katie Degentesh, “My Friends Were Having Sex and I Wanted to Fit In”, at Boston Review, 17 Apr 2012. 925. Sean Lovelace, and Glen Shaheen, “Accidental Injury and Those Who Are Liable”, “Space Phenomenon”, in Lovelace’s “Predatory by Glenn Shaheen”, at HTMLGIANT, 23 Apr 012; Del Ray Cross, “mcdxxiv”, at Anachronizms, 23 Apr 012. 926. Judith Goldman, “from FAUNA MATHS”, at Fiery Flying Roule 14; Angana Chatterji, as quoted in Ken Chen, “Somnambulist in the graveyard // Tan Lin, Pam Lu, Subterranean ambience”, at Montevidayo, 21 Apr 012; JBR; Bhanu Kapil, “Anne Waldman”, at Was Gertrude Stein a Punjabi?, 22 Apr 012. 927. Tim Atkins, “Sonnet 2”, at onedit. 928. Timothy Morton, “Happy Earth Day”, at Ecology without Nature, 22 Apr 012. 929. Josh Stanley, “Ode (for Frank O’Hara”), in Untitled Colossal Parlor Odes; Luke Roberts, “Eating & Praising the Dead”, in False Flags; Headphone Commute, as quoted in Adam Robbert, “From the Mouth of the Sun”, at Knowledge Ecology, 16 Apr 012; Amy De’ath, “Vertigo Valley”, in Caribou; JBR, but see Jon Cogburn, “Question for pointers towards decent philosophical research on aphasia and late first language acquisition?”, at New APPS, 23 Apr 012. 930. JBR and Richard Lopez (part of a collaboration with Richard, which I thought should be commemorated in ITH. Includes: j/j hastain (sampled from I forget where), Sean Bonney, “It’s all true you know, a stone to clean your face with”, at Cartograffiti 1. “Without love in the dream, it’ll never come true” – Robert Hunter, “Help on the Way”. Collaborations are affirmations in Dark Times, people …)]

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[Estelita]

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