Do you like Aphex Twin, Stefan?

CIRCUS FREAKS ALL WEEK!
LALOO!

No more lies Stefan. Eve, go easy on the boredom. Smells brand new. Egyptian motifs and middle fingers.
B&W.

EDWARD NORTON IN THE BATHTUB

A CHILD'S BROKEN LEG. SHE SITS NURSING BRUISES>SHE SITS CURSING NURSES. HER MOTHER WAS A DRUNK, SLURRED PROFANITIES BROKE EARDRUMS AND FINGERS>TEARS MAKING PATHS IN HER MUDDIED FACE. FATHER WORKED. FATHER WEARY AND TIRED/ CAN@T SEE HER PATHS> HER EYES DON'T MEET ANYMORE. A PROPER STANDARD PINOCHET. WILL SHE BE DIGNIFIED? STANDS IN A PLAYGROUND. CENTRAL. EXPOSED. SUN BURNS HOLES IN HER POCKETS> THIS TIME NEXT YEAR MAYBEALITTLEHELP. DREAMS OF HER BROTHER SO FAR AWAY. HE FORGETS SHE EXISTS. SHE MAKES DAISY CHAINS. SHE WISHES SHE COULD BAKE. HER DRESSES ARE RIPPED. ALL THE KIDS WITH BELLS AND WHISTLES, MOTHER SUCKER SUCKER SUCKER SUCKER PUNCH. WHAT FUN AND GAMES. A CLICHED IMAGE OF A BEAR. INSIDE THE BEAR IS A SECRET.

"FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! ALPHONSE! Help the fucking girl! Jesus..."
"Colonel, she's dead."
"Shit, Alphonse, that's the third dead child I've seen today ...Right, chin up, we've got to keep moving."





All my pictures have thumbmarks on them. 
Twisted ankles, broken bangles, pens. 

sex scandal sex scandal sex scandal sex scandal sex scandal sex scandal sex scandal sex scandal sex scandal sex scandal


they've become letters and the words are just sounds. if you say something over and over it loses all meaning. the same works with thoughts. think the same thing over and over and it becomes a reaction. most probably a reflex, not geniune human nature. we're robotic. chemical. our pens and and the propulsion of ink on paper reflects not individuality but the succumbing of man to his motor and electrical impulses. creation is futile and vain. all the words you write, no matter how innocent you can pretend they are, have ulterior motive. it's just the case with everyone. the inherent exists constantly and man is often treated as mad because sometimes the inherent is obvious. placing man under the spotlight so sharply triggers the defense reflex and any accusations or statements are usually withdrawn or stopped. is there a solution to this? there doesn't need to be. life is chaos, but malleable chaos. my fucking head is all over the shop this morning. attention!

RIPLEY'S RIGHT HAND

The next story will be about a sex scandal. Maybe it will involve Zachali, the character from an unfinished story. That cheeky old loverboy. What a fox. Maybe Munroe Fox. Maybe it will involve the Colonel from the other story I am plotting based on certain visual experience? Maybe seventeen sons all with bullet wounds between the eyes. Maybe Ripley's Right Hand. I think I'm feeling a lot better. Bright colours. Tennis players from Alabama. Tails, 50ft tall, long-legged. Who knows? Have some pictures.