zensolo’s e-mailed chronicles posted by morituri.

readyMade_Sept_& more…FYEO!

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(what i was talking about- FYEO!)

samsatsabatag el 6…0406h-
(nord or sur, muga verja border cantina frontera…)
is there no end to grieving
is there no end to mourning
for th losses a man’s hidden tears
gathered away til some secret daybreak
are supposed to wash away clean?
(est or vest, crossing core source twilight destiny cafe zentrum…)
who tags th bill on comfort
who bills th tag on shelter
from th market storm on true love
my sinking load refuses to dissolve
in a flashy wad undone…for respite, not for spite??

freiviervenenes, 5, ok!
…but it’s just after midnight & donner & blitzen crisscross th loaded skies of barcelona. i may go out again, it’s quite a show. plus there must be oodles of gorgeous drunken blonde tourists soaked to th curvy, jiggly bone out there…if i can improve my attitude, i might get lucky after all, to celebrate my impending half-century…dream on, tropical fool, dream on…0107h, as i steel myself to stepping back out into th spare but slowly building shower of splattering fat raindrops…another bullshitting nice guy, another sweet girl bullshitter- it’s ooooonly talk…
(0239h- desde una era vaciada de bulto reflexivo
o la espera reflexiva drenada de tiempo…?
somnolencia huele a queso curado- otra supervivencia?)
1439h-what was bill murray’s character in ghostbusters? ‘back off man, i’m a scientist!’
doctor- umm?…in my childhood i played at chemistry sets- before i had my own i seem to remember my cousin marilse was very generous in allowing me entry into her impressive lab- half-believing, half-hoping it was th logical shortcut to acquiring extraordinary powers thru
th appropiate freak accident & finding myself a secret superhero…had this attitude
survived th transformations & crises of adolescence, i wonder, would i have limped into a passionate, misunderstood crusade within some field closer to what is contemptuously referred to as ‘pseudo-science’, just like…dr.veckman! that’s th name…well, he does get
th girl in th end- sigourney weaver doing her usual ice queen, with a nice added hot twist, hehehhh…i coulda settled for that…no such luck, it seems, sobsob…
-& speaking of pseudo-science, isn’t there yet a major work of art criticism centering
on how one of th ruling tropes of postmodern art practice, which would focus th relationship between form & content by organizing related variations into series of works under th notion of research & cultural investigation, has devolved into th more or less (whether commercially or aesthetically speaking) successful sensationalism of damien hirst’s specimens as well as
th chapmans’ monstrous children’s tribes…?
1757h- all bets are not off- realize i spend a lot of my obsessive-depressive energy imagining i’m at some perverse roulette wheel in my head, wondering who dies next & who ends up
as last man standing…chief parties in play are my brothers & my dad- & myself, of course, whom i lay bets against, either way…some of my ex-girlfriends may be lurking around
th table…& some good (or not so good?) friends also may turn up for th ride…
indeed, exactly ten years ago last friday my ma died. teresa was pregnant by some boyfriend who didn’t want anything to do with a kid, so…ten months or so after breaking up
(in th wake of our conflicted debacle of a collaboration on a piece to show at teatro pregones
in da bronx for that much ballyhooed 5th columbus centennial …) she was fucking me again- off’n'on- little did i know…but how could i have imagined…

donjeuthurdi le 4…
pace grey unfair play. nestoriza tradiciones traicionadas
muvimoviwave, hah. marullo el rotoscope down…
hasta el punto rap nap. zzzzzzzzzzzz
y hasta el radish, duro hihongo

wemermitt, 3…0458h!
ah, sincera profunda y privadamente
nocturno: querer alcanzar el alba
por su rabo felino ya que trae cola…
ajenas oraciones recogidas en los cruces de avenidas exentas de rotonda…
es otra labor agraciada, con la delicadeza de mantener el silencio colgado
del marco o la repisa, a pesar de lo rasgado de su estado…
agradezco la discreta campanada- su muted peal- tanyer asordinado, enmudecido…
no es evidencia de debilidad sino de focus & containment…
camino a dreamland…walking sobre las huellas…kevin volans…ancestors
…hors du parti, hors du combat. just jerk off. nothing else but waiting to die.
que recuerdo? irritacion retrocede sin vomitar su rabia y solloza cansancio
(irritante retrocede para sollozar desinflado cansancio sin vomitar su rabia)

too hard to get me hard, my apologies. not worth yr trouble. you work hard enough-
nothing more than feelings, nothing more honest than rose-colored glasses, nothing
sillier than heartbroken stars in my eyes. i will see you in court, love of my life.
growing dizzier all th time…since you’re not mine…all those years ago…in my life…come home…get back/to where you once belonged- i’m begging you please…abandon all hope… relinquish…bittersweet surrender…no turning back- nowhere to go…money…changes everything…it’s a crime…

martumardieday, sept.2…
woof woofoof- hair of th dog at bit im, wot? ready for our inventory now then?
i tell you…you never- one never know, do one?
bells of old in bed yet signal gearshifting traffic- mental or otherwise
2105h- of course i’m not running. just thankful hangover isn’t a lot worse…heartbreaking news roberto brambilla has grown his ecoresort plans into a megaproject- even if ’sustainability’ is still th catchword & selling point- from 150 or so cuerdas to 400?? -according to carmelo- well, i feel bad all around…for vieques, for john todd…even for brambilla. i wonder where he’s finally gotten his financing, who his partners are…might he have had to sell his soul…? oof… it’s past ten, dammit. do you know what yr priorities are?

monlunday 1o de spetpebre- 0144h-
..twenty minutes after midnight, if you subtract the extra daylight savings hour,
a thundershower blows into Barcelona to close th month of August…

duck season, rabbit season…phone harvest, wireless winelines-
clever weaver a-waitin’ on stroke of midnights past
itchy kitschy koo park sings th video star
blow, season, asleep on th job?

what ever happened to my sweet little angel slut
my immaculate cocksucker
my radiant cum-slurping piggie?
ah! she married money & grew shamefully respectable…

sometimes th smell of old smalltown galicia
reaches out of th dusty dingy unremodeled recesses
in this big old 18th century barcelona building

donde esta mi cuerita minufli que minufla
se caso con un viejo rico minufli que minufla…

2334h… fast & dark, early burn down my throat
-noticias- buenas nuevas- evangile armageddon?
outside or down, boy por alergias & burn burn burn…
pasan unidades…marcan olores detergentes…
rodeado por la propia desoriental, reconozco el ocaso
…ask me again-
el deseo es cualquier picor hecho ruta o sendero
y aceptar que un pie tiene su planta

wanderlustmedia: a virtual ground for homeless desire
– tierra virtual para el deseo vagabundo

a virtual ground for homeless desire

Written by morituri

March 17th, 2004 at 1:34 am

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