modern conscripture

a feral sound. (la marelle ronde)

Wed, 17 Jan 2007 00:16:48 GMT

Again?
Again.
...okay.

*thwap*

the expansive work pro-bono.

Mon, 12 Jun 2006 17:41:04 GMT

Yearning toward sustenance.
Heaving any beat downtown.
Mashing Gilgamesh with Gomorrah.

A nip of the old ultrasilence can revive--
can reveal,
can belie,
can congeal.

gee-are-ohdubelyew.
that spells...GROW.

a corollary coronary.

Mon, 16 May 2005 05:51:48 GMT

In times of great duress, the curling toward antinomianism can seem inevitable.
However, there's nothing etched inside the granite, save perhaps a pean or two.

---

The use of valerian as an adjunct to your spring poultice is discouraged at this stage.
Try instead just to breathe deep, lie back, and think of Ellan Vannin...

"Quocunque Jeceris Stabit"

The game's afoot, Sir John. We'd best be on our Way.
Easy for you to say Henry, the Path is always clearer with another's Eye!

freshly scrubbed exterior as counterpoint to washed out interior.

Thu, 05 May 2005 21:53:34 GMT

the four capstones of my jaw have been scattered to the winds.
the maw reknits its wounds.
all seems safe but for the coppery taste of blood.

while in fact: with my guard down (sent home on sick leave), my emotional/energetic reserve oscillates between overfull and bone dry. longing-and-lonliness supplanted by plucky-resolve-and-platonic-idealism supplanted by longing-and-lonliness...ad nausea (without ever quite reaching the vomitorium...)

the desire to be cradled is filled by mine own hands. so has it been. so shall it be.

the body is an adaptable beast. sometimes it adapts to others, sometimes to itself.

it's the can-do attitude that makes it all worth the while.

vim & vigor. scorched happiness. forthright by way of mute communique.

good luck to you.

(all)

a recursive triangulation of the passionate remiss.

Sun, 01 May 2005 16:06:08 GMT

O woe to thee on this, the day of days.
(Blessed be thee on this, the day of days.)

Walpurgisnacht has come and gone.
The morning star has shown.
And now the ribbons do wind succinctly 'round the pole.

The annuity has built up to something larger than its sum, and now we seek to count out the allotments and bury them 'neath the soft loam of material reciprocity.

To have wept and bled is better than to not at all.
And indeed, have these things come to pass.

To pine and preen is worse than to move forward robust and vigorous with tears streaming further still.
And, have indeed these things come to pass?
Yes. And in passing, do they inveigle and reveal...

...bad prose and worse poetry done in the service of promiscuity that are no more forgiven than a cuckolding that must be.

That is to say, they are both forgiven.
(And for giving--atchoo!)

to my friends and lovers, as well as the fellow possessed: ewige blumenkraft!

Sun, 02 May 2004 05:06:54 GMT

I was all set just now, to up and bleed onstage.
(before the music played)
But once it had,
I realized:

I'd already bled myself dry.

smooth disturbances congeal and congrue.

Fri, 09 Apr 2004 01:01:48 GMT

LAYERS OF SHADOW SLIP OVER THEMSELVES.
placement seems off, yet fitting.

[THE ONTOLOGISTICS SEEM INDICATIVE OF SIGNIFICANT MONKEYBUSINESS.]

...per their collations, an indictment seems repose.
...AND YET PERCOLATIONS LEAD INDIGENOUS FIRES TO SMOLDER.

Not aloof of multiplicitous trend,
though neither below wily nuance.

Foxholes harbor forget-me-nots best indeed forgotten.

{and so do they all cry out at last, as one}
"LETHE!"
[and thus begin to weep openly]

I reply in eldritch tongue, naught but a single word:

'Forsooth.'

the pull of activity vs. techne

Sat, 03 Apr 2004 19:51:14 GMT

Forgoing all presuppositions, I suggest a thorough immersion in realistic expectation.

In other words:

Fuck this shit.
I'm cleaning house.

you don't need talking.

Tue, 24 Feb 2004 16:31:43 GMT

*my heart explodes with delicious laughter and curious intent*

{by the wit that comes from this whit of a wight}

(it is daunting, but not insurmountable)

---

my crinoline mistress
my decoupage whore

you are well come.

murder as an excuse for hunger-pains.

Sat, 21 Feb 2004 01:42:50 GMT

today fertility took me out to see the sights.

[to my pores]

"you've been closed off for quite a while haven't you?"

[my pores, shyly]

"...yes'm."

F: Why don't you open up for me...?
P: umm...okay.

[enter utter abandonment, as nature asserts itself.]

P: motherfuckin' YEAH!

---

i went down to work to use the fax machine, and entered to find that tom had just put in "Songs For The Deaf".
I ended up dancing insanely.
All over the store.
Whilst answering the phone and haphazardly helping customers.

[then I bought some punk albums and a juicy klezmer album on tzadik]
{feeeeed the addiction...}
(I need to balance the ratio of what's coming in to what's going out.)

/ohwell. at least it's creatively energizing../

---

today i got dr. who tapes from justin, and a supercoolhiphop CD from jake.
tomorrow I meet colleen in the flesh.
rock.

catharsis for the followers of Set.

Tue, 17 Feb 2004 16:05:32 GMT

*looks left, looks right*
*laughs*

//Scrabbling about for a crust of bread and a jug of grapejuice can be hard work.
It's amazing how often you'll be left to your own devices, if you politely refuse theirs.
Books can be a comfortable haven, but also a comfortable trap. Choose yours wisely.//

the chorus all join in song:

"the look...the feel...of mammon...the fabric of our lives..."

one of the choir bursts out laughing as puberty hits, and his voice cracks for the first time.

[they all look on disdainfully, as he jumps off of the risers and into the bright morning sun.]

---

obsequious allure has broken down to ashen pallor and credit card bills.

{You get less credit than you deserve.
Surprise them all, and cash your chips in early.
Thumb a ride to mount Qaf; you'll be a star in no time...}

ontological wet dreams {sprout forth unnoticed}

Tue, 10 Feb 2004 02:38:50 GMT

If in the event of an absolute submergence, you should feel yourself confronted with uncertainty, remember: you are only who you pretend to be.

{baptismal release/portents in the tincture}

[I Wake Up Narcoleptic, and Afloat.]

Riddled with desire and catechism, we glide slowly inward........

{daath has you.}

{reckoning via line of sight}

Wed, 21 Jan 2004 19:38:36 GMT

Ready to wrassle me a boar amidst the industrial wasteland.
Then, follow it up with some shadowboxing and a nice night on the town.

No hay banda, mis amigos. No hay banda.

articulation in the arctic / colic intervenes and supersedes.

Fri, 16 Jan 2004 15:05:47 GMT

TIMELINE:

1/9 - bitten by frosty.
1/16 - got new boots/goin' stompin'.
1/17 and beyond - environmental domination?

---

"Jejune atrocities visit every day."

should regulatory measures be taken...?
{stave off the whitewash!}
prep for the blackout.

"Sol invictus, indeed."

newton's third law -or- the paintings on the wall.

Wed, 07 Jan 2004 04:47:59 GMT

A frenzy of verbal sparring can be really cool.
Synchronicity continues to jab me in the ribs when I'm not paying attention.
I'm continuing to learn more about the cycles.

more specifically:
dis-ease
un-ease
put-at-ease

And So We Come To:

[make manifest]
[eat fudge topping]
[sleep]

Dig it.

conjoined twins are not indivisible.

Mon, 05 Jan 2004 22:03:49 GMT

My body cries out for replenishment.
I reply, "Ramen and water will do."

[consumption, unction is your function]

---

I feel a surge of predatory creativity.

(...it was within you all along, a pre-dator.)
(...you must destroy to create; transmutation.)

I thrust myself deeply into the material furnace.

(Swimming through potential, I am replete with vigor.)
(I must remember to temper the flow; streamline to achieve optimal resonance.)

[consume--exhume--resume]

---

Bon appetit.

ingenue island {as} morphological utopia

Sun, 04 Jan 2004 07:32:31 GMT

Allowing ignoble thoughts to criss-cross my brain and slip through to my cerebellum always results in the same activity; stumbling.

How then, should I re-assert my equilibrium?

Through falling down.

*thump*

Ahhhh....much better.

naked pilgramage AKA fade to white

Fri, 02 Jan 2004 16:06:30 GMT

Young Wirtz and I have just returned from a trek through the urban wilderness.
Snow smothers the landscape.
I arrive ready to engage domesticity in battle.

*grins broadly*

Netzach my friend, how good of you to join us.

Fiat lux, motherfucker.

Fri, 02 Jan 2004 02:57:01 GMT

And so it begins...

{to}

swell.

[my ego?my penis?my brain?my pride?my heart?my sense of civic duty?my insurance premium?my reality-tunnel?my family's hidden coffer of lilliputian architecture???]

(you decide.)

-END TRANSMISSION-