Thursday, December 22, 2016

presidential humping

Continental United States. Contingency Contracting.
Contingency Basing. Contingency Engineering. Combat Engineering.
Black Operational Bangers. Contingency Contract. Kingmaker. Four to the Floor Intoxication renovation.
Harrowing! A lone boot-boy gradually loses weight. Knocks out a few more holes in his belt. Boots and braces, white boot-laces, eyebrows removed, hair removed, a daily shave of the entire cranium and face, a prison tattoo o'er the third eye, a craft-knife scar across the cheek. Many friends on the outside look forward to his release - he has commited the codes to memory, is hell-bent on revenge, has the plans embedded in the reptilian section of the brain. On release he will co-ordinate with a rebel faction, be fed and housed, have his desires satiated, brought back to life. These are cynical times  - there has been a type of universal truce. At the top of the pyramid criminal gangs collaborate fully so as to maximize profits. This brazen mixing of codes is heresy to our prisoner, and revenge is due to the current White Riders boss, Warren Mark Voldmann. Voldmann sold out. He did business with the Nigerians, thus soiling 24 years of pure Aryan activity.
Joint Operations. Crisis Management. Identify, Acquire, Deny, Degrade, De-louse, Dismember, De-regulate, Damage, Downconvert, Disengage, Downgrade, De-activate, Confuse, Shock, Daze, Deceive, De-fame, Swear at and ultimately maintain Osiris' sister-wife, for the good of US interests around the solar system. Moon base buggy butler. Damage criteria. Audits and appraisals, credit checks and bank statements, lets see what Warren Mark Voldmann hs been spending his money on eh?
Credit bad? No worries, we have a special Trumped up interest rate for you! You complete loser. You moral retrograde. You'll be in debt to us for the rest of your life! And that's standard practise. Its just how it is - we can't do anything about it - I do understand how you feel though. I'm just doing my job, but, really, how do I sleep at night? I drink. Anyways, our Warren went to an ATM in Ballarat on Wednesday and withdrew $80 dollars cash. Damn, cash - hard to trace that. Come on Wazza, use the paypass! we go. At 3:43pm on the Friday he went to Bunnings warehouse and spent $5.95, then he went to the Hog and Bone Hotel and spent $55 (on CRAFT beer!! what a blouse), after the pub he used paypass at a local Woolworths franchise, then paid for a cab, paid part of a parking fine online, had a Cash Converters payment direct debited, drew down $7 from his Paypal account, purcahsed a beat up second hand police scanner on US EBay, and finally used his credit card to buy a t-shirt from Stormfront's E-store. Busy boy. No ostensible evidence of wrongdoing here. But still. Best retain total awareness and full spectrum dominance - theres a needle in the meta-haystack so we might as well just keep the whole damn haystack. The whole damn haystack. So people, lets keep stocking up that haystack. Just type type type. Dosent matter what it is. Just cram cyberspace with meta-gunk, create an alternative narrative. Why let Fox determine what's what? Oh reality, thou art relative. Oh reality, thou art elusive, shadowy, not really there. When the billionaire sleeps, what does s/he dream of? Does she dream of being poor suddenly, of lining up with the morally bankrupt down centrelink way, having to hold her nose, flushed red with existential embarrasment, screaming on the inside? Does she dream of banking algorhythms, she becomes a literal astral algorythm, banging around nano-fibres and meta-materials, zeroes upon zeroes, the financialization of value, the valuelessness of finance, interest compunded upon interest compounded, full automatization of all manufacturing and retail forever and ever, robotic solutions, robots who like to go shopping on the weekends, robots who make great employees who would never dream of joining the robot-workers union. Does she dream of life-extension, of health problems, of what she could do to help the world, does she dream of
space colonization, of mind uploading, of cryogenic suspension? Does she dreaming of private armies, private medical teams, private space-flight, mining the moon and mars, making sweet love to 6 foot tall blocks of coal, bleaching the great barrier reef, giving birth to lumps of coal, coal coal coal.
Oh 2017 - now madness is fully realized and human kind has truly lost. The right has won the memetic war with pure Bernaysian gumption , the left has been discredited in the eyes of the public by its tendency to debate, squabble and its seeming inability to reach consensus and full doctrinal unity  - thus the right poses itself as 'no bull'. It dosent waste time. Its not afraid. It's primal. Its natural and closer to God. It is 'realer'. Its not 'bogged down' . The lower middle classes have been utterly duped and dosent realize it is not voting in its actual self-interest. Trump wants to keep the jobs in the US? Be prepared to take a huge paycut there, Chad. Oh populism, you cater to the lowest common denominator and they just eat it all up. And that is what Populism is. Hearing what you want to hear. appealing to divisiveness, to base prejudices both concious and unconscious, pure and cynical , for the votes.
We are now told to forget about global warming. Okay cool I'll forget about it. I'll do what you tell me to do boss.

Saturday, December 10, 2016

moral standing/ real credit/ value and worth

Dear World,

      Oh world, thou art turned inward on thyself. Oh world, thou art self aware and self monitoring, thou art an archive of socio-biology turned meta-data, a hall of mirrors, a global-narcisssist.
Oh science, continue forward, and resist ye militarization - for the US DoD want full spectrum dominance. They currently want unfettered access to and control of all and/or any new emerging technologies . As we are on the cusp of a paradigm shift analogous to the discovery of the wheel or transistors, I, a nobody of know consequence, suggest individual countries protect, cryptographize, nurture and fund their research activities to the hilt. For science knows no bounds.
Progress in science and technology will define geo-political boundaries into the future. So says Matty, the clown about town.
Oh life, surely there is more to you than economic activity. You'd think not these days. The Divide
Oh life, surely there is more to you than wage slavery and debt. You'd think not these days. The debt resistors operations manual is worth a load-down. He picks up a pen, draws a large circle and presents me with a set of purple cards.
What is a credit rating exactly. Why don't they teach this at school from day one? Meet your new friends and the first thing you learn - sorry kids - but - yeah - you can be anything you want to be. Just as long as it is not arts related. Pay your bills religiously and on time without fail. Garner thee a triple A rating and maintain this through life without fail. Do not question why the system is as it is because you will be marginalized and rendered insane. Do not question or probe the money system, the hierarchies of control, the corrupt networks who get away with murder, the loan sharks, the bottom feeders. Learn how to manipulate numbers and compund interest. Become a predatory lender and screw over the poor. Learn how to feltch cash and which way you can. Then and only then do you have moral standing in this world.

Saturday, December 3, 2016

hey vlad

Hey world, go fuh yourself!
Whats the plan, world? Eh? Permanent corporate consolidation so that one-billionth of Rothchilds left-frontal lobe owns a billion percent of the worlds wealth? Oh probably, Herman. Permanent aeconomic growth forever? Yeah yeah....thats it, I've knocked that one out before a trillion times but it needs to be said - lets take it to its absolute end game - the ultimate Keynsian/Nashian outcome! watch the great  'Incorporated' and 'Hypernormalization' for a looksy Bob! Lets brown-out the middle classes forever amen! Lets white wash and pillage and remain tea bagging kick-backing cockle-gagging Cynics. For that is how it is and how it will be forever. World without end. Go Osiris's sister,  those ultra left state creators, the planners and multi-wived gang-bangers. They've got Melbourne in the cross hairs now, apparently, so we better fuggin watch our hairy wonk-stained backs.  A slick perfumed bearded guy in a black toyota toorak wagon might smite me with his bad vibes. Time for our collective heads to be removed from our collective necks methinks, Ralph. Ah, thats the fun we call early 21st century, the blowback from late eightees CIA statecraft.  President Trump is going to be manipulated by more intelligent  beings. Whats Trumps take on the ufo question? Does he have advisors? I do, I have many advisors. Daggy the grey, Larry the tall white and Henry the insectoid. They tell me where to eat, where to shit. They tell me to get down and suck it. It. Their alien probiscus, a barbed undulating pulsing woman-man. GG Burroughs. A profession. Not much money involved in this blogging business Rodge so I best diversify my portfolio.
Especially superconducting. Gnarley multi-band chassy you got their Simon. The present quantum : how bout those Fermi Bubbles?

Saturday, November 5, 2016

Hiya Allesandro!

I stink, apparently.
You got me, big data, you got it all. And all those traces this brain forgot , you retain, forever.
You know more about myself than myself and for that I thank you, Allessandro.
Big data. You know when the effluent crowns, how it spirals into the toilet bowl. You calculate the trajectory of each and every faecal portion, and use its flight path as a bargaining chip. It takes 0.9 seconds to break the seal of the water. It is heavy in bacteria and, for all intents and purposes, quite healthy. It is full of the digested remains of blueberries, kombucha, yoghurt, noodle, chocolate.
You got me, big data. Memories. This very paragraph is Solomons meta-mine.. Where I am. What I am probably going to do later today.. What the last purchase I made was. How I will get to work tomorrow.  What web-sites I will probably look up. And of course, the spin axis of the next bowel movement. For this is where the Boeing engineers source their angular momentum algorythms.
I am no privacy warrior - nor a libertarian. I know its all too late. Privacy is finished. Kaput. A spectre of the past. This is a Phillip K Dick world. And I don't care. Should I care? Should I? Do you? Privacy. What is it? Concealed knowledge? Operating within an exclusive system? Keeping it to yourself? Free-will? Keepin' it on the down low? When holy people down the street call me a 'cop' (someone who reads) or a 'dickhead', I re-wire the flimsy insult and transmute it into a stunning complement. I am a Dick. You are damn right, oh high one. I am a Phillip K Dick. Melbourne is my ground, and neither billionaire nor slum lord nor millenial princess cum intern psychic vamp can stop the madness I have let loose. For it is automated. It is an algorhythm.
Is my meta-data interesting, Allesandro? Or is it run of the mill, strictly routine stuff - entertainment news, the x-factor, renovation-based reality shows, top chef, facebook, youtube videos about celebrities, clown scares, fight sequences? Or is it interesting?  What is my demographic exactly? What am I? What can I tell you about society? Do you care? Apparently so! Greatly so. So much so, that you have calculated the trajectory of my next bowel movement, and will transmit it staight to Boeings secure server.
I (whoever I am) played a musical entertainment show the other night. It was the first in a long while. Chuggin on the old shawm. The old bender. The swizzle stick.  The buzzer. Unfortunately, I now will name (band) names.
It was Alberts Basement fest held in a small theatre space called Danes Certificates off Sydney Road. Acts like the great Dead Flannelette improvised on synthesiser lines - heavy sound direct intravenous body music, blasting away any sense of personal space, entering  mitochondrial walls and replacing the carbon-base with silicon, a blissfull conversion, a receiving, a rare plume of  vestigial analogue , pre-digital slather, muscle shirt, Coffs Harbour, the faith militant, engorged synth pulses, drip feed data muscle, chary muck lane, shovel and shawm, work retreat, worm experiments, the longevity gene. I'll fund you research, but Im broke. Other acts that night were the avant garde likes of
Bourgeois Biggots, Lower Plenty - evoking the likes of Television Personalities et al, the illustrious experimenter Matthew P Hopkins, new combo Scoliosis, all  punctuated by the catholic mixes of DJ Tapeways.
It was experimental melbourne par excellence that night. It was a good night. It was a fun night.
On our merry way home we were drawn into a wonderfully ebullient cuban music bar, started dancing to the infectious multi-faceted beats  when an unfriendly woman informed me that I stunk, and she was right. Was it a comment on my body odour, or my dancing? Or was it code for criminality, for being a socialistic type? Was she a local christian was insenced by the gyrating sinner in her midst? Was she a rich-kid, with full unbridled access to perfurmery and washing machinery? Was the bar actually just a meat market and she assumed i was trying to hook up with her, but I stunk? Was she a local militant atheist? Was she latin  nobility, who, horrified at the attempts of this anglo-french-norwegian pasty face to 'do the lambada like I'm down with the latinos or something' within 2 metres of her holy odour free mind, soul and body, simply had to put me in my place? Was she a distant relative of Pablo Escobar? Was she the daughter of the owner of the business, acting as a kind of 'olfactory quality control' mechanism, retaining a better class of people within the venue? Or was she just a mollycoddled, pitiful control freak, lonely as all hell, who's only pleasure is to demean and humiliate total stangers? Who knows. But I allowed myself to be affected by this total stranger. And I let the damage to my ego ruin the night, and I left, frantically sniffing my armpits, only to throw a bottle outside the bar like i wanted to be beaten up, a fit of mid-life crisis, the gloriously foolish stuff i used to do back in the day,, oh alcohol, you bring out the best in us all. The punters were wise - they just ignored me. Thats what you do. You ignore a ranting drunk and they eventually go away.
So, anyone can think what they want about what I am, it makes no difference. As the Roman Stoic philosopher Epictetus said - there are the things that are in your control and those that are not. I have no control over the opinions of others. Let whatever is not in our control be nothing to us.
Stammered out into deep shisha. Pineapple. Walked past, stammered. Anxious about nothing. Because really, thats what all activity is - nothing. There is no inherent reality to that weekend, it is gone. It is merely the traces of meta-data sitting in the server over at allesandros place, and the plastic memory neurons forming and reforming in this brain.

Sunday, October 2, 2016

matty was in italy

The cruder went to Italia. I tried to learn conversational Italian for about a year previous to the trip and failed to pull anything off in practise. Italian language is used differently depending on your familiarity with your co-conversationalist. So many rules, so many ways for a foreigner to look stupid
So of course, being an absolute outsider, no Italian family or friends, except a work colleague or two, i found it difficult and cringe-making to go beyond asking for 2 coffees please and thank you and hello. I said 'it's hot' once. Because I just felt so damn stupid. And I hadn't practised my grammar. And I'm forgetful. I am sure I adressed a male as a female at least once. And I don't think he liked it. So many rules - coffee ettiquette etc. Don't show drunkeness. Don't be a punk, you might break something. The punks here have alot to reject, thats for certain.
Of course, the place is amazing. And yes, they are a very good looking lot. And the architecture is incredible. The country is a treasure.
It would be best to visit Italy being fluent in Italian. It would be best to visit Italy being....well..basically.. actually Italian.
 In fact, why was I even  there man? .......Why not? I mean - how did I pull that one off huh? My answer: What's it to ya?   
It seems the place is on Orange alert presently. John Cabot University, just beside the Tiber, was literally flanked by Army. Pretty college girls were filing into school saying hi to the men, easing their slim frames through the entry, fabric kissing fabric. (the slight sting and flutter of static electricity and ping/pop effervecence). Its an American college. So there you go. The army are stationed across Rome and other major Italian cities in some sort of dodecahedral vector pattern. They stand, and watch. All day. They are Italian. Don't fuck with them. Don't look at them wrong. But this is the european reality since the many attacks in France I guess. Vague vatican directed tirades from millenial millenarians have necessitated all this. Even I felt like a threat. 
I was wearing my 'dead c' 'eusa kills' t shirt and an army guy gave me the evils. Did he read it more as " EU / USA kills (civilians/salafis), white on black ISIS edition. Dont be a punk. Just don't. 
Orange alert. Dont bring luggage with wheels. Clack clak clak clak whhiiir clack clak upon the cobblestone...waa waaaaaah 
Apartment blocks. Africa. Italy has a big African population and they will become Italian whether Italians like it or not. Or is that just a 'southern problem' Lega Nord? The immigration from there is increasing profoundly and without end. Many new arrivals sit and wait, living minute to minute, cigarette to cigarette, living in an essentially unfriendly environment, banding together for comfort, doing what they can to scrape up some petty euros, selling jewellery, bags, power converters, droids, adaptors, leads for your iphone, selfie sticks(?), water and packs of socks to the endless stream of listless, sun-stroked and moneyed tourists that stream in. 

The cruder is in Italia. And i'm almost completely de-musicalized. And for it, I thank the Lord. For music and musicality was, for me, a source of mental pestilence. 

A new quietist phase is inaugurated. (oh, right after I do that one night only Aesthetics show when i get home). The cruder is in Toscana. The cruder is in Firenze. This is 21st century Italy, but it needn't be. These pieces are solid silver. This watch is beautifully crafted. These leather goods are local. The hog is to be hunted, shot, and mounted. It's all just junk. These tourists swelter and loiter and bleed euors. These tourists are guided like a group of preschoolers, led by a flag and a cynical, Phdeed tour leaders - does she hate them? Does she curse them? All in a days work no doubt. Shes used to it. Pickpockets are at work apparently. According to the Australian travel advisory site since December 2015 Rome and Milan have been in the hypothetical cross-hairs of an anti-abortionist or related group. Apparently. Well, probably. The terror is real - apparently. And those machine guns are so damn sexy. Sleek black metal. The military here are sexy and stylish. Avoid all places where people gather. Even better - don't leave the hotel. In fact, why did I travel in the first place? 
Really though - what can you do? Cower? Its like the tactic of the psychic vampire or the charlatan witch - inject the vile concept (a potential attack)and let the mark's endogenous fears and neurosis metastasize. Thats the power of belief. If you believe you're in danger - you are in danger. If you are some sort of half-baked non-linearist or a presentist or a buddhist, it ought to make no difference whether the aiport explodes or not. There needs to be a mid-point. It can and it does happen. The politics behind it all is absolutely out of my control. If i could solve the worlds various problems i would. It can and it does happen. But often, quite often, it does not happen. Like all those people who listen to Judas Priest and don't blow their face off. But it happens. And it has happened. But i ask myself - what (the fuh) do y' do? I mean - if i had the intent to kill some poor wretch and the preservation of my own life was completely unimportant, who and what could really stop me? How do you deal with that? You need spies? You need deep infiltration and encrypted intelligence propagation methodologies? You need to align with organized crime? You need to locate, indentify and bribe? Of course, absolutists of a religious tendency cannot be bought off. Or can they? You need to play extremely dirty. And micro-scale. And extremely deftly. And.... 
Oh....I DONT KNOW, AND NEVER WILL. Its all so pre-rigged.(I sound like the hostage taker in 'Money Monster'). Every wealthy bastard gets a cut - the world is so utterly bent - determinism reigns supreme. With all the surveillance power the west boasts i cant understand why it's all so useless. Most people just want to live in peace. Most people just want to bring up their kids in saftey and have a nice, quiet life and wouldnt hurt a fly. Damn this stupid, stupid world and its stupid, stupid egoist patriarchal control freak population.
And thats all im going to say about that miserable topic. 
The weather is stunning. Life is beautiful. Italy is good for the soul. Italy has soul. Its soulful to the core. It is demonstrably epicurean. It is dense, well worn, 
it is people. People seem happy. This region seems to embody happiness. The people are often very good looking. The villagers emanate a graceful amicability, in the main reserved for each other, sometimes spilling over to visitors. 
Hey Putas. well here is the Cruder in Italia and me and my moglie is walking around the borderline vulgar display of utter magnificence that is Florence. Its all oooooh and aaaah and my lord that is rather old and wafts of leather and meats and cheeses. Its dense and ornate to the point of psychosis. But i cannot deny it - its amazing here. But man, the west --- the object, matter, all that 'stuff'. Is there time to think amongst all this 
display? To 'have' to 'hold' to 'consume' to 'excrete' to 'express' your 'power' and adorn thy universe-sized ego seems to be the way of it all here. 
The western way. Objects. Objects. Objects. 
Leather and mould. 
Catholicism is one hell of a display in Italy. The churches and iconography, the paegentry and shrines are breathtaking. The tortured Christ is still pinned to the crucifix, for ever, world without end. The purification and sanctification of our sins continues. The sacred heart is the portal to heaven. I saw the blessed head of Saint Catherine of Siena and have been fascinated by Catholic mysticism ever since. Uh ohhh. Satan is angry - first i give up the devil music, now I am a dabbling in Christ's blood? 

Travel. why do it? why why why. bye. bye. bye. 

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

The Cruder is in Italia!! Full report comnig soon!

Saturday, August 6, 2016

thanks for reading.

Hello reader, thanks for taking the time to scour these lines. It amazes me that people still catch up with my drivel, there may be a little kernel of entertainment to be gleaned here and there, a reference maybe, an anecdote - something. I notice I have a reader from Russia who is most consistent with his/her drop-ins, a handful from New Zealand, the odd American. I really do thank you all for clicking in. The purpose of this blog has drifted over the years. There's still 3 years to go on this particular site - if i am still penning tripe at that stage we'll set up another chapter. I have other blogs - earlier ones back when i performed and recorded prolifically - 'the crude decade' and a couple of others can be tracked down - there you'll read more in the way of commentary on music and reviews of live shows.
I live in Melbourne and work far too hard in a local factory - dealing with people displaying all manner of idiosyncracies. I guess in a way i am burnt out - the need to 'expose' or 'display' my music to the world has all but disappeared. Why? Because I simply have nothing to say musically at present - i strain to find any relevance in it all.
These blog posts are extracted from a place of disgust - a void - a feigned hatred for hypocrisy and inequality - an intoxicated realm lacking formal narrative, these lines are starved of meaning.
Much of what is penned is unconscious -  thoughtless. Much is half-hearted.
I enjoy being no-one. I read the primary texts of Vedanta, an ancient Indian philosophy.
I seemingly yearn for something - but know not what it is.
I regard myself as a nothing special, just another citizen minding me own business.

president trump.

Oh city -city I love you. A legal black hole. Where laws can be stretched and bent like putty.
A money launderers haven. Restauranteurs-as-washing machines. You can just disappear there, Subdivide and rate-evade. Its all good. Thats the spirit. Thats the way. We enjoy life, we inure and steep. Breakfast.
President Trump.
Oh to make a difference. Get ye into politics? Finance? Services? Accountancy? Economic Archaeology? Oh to move, to push, to heave. To render exobytes of zeroes legal tender. To slap  3 - 4 - 5 zeroes on the old bank balance. To align with hackers and make potty. Sam, distant relative, landed the Fort Lauderdale deal. Banging equidistant, a radio wave and a face check. Its all you'll ever need. Next in line is the vacuum of space - a heaving counter-wave, black-bodied and equivalent, vestigal and contoured, a deliriant ; high dosage is recommended - please administer to the worlds' billionaire population as soon as is practicable.
I suggest funding material science to the hilt. Also optics - photonic crystals and such. Also electro-magnetic propulsion research. Ion traps. Also I will fund research into Orbital Angular Momentum, the Casimir effect, superconductivity, deep space communications, superluminal studies and optical vorticity.

Saturday, April 23, 2016

the economy

I say - damn the economy. Death to the market. Death to the economy. We are all supposed to worship the economy, to propitiate it hourly, to keep it fed and healthy like a bilious babe, to 'grow' it and keep growing it - forever. Nations that don't 'grow' fast enough are deemed 'a worry'. We are compelled to place the economy before everything - our lives, our relationships, our culture, our art, our philosophy, our spirituality, our love and joy. Our real life - our end of the day life - our actual life. The economy is all. And it has to keep growing regardless. For what. For more 'choices'? For the choice between a brown piece of shit or a browny-yellow piece of shit?
These bean counting bottom feeders, these market liberals - these machines, these metastasizing clumps, high on temporary power - meme magicians - the personification of low impulse control - no real outlook beyond their own puny lifespans - screwing the world of their own progeny and laughing about it  - these moronic hyper-aggrandized opportunists -  propagandizing whole populations into adopting the neo-liberal ethos - may they be cursed. 
We are called to work ourselves to death - for the economy.  
Turn the meme around - do not accept the neo-liberal agenda. 

Saturday, March 5, 2016

student loan debtor prison - now theres an idea!

Hello Bravo.  A 2 minute blast of waiting room media and I'm informed -  we are nation of baddies.  We have an appetite fo'(self)destruction and drugs.  Dunnow what program was being advertised but no doubt: it was a classic aussie mulch of cheap hyper-sensationalist news/opinion and tabloid journalism. Me no miss the tv bro. The shock and the awe of it. The grist and the gore of it. The nod and the snore of it.
It seems Australians like feeling good, albeit temporarily. Australians like unwinding  - hard. Some of us harder than others. And some - forever nameless - even go straight for the dopaminergic receptors. Its pure economics, Bridget. A nations shame. In a second blast of ultra wide-band piffle  - the morning radio news introduces some disgruntled think-tank spokesperson. See, it turns out  that the public owe lots of money in unpaid fines..i mean..we/us owe himalayan masses of debt to some centralized abstractified discombobulated'n'disembodied legal entity slash database slash digitimal algorythmy thing.  Unpaid fines man. They hurt! We must reign it all in at once, Chuck! Unpaid fines sponsor terrorism! But whats worse - they hinder those ever-so-essential profits from flowing(into Gina's futures future fund fund).
Three cheers for unpaid fines. Hundreds of millions of dollars worth, somewhere out there - somewhere - somewhere - future labour value perhaps? Your moms car? Your fridge? Your employers kids colledge fund? Your electricity connection 2021? A secret stash of gold rush era booty buried down Tullamarine way?
Lest we forget  - Myki fines. Come on guys - its simple personal responsibility!   Private/public collaboration in effect! And of course - parking fines (find yourself a park round these parts for free - i dare you)! Subcontracted debt collecting 'growth' driven agencies take care of your governmental Student Loan. Student Loans my man - the fiscal brainchild of the baby-boomer generation -- that hyper-edumicated generation of folks who wonder 'why we aren't doing as well as they did' and who famously 'pulled themselves up by their own bootstraps' after completing their (free)university degrees and buying into their first(state subsidized) homes and procuring jobz-4-life (in dat swingin' age where the terms 'casualization' and 'outsourcing' and 'downsizing' were only at larval stage). Preach to da converted. Private public. Where your debt is their profit. Where profit is THE prime directive for ever and ever amen. Future slave generation. Can this raving nonsense be truth? The great privatization purges of the 80's and 90's and Noughties didnt actually happen though did they? Right? Right? Right? Right? Right? Right? So suck it up? Get real? Are my unrefined proclamations the tactless excrescences of a wannabe looney lefty? (yes) (no) (yes)
Mr Trump and his ilk rely on research NOT being done. Please, for his sake - don't look INTO him. Suggest gross underfunding of education will help you there.  
  Of course , the REAL badguys - the 'banksters' - the bottom-feeding law-bending loophole-hunting zombiefied psycho-economic micro-fee feltchers - the public literally begs these people to rip us off micro-unit by microunit. We have been so utterly brainwashed that we laud reward and deify the very people who intend to wreck our future. We worship them as saviours. So touch on. Pay for your parking space. Keep your workforce lean, desperately competitive and under the permanent threat of disposal and replacement. And dont get caught , whatever you do. I learnt that from the men at the top.
 Just don't get caught. Insider trading. It dosent happen. Glad-handle. Syrupticious. Purple drank me hanky.Sister slime-mould. Saggin, haggin' and tea-baggin'. Big ole' private priz. Youth unit. Battle meet. Step up sanguine. A course at your localvocational training campus. Dodge it. Easy pickings, Danny. Easy picking, picker packer pulled a poke of pyrineese pan pipes. Happy lodgement.Throbbing Gristle Hull humpers. GG Allin is my hero. GG Allin is a quiet, sensitive, thoughtful spokesperson of thee age. Diddy wop. Oh contradiction and contradistinction. Bellows bellows bellows. Alternative gag-reflex. And so! Time to cough up. Dead books. Second half of thee financial year. Here we are, spinning in gravitational loop-mode for-ever on a spheroid rock in the middle of absolutely nowhere. There truly is nothing up there (for a good few miles). We are literally floating in space. We are in and of SPACE. A TRILLION BILLION stars are estimated to float up there. And HERE. WE. ARE. 
And we are asked to obey manipulated, preloaded, elite-serving, filth-spattered 'LAW' here on earth. But there it is - right above us every night. SPACE. Only a few hundred kilometers up there. SPACE. Its empty. Its vast. It dosen't seem to care that much really. Its been there the whole time we have been here. It was there when the Dinosaurs humped, destroying trees and primordial shrubbery with their shreikin' reptoid sexy what's its'. SPACE was there when the sun was but a glint in thee cosmic milkmans eye. And yet, regardless of this mind-boggling reality - for some reason i find myself repeating this point - we are obligated to obey a set of narrow-cast corporate-friendly laws. The law that says - if you don't touch on with your myki you pay a fine of 230 shekels. Or, even better, pay on the spot with yr credit card(a wee incentive to keep those revenues fluid). We are obligated to accept the neoliberal agenda of permanent economic growth.....or else. We are urged, nay, compelled to consume and keep consuming forever, literally at the expense of the planet. We have been hypnotized into protecting and nuturing the needs of these entities and their psychosociopathic directors. We have accepted it all, gladly. If you do manage to formulate a solution - by Jove you're shut down quick smart, matey. Starved, mocked, hounded, psychiatrized, vilified, made a pariah of, like. It really seems to be out of humanities hands now me old mucka -  neo-liberalism is now on auto-pilot - its a vast heaving abstraction thats can't/won't be stopped. Ive been told the seas will be fish-free by 2050. But at least the Hunky Dory fish'n'chips biz round the corner is doing well right now. Short term gains, bobby. Thats Aussie fish i guess so its ok. And they wonder why young people kill themsleves in droves. We got it so good! Are these the last sputtering days of aussie excess? Maybe. maybe not. Probably not. Because the drugs keep coming. They keep comiing, regardless of the so-called 'busts'that 'put a big dent in the suppy'. So just do it. Just do it. Do 'em, the CIA told me to tell you. And make sure you weld that trans-shem-sham-syrian-jordanian oil pipeline good and tight. And make sure the Taliban aint allowed to ban opium. cause
thats MY money right there. Thats my 15th property in Cape Verde fund. Okay punk?

Wednesday, February 17, 2016

musings abusings and this weeks losings


Western tract. A positivist putsch. Giddyup. Seems I'm going up in the world, because the oiled up fastidiously groomed about-the-suburb gangsters are actually taking the time to turn around, to watch me burning up the streets grasping me plasticized goose-load of supermarket shopping  - and then to dredge
themselfs up a nicely frothing spittle-wad, transporting it deftly from gullet to street level. They have payed their respects as it were. I am worthy at long last! I am worthy of being looked upon. And spat at. For I am cunt, pure and true. Cunt I am - I am cunt. Strong, hyper-elastic, well-formed cunt. I am  smarm, scowl and prurience. I am the neurotic convulsion that is agnosticism. I am child of the universe, sliver of it, every taut shivering molecule an ancient hand-me-down - every atom defining and redefining its being within/without spacetime, a fully registered, student loaned, tagged'n'buckled citizen of an arch-conservative law shackled universe.
As I travel on public transport, I sample peoples souls. I am the spirit of the inquisition. I see people. My sleaze-mottled hazel iris' and constricted black pupils zip from soul to soul like a frenzied piece of biometric malware. I glance, the malegaze203, and receive a response in two phases - one is a standard mirroring glare, then the eyes dart away, seemingly horrified, shaken, disarmed, creeped out as-it-were. For I am plain. And I am not finely tuned. And I am ugly. And I am not a standard catergorizable 40 something. For what have I extracted spittle, oh urine retaining one? Because I do not drive along side you, sweat-caked petrol-soaked and paranoid? Because I am a walking anarchronism? A colonial? A type of nothing? An asset-free, free-associative libidinous ooze? Someone who has learnt to surf the internet? Is it because I am amenable to substrates and alkaloids? Is it because I do not take hip with my hop? Is it because I read the wrong book? Cajouled and caressed someone elses woman? Boasted and toasted the wrong loaf? Got your wife pregnant? Downloaded the entire US Department of Defense to my flash drive and lost it? Is it because my music is actually a type of temporal displacement mechanism? Is it because I put my money on IranAssadRussiaChina instead of USASaudiISISMossadBankofEngland? Is it because I listen to GG Allin on a semi-regular basis and take his ideas to heart? Is it because your wife has always loved me? Is it because I have no actual significance or power whatsoever,and will never have any ever, and you crave the blessedness of that state? Is it because I actually AM Rupert Murdoch? Is it because your dogs come to me when you whistle? Is it cause im looking forward to experiencing the ramifications of the trans pacific partner-feltch? Fun times had by all corporate holdings. (Pfizer sues me for stopping my meds, so in a back-room deal I agree to keep taking them)

Whatever it is, I sure needed it. So blow me down oh suburbanite. This world and its nuturing capitalistic money system is such a wonderful place to raise a child in. We must completely do their heads in! At first the child is taught to be nice, to cooperate, to share and help others, that christian type values or secular humanist values are sancrosanct -- - but wait!  then they are instructed to compete tooth and nail with everyone else out there, to defeat the enemy, to get ahead and to be successful no matter what. Its a double wammy cluster bomb/fuck I'd say. No wonder kids go crazy and pull the plug. Theres the golden rule and the macgolden rule. Self-interest is King.

The culture of this decade has been completely usurped by the non-culture of commerce. Commerce will now and forever adorn the garb of culture and counter culture alike. All socio-cultural decisions are feircly mediated and closely accompanied by the crushing option matrix of finance. No space is public space. No time is free time. All is monetized. All art making is soiled. All culture is dead.  Death is a big deal , it is the only deal. Its the one and only thing one can truly count on in life. And it comes for your body and mind, ready or not, it's effect instant or drawn out, whenever or wherever or in whatever condition you are in. I have had more than one friend die this year alone. It is a phenomenon that is demanding my attention and comprehension this year.
It is wise to be aware of death and dying and also to be aware of what one is leaving behind. Because, in many respects, death is release from so many mundanities - so many earthly bores, so many gnawing annoyances. One of the great banes of many a living life is of course the handling and retaining of money. I personally do not care much for money, money dosent care much for me. My guess is, that at death, you won't require any money (or maybe you do). Presumably it won't cost anything - there wont be a fee involved. Nor that nor an interest rate. Every aspect of finance drops out of consciousness like Laura Palmers' angel floating up to heaven in 'Fire Walk with Me'.. No exchange will be possible because there is no body there, no biological electricity flow there for one to buy and sell. No more bills. No more tax. No more red tape. No more bank. No more scum bag banking cartels, no more corrupt credit-skimming bottom-feeders lurking on the ocean floor. No more ocean. No more sky. No more no more - no more conception.  No ambitions in this market driven world. All 'alternative' pursuits have been incrementally moneytized and consolidated over the past 25 years - and the only counterattack available to the real 'artist' is to completely cease producing any work and to cease all performance past present and future. Its what im doing, and it turns out i'm saving money!
Generate micro-fees, interest pulsing, fine clusters, hidden clauses and backroom swaps, credit debits, handling fees, registration duty, goods and services duty, defaults, bill clogs, paper trails and part-private-private equity slather range-event dismounts, drone launches,tax gags,ocular fishing grabs, and gps/ google micro-algorhythms - both mycological and deep space. Gag-japing , bill milking, wad compressing, prick pinning, rainbow party funding drives, micro-loans, thumb locks, insurance insurance, freud-filters, fanny-packs, syringer, black lolly, poultice.