Thursday, 14 January 2016

Disappointingly I Am Ill-Suited To The Current Century

  1. Current Employment Status
Paul is a writer
but due to lack of work and no income
he is looking at retraining
to gain viable skills
to secure income.

Paul has moved up to Nelson
from London
and is living with his parents.

  1. Previous Job Experience
When Paul was working in London,
he was a professional writer.
He did this for 8 years.

Before this Paul worked
at JobCentre Plus in Sheffield.

While at University,
Paul worked at various employers doing
Warehousing, and
Distribution Operative, and
packing goods for distribution.

  1. Skills and abilities
No Driver's License.
Easily adaptable to multiple roles.

Strong listening skills.
Strong communication skills.
Strong customer service skills.
Strong telephone skills.
Strong writing skills.
Strong attention to detail.

  1. Working / Learning Preference
Paul is seeking
to enter into a new sector
and is seeking
to learn practical skills
to better his chances
of gaining employment
in this field.

  1. Barriers to Employment / Learning
Paul has started
looking for work other than writing.
His degree is not broad enough
to allow Paul to enter
into different sectors of the labour.

Paul has looked at office work,

but does not wish to work in an office.

written about me by a career advisor

Friday, 8 January 2016

THE END OF THE BNP

I learned how not to leave the house
in early 2015, a bit like Tsipras
or that bloke from Podemos
or so I thought.

The planet's dead and all we do are courses.
I do not care about debts
because UKIP rednecks
scare ducks while

socialists cling to their almighty curse
that dull is their moderate
and their suicide is useless
(my life is bleeding).

The cross-hair of normal clips into a purse
which redefines a heart.
A good career is art
but not truth.

This is for a person still untaught
or for somebody whose life is fraught.
Don't get caught.

Dear beloved racist: never get sunburnt.

Sunday, 13 December 2015

Kafka 7am

I have to make train connections
But I'm a proper depressed insect -
I'd like to be accepted
Really but given rejection
I'd rather not be disturbed.
Throw an apple into my heart.
All I ever did was try.

Wednesday, 2 December 2015

A PRE-FAB BUILDING MADE OUT OF BRICKS FROM THE LISTS FROM PEOPLE STUCK IN TEMPORARY ACCOMMODATION BECAUSE OF AN ILL-FATED EXPERIMENT TO LET THE PRIVATE SECTOR DICTATE HOUSING NEED

HOPELESS SUICIDAL BEHAVIOUR IS BRANDED BY WESTERN CORPORATE-FASCIST (CF) GOVERNMENTS AS PART OF ISIS (IS) TO JUSTIFY POLICIES DESIGNED TO TERRORIZE THEIR OWN POLULACES THROUGH WHAT IS A COMMON ENEMY OUT THERE SOMEWHERE THAT IS ACTUALLY REALLY REALLY REAL. WHERE'S THAT? WHO THE FUCK KNOWS? THE ODD THING BEING THAT THIS EXTERNALISATION IS WHAT OUR GOVERNMENTS ARE FIGHTING AGAINST WHILE TURNING IT TOWARDS THEIR OWN PRETEND POPULATIONS. MASS SURVEILLANCE, TORTURE, AUTHORITARIANISM, YOUTH UNEMPLOYMENT, COPYRIGHT. IT ALL POINTS TO A STATE FAILURE OR A FULL ON CULTURE DEATH. NOTHING LASTS FOREVER. MAY AS WELL LAMENT WHILE IT LASTS.HOPELESS SUICIDAL BEHAVIOUR IS BRANDED BY WESTERN CORPORATE-FASCIST (CF) GOVERNMENTS AS PART OF ISIS (IS) TO JUSTIFY POLICIES DESIGNED TO TERRORIZE THEIR OWN POLULACES THROUGH WHAT IS A COMMON ENEMY OUT THERE SOMEWHERE THAT IS ACTUALLY REALLY REALLY REAL. WHERE'S THAT? WHO THE FUCK KNOWS? THE ODD THING BEING THAT THIS EXTERNALISATION IS WHAT OUR GOVERNMENTS ARE FIGHTING AGAINST WHILE TURNING IT TOWARDS THEIR OWN PRETEND POPULATIONS. MASS SURVEILLANCE, TORTURE, AUTHORITARIANISM, YOUTH UNEMPLOYMENT, COPYRIGHT. IT ALL POINTS TO A STATE FAILURE OR A FULL ON CULTURE DEATH. NOTHING LASTS FOREVER. MAY AS WELL LAMENT WHILE IT LASTS.HOPELESS SUICIDAL BEHAVIOUR IS BRANDED BY WESTERN CORPORATE-FASCIST (CF) GOVERNMENTS AS PART OF ISIS (IS) TO JUSTIFY POLICIES DESIGNED TO TERRORIZE THEIR OWN POLULACES THROUGH WHAT IS A COMMON ENEMY OUT THERE SOMEWHERE THAT IS ACTUALLY REALLY REALLY REAL. WHERE'S THAT? WHO THE FUCK KNOWS? THE ODD THING BEING THAT THIS EXTERNALISATION IS WHAT OUR GOVERNMENTS ARE FIGHTING AGAINST WHILE TURNING IT TOWARDS THEIR OWN PRETEND POPULATIONS. MASS SURVEILLANCE, TORTURE, AUTHORITARIANISM, YOUTH UNEMPLOYMENT, COPYRIGHT. IT ALL POINTS TO A STATE FAILURE OR A FULL ON CULTURE DEATH. NOTHING LASTS FOREVER. MAY AS WELL LAMENT WHILE IT LASTS.HOPELESS SUICIDAL BEHAVIOUR IS BRANDED BY WESTERN CORPORATE-FASCIST (CF) GOVERNMENTS AS PART OF ISIS (IS) TO JUSTIFY POLICIES DESIGNED TO TERRORIZE THEIR OWN POLULACES THROUGH WHAT IS A COMMON ENEMY OUT THERE SOMEWHERE THAT IS ACTUALLY REALLY REALLY REAL. WHERE'S THAT? WHO THE FUCK KNOWS? THE ODD THING BEING THAT THIS EXTERNALISATION IS WHAT OUR GOVERNMENTS ARE FIGHTING AGAINST WHILE TURNING IT TOWARDS THEIR OWN PRETEND POPULATIONS. MASS SURVEILLANCE, TORTURE, AUTHORITARIANISM, YOUTH UNEMPLOYMENT, COPYRIGHT. IT ALL POINTS TO A STATE FAILURE OR A FULL ON CULTURE DEATH. NOTHING LASTS FOREVER. MAY AS WELL LAMENT WHILE IT LASTS.HOPELESS SUICIDAL BEHAVIOUR IS BRANDED BY WESTERN CORPORATE-FASCIST (CF) GOVERNMENTS AS PART OF ISIS (IS) TO JUSTIFY POLICIES DESIGNED TO TERRORIZE THEIR OWN POLULACES THROUGH WHAT IS A COMMON ENEMY OUT THERE SOMEWHERE THAT IS ACTUALLY REALLY REALLY REAL. WHERE'S THAT? WHO THE FUCK KNOWS? THE ODD THING BEING THAT THIS EXTERNALISATION IS WHAT OUR GOVERNMENTS ARE FIGHTING AGAINST WHILE TURNING IT TOWARDS THEIR OWN PRETEND POPULATIONS. MASS SURVEILLANCE, TORTURE, AUTHORITARIANISM, YOUTH UNEMPLOYMENT, COPYRIGHT. IT ALL POINTS TO A STATE FAILURE OR A FULL ON CULTURE DEATH. NOTHING LASTS FOREVER. MAY AS WELL LAMENT WHILE IT LASTS.HOPELESS SUICIDAL BEHAVIOUR IS BRANDED BY WESTERN CORPORATE-FASCIST (CF) GOVERNMENTS AS PART OF ISIS (IS) TO JUSTIFY POLICIES DESIGNED TO TERRORIZE THEIR OWN POLULACES THROUGH WHAT IS A COMMON ENEMY OUT THERE SOMEWHERE THAT IS ACTUALLY REALLY REALLY REAL. WHERE'S THAT? WHO THE FUCK KNOWS? THE ODD THING BEING THAT THIS EXTERNALISATION IS WHAT OUR GOVERNMENTS ARE FIGHTING AGAINST WHILE TURNING IT TOWARDS THEIR OWN PRETEND POPULATIONS. MASS SURVEILLANCE, TORTURE, AUTHORITARIANISM, YOUTH UNEMPLOYMENT, COPYRIGHT. IT ALL POINTS TO A STATE FAILURE OR A FULL ON CULTURE DEATH. NOTHING LASTS FOREVER. MAY AS WELL LAMENT WHILE IT LASTS.HOPELESS SUICIDAL BEHAVIOUR IS BRANDED BY WESTERN CORPORATE-FASCIST (CF) GOVERNMENTS AS PART OF ISIS (IS) TO JUSTIFY POLICIES DESIGNED TO TERRORIZE THEIR OWN POLULACES THROUGH WHAT IS A COMMON ENEMY OUT THERE SOMEWHERE THAT IS ACTUALLY REALLY REALLY REAL. WHERE'S THAT? WHO THE FUCK KNOWS? THE ODD THING BEING THAT THIS EXTERNALISATION IS WHAT OUR GOVERNMENTS ARE FIGHTING AGAINST WHILE TURNING IT TOWARDS THEIR OWN PRETEND POPULATIONS. MASS SURVEILLANCE, TORTURE, AUTHORITARIANISM, YOUTH UNEMPLOYMENT, COPYRIGHT. IT ALL POINTS TO A STATE FAILURE OR A FULL ON CULTURE DEATH. NOTHING LASTS FOREVER. MAY AS WELL LAMENT WHILE IT LASTS.HOPELESS SUICIDAL BEHAVIOUR IS BRANDED BY WESTERN CORPORATE-FASCIST (CF) GOVERNMENTS AS PART OF ISIS (IS) TO JUSTIFY POLICIES DESIGNED TO TERRORIZE THEIR OWN POLULACES THROUGH WHAT IS A COMMON ENEMY OUT THERE SOMEWHERE THAT IS ACTUALLY REALLY REALLY REAL. WHERE'S THAT? WHO THE FUCK KNOWS? THE ODD THING BEING THAT THIS EXTERNALISATION IS WHAT OUR GOVERNMENTS ARE FIGHTING AGAINST WHILE TURNING IT TOWARDS THEIR OWN PRETEND POPULATIONS. MASS SURVEILLANCE, TORTURE, AUTHORITARIANISM, YOUTH UNEMPLOYMENT, COPYRIGHT. IT ALL POINTS TO A STATE FAILURE OR A FULL ON CULTURE DEATH. NOTHING LASTS FOREVER. MAY AS WELL LAMENT WHILE IT LASTS.HOPELESS SUICIDAL BEHAVIOUR IS BRANDED BY WESTERN CORPORATE-FASCIST (CF) GOVERNMENTS AS PART OF ISIS (IS) TO JUSTIFY POLICIES DESIGNED TO TERRORIZE THEIR OWN POLULACES THROUGH WHAT IS A COMMON ENEMY OUT THERE SOMEWHERE THAT IS ACTUALLY REALLY REALLY REAL. WHERE'S THAT? WHO THE FUCK KNOWS? THE ODD THING BEING THAT THIS EXTERNALISATION IS WHAT OUR GOVERNMENTS ARE FIGHTING AGAINST WHILE TURNING IT TOWARDS THEIR OWN PRETEND POPULATIONS. MASS SURVEILLANCE, TORTURE, AUTHORITARIANISM, YOUTH UNEMPLOYMENT, COPYRIGHT. IT ALL POINTS TO A STATE FAILURE OR A FULL ON CULTURE DEATH. NOTHING LASTS FOREVER. MAY AS WELL LAMENT WHILE IT LASTS.HOPELESS SUICIDAL BEHAVIOUR IS BRANDED BY WESTERN CORPORATE-FASCIST (CF) GOVERNMENTS AS PART OF ISIS (IS) TO JUSTIFY POLICIES DESIGNED TO TERRORIZE THEIR OWN POLULACES THROUGH WHAT IS A COMMON ENEMY OUT THERE SOMEWHERE THAT IS ACTUALLY REALLY REALLY REAL. WHERE'S THAT? WHO THE FUCK KNOWS? THE ODD THING BEING THAT THIS EXTERNALISATION IS WHAT OUR GOVERNMENTS ARE FIGHTING AGAINST WHILE TURNING IT TOWARDS THEIR OWN PRETEND POPULATIONS. MASS SURVEILLANCE, TORTURE, AUTHORITARIANISM, YOUTH UNEMPLOYMENT, COPYRIGHT. IT ALL POINTS TO A STATE FAILURE OR A FULL ON CULTURE DEATH. NOTHING LASTS FOREVER. MAY AS WELL LAMENT WHILE IT LASTS.HOPELESS SUICIDAL BEHAVIOUR IS BRANDED BY WESTERN CORPORATE-FASCIST (CF) GOVERNMENTS AS PART OF ISIS (IS) TO JUSTIFY POLICIES DESIGNED TO TERRORIZE THEIR OWN POLULACES THROUGH WHAT IS A COMMON ENEMY OUT THERE SOMEWHERE THAT IS ACTUALLY REALLY REALLY REAL. WHERE'S THAT? WHO THE FUCK KNOWS? THE ODD THING BEING THAT THIS EXTERNALISATION IS WHAT OUR GOVERNMENTS ARE FIGHTING AGAINST WHILE TURNING IT TOWARDS THEIR OWN PRETEND POPULATIONS. MASS SURVEILLANCE, TORTURE, AUTHORITARIANISM, YOUTH UNEMPLOYMENT, COPYRIGHT. IT ALL POINTS TO A STATE FAILURE OR A FULL ON CULTURE DEATH. NOTHING LASTS FOREVER. MAY AS WELL LAMENT WHILE IT LASTS.HOPELESS SUICIDAL BEHAVIOUR IS BRANDED BY WESTERN CORPORATE-FASCIST (CF) GOVERNMENTS AS PART OF ISIS (IS) TO JUSTIFY POLICIES DESIGNED TO TERRORIZE THEIR OWN POLULACES THROUGH WHAT IS A COMMON ENEMY OUT THERE SOMEWHERE THAT IS ACTUALLY REALLY REALLY REAL. WHERE'S THAT? WHO THE FUCK KNOWS? THE ODD THING BEING THAT THIS EXTERNALISATION IS WHAT OUR GOVERNMENTS ARE FIGHTING AGAINST WHILE TURNING IT TOWARDS THEIR OWN PRETEND POPULATIONS. MASS SURVEILLANCE, TORTURE, AUTHORITARIANISM, YOUTH UNEMPLOYMENT, COPYRIGHT. IT ALL POINTS TO A STATE FAILURE OR A FULL ON CULTURE DEATH. NOTHING LASTS FOREVER. MAY AS WELL LAMENT WHILE IT LASTS.HOPELESS SUICIDAL BEHAVIOUR IS BRANDED BY WESTERN CORPORATE-FASCIST (CF) GOVERNMENTS AS PART OF ISIS (IS) TO JUSTIFY POLICIES DESIGNED TO TERRORIZE THEIR OWN POLULACES THROUGH WHAT IS A COMMON ENEMY OUT THERE SOMEWHERE THAT IS ACTUALLY REALLY REALLY REAL. WHERE'S THAT? WHO THE FUCK KNOWS? THE ODD THING BEING THAT THIS EXTERNALISATION IS WHAT OUR GOVERNMENTS ARE FIGHTING AGAINST WHILE TURNING IT TOWARDS THEIR OWN PRETEND POPULATIONS. MASS SURVEILLANCE, TORTURE, AUTHORITARIANISM, YOUTH UNEMPLOYMENT, COPYRIGHT. IT ALL POINTS TO A STATE FAILURE OR A FULL ON CULTURE DEATH. NOTHING LASTS FOREVER. MAY AS WELL LAMENT WHILE IT LASTS.HOPELESS SUICIDAL BEHAVIOUR IS BRANDED BY WESTERN CORPORATE-FASCIST (CF) GOVERNMENTS AS PART OF ISIS (IS) TO JUSTIFY POLICIES DESIGNED TO TERRORIZE THEIR OWN POLULACES THROUGH WHAT IS A COMMON ENEMY OUT THERE SOMEWHERE THAT IS ACTUALLY REALLY REALLY REAL. WHERE'S THAT? WHO THE FUCK KNOWS? THE ODD THING BEING THAT THIS EXTERNALISATION IS WHAT OUR GOVERNMENTS ARE FIGHTING AGAINST WHILE TURNING IT TOWARDS THEIR OWN PRETEND POPULATIONS. MASS SURVEILLANCE, TORTURE, AUTHORITARIANISM, YOUTH UNEMPLOYMENT, COPYRIGHT. IT ALL POINTS TO A STATE FAILURE OR A FULL ON CULTURE DEATH. NOTHING LASTS FOREVER. MAY AS WELL LAMENT WHILE IT LASTS.HOPELESS SUICIDAL BEHAVIOUR IS BRANDED BY WESTERN CORPORATE-FASCIST (CF) GOVERNMENTS AS PART OF ISIS (IS) TO JUSTIFY POLICIES DESIGNED TO TERRORIZE THEIR OWN POLULACES THROUGH WHAT IS A COMMON ENEMY OUT THERE SOMEWHERE THAT IS ACTUALLY REALLY REALLY REAL. WHERE'S THAT? WHO THE FUCK KNOWS? THE ODD THING BEING THAT THIS EXTERNALISATION IS WHAT OUR GOVERNMENTS ARE FIGHTING AGAINST WHILE TURNING IT TOWARDS THEIR OWN PRETEND POPULATIONS. MASS SURVEILLANCE, TORTURE, AUTHORITARIANISM, YOUTH UNEMPLOYMENT, COPYRIGHT. IT ALL POINTS TO A STATE FAILURE OR A FULL ON CULTURE DEATH. NOTHING LASTS FOREVER. MAY AS WELL LAMENT WHILE IT LASTS.

Saturday, 28 November 2015

The Simple Matters Of Life

Enjoyment is an anagram of resignation.
At 13 I decided to sleep forever and I nearly made it Roy!
I open a can to contrive a relation.
Not death but blander joy.
Happiness is giving it all up.
It stains until it stings to live.

Sunday, 22 November 2015

Fragments Of Sanity Are All The Truly Fucked Can Write

#1

People stumble into success just as they do failure. Only, the former are unwilling to accept that their lives are as accidental as the rest.

#2

We are all capable of committing atrocities. How we get there is a mystery: a mystery worth pondering.

#3

I have achieved nothing: an achievement for which I am proud.

#4

The response to a terrorist act by the state is always 'Don't worry. We will be shittier to you still.'

#5

Everyday racism and homophobia creeps into the discourse of the powerless. It is dressed up as ironic or cynical: the way that scared minds feel clever.

#6

Every conceit is here for all to see.

Monday, 12 January 2015

The Caliphate

I have insider knowledge of Muslim extremism and everything you all suspect is true – it is a gay thing. The mullahs only like Mohammed because he's well buff innit like and no self-respecting Muslim wants to share that fine piece of ass with the white man. Fair enough. Truth be told, he's a way better fuck than that skanky piece of shit rotting on the crucifix you got. Like, ugh man. You gotta be into some serious dark S&M bullshit to dig that blood-soaked motherfucker. I prefer bleeding from the anus, not from the hands.

Maybe you guessed. Maybe you didn't. I can't be bothered because I hate the French anyway for letting the Nazis crawl into their politics in the first place. I never get worked up about Muslims blowing up people cos their opposition made some drawings. Fuck the drawings. Art is shit anyway if it doesn't lead to a romantic death. I don't like to associate the occasional exploding nutbag with a religion at all. On the one hand, it denigrates the religion, but on the other hand, it denigrates humanity. I'm not into either.

But pleasure principles will have their way. Add a glib narrative to create a dialectical continuity or an oppositional unity. I prefer secular reasoning without the dreary religious copy. These assholes who kill are isolated fascists and lonely lunatics – they are sad and unreasonable. In our society, there is no getting rid of the lonely. This is the tragedy – a tragedy not for the dead to contemplate, but for the killers and the victims to mull over. For the dead it is, I'm sure, a kind of comedy.

The Islamic State are warlords using all of their silly bullshit about the caliphate to justify their transgressions against fundamentalism. To operate against the fundamentalisms of liberalism in an earthly power vacuum. Human rights are boring as shit most of the time. Think, adolescent male... you cannot rape the women you desire, you cannot kill the people that you dislike, you cannot leave the house naked and erect, you cannot shit faeces in the street.

You cannot expect people to believe your drivel about how right you really are about God. God. God.

Saturday, 10 January 2015

NO MORE LISTS OF THE DEAD

I am another name. I is the nothing bone.
Narcissus between my thighs
proves lack of chromosome.
Dystonic through my womb exile.
The genome in the lists of dead
on guava-pocked war monuments.
So coddle lies, climb curlicues -
ascend and sit down with some booze.
His frozen body shivers mirth
or scorn that General Overtone gave to his hapless droves,
especially when his soldiers turned their bodies into bones.
Now beaten into names beneath his feet and never read.
Don't insult protracted lives - don't list his proud and dead.

Assassinate Evil Cunts Who Want To Destroy the Earth For Vanity's Sake


Like psychopathic greats, J. F. K. loved his rape tunes;
And virgins, Elvis, violence – and was loved by his people
Who were loons.


He pastiched Yuri. G.
Unlike smiling Gagarin though, the US flag was just a needle
Filled with golf and interest. Twin products shrink the Earth
Like Jackson's Earth Song playing: pastiche parsimony.


Baby boomer pricks bore on about scurf
like dandruff tendrils
Raped by the yanks was progress, not simple Yank hegemony.
Dandruff looming every night in lunar crescents. Wind dust turns
the fields and towns and cities to bourgeois zones or dust.
Regenerate some bits with trees - elsewhere they're slashed and robbed and burned
For oil or other commodities while fucked-up Proles all stew in rust-
-belt zones. Degenerates, oh sure. I don't live with them, I exist...
as vomit brought up just like me. In Burnley, with a rare dream
to escape and come back kill the cunts. But the place, like wasps, persist.
It throws me into pointless struggles for human ends, not means.
Politically speaking its something that rills Romantic tricks.
To turn outcomes to processes – heads to the Diocese



the poor please transcend squalor please
A fate's reserved for the rich who die, Via Prole machine guns or a resurrected schtick.



Notebook Scribbles: Appendix A

J. F. K. Predatory rapist. Wanted to rape the virgin moon before those Russians broke in her hymen.”

Nelson was known as Little Moscow.
Courage, bravery, controversy, sacrifice.
People during the General Strike
in the 1920s, maybe true.
Up in the sticks the obstinate left has passionate sex with poverty.
The women up here also possess fantastic, unembellished androgyny.”

PHALLIC SYMBOL RAP. JOHN COOPER CLARKE COUPLET ATTEMPT.
In dust and rust do we entrust or distrust gutsy gusts of lust?
Or must we encrust lusty struts in dusty concrete busts?”
Husband

Initial Notebook Draft:

The husband was shitting bright red blood that reminded him of lamb's liver. Although he ought to see a doctor, he no longer believed strongly enough in death to care.”
Written after a night out with father (still mother's husband in spite of 18 year separation), and mother's 'boyfriend', for want of a better word.

Husband locked the door and shat
a troubling bowl of bright red blood.
He smelt a scent, lamb's liver-like, that
in a mind elsewhere well could

Have made him go. Arrange to go
to hospital. They would have said
Give up the drink or go more slow
at least.” But Husband had no death

To worry for 'cos folks were fakes.
He's full of porn – plastic pastiches.
Booze and fags and film remakes.
Facebook friends that fulfil niches

Rubbish Hospital Visit

Alf, the Pa, hospitalized
From t'stumble on't telly in t'house.
Medics tried to immunize
But gradually mad and well soused
He let the interests in...

Sister mum first, the first to see
This clucking, desperate misery.
Vic's temperance tempers ennui -
She became convinced of death
Though the pasty fucker left
Arguments that didn't place it.

His death was not immanent.


Meanwhile he traipsed the neon ward

Full of the epileptic and crazed

And stumbling through the deathly mall.


Some old nurse advised

That Alf was fucked by some syndrome

That we looked up on Wikipedia -

Disordered eating and drunk malaise.

And keen to find a drink-based saviour

We convened - “could not be saved.”

Suggestions that all of those symptoms

Were the signs of Korsakoff

Whose syndrome said that he was dying

Turned out he was dead or lying.

Turns out that he was mad and that.

Simplistic stuff from surviving twats.

Vote UKIP

I tend to use complex words:
Corpuscular, gelid, et cetera.
But Tories shit their turds
On their Labour replica.
My self hate deserves better.
My self hate deserves better.

Fuck the foreigners - 
They're stealing all the jobs
That I pretend to want
When I'm a shit peasant.
When I'm a shit peasant.

Appendix C

A life abused is abbreviated. How do you forgive the part of yourself that was abused by He?
The only role of other people is to try fill up that gap.
But people become ghosts
And you crave that psychopath instability that you once had.
Negotiating the inabilities of the sick, sad and mad.

Alas, the fluctuations of feelings, depression etc. are here to stay.
At least they make me opposite of He because I'm torn by empathy.

The father, frail and gaunt, still contains the kernels of abuse. It's mitigated by a cowardice and a doffing cap approach that suggests a changing of the guards, but nothing is ever mentioned. The beatings of his wife, the shouting and abuse. Which occurred from birth to 12.

Falling down the stairs... how to get rid of your wife if you're a drunken Catholic.

Funny thing being that I don't blame my dad, but I blame myself entirely. I am responsible for all the crimes committed. Since born later, and amid the fatal crisis, I assumed that my own presence killed off their relationship.

I accept the blame. (More accurate, responsibility.)
Maybe it quantifies the shame
of coming from a family
that never loved me.

Nothing is ever said so the book I write will be scant with speech. The dialogue that's spoken is all minimal and peripheral. Whenever I attempt to address the issue of abuse I'm met with silence. My abused mother leaves the room. Truth is too close. Which explains fiction's invention.

The family was driven by circular arguments that got narrower and narrower. The lies and denial. My depression and social anxiety derives from my father telling me that I was the shittest son ever to grace the Earth. Yet to resurrect that past is to commit a cardinal sin. Nobody is innocent. But my role, as dysfunction personified, may be to rub the family face in its vomit truth.”

Appendix D



I come from this society where everything's banter.
Everyone's a shit.
Landlords water down the beer...
...not really though...
and friends all want all your money...
...not really though.

Sneering passive glares.
Shits who fill pubs full of jokes -
doff their caps with anecdotes
told over, over
and over again.
They're conversation killers - nobody ever talks.
Everybody is lonely.

Banter is working class weather.
The landlord of my father's house said Alf was looking better.
He no longer looked like Doc Brown from Back to the Future.
He doesn't look quite as fucked up as he use-ter.

Har har har.
Outsider.”
Sneer
No fear, seers.
The death of gratitude
for silence and platitude.

I can't help but think it relates to religious death.
Since without a God, fake or not, all things reduce to Epicurus
who reduced fun to the childish. Entertainment, how spurious.

Monday, 13 October 2014

What The Internet Has Done [WIP]

  • Normalised hardcore pornography and, in the process, transcended the feminist movement.
  • Made idiots sound like they know more than they do by looking at Wikipedia.
  • Isolated people who refuse to be dishonest about how many friends they really have.
  • Transformed offline relationships into online ones.
  • Created a world full of wankers.
  • Turned bar fights into protracted circular debates.
  • Made vast parts of the world obsolete.
  • Pushed the whole creative industry into galleries, sole-refuge for true arse-lickers.
  • Made dinosaur bands perform live again, cos they can't live on their royalties any more.
  • Killed Syd Barrett.
  • Got rid of graffiti.
  • Turned informal gatherings into surveillance states run by wankers.
  • Made some people think they're famous when they aren't.
  • Murdered instantaneous excitement.
  • Buggered several of my friends.
  • Created another form of addiction.
  • Enhanced loneliness.
  • Made non-participants obsolescent.
  • Normalised the banality of hatred.
  • Contributed to the rise of the far-right.

Monday, 6 October 2014

The App Peal of Veal!

Veal enjoyed high prestige for many years partly because of the extreme subjugation of the creatures intrinsic to its production. That, however, was seldom voiced; instead, its value was explicitly attributed to such arbitrary qualities as delicate flavour and light colour. Only once its production methods were brought into the domain of explicit public consideration did they become intolerable at which time this previously inherent meaning left its positive power and instead became a negative influence on the meat's popularity.

Academic bullshit detector: don't eat veal cos its shit to the animal.

(by the by the prior BS is from a book called 'Meat: A Natural Symbol.' - an academic grasp of tenure.)

But then, you've got that fucker Levi-Strauss:

Fire transforms meat from a natural state to a cultural state demarcating the emergence of humanity.

So, eat veal or be an animal. Subtleties of this argument... fuck off.  

Or leave a bastard comment, which no fucker ever does, cos I'm too clever and I intimidate all you soft arsed wanks.

Schwartzenegger

In WFG, Vladimir utters the phrase 'I'll be back'. Perhaps A. S. could play the role.

eg.

E. In the meantime let us try ad converse calmly, since we are incapable of keeping silent.
R. You're right, we're exhaustable.
E. It's so we won't think.
V. We have that excuse.
E. It's so we won't hear.
V. We have our reasons.
E. All the dead voices.
V. They make a noise like wings.
A. S. Fuck you motherfucker. I'll be back. Boom! Boom!
E. Like leaves.
V. Like sand.
A. S. I kill everybody because I am robot from future and like motorcycle and sunglass and right-wing political viewpoint.
[Arnold kills everybody. It becomes much more interesting than any Samuel Beckett play.]

POZZO

The tears of the world are a constant quantity. For each one who begins to weep, somewhere else another stops. The same is true of the laugh.

[HE LAUGHS].

Let us not speak ill of our generation, it is not any unhappier than its predecessors.

[PAUSE]

Let us not speak well of it either.

[PAUSE]

Let us not speak of it at all.

[BECKETT, BFG, 33]

TRAFFIC JAMS

[from notebook SILICA GEL. DO NOT EAT.]

- cannibalism is a more humane method of population control than war.
- the creation of unpeople.
- start blog on cannibalism.

- fictional news stories world resource shortfall.
- threatens civilisation.
- radical new theories
- scientific developments
     -life extension.
- a history undergraduate uncovering these items.
- by distancing oneselves from their human features we normalise,
their position in the fad chain.

AFTER ALL, THEIR
SYSTEMIZED CULLING
AIN'T EXACTLY NEW.

- ethical trivialities are still libarated - the space port,

- 'humane', killing.

- a polititcal moral religious aGeNdA.

- the idea that they are us.


psychological, biological mechanisms to prevent cannibalism


V. Two thieves, crucified at the same time as our saviour. One -
E. Our What?
V. Our Saviour. Two thieves. One is supposed to have been saved and the other [he searches for the contrary of saved]... lammed,
E. Saved from what?
V. Hell.
E. I'm going.
[He doer not move]


THE TRAFFIC JAM

-driver picks up hitchhiker.
-they get stuck in a traffic jam.
-the traffic jam never ends.
-things get more peculiar.
THE END

driver is in the car.
    Why3 He is heading to London for some overnight conference (sales).
    Although he normally wouldn't, he decides to pick up a hitchhiker. Why? Because he was slightly delirious from the long drive. It is a very hot day, which always puts him in the mood for picking up guests.

The hitchhiker introduces himself.

- They start to chit-chat.
- The hitchhiker is very eccentric.

-in a never-ending traffic jam, a long-term community forms on the motorway junction.
-a refugee camp on tarmac.




Wednesday, 24 September 2014

Paul Stanway, 265 Railway Street, Nelson, Lancs BB9 OJE


My father threw my mother down the stairs.
You will take the blame.
Unwilling witness - innocence, who cares.
The others add the shame.
Shame grows like cysts. Another part
Of abuse, the language cries,
Echo through the chambers of your heart -
turn stanzas into lies.
Paranoid, oblique - abuse did happen.
But the stairs weren't there cos we lived low
In a metaphoric bungalow.
I did not throw your mother down the stairs.”
I did not witness anything at all down there.
Except a trick of light in eyes that still stay scarred
in that bleak familial cannibalism.
I'm a genius where I murdered all the evil, how cool is that?
You, dear child, excepted the rule. But you are still a twat.

Roger Smith of General Motors

Turn your hurt into a halo. The lights around us remind us of the warmth of human companionship. We listen to the jingle bells, and smell the turkey on the table. If we appreciate the individual worth of each human being, the more fully human we will each become.”

commodity fetishism
      • the elimination of jobs to “stay competitive in the global market.”
“not a plant closing, but the loss of one product line” - emphasise the product, not the labour.
commodity fetishism
“labour is extracted from the lived experience of the worker.”

(GM has to “stay competitive”. The commodity is prioritized over any labour value the product may accidentally incur.)
People are human statues. Alienated abstractions: the “unceasing movement of profit-making” (Marx 1867: 254).

note: fetishism / voyeurism
seeing people as objects.

note: equalization
“in exchange for his creative power, the labourer gets things.”

In a commodity economy, people relate to each other only through, and by means of the exchange of things; the relation of purchase and sale is a basic relation. A commodity can be bought for whatever the market is willing to pay for it. The exchange value has no relation to its actual use – i.e. the conditions of its creator
 
Then the commodity takes on a power beyond the commodity itself. Value is added through advertising – the faith-based programme that renders the production process recursive. Social beings are amnesiacs about their commodities' origin. They are products of human creative labour. The bourgeois condition is to buy and to never understand what it is they are buying – they do not understand other people's creativity. They are cannibals.

The object, prior to it becoming a commodity, becomes alien to the creative labourer. Not only is his labour an object, but the object itself exists outside of him, because he ceases to own it. It is imbued with a magical power that opposes him, and becomes a self-standing being, imbued with an autonomous power of its own, haunted by the flesh of exchange.

    • the life given to the object sets itself against him. He is an alien. A prostituted, used up force. The only hope in killing despair is to fundamentally alter that relationship.

Your sorrow becomes a servant.”
Roger Smith of General Motors on finding religion.

Thursday, 13 February 2014

Berlin Wall Of Sound: Two Albums of Exemplary Music

I suppose I should really link this blog to some undead music from the past.  Which have really catchy titles, which explains the enormous number of shitheads who bother to read my wonderfully nuanced prose on this site.

Anyway, you can download the music for free, which you won't even bother doing.  Or you can even pay us a fee, like 1p or something.  Given the tremendous effort we put into trying to do something clever and original, 1p seems like well expensive doesn't it for 3 hours of music.  Anyway, here's the shit to love or loathe.

The Outmoded Paranoia I Feel Is Relative to this Recently Installed Security Camera I Heard About
You Bastard


Erm, credits and detriments to me, Paul Stanway, mainly, cos I did most of it.  And failed miserably in the miserable world of promoting a new brand of post-modern music that ate the stagnating triviality of genre contests.

Then there's Nick Hudson, who contributed significantly, and still struggles on actually.  He's written about ten million fantastic albums but, popularity wise, has become far too sophisticated for his own saleability, one suspects.  We no longer have a close relationship.  Nonetheless, it was special while it lasted.

Then there's George Padgett, who contributed the sample The Taming Of The Beast, and more or less started me off into trying to do music in the first place by playing me Big Loada by Squarepusher, which made me think "fuck, I can do a shit version of this".  Also, he wanted a theme tune to his computer game The Postman, which was a sort of low-rent delivery-based Grand Theft Auto that never came into fruition.

In the words of the wonderful Vivian Stanstall of Rawlinson End, who deserves a blog entry of his own at some point, "This is our B-side.  I hope it makes you sick."

-

PS I continue to threaten to cobble together a collection of music for a third album that I've more or less got written in my head.  However, given the truly fucking enormous demand, i.e. none, I simply cannot be bothered to make the effort.

Review: "It's like Beck meet Aphex Twin, but it turned out really shit and they didn't get on at all."  Garry Bushell, The Sun

Tuesday, 11 February 2014

The Anal Father Of Enjoyment: Liberal Parenting Approaches

I'm raping you, so on your knees,
But please don't scream or cry.
For that's passe: enjoy, be pleased
And wait until I die.
Cos when I close my pale blue eyes
The world will end for me.
But that won't stifle all the cries
My dick's given to your charity.

Definitions and Newspeak

 Jobseeker's Allowance is The Structural Preservation Stipend.

Housing benefit is Landowner's Allowance.

Socialism is A Permanent State of Affairs Currently Distributed Only To The Rich.

Communism is Socialism Distributed To All.

Money is An Abstract Way to Distribute Limited Resources.

Austerity is The Redistribution of Limited Resources To The Rich.

Addiction is Life's Inner Circle.

The Internet is A Death Cult for the Poor Body.

Internet Pornography is Touching Plastic Flesh.

To Smoke is To Reveal The Sublime Horror that We All Share Atmosphere.
 

 

Wednesday, 22 January 2014

Working-Class Literature: The Blitz Spirit

"I Think, Therefore I Am Not."
Lukacs on Marx on Me

Sam Seldon's The Lonely Londoner's perfectly captures the post-war scene.  It is a book about the "windrush", where cheap labour was imported from the Caribbean to fill in the labour gap created by the Second World War.

This book is not dry or factual.  It directly extols the virtues and vices of these unsung heroes - and it is better than all of that dry historical shite that pumps out of the academic expert factories and sociology departments because it captures, with all their flaws and contradictions, who those people were.  It is a book written from the inside of the Windrush.  Leather elbow patch academia about "post-colonialism", whatever that term means, is prohibited on the simple grounds that it is fucking boring.

The Lonely Londoners is a book that will capture more than any subsequent book on so-called "identity" ever will because it is not, overtly speaking, political.  This is apparent because it can be referred to in the same sentence as white boys like Alan Sillitoe, John Braine and even, to take a transcontinental take on the matter, Charles Bukowski.  Each of these working-class writers somehow manage to speak from the inside of their characters.  With the brute confessional honesty of a stand-up comedian. 

Their achievement was to give these formless "subjects without substance" a subjectivity usually subjugated by the left as pitiful and marginal and to the right as hateful.  This is a voice that speaks from the inside, and to articulate that in what is the ultimate bourgeois form - the novel - is an achievement.  In the process, it transcends all that typical historical historical cliche, along with its sweeping gestures about the poor's plight.  This is about a marginal, ostracised group trying to fit in and have a laugh.  And to listen to these people is funny.  Fucking funny in fact.

Ken Loach has attempted to do a similar thing in film.  But, aside from his recent masterpiece Looking For Eric, he always subjects that natural talent he has for finding humour in ludicrous situations to his own political persuasion.  Because of this, 99% of Ken Loach's oeuvre is fossilised.  His continued successes at Cannes, which probably derive from his "hatred of Britain", to use The Daily Mail's rather odd and unrepentant headline on the semi-obsolete Marxist historian Ralph Milliband, seem to fund his evermore pathetic preaches to the converted.  You see, for Loach and the like, the poor must always live in their ghettoes.  They must always refuse to engage with the new.  And they must never, ever, be intelligent or free-thinking.  In the process, their largely middle-class left-liberal viewers get a kind of comfort from the idea that the plight of the poor is much the same as Rousseau's noble savage.

The working-classes are much more complicated than any of that.  1945-1948 was a year when simplicity reigned.  The Windrush complicated matters, because it meant that the foreigner entered the scene.  Little wonder Nick Griffin, recently bankrupted because of egregious legal actions made against him being a liar, makes a fetish of this post-war period.  Little wonder the tinbath leftists love to hear the cliches about the community spirit that existed in 1945 and was crudely destroyed by years of compromise and the Marshall Plan. 

In David Hall's book, things like this strike a disconcerting chord:
"Families were large, living conditions were poor and times were generally hard, but they are remembered fondly by many people as happy times."
What is loathsomely regarded as the good ol' British bulldog "blitz spirit" never existed in the first place.  The blitz was fucking awful and nobody "stuck together".  The Second World War was full of criminals and shits of all persuasions.  It was the collapse of civil society.  And it, along with the Nazi bombs, contributed to the bankruptcy of the country post-1945.

This so-called "blitz spirit" was constructed after the event, and has been cynically employed in the aftermath of its non-existence to create this sense of "triumph in adversity" - a pointless and futile gesture that has been used to create a chimera of solidarity ever since.  Then, as now, with the unprecedentedly pathetic and almost offensive attempt to resurrect that "austerity" myth to principally justify socialism for the rich (via bank bailouts, bonuses and what not), is based on a common goal - to get the scum to scrap over the Toff's excrement.  And to make them attack anybody clever enough not to bother with the "hardworking" mantra.  To ignore anybody good at earning money by being actually good at something.

There is no blitz spirit.  If you think there was a blitz spirit, fuck off and start reading something pointless instead.

Tuesday, 21 January 2014

"Working Lifes" by David Hall

Part 1

I am reading this book called "Working Lives" by David Hall.  So far, it consists of a bunch of interviews with former industrial working-class people who talk about how everything was bloody awful after the Second World War.  Yet, in the midst of all of this horror there was this so-called "community spirit", which roughly translates into having to converse with every simpleton about the pride of their cabbage patches and their pathetic show of solidarity in regards to their corporate-owned mining jobs.  The loss of such things tend to reduce the liberal-lefies to tears.  They, of course, never lived in those dreadful places in the first place.  They have forgotten how fucking awful those places were, irrespective of "community spirit", etc.  Here, the erstwhile scholar Sid Vicious springs to mind:
"I've met the working man and he's a fucking cunt."
Cunt indeed.  But the appeal of that age, much like the punk age, was its simplicity.  And simplicity, like innocence, is merely a state before one becomes a fully fledged prick.  The post-1945 spirit was all about that, elevated to the state of the nation itself.  Indeed, simplicity and innocence is ripe with potential.  But the overwhelming odds favour the failure of such a dream of potentialising childish promise.  Which is why I cannot abide nostalgia related to a former innocence.  To me, innocent children are cretins in the making.  They will become pricks, just as soon as they are given all those status-infused labour-saving white goods, and confronted by the deadly other in the process.
"We kept our doors open in those days cos there was nowt to nick."

These industrial "salt-of-the-earth" types, like all types, were also populated by racists and xenophobes of all persuasions.  One of the main problems with all that old-lefty kind of stuff is that there is an implicit assumption that the poor are pure and essentially good.  But their "innocence" also makes them susceptible to the evils of hateful demagogues and psychopathic pricks.  The reality is, in those societies, domestic violence, sanctioned, or at least ignored, by the church was rife.  Not to mention the pedophilia within the church, along with a litany of other abuses.  Having nowt to nick doesn't extend to nicking bodies or chucking their wives bodies down staircases.

There was no courage in mining because mining was a state-sponsored death cult.  The nobility infused into the profession was derived principally from imposing a hegemony of hard, obedient work.  This hardworking mantra continues to this day.  Whoever happens to be in charge of the soundbite department of the current coalition tell all politicians to use the phrase "hardworking" in every sentence.  Which is why the miner, the happy salt-of-the-earth slave, should have been extolled as Thatcherite heroes.  The problem, of course, was the NUM.  Without the semi-suicidal charismatic authority of Arthur Scargill, the "hardworking" miner would have been an exemplar for many of the British virtues of hard work - do not complain, do your job, eat our shit, peasant scum.

Like the conscientious objectors, the much braver option would be to fuck all that nationhood hard-work shit and have the guts to learn from the people who do fuck all.  I admire the people who developed a brain in places like that.  Michael "Mini" Cooper is an example of this kind of guy - an arsonist whose documentary and book provides inspiring testimony for those brave enough to speak out against the system, in spite of all the shit the system throws back at them (link to documentary).

However inarticulately, Mini Cooper resisted the dreary allure of a life lived in the comfortable hole dug by drones working for the power elites.

Socialism is dead.  And all that drab Scargill rhetoric of "no-defeat" and "no-surrender" killed it.  His attempt, to create Jonestown in Newcastle and Yorkshire and Wales, was rightly quashed by the fascist police force.  The cowardice of the miners were later exposed for all to see, because they chose a living-death and not a mass suicide.  The difference was women and families.  The bovine breeders had resolutely failed to liberate themselves and their husbands of their living-death.

These charisma fossils, Scargill and Galloway, who still pop up from time to time trying to hijack new ideas about war being bad and austerity generally fucking up the general population, continue to fester on.  They are true parasites, desperate to celebrate their own limited successes to ever-diminishing crowds until the day comes when they finally cark it.  Their inability to retire, their inability to think, their inability to dream.  Extolling the virtues of socialism to crowds who still talk about Thatcher as the embodiment of evil.

Thatcher is dead.  Move on.  Or fuck off.