0 8 / 0 6 / 0 4:
"perhaps what i am about to say will appear strange to you gentlemen, socialists, progressives, humanitarians as you are, but i never worry about my neighbour, i never try to protect society which does not protect me - indeed, i might add, which generally takes no heed of me except to do me harm - and, since i hold them low in my esteem and remain neutral towards them, i believe that society and my neighbour are in my debt."
-from 'the count of monte cristo' by alexandre dumas
i dreamed that my nan phoned me. we had a good natured conversation, i could hear my auntie margery chipping in humorously in the background. i remember we were laughing. it was only when i asked her what could be considered a rather impolite question that things became strange: "but... haven't you been dead for years?" i said. following that all her words became unintelligible to me, they were still english but somehow became blurred in my head before i could process them. i tried hard to concentrate, as if something important was being said but still i couldn't understand. then i woke up.
met a woman recently who said that when she'd made the mistake of having sex while on ketamin she'd thought that a huge horse was on top of her. "such a massive animal... those huge teeth" scared the shit out of her apparently. just say no kiddie-winkies.
apparently"proportional to their weight, men are stronger than horses." my apologies to all men who become uncomfortable when the words 'proportional' and 'horses' are used in the same sentence.
uk national lottery sales are up for the first time in 6 years... can you smell the desperation in the air?
hoogerbrugge returns! e
s s e n t i a l viewing: http://www.hoteloscartangoecholima.com/part1-episode1/index.html
after nearly 23 years (yes yes i know 23,
blah blah). after the cock up of the re-tg
weekend and the inevitable piss-up / brewery comparisons, a number of
somewhat cynical and irritable people were
packed into the blistering and airless confines of the astoria. i suggest
to the venerable gude that perhaps we should run a book on how long
it'll take for someone to shout "get yer tits out" to gen.
on come the band... roughly ten seconds
pass and the request for mammary peekaboo is made. (alright, who had
ten seconds?) gen looks like a sluttish 'homegirl'
extra from a missy elliot video. red pvc.
a class act all round. he wins me over. he announces that what we are
attending is a recording for a forthcoming dvd release "more
money!" shouts a rather ruggedly handsome chap near the back
but no one seems to agree with his sentiment, they've all been won over;
they're at a t.g.
gig for fuck's sake. he gives in. after an embarrassing
false start due to technical failure the gig gets underway. and they're
really pretty good, some lovely cacophonies are built up and they all
seem to be having a whale of a time. they add new sounds nicely to the
oldies (it's a little disconcerting to hear 'hamburger
lady' live) and though they can never do all the old tracks you'd want
to hear they give us a sparse run through of some old faves. they end
of course with 'discipline', which leans perhaps a little too far towards
the tribal techno (urgh) but overall a
worthy return. i enjoyed myself. now let's see if they can get their
shit together for next year's all tomorrow's parties...
this game is destroying my life, eating my days at a rate of knots; so i thought i would spread the horrific addiction that is www.pandafgolf.com (i strongly advise that you turn off the music)
picked up some great lps at a flea market in new york: 'music to strip by -party fun songs from the golden age of burlesque'- played by 'bald bill hagan and his trocaderons', ''sickles galore!' "the world's greatest motor cycles racing wildly over the track" -which does exactly what it says on the tin and finally, arguably my finest purchase, 'tony schwartz on how to record the sound of children', which isn't quite as gary glitter as it sounds... not quite. amazingly this last record was released in 1967 and yet the copy i bought was still sealed. for information on mr. schwartz: http://www.basichip.com/tony_schwartz/ts000.htm (the stall holder did have an album by someone billing themselves as 'the singing plumber' but refused to sell it. pah)
mere days before i am to go to amsterdam with ruse and mr. liles to see coil and whitehouse (a macrophonies beano if you will) and i'm woken up by those cunts downstairs playing their fucking music too loudly again. not for the first time in my life anger gets the better of me. in a state of undress i hammer on the interconnecting door and finally give it a kick. with my slippered foot. i am a stupid stupid stupid man. with the impact of the kick i break my foot. second metatarsal, possibly the third. snap. pain on a grand scale. a&e. plaster cast. and so now not only can i not go to amsterdam, i can't work. o and the simple act of getting up and down the copious amounts of stairs we have is something close to scaling the eiger. i managed to work out a conservative estimate that this 'little' mishap will cost me somewhere in the region of £1,500. at least. so far... the day after i get the plaster cast i get a phone call from the nurse who treated me and as he said he would try to, he managed to steal, yes that's right steal something called an aircast (details and pictures at- http://tinyurl.com/2v792). apparently they're too expensive to be given to everyone who actually needs them, and certain departments in the hospital won't allow others to use their stocks. ah the nhs, something for britain to be o so proud of. so now i'm wearing one sock at a time and pissing into a decommissioned lenor bottle to save me spending half my fucking day on the stairs. jesus. i say again, stupid stupid man.
want to banish pain? increase hair growth? increase penis size? develop a "female butt"? want to become a "human pony"? change your life, visit www.warpmymind.com
"every man has a passion gnawing away at the bottom of his heart, just as every fruit has its worm."
-from 'the count of monte cristo' by alexandre dumas
recommended: (audio) 'a small child dreams of voiding the plague' -cd- the hafler trio/ (comestible) ben and jerry's chocolate fudge brownie ice cream / (visual) the black rider / (sensorial) the shower on my broken foot.
reviled: (audio) fucking music from downstairs / (comestible) past their sell by date rolos / (visual) a redundant ticket / (sensorial) a broken foot
and finally, a nugget of spam that pretty much defies further comment...
i want to sleep! please don't fuck me!
and the son, father and the daughter,
...except to say that the world is a truly unusual place. but then what have we got to compare it with?