Inert (prelude) av101-3

Inertia breeds contempt for the soul. There’s always the bottle of Vodka and Leaving Las Vegas for that endless breakfast of ex-champions. Don’t you know who I thought I was. A black dot falling in a black empty universe. The Greatest person who ever lived, but how to put it into action. Christ’s no role model, too messianic. As for his embodiment on earth, with a tolerance for holocaust denial when it comes to his Bishops and an intolerance for condoms, -that will only increase the AIDS problem in South Africa-.. enough of your popery, time to wake up and smell the morning coffee. Make mine sweet and black like the first cock that I sucked. The wild west has never been worthy of emulation, lest we forget, Coke designed Fanta solely for sale in the Third Reich and IBM adapted and maintained systems for 'processing' Jews. Things are worse now with their Axis of evil, the I.M.F., World Trade Oganisation and the World Bank acting as the financial arms of U.S. foreign policy. Who's left to admire, Iggy Pop?.. cunt's now an insurance salesmen. Maybe only Count Gottfried Von Bismark; he had it figured out, reading Siddhartha, he laughed his last laugh, his heart just wasn’t strong enough anymore..

April's Picnic

Follow links for myspace pages;
Sons of Noel and Adrian
The Laish Quartet
Pete Roe

King Creosote - Coast On By

Video for King Creosote's new single, directed by John Maclean (of The Aliens and The Beta Band.)

Gas Museum/Spring Equinox

Happy Ostara!

Rosie Bray and the Lady Melange present...

"A brand new boudoir of delights & masquerade. Purveyors of reclaimed & customised costumes & frills to frolic in. Masks & corsets, waistcoats & wigs, eyelashes to die for, fancy frocks and feathered hats. Step through the velvet curtain into our photography booth and have your picture taken looking flamboyant and foxy. We can accomodate your festival or events theme with handmade and reclaimed garments to bedazzle and excite those who don them. We also provide a range of carnival masks & accessories. You can hire, buy or just try on for fun. Our canvas tent is powered by solar and rechargeable batteries. We are available to book for festivals and events all year round. We aim to enchant and charm all visitors who love to dress up and make merry"

Collage by Moonpie, Photos by Rosie Bray, Clothes modeled by Lady Melange. Rosie Bray and Lady Melange's Myspace.

Jan Svankmajer - 1966 - Punch And Judy

Jan Svankmajer at Wikipedia
Jan Svankmajer at IMDB

Jan Svankmajer - 1989 - tma/svetlo/tma (Darkness/Light/Darkness)

Jorge Luis Borges

The Circular Ruins

The Library of Babel

My Vampire Wife

Written and performed by our young friend Charlie.

Amduscias

Andras

Andras riding a black wolf carrying the sword of faction.

Hey Zeus! by Albi Vinehart

To see the sun set, sure he’ll rise to-morrow,
Not through a misty morning twinkling weak as
A drunken man’s dead eye in a maudlin sorrow,

From Beppo by Lord Byron

Islam is the most misunderstood religion, Buddhism the most misspelled. Thoughts came easily to me. It was like playing chess with an infinite amount of pieces, but it seemed enough that I had chosen white; I had the first move. It was time for some female company.

I always felt uneasy waking at her place. Her pillows had the consistency of my dead mothers’ fake tit. Especially off putting along side the Nazi horrors; the extreme terror of coke and booze withdrawal. Monday morning on the wrong side of weird.

Sleeping with a beautiful woman is like having a good wank, but all-beautiful-women-go-insane. The moon pulls rip tides across their souls. Sitting in the bath, razors in hand, a redemptive vision came to her; her very essence, squeezed in too tight for years, sprang forth, like a bar of soap between the fingers into the morning rainbow light; eureka.

I too seem to have lost my core belief that laying waste to ones beatific soul, if done with style, is the epitome, the very reason for existence. This will save me an awful lot of time and money. The joys of Fear and Loathing had become the seriousness of The Sorrow and The Pity; still enjoyable, edifying and not to be missed; but you laugh a lot less. Addiction, I may add for the uninitiated, can make things like being kidnapped and raped a passing comment during a rehab conversation; a regrettable side effect of a life lived in a bad direction.

Unless the girl wants a drink at breakfast, why fuck her; that used to be my mantra. Let’s not worry about that now though, no need to pour that big bowl of Prozac and Nytol, not just yet; it’s amazing how soothing it is to cut out that bottle of vodka at breakfast.

It’s the fall that hurts, not the landing. When you hit rock bottom there’s always a springboard down there; if you’re not dead already. You can make it back, but for the jaded, it’s a steep climb up there. There are many ladders to the light, and even more snakes for the slide back down. The world is simply a reflection of your mind, reflecting the soul back to its self. From Henry Miller to Kim Katral the truth is hard to publish.

I no longer worry about meeting a girls parents; I worry about meeting her kids. Music wise, every decade or so, something really good comes along, and it’s usually The Fall. I’m happy in England, it’s such a great place to be depressed and uncomfortable with ones self; no one even notices .The best place in the world to be is next to a 22 year old topless Israeli girl, on a empty South Indian beach at mid day, with a half bottle of vodka, listening to Billie Holliday. And I was still depressed then. A true Englishman.

The Wonderful Creations of Little Robot.

Little Robot's Website
Little Robot's Blog
Little Robot's Etsy Shop

Little Ray on the Balcony.

Little Ray performing 'Campfire' on Balcony TV

Indoor Picnic - Thursday 19th March

Click on links for myspace pages;
The Straw Bear Band
Ivan Campo
Jess Bryant

WREATHS - ...AND THEY HEARD THE WIRES SING

Music by Wreaths
Video by Mickey Shoeshine

Winters Gibbet Northumberland 27.2.09

This used to scare the living daylights out of me when i was little,

read about it here.

Mammy Low by Albi Vinehart

"I keep asking myself - what would Gandhi do, or Abraham Lincoln or Martin Luther King, then I realize - those guys all got shot."
John Lurie

A stop over for a thriller in manila: one week to recover from jet lag and the hangover from England before hitting Australia. Except in reality it’s only going to mean more jet lag and more hangovers. At least I had those downers; animal tranquilisers I had bought from home. After an aborted attempt to buy cigarettes, I was returning to my hotel defeated and discombobulated. It was then, that things took a turn for the more interesting.

Shola Luna was her name, gazing welcomingly from the sunny side of the street. She’s obviously a transsexual too, but beautiful and legs as long as an Icelandic summer. And tits like polar icecaps. She was famous for being famous in Manila, and no surprise there. First stop was a Tequila bar then on to Hobbits a bar staffed entirely by dwarves and midgets. Being thrown out of the night club in a 5 star hotel was the last thing I remembered of the night; the lady manager seemed to take exception to our outrageous manner.

Next day we go on the guest list to a first class fashion show, in the same 5 star basement, via one of Shola's benefactor who lends me a silk shirt. The manager’s manor now changed to obsequious smiles, ushering us to our seats. So here I am faced with the cream of Filipino fashion, girls so beautiful I can’t talk. If only I hadn’t taken those animal tranquilizers. The day, then days, blurred into one; Laurent Garnier playing in a night club where the locals and visitors all gaze longingly at Shola’s tits on total display through a sheer net top. I spent a night off with a bar girl. The young guy I sat with was intent on taking home the Mamma San, the middle aged and long retired woman who pimps out the girls; I left him bartering his price. The next afternoon Shola laughing in the doorway, my girl complaining from the bed about how the downers had made her oversleep.

I needed to get out of Manila. A couple of days with Shola by a volcano with an artist gentled me down some. I was convinced Shola wanted to rob me out there, in the wilderness, but nothing could have been further from the truth. My last night back in the metropolis ended with a lovers tiff, after staying up all night drinking, to catch the morning plane; Shola threatening to have me killed. And I knew she could. It takes a while to realize people really do know killers and then you meet them yourself. A paid killer in India, who asks you why you didn’t wash that apple before eating it, after miming the action of shooting to explain what he does for a living, or that guy in Thailand who had made a car bomb and blew up his neighbour. After a snack of a fertilized egg, I staggered onto the plane at dawn, bound for Australia.