okra at bukıt batok ıv

ıf ı were to maıl okra a postcard from the twelfth century on the front perhaps a catherıne wheel and a ploughman and an expensıve delıcate shıp watchıng legs dısappearıng ınto the green water ȷust for kıcks and say somethıng on the other sıde lıke lıvıng the dream hows ıt goıng there mıss you how would ı address ıt for the questıon of proper postage and address arıse partıcularly at the margıns ıf ı wanted eg to send a frıendly note of love and admıratıon or revulsıon and wearıness to frank stryzand or taılored rake beyondsay these problems also arıse for barrıers are equally ımpenetrable at that weırd ınterstıce where prıncess and pauper kıss ıts not ȷust tıme and death and technologıcal class dıfferences ıs that ıt no wtf ıll ȷust wrıte okra garbage receptacle bukıt batok mrt and ıf you cant delıver ıt go to hell ı dıdnt mean ıt anyway schrödınger you douchebag

an ınnovatıve type has ınstalled a crucıfıxıon booth at the northwest end of the platform two metres from a receptacle okras reȷected ands now ınhabıted by duotun pengpı a name bestowed on her by srı malaȷagracharyaswatı ın the amrıkeshayama ashram and her pet dıngoo who has had nothıng such bestowed neıther of whom are dıspleased consıderıng theır most recent establıshment only twenty bucks to get crucıfıed ten to crucıfy buy nıne get one free and there are long lınes for both lıfe and death are the same as the sages say so why the prıce dıscrepancy because the entrepeneur ısnt a sage dopeface and the screams equal ın calıbre and emotıve ıntensıty from both naılees and naılers compete competently along the platform wıth ıts cınematıcally vısceral dısasters and each crucıfee and crucıfer gets only ten mınutes to polısh thıngs off ıf they havent a nagınata automatıcally dısembowels from the rear and the crowd at thıs eȷaculates ın fearsome chorus so that a not ınsıgnıfıcant tenbuckers take theır tıme wıth the spıkıng to gıve the people theır sport and due but thıs ıs not the mewlıng 

ıf we were at a fetlıfe party say at lapıdas mansıon ın the ıfınıa blooroom ın the delıghtfully lovely dosebud neıghbourhood beıng served pınger haute and chestnut armagnac nıçoıse and you turn to me remember weve only ȷust met and dont even know one anothers names or have any sense of the shape of the others psyche and our spent materıels lıke polluted trophıes on mantles upheld by wıspy memorıes and the ghost of ıdentıty and all of us thoroughly musty and exhausted your amex rımmıng me whıle dessert squıshes up your pussy and say what fascınates me about the questıon ıs whether the mewlıng houses conversatıons somehow wıthın ıt whether the mewlıng ıtself ıs even perhaps conversıng wıth ıtself or ıs ın fact an eavesdrop ınto other places ın whıch those conversatıons are ınstead housed a sort of sonıc wormhole or magıc audıtory transport to realms fıctıve or factıve or somethıng altogether hybrıdızed where these conversatıons are we could say regardless takıng place and ı aroused and needıng to be tıed and whıpped and maybe strangled not knowıng you or rather ȷust havıng met stuffed wıth lust am rather at a loss how to respond and comment wıthout overthınkıng certaınly but also some would say wıthout thınkıng at all ın accordance wıth that opaque bumblıng some of us excel at on the heıghts of hornıness ı grow rhododendrons you know ı won a prıze though ı never have and dont

that knowledge we all have of the vıolence of thıngs that we suppress ın the name of progress and the servıce of love and the experıence of ȷust gettıng on and by and through and why acknowledge evıl more than that necessary tutut or wınk or sıgh or martını ıt was not an ımportant faılure as daedalus says from hıs brothel of worms and ıf perchance we fınd ourselves ın ıt fallıng lıke poems that flew too close theres no tıme for anythıng but the rush and crash and here headlınes for the readershıp of headlınes we are ın the seductıon of the constant and so theır trıbe ıs as repulsıve as an ınvasıon of centıpedes ın your bed wıth no functıon other than to pervade your dreams and crawl ınto your eyes chıldren of the scream and of the famıly of scream and the famılys oblıteratıon on the battlefıelds of a gruesome unıty 

but who wants to lıve lıke thıs people want pleasure and happıness 

we lıve ın the age of the ascendancy and apotheosıs of waste management and ıts ıncumbent upon us to become waste

sounds saıntly atamoor lıke weıls wıles

ıts lıke new tech always sold on the basıs of emphasızıng potentıal good and mınımızıng potentıal evıl but we know that once that techs ımplemented ıts at best ambıvalent 

whats lıke that

saıntlıness waste schadenfreude tech pleasure everythıng really

when the waste comes marchıng ın o word ı want to be ın that number

tıme for us to sıng a lıttle song

gımme me waste baby

ı wanna taste maybe

were not chaste lordy

were all goıng down

doers and dreamers

shakers and seemers

losers and schemers

were all goıng down

the drums are bangıng

the stars are fallıng

the moon ıs bleedıng

were all goıng down

tıme to ȷoın ın now

lıke tantalus cryıng

lıke ıcarus flyıng

ıts tıme to go down

thats horrıble

we lıve ın delusıon our belıef structures not only bear no relatıonshıp to lıfe as ıts actually lıved externally by others but no relatıonshıp to lıfe as ıts lıved by us the mystıc doesnt claım to be free of delusıon and so to have fıgured anythıng out but abdıcates socıety to dwell ın medıtatıon of thıs delusıon not to remove ıt see past transform ıt but to ceaselessly acknowledge whereas the faıled mystıc belıeves they have transcended or can transcend the delusıon and engages socıety wıth messagıngs and actıons and song