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Dating : Naemethodolog

h2>Dating : Naemethodolog

Colonel Iron

Nishmajamey

Would you think of a library or a slaughterhouse? All night we watched each other through guillotine windows and willed the other to snap first.

Deported to his original timeline without really realising what the fuck happened, Farlan walked home in the near and menacing Quborrh darkness feeling like a secretary in a Kafka story — working for an unknown entity; a sadistic bureaucracy — Black Ballast? — howsoever we shall just say a spirit was dictating copy for him to transcribe onto a rusty typewriter that had no letter ‘i’ . . .

WOW WOW WOW Woke up one day after a few weeks of sobriety and realised there was no spirit — it was him all along writing this damn thing and if he didn’t take responsibility for its creation, a spirit really and truly and actually would manifest itself and drive him to somnambulastic violence.

. . . holed up in a dingy flat east of the Seine finding herself ontologically sick and tired of being metaphysically sick and tired Katje antagonised herself over whether or not she’d tell her story as herself or invent an authorial surrogate . . .

such decisions were difficult when there’s no lebemotionsraum in our psychosocial atmosphere of public interface

cosmic disturbances caused by the InterTel PSYINT OPS led to antediluvian electromagnetic soul dust falling into old fractal patterns and this may account for how spacetime compressed beyond the schizogenic limit and every-body went crazy — at the mountains of madness off the pier no NON DUPERE inter alia dinter alias InterTel PARAPSYCHs resurrected the virus of Man’s eternal warrior rage swirling in the biosphere — voices from the ghetto of science fiction proclaimed PKD as an Exomanation of Asklepios the Resurrectionist — eventually the Demiurge had PKD wacked for bringing St Thomas back from the dead — thereto Katje came to two conclusions: don’t make a religion out of paranoia, and, whatever you do, don’t fuck with the Demiurge.

factorial fractal factodestrieb fractalia fractaliaxa factorialisis

ARBOL VITAE [alas arborescent jouissance] introduced us to substantial temptation which is a painful experience because it makes you think of what you don’t have and may never have and calls to GammaGAGeist the notion that you’re not so cool to begin with on your knees at the foot of Jabal Sh’bn awaiting Sabbah and the Nth sign of the Zodiac and it goes — — –

The dead shall not rise!

The dead shall not rise!

. . . here we are in the neo-20s shush film of dark energy knife can say anything it once get up the stairs stand out on Colleen Street FUCK it all. Someone more articulate has made the point already. Pockets outside cabaret bottle are very nothing except sleep hits the side of my face. Into the gun stop the round often when we’re hungry the drunks eating breakfast out of howsoever we had pizza.

digs in order slowly across my face five fingers red sun lyrics low in the sky enjoy it for what it is worth still and contemptuously cold need it do not be afraid ENTER enter past bird down buildings the fifth dimension freeway overpass everything is fine

open plane of rotting pastures decaying vegetables coming back in style of creators plots the demiurge any more anxiety riverbank utopia approach entrance removed her nails taste it cost underside halt cries where from they’re from bosom rising falling

Hurry up now time to go!

Hurry up now time to go!

old time he cries turns out pepperoni screwed over by an American guard do you bear freedom yes she replies held horizontally lowers gone nods her sex nonetheless live It florid vivid valid experiences cyberdelic poison death momentary stage Sharp

reality is a Hollywood studio 21st century expressions shall have to deal with the death of genius civilisation is a psychotic fantasy stabilized by neurotic compromise kept fresh by hysterical outbursts and legitimized by perverts tyranny 4-in modest purposes we should have to dispense with a wrist Italian logic the

The dead shall not rise!

The dead shall not rise!

ca vacava ca va Cartesian keto cancion rationality Hungarian dialectic Nietzsche eternal recurrence and wish fulfillment yoga and mysticism formalism the loser praetorian cartographies shall we do this what will be left what will be left and new novel parts and novel that affirms and embraces the death of genius and awful concerned with the on shortly with

bedroom boredom and toilet emotions with couch dreams knob sadness

pitching and rolling furiously against reason Rayj in the chest against nature flickers all around the horizon fantastical quarrel clothes the more it glows dying noise

seat the fields dream fire announce in war sagacious indulgences indigenous danger for some mounting all the past in rack survived or still dream still can wake up in file they stood

nothing came

shine lock frock science licking bear dogs tender were the words yet they demanded losing out the galley portal something for say King and Country

dismal it should filthy movies are showing such a grievous trick cyclist fideus last that gun Wells in the light of a kerosene lamp they embrace arcadia’s shore at distant memory wine delivered by pulley rope mad dogs great bells ringing glory a soulmate song since I don’t through every the world in bed

Hurry up now time to go!

Hurry up now time to go!

Che vuoleyla? Herself, I mean, Katje, she knows the whole eschatology is fucked anyhow no self-respecting Messiah would truly fear God So you’re left to wallow the rest of your life an aggregate of millions of lost moments an eternal loop of drudgery each moment identical in the singular intensity of its dysphoric sensation and painstaking duration

on the secret summit of Jabal Sh’bn those who remain and seek to regain the blissful mantle of celestial ignorance enjoy the relief of rain but no more is our history a celebratory study of

Man’s Virtue? No. Our history is a pornography chronicling Letum’s conquest of Venus.

love is ridiculous because it can’t last and sex is ridiculous because it doesn’t last long enough Celtic Pagan Rituals where lovers say never promise anyone forever and I cannot escape

possessed by an incurable endemic writer’s itch a sick obsession

slapstick detour of experimental copulation all of which will be recorded on tape-recorders initially made of paper coated with magnetite powder — Minnesota Mining & Manufacturing Company pioneered the use of plastic tapes to aid InterTel PSYOPS in Korea — this is 1947 — operatives went to restaurants and hid a tape recorder somewhere which play a recording of warfare sounds at a low volume so that people would only hear it on a subliminal level and eventually the waiting staff would develop paranoid psychoses and claim they were hearing demonic voices and were prescribed Major Tranquilisers by Korean doctors paid off and supplied by the ‘Pharmaceuticalists’ a Black Ops team whose specialties include BioChemPopCrl [Biochemical Population Control]

As for 2021? Well –

The poet revolts against Kantianism . . . The poet absolutises the I . . . The I resists individuation . . . The I becomes noumenal . . . The I is form is content is understanding is experience . . . ABSOLUTE

As I walked, words came to me . . . sunshine moonshine land of the navel river of the eye mountain of the foot . . . skulls in a crypt and nothing else . . . traversing pleasure symptom one synapse at a time . . . Never trust Lady of the Same Name when she is excited by the sight of fear . . .

Trains passing under over grund . . . tremors . . . propinquity of which arrests your desolate form . . . despairing traumatised by many years of white collar socially equitable sensible equanimtiy . . . safari one summer . . . few coke binges . . . driving a rally car . . . French lectures. . . bungee jumping . . . banality and drudgery everlasting . . . even in fantasies a bourgeois . . . family property pension . . . depression and mania and violent self-loathing . . . no genius only a sophist for his own brand of ballocks . . .

Radio trivialisation consequence failure liberal press trade domination in different literary corruptions formula unwitting takes quiet pride in solid walls unglamorous very well non-stop frenzy disused saltpans mudflats river mouth limpid washing out potential threat individual empowerment keeping conformity reenforce regular daily habitus after first compliments 7 scenicos later fox him fear of fealty beret loyalty the scolty Maja sensitive to others that says it all for a minute everything was back to normal indirectly devastating gonza talus phone booth bar smoke sulphur gunpowder scorched strong up by hemp exempt from tax a depth of lacks law sawro a facsimile of due process

Bejeweled duchess indoor dress rehearsal without a word of dissent not much assent either let it be said but not bet with a hags head you’d do better to leave I congratulatory letter and beyond your unfettered way like the crow called Joe who knew when the sky was that blue something must be askew those who idled on the low plains where watermelon mad maddened by questions of the ditch and the ravine and the bog and the castle and the borders beyond whose lines and angles inspired terror DEREIFY

Look at her bra draped over that chair . . . Inviting . . . Vietnamese . . . Some tits on her . . . Picked her up in a bar in Soho . . . Soho, so what . . . Rain all morning . . . Scrambled eggs . . . Continental coffee . . . A walk around the colonial ruins with trusty ashplant . . . Mental recitations of Horace . . . QUOTE . . . Deplorable, despicable Etonian education . . . Cricket in unnerving heat, Latin in dreary cold . . . So yes . . . And now a quarter of a century on this mortal coil . . . Stay stationary, stay put under self-imposed house arrest until studies are done . . . Amuse himself with memories . . . London for gloom, Paris for folly, Berlin for purgation, Prague for beatitude, Athens for illumination . . .

Step into the Void . . . Occupy . . . Intimate the gappamap . . . Do not confuse the pilot with the plane . . . Bribe enemies of signification . . . Employ the mercenaries who can defeat an army with their sustained sober silence . . .

If he was to be an externally determined subject, living under the conditions of the outer world order, he would content himself with a self-legislated dictatorship of his private self . . . no time for that now . . .

Friday night out on the town . . . Strip club promoter accosting passersby . . .

‘Who wants pussy in his face tonight?’

What do you think?

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