NATTER NATTER NATTER NATTER. EVERYDAY LEAVES FASTER. SO WRITE A POSTCARD NOW AND SEND IT TO YOURSELF. UNKNOWINGLY WALK IN THE CROSS-HAIRS OF YOUR FUTURE AND DO NOT KNOW JUST. BE. A NATTER NATTER NATTER NATTER.
our corresponding filaments send three letters a single post-card returns this file is not going very far so grab a paper-clip and close this case for future reference we’ll navigate in photographs a quick snap a stellar performance via the mistakes of king Louis we act out rebellion but were taught by the masters of us all of us all
For when walking in new, unchartered territories, or surrounded by peoples that create a sense of unease in your mind. Drop the walls. You have created an unhealthy Other, a vehicle of which you have allowed to carry your projections of fear onto. Any excuse to return to the womb. Now drop the walls, the concept, don't allow your self to forget the adventure. We can only ever be found if we are lost. So remove the tag from your bag/pocket/carrying apparatus. Hold tag at eye level. Repeat 'This is Ours' five times aloud. Regardless of who surrounds you. Remind your self that the Other you have created is only an array of symbols embodied in a detached sense of existence. Although you may be scared, the floor we walk on together is always ours, the air we breathe is ours and the sight, the language, is ours. Feel at ease. Bend those knees. Ha ha.
˚ Castro and myself visited Rimini and Rome over the Summer. Finding a hidden treasure within the confines of an overgrown and desolate courtyard. Subsequent to prizing open the door to reveal what contained carcasses of pigeons, floor covered in excrement, decrepit school desks and tarten sheets overhanging the ceiling, a 5am set-off on hired bicycles and with a bounty of paper, home-made-glue (for snack attax) and paints, we embued Bear Gami upon the walls and left after 6 hours of inhaling the shit and sweet delights of pasting our imaginations upon the walls. The first eFactist exhibition of sorts.
I condensate for us I condensate for me I condensate for you a storm to bring us sea
i'm the naked lumbar stripped from your body i'm the rainwater dripping on your shoe incessantly through the permeable bus stop roof above your head i'm watching over you just like she said
I condensate for us I condensate for them I condensate for others a storm to bring us sea
i'm the hazel of your iris simmer in copper pots my bubbles clamber up and over like the 23rd Division - France & Flanders August 1915 wailed in orchestrated squeals - God rest there souls and allow God to rest for two minutes remember a classroom of pupils suffering steam and condensation oh the heat! the flames! of the oil and the gas! of the price that we pay for the price of today
I'll sell you your home for the dead for the married few locked in time forever with no body
I condensate for us that's all we'll remember I condensate for you and that's all we'll ever do I condensate for others to commemorate the living a storm to bring us sea just remember death is true
My favourite carpenter Alan Welsh will soon be releasing a four song EP. The EP is currently untitled. But the Tracklisting is as follows:
1. Just Like That 2. Cardboard Hilltop 3. Trains Are Broken 4. Emergency
His musics leave me betwixt and between conscious and the unconscious state of doing. In fact, just the other night I fell asleep with headphones on and as the EP filtered into my dreams, I awoke to find myself naively smiling like drunk person reflecting childhood nostalgia. He has asked and I have accepted to make some artworx, so the above is just a test as to what may or may not work.
midwives push me in the river with the spit and curse. as my body hits water grains of transportation copulate with atoms. my back crashes into dune i'm lying in the desert with nano-structures of socratic truth stuck inbetween my teeth. hands begin groping from beneath sand gripping the sides of my torso and limbs. body begins to secrete translucent goblets seeping through pores and i become a wax entity. continuous push up to heavens as i begin to melt everywhere wax drooping through fingers palms wrists and arms. i disappear. providing the sand with its needs the hands retract into earth newborn with skin
Another book, this one comes with free badge and is SLIGHTLY smaller than your standard A5 spread. Conceptual notion of adhering to potions. '2012...' collage book of man's obsession with our continuous logging of earth samples to satisfy proof of 'nature' in the gods eye (in fact the eye of man and only ever, man) in a trade for sacrificial science of proof, of a knowledge in man of what is perceived as humankind's idea of nature only to crumble at creation of flag, all wrapped up in prayer like winnie the pooh's fists stuck together by jizz and the imaginary order of honey treacling down tigger's tail.
i admit my weaknesses, i'm ill with 10kg weights for eye-lids.
made from excerpts of Travels in Hyperreality by Italian author Umberto Eco. what provoked my deconstructing of book forms in structure of digital steel was the brief by peoples over at www.clinicpresents.com for their event/exhibition Tuesday 29th September.
they make me do things.
the torn apart chapter is titled 'Reports from the Global Village'. underneath this sentence you can see the disparate seperation of pages have been compounded into single form. click.jpeg
so i was reading about astronauts and their capability of being able to time-travel whilst 'being' outside of the Earth's atmosphere. as i read internal, memories flittered out and cut into my consciousness appearing as translucent circles like sticker-sheets in primary school classroom.
"by reading and making sense through these memories, am i not time-travelling in the same sense like the astronauts?"
that's me thinking by the way. sense protruded and inspiration beckoned digital materialization of above concept. expanded. the physical copies are will be photographed and up well really soon.
the good the bad the ugly is a conceptual notion materialized into a physical 'zine form for physical pleasures and published below for those who prefer the intangible delights of the digital era.
The 'zines are limited to 30 and are bound with a piece of red card I found on the floor. It will totally be available at 'zine fairs/symposiums/the cupboard behind your bathroom mirror for £3 or £4 with a poster, oh hang on!...The posters aren't screen-printed so don't expect to slather drool over the authentic hand-made-D.I.Y-harder-than-Ian-MacKaye-limited-for-your-pleasure-and-nobody-elses. They'll just be ink on paper but the wrestlers are well amusing so glue it to the cage of your pet budgie.
Here's a JPEG of one..
"I think I need some ketameen"
Of course I should definitely type up the conceptual notion but then that'd deter any point of interaction about the 'zine in person possibly...we've got to take an interest and ask somewhere along a line right?
Parminedes saw the world divided into pairs of being/non-being. One half of the opposition he called positive, the other negative.
Which one is the positive? Which is YOUR negative?