Tuesday, 24 March 2009

Mark E. Smith is so fucking amazing


I've seen this performance of Blindness about a million times and each time I see it I am equally captivated and mesmerised by M. E. S. as I was when I first saw him: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=We_mND4HpTg

Seeing Mark E. Smith as a Fall fan live is like seeing Hitler as a Nazi. No-one can be so exhilirating by one's mere presence. He doesn't flabbergast and amaze by his talents; he flabbergasts and amazes with his presence. Seeing him on stage is really something. Each time The Fall perform, he comes later than the rest of the players. When the other members appear on stage no-one gives a fucking shit, but when MES appears the crowd goes ballistic.

And it's painless
Sitting in subterranea
Ancient reference
To Mesopotamia
And it's quiet again
Hidden fragments, surface now
Repetitious history
One more time for the record
2013 Philippsburg Confederate graves
Are uncovered, throwing new light on
This 19th century conflict, sparking a repeat
These southern spectres were disease ridden, dusty, organic
And psychic
Rebellious mistakes
Occur again
Everything moving
In a circular fashion
Our words return in patterns
Our minds, encapsulating time
Gregoror, satiated walking thru' capitol
Stumbles on two thousand dead Thai monks in SS uniforms
Then fled to Hotel Bloedel, outside Nuremberg
A long way south, to a reasonable smell of death
And it's quiet again
Hidden figments, surface now
Repetitious history
One more time for the record

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I go to Chile in two week's time to the Easter holidays, and I'm really looking forwards to it. :) I look forward to the varied climate and the assortment of different people and all the family members...

Monday, 16 March 2009

I am the invisible man

'Look down at my filthy trousers, haven't been changed in months ... The days glide by strung on a syringe with a long thread of blood. I am forgetting sex and all sharp pleasures of the body - a grey, junk-bound ghost. The Spanish boys call me El Hombre Invisible - the Invisible Man.' - William Burroughs

I prefer not to participate in social activities; I prefer to remain anonymous and invisible. I don't make my presence felt; I prefer to be a spectator of human behaviour so that I can consequently dissect it and bring out human's hidden tendencies to the open.... But no-one cares.

I have no significance in college; I don't play a part in the way other people play parts and fuction: I am the most insignificant person there. Because of this, I am inherently the most significant in a different kind of sense.

I hide away in the places no other humans go to, so I am in a sense unhuman. I hide in the remote edges. I don't fuction in the ways other people fuction; I am a defect.

No-one gives a fucking shit for my efforts. I remain as invisble as my art... I am an unacknowledged literary prodigy and will probably die as an anacknowledged, unpublished old man.

I observe other people from a distance and I see that they offer some sort of service to society, but I'm ultimately useless... I can't offer any help for others, I can only keep things to myself.

I don't belong in reality; I belong in my unconscious.... That's where I truly live in: I live in the world of dreams... I live in a different universe than the one every other person inhabits. My way of looking at things is distinct and has developed differently to every other single person in the world.

I saw some girls around college looking at a book and talking about Lynch's 'Eraserhead', but I didn't have the nerve to go up to them. My interests are not known by anybody.

Most people seem to be content with comfort, but I choose to be on the edge... I try to live life to its fullest potential and, in the process of this, remain invisible in my efforts of doing so.

People choose to ignore me. I choose to ignore people.

Saturday, 14 March 2009

YET ANOTHER PLANNING-MY-LIFE-OUT POST

As I stated in my previous post The End Times, I am becoming far more realistic and pragmatic about my future plans. I also completely agree with the lunatic who gave me a lengthy criticism about my previous planning-my-life-out posts which can be read here. This post isn't a certain affirmation of what will happen in my future, it is my speculations and hopes.

A few years ago I looked at the future with an unmitigated dread. Around 2007, however, a whole range of possibilities opened up and I swooned over how I'd be a literary sensation in the future. At this very moment in time my view of the future is a combination of both these views, and I often alternate between these two standpoints. I can be either very narcissistic or very self-critical depending on my mood.

I am hoping to complete my A-level studies at Chesterfield college, but I'm doubtful on whether I'll pass them. If I do indeed pass them I'm hoping to go to UCL to study Spanish and Latin American studies, but it will looks very, very difficult to get in there. The minimum grade requirements for this particular course are ABB with the A being in spanish... The problem is that I couldn't do A-level spanish because Chesterfield college doesn't fucking have a languages department... I couldn't do spanish elsewhere in another college because I only have 4 and a half GCSEs. I'm hoping to do a spanish A-level evening course in another college so that I can acquire the A grade qualification, but it looks very doubtful whether I'll manage to sort this out. The UCL course itself looks fucking phenomenal as it covers a lot of latin-american literature as well as hispanic culture and history. I really would rather go to this university rather than elsewhere because London seems to be a really amazing place to live in with incessant events going on at all times and lots of strange, wonderful people.

Prior to the year I hope to start university, however, I hope to take a year off. In this year I plan to return to incessant feel of exhiliration I constantly subjected myself to prior to ending up in the intensive care unit in November 2007. In this year I plan to write two novels, and both will be very difficult and demanding to write. One of them is called 'See-Saw' which is a novel that switches in and out of a mental breakdown described in first person (these segments of the novel are entitled 'See') to a third-person descriptions of a childhood which ignite the breakdown (whenever these segments appear they are introduced with the title 'Saw'). I am currently preparing and developing my skills for this novel with short stories which have these kinds of temporal shiftings and a constant alternation between different narratives. The other novel will be slightly easier to write because all the material is there for it; it will be an autobiographical account of my experiences with psychosis and my time in mental hospitals. It will still certainly be very difficult, however, because I can't recall everything of my psychotic episode and there's a demand to assemble a whole array of blurry incidents into a structured, coherent order.

During the last 4 months of this year I make a start on these novels I'm going to travel from the north to the south of Chile, covering everything the country has to offer... From Arica to Puerto Williams. My grandmother has been putting money into an account for me for years instead of giving me presents, so I have £500 saved up for this ambitious trip. In addition to this, during this year off I hope to work at Waterstone's so that it can subsidise more money for the trip.... I really fucking love the idea of working at a book shop... In the trip I will in most likelihood go on my own unless I come across a friend or (although this will definitely not happen) a girl-friend.

While I write these two novels I'm going to read nothing but mamoth novels: Joyce's 'Ulysses', 'Don Quixote', De Lillo's 'Underworld', re-read 'Gravity's Rainbow', Bolano's 2666, Melville, re-read Cortázar's 'Rayuela' in the non-linear order.... etc etc...

I'm not going to think about what I will do after the 4 years of university (if I pass my AS and A2 and if I get to UCL and if I get Bs!!!) for now.... But I know for certain that I will devote my self to my writing because life is too fucking short to not do what you want... I'll perhaps have a very humble, menial job... I've always really like the idea of working as a post-man!... If I don't go for a 'menial' job I'd like to have some sort of job in Japan or live in Valparaiso in Chile (a wonderful city to live in)... BUT IM FUCKING FANTASIZING AND WANKING MYSELF OFF AGAIN!!!!!...

Friday, 13 March 2009

Martín Conejín


I desperately searched for all over the internet for comic strips of Themo Lobos' 'Martín Conejín', but this image was all I could find. This comic strip doesn't seem to have a devoted cult following, which is a shame. In Chile there's practically nothing designed as entertainment for the 2-5 age range, and one should congratulate Lobos for his audacious attempt to change that injustice. The comic strip also has a real pervading quirkiness that still makes me giggle to this day. I'd display some comic strips on my blog, but I unfortunately don't have a scanner.

The depiction of flower-power here makes me slightly nauseous, though... Kill all hippies!

Thursday, 5 March 2009

Great combinations

- A cup of tea, a Snickers bar and Gyorgy Ligeti at full volume in complete, total darkness.

- Late period Beethoven with a nice, cold can of Coca-cola.

- A bunch of Diazepam pills to get you drowsy and then lots and lots of coffee... Exhilarating effect and results.

- Engrossed in the middle of Thomas Pychon's Gravity's Rainbow in the woods at 4AM with poor illumination but courageous persistence.... Both these wonders mesh together inexplicably well...

- Lying down on my really nice beambag whilst watching a movie by Jean-Luc Godard.

- Creative writing with Edgard Varese bursting out of my stereo (I don't get to pay much attention on my writing with this combination and I get distracted, but it still induces creativity a bit...As a matter fact, I can only write with complete utter silence.)

Tuesday, 3 March 2009

Personality traits I wish I could change/control

- I wish I wasn't so fucking shy. I'm always nervous and on the edge when confronted with new people and new situations. It's something I really can't control...

- I wish wasn't so judgemental on others. I instantly reach half-baked labels for people I hardly even know. I'm always dismissing people as 'boring fucking cunts' or (although this never happens) 'interesting'. Or I can be such an elitist prick at times that I judge people by the superficial 'intelligence' they exert - are they smart? are they dumb? etc.

- I wish I wouldn't wank so fucking much; I do it compulsively... And I hardly ever extract any enjoyment out of it... It's such a filthy habit. As a result of doing it so much, I hardly ever get wet dreams!

- I wish I wouldn't fantasize so much... I'm constantly imagining myself as a sensation in the future, and that my novels will become landmarks in earth's history... I constantly imagine pathetic scenarios where the media fawn all over me, and where I'm celebrated on a par with the writers I admire...

- I wish that I wouldn't get erections on buses or any time I'm approaching a destination. I used to think think it was something psychological until an old MSN contact reassured me that 'it's just nerves, it's nothing to do with sex'.

- I wish I wouldn't spend so much time loafing around and wasting my precious free time. The amount of time I just sit around doing nothing is fucking unbelievable.

- I wish I wouldn't spend so much time talking to my father... I do it as I don't know anyone else.

- I wish I wasn't so socially retarded. I don't have the skills every other person seems to have; I can't seem to interact normally with others or create friendships.

- I wish I wouldn't get distracted or lose my concentration so often. Recently (over the last 3 months or so) I haven't been able to concentrate on my reading; I keep getting interrupted by my thoughts which veer towards a whole assortment of things. I have been reading Ballard's 'Cocaine Nights' for about two months now!

- I wish I wasn't so clumsy, slow and dumb at times. I can't do the most basic, simple things. My sense of logic is apalling. I'm hopeless at level 1 mathematics and my piano lessons.

Sunday, 1 March 2009

Hieronymus Bosch

If there was one person who could be applied with the term 'ahead of his time', it would be renaissance painter Hieronymous Bosch. Well back into the 15th century he was conjuring up the obtuse surruealist visions which were to be developed by Dali and Ernst more than 400 years later. He was the precursor to surruealism.

I'm not that much of an art buff (when it comes to painting, drawing etc. etc.), but I find Bosch's work extremely captivating. Not only is its historical context fascinating and downright perplexing, but the paintings are in themselves gobsmacking works of art and (observed from a distance, at least) surpass the efforts which were to be pursued by the surrualists in a more advanced age where our values and morals have been completely redefined and re-evaluated themselves. If we look at the work itself, Bosch is far more groundbreaking and inventive than the rest of these surrealists.

I discovered his work as it appears on the cover of numerous editions of books by Jorge Luis Borges.

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In May I shall be begin two posts which will become monthly regulars. One of them shall be called 'My state of mind' where I outline the state of mind I find myself over the course of a month and where I talk about my mood and events occuring in my life. I think that this will be a vital outlet as I no longer keep a diary. The other monthly regular shall be called 'The Remote Edges' where I shall post photographs of my weekly walks to the woods, parks and countrysides surrounding Dronfield. Keep your eyes peeled for both of these!

I have finally - after a wait of about a year - got back to writing fiction again. I have planned out four short stories, one of which has been finished and an another has been started. The one I finished is an attempt to create something even more perverted and sick and twisted than the 'David Crapper play'. It's called 'Penis Woman', and with this miniature I have gone beyond the bounds of depravity! Even the most tolerant, strongest characters will find themselves squeamish, faint-hearted and wanting to avert their eyes!

My laptop has finally been fixed, so I can get back to listening to my music and watching porn... :)