deranged tales from a sadoo stoodio

the quaker oats company

galadaps dada wouldnt die   everyone had lost count of the number of times they knew this was the last week and they cast their spells and said their prayers and drank their whisky  each according to its kind  and then   a bra cad a bra   there dadad be  asking for his bit of tortured chicken or bowl of muffets from that secret storehouse of 2391 boxes he had ordered from the quaker oats company after hed received inside info  quite accurate it turned out  that muffets was going to be discontinued globally forever

probably because it doesnt have enough sugar

it doesnt have any sugar

you cant have breakfast without sugar

it didnt keep up with the times

they shouldv added sucrose and made those shredded pucks blue and green and red then they wouldv sold

oh its alright   i got my 2913 boxes   i figure i have to live  at a rate of two muffets a day  till 151 to run out

2391 boxes dada

and thats the way it went

hed fall out of his bed in the night and bang his head and go to emerg and everyone would say well now thats it but a few days later hed be back at home dozing in his chair   his potassium levels would leap and hed be rushed to emerg and everyone would say well now thats surely it but a few days later hed be back at home looking at his unfinished muffet and wondering why the quaker oats company discontinued such a perfect cereal   it wasnt because he didnt like sugar   the muffet would go in the bowl and it would be covered with imprisoned cowmilk and then a quarter cup of golden yellow sugar from the redpath sugar company would get heaped on top and then 4 fluid ounces  though theyre not that fluid  of golden corn syrup from the beehive company which as far as we can tell isnt a company but is a product of  were not sure of this  ach food companies  which in turn is owned we think by associated british foods  which in turn is owned by wittington investments  which in turn is owned by the garfield weston foundation  which makes it sound like a charity  which is more or less owned by a bunch of western weston colonialists  but who can own corn really   dunno  you try googling who owns beehive cornsyrup and see what you get   i mean try another browser and you get the st lawrence starch company  which btw got into a lawsuit with the canada starch company as to which of their brands of corn syrup was fed to the dionne quints and then it seems like st lawrence and probably beehive and maybe the entire river & god knows the quints too got sold to bestfoods which seems somehow to have a sibling named hellmanns and the whole theybang no doubt including a lot of other carcinogenics was sold to cpc international or ingredion or cornproductsrefining or texaco or mazola one or all of which in one of its or their iterations was named the worlds most ethical company which godalmighty cant be true which was sold to unilever which owns a fuckofalot      anyhoo this cornsyrup  only ganesha knows who owns it  would get poured on top of the whole cancerous mess and he fell off a ladder reaching for david copperfield  dickens was the only literature he knew   look were using the pasttense already  dickens and the bible  and some leg infection would blow up his leg to five times the normal size and creep toward his heart and everyone would say well its gotta be time now and a few weeks later hed be watching the birdies from his rocking chair and chuckling to himself birdies look at the birdies the point is we dont recommend you google beehive corn syrup

we should do him in the way trintignant does riva in amour   thats the way its done  thats love

thats murder brumy

murder love whats the diff   trintignant does it

thats in the movies

trintignant was done

thats in the dying

death imitates art

rewilding

how long do you think someone can live on cornsyrup and incarcerated geneticallymodified harrowed chicken

probably til its muffets run out

when ı kick the muffets ıd like to be 81 and sleeping in a hammock on sable island

a cute little horsie nibbling on your gonads

thats the way to bite the lust

old muffetlovers dont die  they just wheat away

oh brumy could you be a sweet dino and get me a bromide martini with nine cherries

& dada doesnt dıe

for dada is forever

deranged tales from a sadoo stoodio

theatre of papaya

a wayward papaya puppeteer vendor knocks like a windshear about the upperfloor luminosity at least it knocks galadap infers to brumy and theres some faintly audible chuckling its going to come in anyway says brumy and brumys right and the peddlar glomps down toward them like a senior senator

you may think from my reputation and it wouldnt be outrageous that i only deal in papaya puppets  or puppeteers  the ambiguitys to my advantage  but  and here i share with you what ive shared with none  my passion from the earliest days has been the seeds   those perfect black wee shiny bitter squishy spheres that slide down the throat as easily as chironex fleckeri and are partners with wormwood in digestive passage   ive been so obsessed with them since birth i cling to the papaya puppet trade to allow me to never stray far from my beloved seeds so they are perpetually intimate and i feel their dreams and pains more than mine   they are my mentors foods slaves art langwich   for no one believes in communication anymore   its extinct as dinos   brumys scales flutter   langwichs now the province of mangos and kohlrabi  kamut and hedgehogs   and nothing of whonyms  whove abandoned language and only mimic in their deaths what was once a vitality  reciting fossilized scripts from cultural middens   and so i listen to my papaya seeds like a shaman listens to the trees

how much asks brumy offended by its extinction

oh you misread me dinorama says the dealer

what a waste of meat mutters brumy

i hear that says the dealer

look says galadap we cant quite say you broke in but youre definitely here without a permit and notwithstanding our common belief in the communality of things were all forced to function in seemingly abiding structures that decry such belief and hence make its practice vaguely schizophrenic and pervasively random

we dont need more cartesian superciliousness wearing love makeup in other words says the dealer

thats not quite what ı was saying says galadap

what shes saying says brumy is that youre a charlatan

im a humble mage of the seeds of papaya says the dealer how could i be a charlatan when i offer my wonders for free   your accusations a projection of your inexperience in the worlds of our trade

there are no snakes in iceland says brumy

of course thats not true and never has been says galadap there are snakes in the alþingi & alþingishúsið  snakes in the kirkjuþing & kirkjuráð  snakes in the safnahúsið  and of course wyrms of all kinds distributed equitably among all the myriad spaces

wind and ice are snakes says brumy

all the more reason to advance to the langwiches of seeds says the dealer may i offer you some

the gap between the narratives of media and the narratives of art is now so large dinosaurs can get through it says brumy

all the way from the triassic says galadap

to announce themselves in the present as necessary abominations says brumy monsters of integration

lets say i give you nine  half for each of you  and the only thing i ask in returns that you watch a short little papaya puppet play of my own composition   its called theres just not enough in its void and it was created when microdosing a concoction of methyl​enedioxymethamphetamine cannabis lysergicaciddiethylamide psilocybin and pharmahuasca in a treehouse on a coracle on the ganga

theres just not enough in its void

or

blood squirt

a very short tragitragedy

in nine acts

by

a wayward papaya puppeteer dealer

characters

many papayas and their pulp

fire  ice  air  theusual

sonics & the senses

smoke n fashion

darkness

... and starring ...

papaya seeds

setting

an altered preservatory in the house of mama

a country road   some numbers

the eternal crepusculars

acts one through nine

the dealer disappears in a mirage of smoke in the preservatory

and in their place a firepuppettheatre

the spectators gather around its heat

a parade of papayas walk on the sea of fire without harm and take positions

the nine papayas are donned in garish warrior ice outfits but do not melt

cacophanous lights and atrocious darknesses

screeching and irreconcilable sonics

smells to faint by and a clammy energy creeps throughout the room

the nine skin one another and their pulp whirls into the air

the seeds of the nine form iridescent constellations of suggestive semantemes

we loved it squeals galadap

speak for yourselves says brumy

we were brumy   oh well take some

are you degeneratively insane says brumy

and the dealer crumbles to ash and the ash vibrates into nine papaya seeds and brumy and galadap divide them among themselves

well regret this says brumy

regrets the new joy says galadap

that may be says brumy and if it be joys also the new desolation

and desolation the new giddiness

and giddiness the new abominably unimaginable affliction

nothing fried nothing pained

a witch in rhyme saves nothing

a word of the sand births doo in the tush

the evils in the fairytales

the gnarly turd is the norm

youre a bite for bored ewes

and the friends eat their allotments and brumys eyes get big as bromides and they transmogrify into a flagitous papaya with teeth the size of a spinosaurus and it tears galadap apart like bánh tráng and theres neither evidence nor memory of galadaps existence and brumy settles into the house of mama like a tapestry

deranged tales from a sadoo stoodio

brumyren &

the future of whonymity

on merdre 29 a brumasaurus enters galadaps bedroom through an obscurity in valuation and befriendment spontaneously occurs and they tour through a menagerie of whonyms and whether the cages are small or large the whonyms think themselves free and the friends laugh a tad & awhile and watch the ruttings and gobblings a bit agog though commenting after over a few zazaracs that the expedition was remotely tedious for what is the whonym that it thinks itself so grand in its cages   but arent you a whonym asks brumasaurus

its the first thing ı remember mama saying  that our tasks to construct a plurality of worlds thatre invisible to whonyms and thatre more real than all worlds most real to whonyms and that these invisible worlds are inseparable from the one true visible world  less that of galleries and skyscrapers and michelinrestaurants and gazebos  lawnmowers iphones refineries knives though these arent excluded  yet more of the forgotten realms of forests clouds moss darkness   you brumasaurus are a creation of the meeting of those worlds and so am ı and so is the house of mama and so whether we who are of such birth are whonyms or some other thing   ı think that knowledge may be in the house of mama and playing hide and seek with me and this game seduces me to the marrow

we galadap my brister my sother are spovers in lirit

that may be brumy

that we fuliginous dinos are back on the radar must mean something

a theorys that as the gap between nature and whonymity  animalflesh and whonymflesh  increases   so nature and animal bridge the uncanny through shadow and enter the whonym from within

so the same applies to time

which takes the form of all shapes   something capitalist money doesnt have the capacity to recognize and as whonyms wear this money as their skin theyve lost the ability to know the many forms of time

i see we dinos growing in the whonym and bursting forth from whonym meat and returning to our foragings in a feral and demoneyed earth

ı wouldnt go that far

i see those born of widget and fern  swamp and vision  as the beginning of a new alphabet  the seeds of a future language that will merge image and meaning and the whonym will become as pleorotus braueri  trampled into the march of mulch  another taxon among countless taxa that was overspent

exciting concepts

i see dino and biped dancing to the drums of blue memories loosely hung in the once burnt forest  eyes open like stars and canopies of love flung over us like dreams

ı search for my species and find mockery and indifference   wander aimlessly in the rooms of the house of mama and listen for whispers of understanding   conventions parade outside like howitzers   this meat in which ım housed in an oven with bovines and porcines and screams silenced by pervasive feasting   ı search for my tribe like a ghost released from its encasement by spirits of unknowing and cry out the names given to me by midnight and echoes from outside of recognition return like summer flies   ım forlorn and wretched and dont know who ı am

but im brumy and im your friend

and the two outcasts venture into the night and detour the zoo until they pass through the customs of perception and enter naked the foyer of footstools of the throneroom of clouds

deranged tales from a sadoo stoodio

 

the pause of atramenta

each ides galadap goes to town and climbs the scaffold of the emple of ouds  puts a noose around her neck  opens a trapdoor 30 metres above the thranpopo and leaps   its the travelling saleswhonym of naganmaal who sells drigs from the forbidden city of namh who teaches her   extones it spent nine years in namh  exiled there through an enchantment of technical disallowance that achieves exemption by the energies of an encompassing indifference

galadaps just playing in the legoroom with her brumasaurus and a cup of taraxacum tisane when hallooo balloooo echoes through the house of mama and footsteps on the fifth or sixth floor approach like rubber balls i have drigs from the forbidden city of namh and i am from naganmaal and you are my esteemed client   but ive no need for drigs galadap thinks how shall i outwit this sliminess approaching

on an agenda of town council is galadaps leaping  for crowds are gathering and the ides are becoming no longer some disappearing reference and the reeves  some blæcca ruff your worship  intent on exterminating this habit but therere councillors whore entwined with the services of the house of mama and your worship knows it and mamas unknown to interfere in much of dotters doings

recursively and with frequent semblances of descending hallooo balloooos ripple the tisane and brumasaurus spikens in some corners  it got in through the luminosity must tell mama but how to do it and when to see her the lists are growing mutters galadap and the legorooms aquiver and the saleswhonym enters anon aloft with a nonfluorescence that briefly stills the brumasaurus and places galadaps mind to when mama brings her to the fired ossuaryist and lamps are lit and the vaults release their knowledge

its when atramentas gliding by in plumes and garters that the encompassing indifference extols itself in slim discretions in supple alleys and instead of advancing as almost all the principles descry they pause and listen to the seeping energies  and there  in the pause  an exemption opens and the travelling saleswhonym of naganmaal falls into it and through it to the forbidden city of namh and atramenta realize what theyve done and retreat into the forests and live on berries and dew for many solstices

the councils divided and your worship reels and steals to pass a prohibition on nooseleaping over the thranpopo but victory evades that blæcca ruff and it calls on the metamage suasor who owes it for a beneficent infidelity in the yesteryorrow

we can conjure the lusokasunalaki   but there may be unintended consequences

such as

such as   the order of things may find itself in positions of rare contortions

but thingness is such that that of which you speaks part of its order

inevitably   but as contours bend within thingness thingness itself risks losing the things that comprise its very essence

also inevitably   but as thingness also in its very essence cannot by definition lose itself the order continues regardless of these contortions and bendings of which you so fondly speak

inevitablies compound unto the manner of thingness   we cant dispute your logicalities for the spheres a great master in this regard and neither can we dispute the bendings and contortings of which we are not in fact particularly fond or disregarding   nevertheless we shall proceed as we must according to the afflictions of debts and respects are due magnanimously to us participants and the noble objectives in which we participate

and with neither party having understood much of what the other or itself has said the metamage suasor returns to its diaolou and conjures the lusokasunalaki and that ally of the house of mama  councillor d4f851c80e01  is dismembered by a clad of attack bananas and the prohibition passes but  as may have been inferred  the clad retains an unspoken autonomy and your worship as its performing its toilet is made bereft of eyeballs gonads lefthand rightfoot and suasor visions the amputated morrow and the balance of the books

meanwhile in the legoroom brumasaurus distracts the drigsmonger from naganmaal and the forbidden city of namh with a litany of nonsequiturs and galadap practices her luminosity transgression stranger discernment module with sufficient seeming success that she glimpses a desirable trick tucked away in the velvet folds of a thieved encoignure in a sealed garret in an unmapped pyrgos in a remote constellation of hallooobaloooos costard and the two friends conspire to convince this higgler to demonstrate their goods for how it must be reasoned can one peddle in wares one refuses oneself to ingest into ones own meat   and so galadap learns the ancient namhian arts of hanging oneself in public over a river from scaffolding of emples from the prescribed list only on each ides without recourse to any diminishment of self and she still hasnt broached mama about the defect in the luminosity on the fifth or sixth floor

not much else can be said of the nine years in namh and this isnt simply as its forbidden but also because no one remembers

deranged tales from a sadoo stoodio

 

the art room

galadap finds out by accident one night she can drink jade acrylic ink and temporarily develop superhero powers   no other colours of acrylic ink and not india ink or anything else   she tries 20 mills of muted pink alizarine eg and just stays in bed for 2 days with terrible stomach pains and hallucinations of nineheaded squirrels reciting the gita   its when shes with her friend tivisti and theyre playing doktor as usual and while she has her finger in his cute little anus officially to be checking the temperature and hes saying but doktor its the wee worm growth on the other side im concerned about   it was like this   how galadap wants tivisti to be doktor so she can have his finger up her anus but it always ends up with her in the power position and how boring is that but whats she to do   its not as if she doesnt enjoy it but shed prefer to mix things up a bit and tivistis someone who gets turned on by routine and she needs novelty but doesnt know how to get it   lifes like that she thinks as she spreads whippedaquafaba on tivistis little worm and he invents aches & pains to tell her about and he says how only she can help him for she alone has the special wisdom and the secret treatments and the deeper knowledge   its then she on a whim decides to run to mamas art room and colour the whippedaquafaba and turn tivistis worm a beautiful green so she tiptoes away telling her patient to lie specially still and wait and not stiffen the worm and gets the key shes not supposed to know about from inside the ars theurgia goetia on the topmost shelf at the back of the gilt closet in the library  she has to use a chair and a few very old dictionaries & encylopedias to reach it   mamas out at one of cranishs orgies but galadap still tiptoes as a matter of respect for the transgression    mama forbids her at least once a month and more when shes drunk so always more than once a month to even think about going into the art room or finding the key but galadap sees mama one night in the new moon in february naked as antarctica and strange geometric markings on her meat and chanting to herself in langwiches of polypodiophyta and odonata and galadaps frozen down the long corridor of mirrors and her spectres multiplying in the glass but mamas possessed and sees nothing

i dont want you to put the jade acrylic ink on the whippedaquafaba on the worm   i like it white like marshmallows and fluffy as vachon cakes

vachon cakes arent fluffy binzo theyre gross and she fills the dropper with jade acrylic ink

ill let you be patient next time tivisti pleads

galadap hesitates   she doesnt quite believe tivisti  next time hell make up some excuse and theyll argue but hell have more stamina and shell give in and all this sacrifice for nothing

i promise   ill put my finger in your anus and check your temperature the way i know you really want

the thought makes galadap lose her reason well what should i do with this full dropper of jade acrylic ink

drink it says tivisti itll probably give you superhero powers

thats likely she says but lifts the dropper anyway to her mouth  squirts  swallows   not as bad as vachon cakes she thinks and begins to feel funny   im hungry she says faintly and i feel like a heloderma suspectum

youre not a heloderma suspectum so how do you know what a heloderma suspectum feels like 

youre not me so how do you know i dont know what a heloderma suspectum feels like

im not you but youre certainly not a heloderma suspectum

but you already knew i knew what a heloderma suspectum feels like when you asked me how i knew what a heloderma suspectum feels like   i know it by being right here in the doktors room with the jade acrylic ink      and galadap proceeds to eat tivisti   skin eyes sinews organs hair tendons bones nails muscle  beginning with the head and ending with a lick of the very last drop of blood   yummy galadap says that jade acrylic inks a fine thing but now i must get myself another friend to play doktor with

galadap becomes enchanted and learns the rules of this new magic   never drink on fridays   allow at least half a moon between feedings   dont mix   always fully eat the patient within an hour of drinking   dont wear the unicorn jammies   swallow the entire dropper   she likes some of her patients and feels occasional regret but eatings never been so much fun      its true various digestive anomolies have begun appearing   vambrance not only keeps chattering in galadaps tummy but right along through digestion and even in turdform which for all friends have become perfectly spherical and green and the size of fluffy golfballs   she has to flush him quickly down the toilet and hope the workers at the waste treatment plant dont notice anything suspicious   theyre probably all on drugs and the turds are talking anyway   yoj and abugida emerge from her anus shrunk but whole and the expulsions are more painful than when she fell off her tricycle and hit her head on a neighbours frontyard buddha   for some reason she cant get abjados lefteye down and buries it in mamas herbgarden by the mcmyrpors secret cemetery but the next day an eyebush has grown and she spends the morning online searching arcane texts instead of building the city hall of hades with lego the way she wants just to figure out how to get rid of the thing before mama returns from cranishs   aara likes being eaten and begs to go feet first but bites galadaps left pinky off just as the heads going in the mouth and galadap loses sleep that night over whether aara mauled her from ecstasy or revenge  whether the act was premeditated or spontaneous  justified and on what grounds  if shes bitten off bodyparts before  the severing was so efficient  what kind of training aara had to remain so calm during the meal and so on till the vast dawn arrives as hungry as ever

its when galadaps examining hish though that things really get going  everythings fine at first  she has two fingers in hishs anus and hish is saying please pretty please doktor can you put a pretty third one in and then we all shall be very very well when she excuses herself to go potty but truly to get the jade acrylic ink telling hish shell get four fingers when she returns   

but in place of the key in the ars theurgia goetia theres a note and it reads my darling darling galadap there are many layers & portals of forbiddings but the art room is of the most severe and there is no second chance   youll find your last bottle of jade acrylic ink in the anchorite washroom on the fourth floor by the pink bismuth   ive loved you like a dotter for that is what youve been

and galadap goes to the fourth floor and finds the anchorite washroom and drinks the jade acrylic ink which she finds beside the pink bismuth and devours hish like a timbit and goes to the library for she hears the ars theurgia goetia beckoning her with little whimsies but mamas swinging there from the chandelier naked as a sugarplum and the rope around her neck like the pearls of kurtz and mamas faces smiling and galadap smiles too and cuts mama down and knows this will be her last meal

shiteratures of confessing

 

ı enter the city of confessings with the silence of armadillidiidae and inquire at the municipal information booth which is a public toilet of how to find my way to the museum of novel  the customerservicewhonyms a colossal capybara and wearing nothing but brassieres and speaks through unknown holes a language of putrescence i understand more than ınglsh

if you take scum the genealogy of witches  the knowledge that circulates like malice among conductive outcasts and radaric wraiths overlaying it on the city with the screenprint of your destitution a map may appear though not according to your map of maps and in your confusion seek the legend and work out its interpretation with tears and dissembling and then seek the museum and youll find when you arrive that youve already paid the entrance fee but the exit fee  ah  well

they register the inexorable loss of the immediacy of memory   machines of representation cancel the references that support it  memory vomits itself into times clogged toilet and the future strung out in the bathtub and whonyms like trailerpark lights in a winter that doesnt end

the citys the book   one seeks a presence  however minor and fleeting  on its pages  or one reads  though the book while in plain views hidden and its text in the transient language of toadstools and clochards   one tries to read but the words are catadores  outcasts and porous  dispersed sloshed magicians without guild or code   yet if ones required to read one reads  even though meanings saturated with decrement and corruption   those of us of book but hardly in it try to write ourselves in through vain readings and the books fat and invisible and oozes all manner of militaristic insects   why one would ever try to be a part of its mystic machinations is a question for those nights youre misplaced alone in a forest and the moons down and unknown birds reel in the pitch of heaven