Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Erf, context

Brittle little sideways and every man down. If taken gently, the hug will come to feel like a vice or a series of aerials broadcasting nothing with aplomb, but good strappings and that elusive copper tweed that, well, say no lore but chastity. Taking this in stride, the effect would appraise with flu-like symptoms and tallow walks, woven in the last fit of repair like a gerund meant to soak into the jeans and wah's notice left boorishly nailed on an oak team, pending. You could cook this into several moments or garnish fathom readings from a sounding whereby the gravital boards could render the indicator by skews of dictation devices, all coiled in a solid veal, or rubber entry wound to enshroud a totality and general appeal for after-concerted efforts, all-you-beg-belie-belay-beneath-fore/shower maybe-gotcho-finger (nibble, bow, nibble, now again: take the bow) fess up with smallish two-prop airplanes (shush quietly until surrounded!) and damn! A cordial return. A back end through? Well, again, famous ables and the tab of thrice heeded watery baggage (cloying, hasty), these tall-topped gentleman entities prospered in dazes of peaks you could really only catch up in with that wence-look; a kind of clothed battening or trial means to insert pillish trends minus the fattened halves. Praying for mud, too? Kind of like a collapse, you could say. Bite bridle and take 'er pause (apples, intercoms, coda): you-got-now-gotchew-got-now-had-to-you-and-you-and-you-and-all/resounding, veiling of seals tiled into microfabric trowel/take it and smear like a ceiling pull, requested by furious ranked auspices and residential hey-we-hang-here (handsome, by the rooftops). Your got's or mine: shouldn't be that E-Z...

(eyes used for tooth support)

Sunday, August 29, 2010

Dictation software part 2

Dictation software analysis from reading texts written by Jim Leftwich. It's three mutually exclusive sources trying to burst through-- Jim's words, my reading of them aloud, and then gurgled thru the babel ears with this particular smartphone software. Fantastic!


Ask 1999 pony layer of firm Cabal which the bonds exclusion areole between the biggest mountains and the GMC sperm kittens emu and read Paris painted towards to hurt Leanna drawn at labor humid audit avian vital in order to project a page of Curtis intends north of the rock at the Eaton ninja lion in the S. Bethesda Ln. is Brenda Joyce and American ham blackboard lotion fax cover rage to reptile elm invasions Turkish old Hodads Kurdish at the North Little Rock tourist attraction which coming from Rob about Bible you wish and Kurdish Turkish it's self sizzle table is washing ton one right at the scalability of the democracy Turkish which ride.father hatch home from pitchfork booth militaries which replied winks bad tweet the worst file updated party of humankind copper humus sanity on...

(eyes used for tooth support)

excerpt as explained by hilarious dictation software

By far less numbers have a cordial reasoning and even less so a beckoning I tried taming the gander with the with his spoons and yesterdays for bodings but the nation wouldn't stick in the service were all too happy kitchen plumbing said the fat and King that's in fairness the way butter goes rancid the man like none other than that sort of aptitude for choice words gone asunder gone Gary gun loads come hypertensive with the hypotenuse left leaning participant was way over to impinged on a salad day retreat and Rhiannon treat all back and stayed ready for the more it is out of lessons real...

(eyes used for tooth support)

Friday, August 27, 2010

An hour a day...

(eyes used for tooth support)

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

... further implied

'Been on a tear as of late: uploading, affixing, appointing, and getting incredulous. Nefarious bouts spill throughout one's colony-- summer's like that-- and the first whiffs of raggy weed and haggard hoggin' tires of the August overture ending, well, don'tcha know? And so, 'been on that tear, making sense of the last four or five really. Or make it seven, 'cause above is a blink to Domzale, Slovenia, 2003. The website, ol' cranksturgeon dot com, has some rewires to it, too: new paddy wogs, curdles, gurgles, mp3's, empty-trees... not bad. I'll get it all cohesive, one day; as for now, it's circuitous as hell, and enjoyable because of this. So who knows? Don'tcha? With all the housekeeping going down and fresh hair clearing out of the seagates, mebby I'll even get that LP recorded finally!

more ganges revisited

Katchekanzer penis you allah marlo handsome marble chancer; cause of saucer, wee explainer, quiet pain or rinsed the green to cat to green the shame a pane of window gazer. Four tied days of rays and anus; periwinkle thorn and stein or stare a mighty whisper intake, there you suggest a pittley press of paper copper taupe (I used this against the waver); cherish harass with glass seeds of porous steve and nomenclature, normal rapture, lady nature, probable tincture, suture, teacher: kenya days of desert weather or of heather often you grope the legs, her name a circle and smile-a-day of sinking slammed often over oven crows coven cleaver fingers weaned to maws and teething those times again (when the drinks and tans are summer and up); this why or when or wait or wrong... these days no way will you have your what-you're-gone, will-you-getta, will your will away avast aghast agog agar againspeak, prick, press, prod, prill, prompt, prince, patch, pat, fattened back of leisure tease and finger-ties and all the lard you'd hope would wash away with tides so teal and taught of lessons hardened by delivery. Ya damn so, you duel sin, you speculate, irritation wire, dire dim and conjugate this til it mends into a fantastic state of heady bubble soonish foam and there you go and will again: a cloud so full, a whiff of air will UNDO you.

Sunday, August 22, 2010


What we really used to find important.

There's was always that cowered dot of group agreement, something to necessitate an ample fern bath of friendlies that appointed or anointed blames and parlor rifts to other places; far be it to take on the burden by one's lonesome. And yet, that's exactly what one does: they chew and chew and chew, 'til there's nothing left but one petty granule or kernel, one little wee frig to set sail in a vast steppe, and my, them's no inland sea to taker takes or ticker tacks lightly.

I'd ask jones for an instance. He'd been back there, in back of me rather, chortling and stuffing fennel seeds in between what folds his chin and arms had been gathering over the season of pilsner and crotch yawns; accrued and requisite acquisition tome for a summer well-spent spunked and drunked. Jones, or lowercase "jonesy" would, like his role in any matter, simply lay back and let his sternum do the talking. Wasting and debating was no occupation for him. And I'd be hardly an ableist to attempt a kindly measure of sympathy for a character not worth the next sentence.

No sympathy for the we or the eyes.

A team manifesto and a dance of little gentle flies. No worry, nor matter in the laying of good brown toned reasoning, struts, and hardware shakers. The less misfortune meant the furthering of sod, careening rooftops amidst the wayward maelstroms of hurricane and betsy, both able, and neither had the rum to spiel otherwise, or at least something revelational along the topics of greasy haired bearded guys all clad in white, but watch for the leather sandals. Like plain clothed cops, it's the shoes, and I had read a few of those margins. Now and again, I'd felt that perhaps a better reasoning was dormant under the ladle of travels and spoons: I mean, all that silver, all that encrusting and plating, simply had to hold a cover, like alimony spreads the disease of felchers and tripes, some oil to the good, a way of dissolving it, that maybe a bookfucker had two more lies worth copulating the rug for, leaving my sundays to wonder whether mints were apropos of general illiteracy. But the girl wasn't gonna bite. And teethy dragons or races with your mates in hotrod magazine dreams (what, 1953?), these weren't topic for breeching or flying peat, nor the obnoxious writers of mirth and seeing brown lines about all us grounded dirt-angels. Man, it was enough. No team, no jones. Just footwear. 'Been to a number of shoe outlets too. But that's another glance; not worth your pickle or pin prick to time's being.

So what is?

A list? Furthermore, a loaded hunk: geode, twine, lumber, rugs, pellets, kernels, old books, and putting up fresh posters. Something had it in them to delay time a bit, or so I'd let it seem. Hitting the numbers with a smashed underside of tweed wasn't gonna dictate the next advent, nor make for clothy advances towards nubile dirt-angels, dust-matrons, or lithe, wee pixie-sties; (and foaming from the eyes), would ever there be a gesture, if one so fine, that you could read it in the back journal carry-log and make a reflection about this dial or that nugget, calling branches out when you saw them, or drawing fish chalices in the most inappropriate places, namely public restrooms. Those deities had claims, sure, and also reasonable. We all loved her for that, the realtor, the imperial we, and islands in the streams caught fresh, brisk, warm, and pure enough to cap, or at best begat the behest of your medico, and mine too, man. Quality had no fakery when the cement walls went up and all the porcelain was exported for a sudsy deal-breaker in maybe a midwestern plot, well-adjusted for antennae, satellite, and even the hardcopy routers of ancients and old bellies, those moustaches that recall this or that blame, taking oxen out to the so and so peasant so as to avoid a warring this or that, again, with the camouflage. A lady at the time, neither biter nor golden realtor, nor a betsy or beatrice, she, well, she had the oracle seal. I'd hear her whole pitch on the phone and it wouldn't matter. So much air supply these lungs could take, and all gassed limp and hot and waxy, then cold. Sopped with reverence, she was more mother than horse, and it took a desert again to get me back to norms.

There was no fucking jones, by the way.

Figments had trusts in their kids. I put a seven down and later took it back in exchange for a few handfuls of alkaline soil and whisps of hair to replace the fallen. Canoes, loam, yetis, jet skis, and a lake surface from end to end seeming like a walkable layer of slowly bobbing cobble, but on closer inspections, clods that we were, the layer was comprised not of pinkies or their nails, polished in that purple that only lakes in the area could imitate (they invented that color, see?), but a watery canopy of pinecones nearing the million billion mark. The trees hadn't taken notice of this, nor did the lake seem to mind terribly, either. One or the other, a jones perhaps, or a yeti, or a number, pick one, any, anything or word, the delve will do you good to ease the pain. It's momentary, a fleeting pelt, a rind of chaste deposit into say, pregnancy, retirement plans, or the unease of being around that parent with the palsy child. All takes would find relevance, and the cities would lay lines from apple to apple, exchanged by the teeth of strangers one day, as if passing the sin to finally give birth to the necessary pariah or toad or whatever you may call them, those people, yeah, those guys down there.

He points to the ground, forgetting that all had departed from his company; walked or swam in any direction but his or the direction he was going towards or had come from. No matter, no soul, he'd mutely resign; no memes or moles, and the DNA strand was seeming to be capitulating as well. Ferried down there by more skies than he'd ever imagined, I'd guess he was like the jones-character, but more prone to hair and eating the sagebrush. Teeth weren't of any importance, nor his calves or the respite that the summer could occasionally afford. All the tables, three legged or four, all required a forum, or a sense that there were guides to lecture, carrying sutures if need be, or arcane but thoroughly useful knowledge of pines, saps, rinses, creams, and vials. The blue wasn't blue enough for some reason. He'd need a reason. The ground had her cliches, but she wasn't gonna yield. I couldn't keep up with him: parroting his churlish twitch with my own invented type of easily forgettable tablature was like setting upon a town for a raucous night of barley and corn, but getting too much palm in the key closet by some bugger smelling of air freshener, claiming that tomorrow he'll be on the wagon, but having only signed on with today's lease which was a few minute's shy of midnight.

But down there, in addition to a condescension, a bad tone, a really low key musculature, there were also wedges in the valves, and all were becoming more apparent as the weeks told bells to chime and yell the beacons of years and sentences and nests for further wrings of the sopping sky to spit driplets and sores on musty levels of permeable armature and air. Criers, leaflets, and the bends of slow nitrogen contamination, it was back from the pillar and on with the rifling of bad jokes. Too much desert time, and I knew it. My little girl had stretched out, glorious in her suit, unfazed by my trifles. It was for her, essentially; we did the done deal, and I'd opted out. But back and through, lads and penis wearers: take a cautionary relish to foment for a bite out, maybe do some banking, and possibly step on a few cracks this time. All for none, I saw the stables to spurn the rooted wellspring of copper colored spring, armed with a mauser or sten-gun, pointing it without malice, but shoving it every which way. Him, or jet skis, or us hairs, our fractal insistence on beaters and brass and arch-tops, or the jowl storage facility of jones and his seed unseen; we, the lot, myself, the impervious, the mired lemons of congratulatory spine stings and slap back, didn't matter an ace, so long as she slept.

Saturday, August 21, 2010

Work those 5's... (pt. 2)

6. Spit, Cup, Stamp
(tape loop yells "oh" every 30 seconds; spit into a glass at the "oh"; do this while madly ink-stamping pages of a book with the word "huso"; drink)
7. Kenny Geezum
(circular breath for 5 minutes; amplify heartbeat at the same time)
8. Undisclosed props/undisclosed performance
(soundtrack: heavy dancin' drumbeat; rope entire audience; place surplus parachute over entire audience; attack with leafblower)
9. Islands in the stream
(10 five gallon buckets; 1 fifty-five gallon contractor bag; audience sings Kenny Rogers while bucketing fifty-five gallons into bag w/ performer inside; spill)

(#'s 6 & 8 are loosely based on instructions by Matt Taggart)

(eyes used for tooth support)

Friday, August 20, 2010

Work those 5's to th' 9's... Frantasia (pt 1)

1. Effigy for that fuckin' texting driver
(inflate 8' tall effigy with automobile exhaust pipe; play with mobile phone app while backing up; run over effigy)
2. Telephone
(record a whispered sentence to someone, they repeat what they heard to the next person; play back results)
3. CC
(deconstruct the words "chicken" & "coward"; do this while dangling a chicken egg on a suspended string)
4. Transmit the sin for Joesph Beuys
(eat an amplified apple; wear a suit coat with exaggerated-length arms)

(eyes used for tooth support)

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Revisiting Ljubljana


(ps. CLICK ME!)


Half the way there.
I was telling of spokes.
Speaking their sun. No wonder it's done (for). Ages eloquent and wince the make of beach rind up and over. The make is inconclusive, utterly. Actualities are beer brined under a cough of chicken, raised bogs, and the most tender of lily wipes: a whistle-full and wizening lectern deed of seen unscored; and the underlies of a well-bred heel, probable amphibian, and later to fizzle up into a told-of-yore state of bandages and rope, still a lily, possible sumac bundle, twice the size of the list and later, judgement parchment papyrus. Much further in the day, an awaited wail of woman would make its beacon here... sound unplentified and sans accompaniment of piano's teeth and the lightest undertow. A day further, and I'd be bored shitless, expecting the font to do some acrobatics instead of trying to bait the lesser minded handfuls of spindly scoops, sand for future cement, and kisses (of course), wasted on your hand while you slept. It wouldn't be parenthetical to underline the detail work. All my days had seen appendices, bless their little souls and for-sale signs. Housing them meant nothing altruistic.

(thighs fused for truth compote)

Sunday, August 15, 2010


A sea of purple fish in a valley of red necks…

(eyes used for tooth support)

Thursday, August 12, 2010


1 thru 6. Do this begrudgingly
7 thru 12.. Do this without hesitation

(eyes used for act twelve and a half)

Sunday, August 8, 2010

beach event

1. Sunday
2. Out of the blue, go to the beach with a friend you've known for twenty years
3. Talk about new things

(eyes used for tooth support)

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Necessity breeder unperformed

1. Let's face it
2. Two sheets
3. To the wind (or Kiev)
4. Nobody has pants like that
5. Chops
6. Beuys
6. Six again
7. Administer or flagellum (wiggle either)
8. Now you're getting it
0. Whoops, lost it
9. (or 10.) (eyes used for tooth support)