'coinnigh do mhisneach'
keep your courage!
dear lambs, praying everyone is okay during these luminous days of rot and wonder. heart felt thanks must be dispatched for the overwhelmingly encouraging participation in - - whatever it is - - currently the days are quite preoccupied with what, by God's grace, will be a project: Occam's Radiator - - where the gargantuan elephant in the room and false prophet that is mainstream environmentalism will be confronted with the reality that it is in bed with multinational conglomerates, utterly ignores modernity's painful alienation from nature and is elaborately unsexy.
really want to thank ghostman mix mag for being patient with arranging the last interview which i ended up enjoying so much, a bit too much, really. there seems to be a bit of a war on fun but take heart because fun will come!
sometimes people have been asking if they can donate or offer their patronage, a proposition which must be very, very, very gratefully and piously declined because i'm keeping myself pure like the baby jesus. however, if anyone wants to buy some food for the Celia Hammond Animal Trust - - they always need food and bandages and medicines and bedding and things like that and they're very good people and Donovan once wrote a song for Celia and she went out with Jeff Beck.
if you can, or if you want to or whatever, rather than patronising amazon who i've solipsistically decided are the enemy since they blocked my startlingly pertinent and VERY sexy book, Digital Scum, which is single-handedly healing the sick and resurrecting the dead as we speak! - - put in a request here and you'll be sent it in the post straight from the horse's house rather than the whore-ses? mouth (not sure what that means) there's also a post box number at the bottom of the page which you can write to like a real human person.
what else? oh yeah, question everything etc, except me of course, who is consistently right about everything all the time.
keep moving towards the bright night sky, with unending love and a big sexy kiss to everyone especially all the BAD people who need it most of all.
amazon are currently blocking Digital Scum, objecting to some content, including the title! so I rebranded it. as I said at the top, try to get it direct from me anyway, if you can. just a little post and packing will do. because i've got no business sense.
"Mabel had waited until Helena and Richard, her impossibly nice parents, were out on a picnic for the homeless before hacking at her wrists using a Gillette Venus Embrace with protective ribbon of moisture for notably less irritation. She’d bought it in August during a flash of foolish faith that there might be something worth shaving her underarms for soon. The last thing she’d seen was Emma Willis’s sisterly smile on a money off voucher.
I’m proud to partner with the new ‘USE YOUR AND‘ campaign, which aims to inspire and encourage women everywhere to celebrate all the different brilliant qualities that make them unique, the text read, next to a model with a rucksack made to look like a giant by adding miniature buildings for scale. Mabel had thought about those words as her radial artery haemorrhaged into the L'Occitane Neroli Milk Bath, turning it into a beautiful sea of rhubarb and custard."
resistance is juvenile
"When the harmonious shibboleths of connectivity turn out to be nothing more than soul-destroying, dopamine induced feedback loops perpetuated by scheming political potentates, vapid entertainment fixtures and parents that have abdicated their natural position as adults, it's time for the younger generation to set humanity free from the ball and chain of big tech reliance"
By the way, the artwork for this book is by the adept Prashant Gami, and was drawn from a description of a dream I had.
the astronomer, Thomas Jefferson Jackson See, and I was so abusive to the Astronomical journal that they banned me for life and I wasn't allowed to name Pluto 'Cronus' as a result.
Finally, a biography was written calling me the greatest philosopher in the world and it turned out, I wrote it myself! Anyway, thanks, bye.
screaming angels take me now
Every now and then, I try to watch a comedy show. The screaming primary colours of modernity pound my head on the pavement and my corpus callosum bleeds seven sick sadnesses and my eyes run screaming black blood while the impotent glare insists I’m enjoying watching god’s gifted children gorge the turkey through the freezing window on Christmas Day. They turn up the audience’s laughter to a tinny maniacal drum machine and it’s a mad drunken aunty, the gloomy clucking ghoul at every party, scorching out a hole in hope, faces in the trojan trough of Alexander Pope, cutting to glutted guests gurning grins to tell you that the thing the BBC beard man in a cardigan just said was funny and I do not weep, for I am numb, NUMB! The death throes of 90s lad drag, mutating into oblong heads and pantomime manhood - aware of its absurdity - because it’s 2021 and has a post, post, post ironic T-shirt on its ghost, ghost, ghostly podcast body. They were breast fed Chris Morris and a hundred graphic novels but check with the corporation before mentioning anything pre-2010 in case it made a rape joke which they would never do.
The BBC really should have some sort of comedy panel show © sometime with a square-headed slow motion man, a beard scribbled on his Hampstead face, scribed by a child in half-hearted haste, approximating a memory of wild. And another square-headed man with a literary agent wife mumbling in Berkshire Birkenstocks through his pop culture life. Who remembers The Space Sentinels? who remembers Basil Brush - the Brexit voting fox - scribble beard wrote the joke on Boxing Day at mum and dad’s in the Lake District. And the skinny googly-eyed one with a 1982 video game lung who has capitalised on looking weird by knowing that audiences are so stupid they’ll think everything they say is MAD and ECCENTRIC. He once worked a week in telesales selling funeral care plans, the audience howl at the novelty of a nine to five. And the woman, the lamb welcomed into the weedy wolf pack channelling Ulrika’s 90s good sport hearty embrace of lad drag. If the square-head beard man tells a joke with sex in it the audience laughter is turned up to scorch another hole in your entropy and the camera gonzos the one woman for her reaction and she better remember to laugh with chivalrous abandon. Ah, the piercing primary colours STING my BRAIN and I only came to YouTube to watch an Elvis interview.
early excerpt from an early version of digital scum
i have no explanation
hunting exemption shines light on barbaric and antiquated pastime
Alisha's short offering upon hearing the news that fox hunting and grouse shooting will be exempt from social distancing guidelines especially pertinent at the time of writing because it was cubbing season.
the devil went down to george at asda
written as a closing chapter to a year of lunacy - - this is a compilation of poems, drawings, brain reports and intrusive thoughts: available on japanese release in june with bonus section
With debt of gratitude to the unearthly celestial beauty, Savanthi, for resurfacing these. There's only a couple of pieces left because someone reported all the others!
Read articles not controversial enough to be removed
WILLIAM BLAKE AND THE COSMOS
Heart Over Head
A short investigation into William Blake's relationship with celestial space and what we can learn from it during this time of accelerated technological tyranny!