waiting for godot (nly knows what).

my dog's got no nose

a congenital defect meant that his soft palate tissue mal-fused. he looks like a sock puppet, but i still love 'im.. don't i... don't i..

a while ago i wrote waiting for godot in a day, i have recently taken the time to actually read it and i haven't a clue what myself or beckett were getting at! (i must point out at this juncture that i feel beckett has the lion's share of the explaining to do as he wrote it first). it filled me with a creeping ennui which snowballed into full-blown existential funk, all the while queering the pitch with humourous asides at which, in my claustrophobic panic, i didn't know whether to laugh or cry!
i'm not sure what he was trying to convey to the audience, but this boy didn't get it.

pipe... i went to the doctor, i said "i keep thinking i'm a pair of curtains" he said "pull
the door to old chap", then went on to explain that i was probably experiencing a mild psychotic episode, a sort of a fugue he said?

i saw the play on stage just last week with patrick stewart and ian mckellen, and i must say i thought they turned it into a farce at times, playing for laughs... which they got aplenty... saving grace was callow's performance as pozzo.. spot on.
my advice would be to not write anything which you haven't first read AND enjoyed. if everyone stuck to this we would be spared some real stinkers.

regards, o.t.

myself and simon callow used to spend our evenings in the same pub in south london, how's that for a coincidence? lovely little place, very bookish. no one goes there any more, it's too busy.

shame, but if people don't want to go there you can't stop them.

what are we doing on here anyway? why do we keep coming back to this same place? nothing is going to happen..

No Godots for half an hour, then three come along together. Typical.

three...? like buses? coming together? typical, eh? (rolls eyes and blows out lower lip).

maybe this is the wrong place.

how do you make a swiss roll?
is it as simple as it looks, sponge and jam? or are there any tricks i should know?

see, i CAN tell the time.
top tip... lace your roll with a healthy splash of grappa riserva, mmmmm... my swiss roll would make a venetian blind.

I've been having terrible dreams at night, and finally went to a psychiatrist. He asked me to describe the dreams, so I told them that they alternate between be believing I was either a wigwam or a tepee. He told me that I need to relax because I was two tents.

surely EITHER a wigwam OR a teepee would lead him to the diagnosis that you are only one tent?... don't mean to worry you, old chap.. but i rather suspect your doctor is camping it up a little at the expense of your health.

hmm, he's right. guy ropes you in with a wall full of dodgy qualifications, next thing you know he's trying to sell you some pitch about an ant's nest.

~-U check your mail, i'll be over in a while. o.t.

same tree, different tree ... same tree, different tree ... same tree, diff....

"please therefore send me the tariff of services from aphinar to suez" etc.

two things can be identical except that one is red and the other is not, but two things cannot be identical except that one is beautiful and the other is not.

we cry in order to make ourselves wet in a hopeless attempt to return to the time when we were fish, and the thing which made us cry had not yet happened.

#6 Push him down a hill.

whom?!

fish? i should hope i wasn't a fish.
quicker to say "we hit ourselves over the head in a painful attempt to return to the time when we were chimpanzees..." and so on. less devolving to be done... and they do, don't they.. hit themselves over the head?

there you are.
there was a fellow here earlier tried to push me down a hill! actually there were several of them... big husky types.
i said "oh, push me down a hill will you? not without a fight you won't." must have unnerved them, they haven't been back.

two things cannot be identical if one of them is beautiful

the yardstick does not tell us that the object to be measured is one yard long... nor that it is straight, nor that it will keep still for us long enough to measure it.

what can be used as a pronoun, a noun, an adjective, an adverb, a conjunction and an interjection.

black kettle of oneness! this is all getting a little serious.
bet you can't say this quickly... "red lorry yellow lorry red lorry yellololly.."
see... it's ACTUALLY impossible.

what?

red lorry yellow lorry red lorry yella lorry red lolly

ha! it is too!

red lorry yellow lorry red lorry yellow lorry red lorry yellow lorry red lorry..... if you say it slowly and really articulate each word it's really quite easy... red lorry yellow lorry red lorry yellow lorry red lorry yellow lolly damn it!

who wrote "and now the pornographers were assembled in the crematorium" ?
are you eating well? they are trying to starve me here (or at least that's what i'm letting them think.). since when has it been my responsibility to feed myself? i don't remember agreeing to that one...

i was sent forth from the power and i have come to those who reflect upon me

that's what she said. then everything was made right and now it's back to how it was!

i'm orf for a shower... my feet smell as all captains do, abominably.
(for fifty points, the reference please.).

too easy, paludes.
as for your pornographers i'll give you a clue, t.m.b.w.i.t.
yes, she did say that, and it may have been, and it may be. and one of her many brothers said that to receive knowledge we must first realise that we possess it (or something very similar). problem being that the vessel gets full up rather too quickly and overflows... a quart of knowledge tumbling into a pint bottle, very untidy. most of it runs down the drain, and the pint that's left makes no sense to itself, being the chaotically edited guest of an overwhelmed host. a note in my pad reads "what to do after the breakdown?". breakdown could be satisfactorily replaced with shame or abandonment (of sympathy).

i am eating well, thank you. they are trying to bust me liver.

atrocity... sympathy, atrocity... sympathy, atrocity...

there you are.
there was a fellow here earlier said "what?" !
i said "i hope you are not whatting me, sir... i've a very quick patience for cheekiness." must have shaken him, he couldn't get away quickly enough. still, it would be a pleasant change if you were present one time when it's "kicking off".

kettle's on. ~-U

who?

Sorry, whom?

different animals the two. some would have it that the latter is a more sophisticated alternative to the former:
WHO had a dog called K9.
WHOM wrote a treatise of human nature.
not so, of course.

same tree, different tree, same tree, different tree...
two beautiful things cannot be red if they are not identical.

have they bust yer liver yet?
today i ate only fruit, two pairs and an orange (i believe that constitutes 5-a-day?)

i have embarked on a cut-and-paste experiment of unholy magnitude... it is my contention that any book, no matter how lamentable, can make a superlative volume if treated properly.
too excited to elaborate just now, must crack on with it. catch you tomorrow.
regards, o.t.

unholily inordinate maybe, but unoriginal also. before i started writing famous books i was seconded to a covert unit tasked to uncover correlations between arcane works.
for instance, did you know that the text of jilly cooper's riders is an anagram of the first four enneads? or that a suspicious number of pam ayres' poems, when picked apart and re-grouped, become the exhortations of the desert fathers?
don't mean to p!$$ on your chips or anything, but if you want to make sure you're not wasting your time re-eureka-ing then tell me who you're studying and i'll tell you if it's been done.

with your interests in mind, i am, this is not a pipe ~-U

interesting.... i have just finished writing the revelation of john the divine using the amputated letters from frank bough's "cue frank". there are just enough letters left over to spell "sex sex sex".....(eerie).

i was once rumbled doing a spot of interpretive dancing, in the drawing room, to frontier psychiatrist. i was rapturous, just up to the part where the bird squawks wiggywiggywiggywiggywerrrrr (head back and wings flapping like stink) when i became conscious of a figure at the window. i pretended to faint, of course, and gave it half a minute before slowly and naturally sausage-rolling out of the room... all the while squinting at the window to see if they'd gone.

my point is, some things are best done with the curtains closed lest the wrong types should see...

is there any kind of sympathy out there which can soothe the wounds of an atrocity? you look at the worst stuff, the grainy stuff, and you wonder.
there's a terrible intimacy between torturer and torturee which is possibly the looking-glass image of lovers.... the pornographers are in the inquisitions, and the torture chambers, and the crematoria.

i take your point about being covert. rest assured, my jokes are measured.

....began to suffer psychosomatic cramps of the right hand, which were attributed to unconscious animosity towards the pen.

it's friday for gawd's sake. put alone again or on yer juke box and pour me a scotch on the rocks... it's going to be a long night.

..... and i hope it was a good one, too.
ended up drinking karkady in a tiny restaurant somewhere or other. spicy shrimp platter with clown fish and lentil parcels, then blueberry and orange salad with lavender meringues. delicious, although i thought the fish tasted a little funny. i really wasn't that hungry, but once again they made me eat every last scrap.

don't dwell on the atrocities too much, especially while you're drinking. try typing kindness into your machine and see what it comes up with. your humours are awry. siphon your medulla, there was too much autumn in you last night.

~-U

murderer on his way to gallows "this is the heaviest rain i have ever felt"
executioner "how do you think I feel? i have to walk back in it."

same tree, different tree, same tree, different tree, same...

my dog has no curtains, what's come over him? three. one to hold it and two to poke his eyes out.

a horse walks into a bar and says "no idea."

a... horse.. with no legs....
walks (?)
into a light bulb .. and .....says:

"still no idea"

we must find out who this brave steed is and buy him a drink.

let's suppose that there IS something worth waiting here for. if we pay any heed to fringbert's infinity devaluation tables the probability of it presenting itself to us is too small to give a value to it.
what we need are brave stabs in the dark from infected onlookers. heroic nothings which we can massage the hearts of. ANYTHING! a slow wink. a garbled phrase. an over confident/under confident punch in the face. slime or gold. golden jelly... the arms to throw anything at anything.

note to self... don't buy quite so much salad next shop.

This is the ultimate lurker thread...

...a woman walks into a thread,
thread-keeper: can i help you madam?
woman: no thanks, i'm just lurking.

...a woman walks into thread the lurker ultimate and orders some words

...a woman walks into a thread... thereby passing through the eye of a needle and proving her place in paradise.

I'm not worthy.

*re-lurks*

pipe, am still working on the gospel of thomas. don't worry, i am not about to spill any beans. without being too specific let me just say that a symbiotic play of prime number generative equations and something akin to rimbaud's vowel conjectures are at work here. the key to their employment is woven in a recondite treatment of the shortest surviving books of the nag H. the details of which i shall send to you privately. jsb got there before me... the brandenburgs are lousy with playful echoes of it all.

mauvais quart d'heure at the ivy last night... the menu offered coq au vin, then further down pork in cider. being partial as i am to chicken, and preferring sweet sauce to creamy, i made the terrible mistake of asking the waitress if my coq could come in cider (!). i don't know who's face was the redder... luckily for me i had my usual seat, contre-jour, and so my blushes were somewhat spared.

there you are. we have a "lurker"!
it's your fault... getting all emotional and leaving the door open. i think she could have been a proper handful if i hadn't turned on the old charm. i said she had a beautiful smile and she said i looked like a young carey grant! i said "just for that you can hang around as long as you like.".... in his voice, you understand... you should have heard her chuckle!

goldbach conjectures? (goldberg variations?).
black velvety jacket of brilliant flies
waves, divine shudderings of viridian seas

... looking forward to seeing how the key fits the lock here.

..you couldn't let me know we had a guest BEFORE i told that story? how humiliating.

i read today that if you can do this with your tongue . . . . den oo dis . . . . vivow dwiblin der's a fwair.. there's a fair chance you're descended from viking blood. try it.

au. got it...

later, o.t.

"Back in a minute, Godot."

Sorry.

miss... i don't mean to patronise you, (that means talk down to you), but you seem a little confused... you're not making much sense, dear... ARE YOU (points) O.K.?(puts thumb up) IS THERE ANYONE I CAN PHONE FOR YOU?

dear diary,
i have just finished interpreting stump's buffalo using the power of dance. when i shouted "how much is the CHIPS?!" i caught my own eye in the mirror and it quite knocked me sideways. the intensity of my facial expressions and the preposterous nature of my attitudes have grown in inverse proportions to the shrinking of my inhibitions.

As i sit down and read this thread i wonder
are this.is.not.a.pipe the same person as orangethunder?

then, with another idea i ponder
what is going on over yonder.

Ultimately, how do I know that this.is.not.a.pipe and orangethunder are not me? Am i playing some cruel joke on myself? One can only hope.

atrocity, sympathy, atrociteeeee..... hello.. oh dear.

sir, i am uncertain as to which land you hail from but..

note to self.... no fruit next shop, use up what is left.

o.t., you invite an under confident punch to the face then hector the fellow.... i'll tell you straight, i very nearly pressed the abuse-button on his behalf! one (or two) grammatical indiscretion(s) do(es) not consign a chap to ninnyville.

are you there? it has turned midday.

no.
i'm somewhere else.
it's the time of day when i twist small children's arms behind their backs until they give up their lunch money.

.... actually i've been digging over my vegetable garden ready for planting, beautiful day here and a shame it would have been to have wasted it.
what's with the polar bear? i don't get it.

how confusing of you to keep our appointment.
what are you planting? have you plenty of netting (important this spring.. especially if planting herbs).
the bear wandered in from someone else's thread, i think. i expect he caught a whiff of your socks and brought his knife and fork and tartar sauce.

why THIS spring?
of course i use netting, but my tried and tested method of bird control is to keep the blighters well fed, if you hang food all around the garden it saves them the trouble of digging up your plot to indulge themselves. doesn't have to cost a fortune either, i don't waste good money on birds, i empty my nuts into an old pair of stockings.

i see.
i was alluding to reports of an avian invasion from indonesia. just this week i overheard a lady at the club telling her friend that she'd had a cockatoo in her thyme. i shouldn't worry unnecessarily though, i'm sure you have everything in hand.

they have told me today that i will not be allowed to eat any of the vegetables i grow.
i continue to allow them to think that it is their intention to starve me.

Might one ask who "they" are?

the question is accurately composed, briefly presented and clearly unambiguous; it merits a response. sir, there is a suggestion in the second line that the author has influence over their very thought processes, he is not merely misleading them in a mundane game of cat and mouse. qualia, or personal experience, are private and infallible. another person's experience can be known only by analogy. the pre-socratic sophist, giorgias, went to great trouble to show us that objective knowledge is a literal impossibility.
so, where does that leave his "they"?
the problem is only hopeless on a non-personal level.
they, sir, are the people he is allowing to believe are wishing he would starve.

Of course. Obvious in retrospect.

Oh, them. Thanks.

I shall continue to allow you to believe that you have answered my question.

yeah, i heard a funny thing
somebody said to me
you know that i could be in love with almost everyone
i think that people are, the greatest fun
and i. will. be. alone again tonight my dear

yeah, i said it's alright
and no i won't forget
all the times i've waited patiently for you
and you do just what, you choose to do
and i. will. be. alone again tonight my dear

happy friday night everyone. scotch on ice. happy friday night!

dean elliott's lonesome road has left me as a shell, so much of myself have i thrown into the drawing room just now. the walls are festooned with grotesque, twisted facsimiles of my ecstatically charged physiog. the furniture has aped my spastic dance and become unservicable. i am naked now (my clothing has been taken away for analysis).

the mind sunrises
the mind sunsets.

.......i told him "you can keep that thing away from me"...hello, transgalactic dating service, michelle speaking, how can i help?

my point was, and is, that water IS gravity. ergo, trees are the opposing force and fire.... i don't know about fire yet. the jury is still out. some new type of wood maybe?

o.teee... here o.t. o.t. o.t. o.t.

same tree, different tree, same tree, different tree, same tree...
i'm early, i am.
i will, i'll wait.

fire is a time accelerant. the sun regulates earth time using distance as its pendulum. the moon's influence slows time (but really this is only the collective observation that nothing much is happening).

and why not! if we're prohibited from speaking the truth let us play tiddly winks with the firmament instead. the new physics calls for old scientists to fall on their swords as a matter of priority, everything else can wait.

there you are.
excuse my ramblings (there is no need to feel obliged to share in them). i am seated in an easy chair with a head bandage concealing what used to be a handsomely proportioned forehead. they tell me i was recovered from the dining room where i evidently "took a tumble". i remember nothing of it, but i am told that i collapsed from exhaustion after falling into the splits to the strains of a swanny whistle. twelve stitches and no dancing for at least two weeks!
how are you?

marginally better, thank you.
they have told me to lay a path from the kitchen steps to the vegetable patch to keep things neat, but the project has been stymied, unoriginally, by the ineptness of others ... last tuesday i placed my order for materials! come friday i was still chasing things up.
"sorry, sir, there's been a cock up at the warehouse"
"that's all very well" i say, getting positively rankled by now, "but it's my arse on the line here! do you understand? your cock up, my arse! I NEED TO GET MY ASPHALT BEFORE THE WEEKEND!" at which point i slammed down the phone in exasperation.
i am no stranger to head wounds, are they considering grafts?

i should hope that will not be necessary, considering where the grafts are taken from and all!
the prospect of my eyebrows blowing off is an unattractive one.

i expect i shall have a scar to show as a sort of badge to my daring. i believe i have taken on some of the most perilous pieces a danseur can sanely survive. for the time being it will be armchair workouts, a little foot tapping, that sort of thing.... i have already choreographed a gentle hand jive piece to mnmn with which i am modestly pleased.

the kettle is on. bring some shortbread, i'm all out.

steady on, old fellow... see, i told you. full of 'em this time of night. look.. this way..

..what!
hic....her eyes they shone like diamonds
they called her the squid.. the queen of the land...

shhh! you'll scare them off. look.. THIS way.

shhhhh! look....thiss way, THISSWAY.

oy.. what the HECK was in that tea?

my. god. look at them all....

didn't i tell you? dozens of them.
all shapes and sizes.

right, point proven. i'm off to bed, it's midnight.
can you see your own way back in the dark or shall i walk you?

sir, i was in the 14th lancers. i could find my way back from jupiter if needs musted.

'bout TURN!
two, three,

....... tied up with a black velvet bang.. band..

atrocity, sympathy, atrocity, sympathy, atrocity.....

i was down to my last £2 and i went in and asked about the sign in the window that said "help wanted". five minutes later i was down to my last 50p, but i had the sign under my arm and things could only get better.

ha ha... you've borrowed that from kierkegaard i think?
i've started a gang on another thread, feel free to join but come in character, don't spoil the fun.

what the hell was THAT?! you sounded like a drunk george formby pushing his luck with the crips. tone it down a little before you blow our cover. for heaven's sake.

tea up.

I like you guys. You make me seem normal.

i like gin for the very same reason.

o.t. are you sulking, home boy?

no.
it's friday night bee atch! i have arise therefore on the juke box and a large wiksy in my paw!

brrring it on!

row, row, row your boat
gently down the stream
merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily.........
life,
is,
but,
a,
dream.

atrocitree, sympatree, atrocitree, sympatree, atrocitree........

diffocity, sampathy, diffocity, sampathy, diffocity....

Hurry up!

Best regards,

Robert

i'd sooner sloe down.

........
...........arrrrgggghhhhh! super-laplacian deterministic flash point!! but i was meant to write that... and that.. and this.. and this, thisS! THISS!! KAK! KAK! KAAAAK!!!

. . . . . . . . . . . . . it's gone. . . . that was a bad one.

reference the occult secrets of the order of melchisedek, and their ability to transcend reality and become as elohim. i'm free for an hour on thursday if that's any good?

i have, as a party piece, learnt to count the atoms in the universe (blindfolded) then find them all a room in hilbert's hotel (easy when you know how) and play knock-door-run on them using zen dream hands to ensure that i am never rumbled, all the while mindful of the fact that SHE knows i am waiting but (why!) leaves me here to bleed.

today they have told me that i may be made to crucify myself.

there you are!

there was a fellow here earlier said "hurry up!" (!)
i told him, i said "sir, do NOT push me." and i adopted, quite without conscious effort, the crane stance.
"ever so sorry" says he," i thought you were someone else." (which was a lie).
to which i replied "no. i am not... i am me." and i gave him my charlie bronson stare until his gaze fell, at which point i slowly lowered my wings, straightened my coat and walked away.

sorry to hear about the crucifixion. on the upside i have done a little research and it isn't nearly as difficult as one might suppose to get the final free hand fixed. let me know if you need any advice. ~-U

(there, now we are the both of us editors).

i do not deserve such friendship.

why do you pretend that i believe you'd like me to think you can do kung fu?
when i know that you cannot.
if you are ever faced with the prospect of being made to fall on your own cross you shall realize that taking advice is not an option.

KENDO KICK! HiYAAAA!

i once overdid it at a very formal dinner, too much pheasant on an empty stomach; there wasn't a dog around to take the rap and so i rather heroically excused myself to the hallway whereupon i fell on my own sword, so to speak. i hadn't bargained on the thunderously resonant qualities of spanish marble, but they were a sporting bunch and no one batted an eyelid when i returned.
my forehead, you ask? oh, it's mending, thank you for your concern. the physician in charge of me has instructed me to "think a little more each day" until i am back to normal. how is a fellow supposed to know? i am using pie charts.

when i fell down the stairs some years ago there was a moment of mystical clarity during which i hovered level with the handrail long enough to notice that i hadn't yet put out my empty milk bottles. i suffered a neck brace and temporary heterotropia.
the venn diagrams i employed to record the rehabilitation of my memory, co-ordination and concentration turned out to be completely independent circles. how goes the hand jiving?

well, thank you. i hope you are not asking for the sake of amusement?
i am currently hand jiving to my own fusion remix of intergalactic versus body movin'. it is "medium dangerous" even at top volume (as i am still seated at dance), but not completely without peril.

kettle's on. my turn to pour.

cigarettes and whisky and wild, wild women...
they'll drive you crazy
they'll drive you insay ay ane...

cigarettes and whisky and wild, wild women...
they'll drive you crazy
they'll drive
you in saaane.

happy friday night all! happy friday night!

you have seen the photographs of christ's side being punctured by a spear held by a mermaid? (yes, photographs)
you know that christ is the moon in these images and that the spear is not the spear of longinus but the manifestation of the unconscious need for coniunctionis?
you know these things even though they are hidden from you.

this is not a pipe ~-U
try and smoke it, silly.

i... can't... get the little bugger.. off the screen.
fingernails keep bouncing off the glass, how does that work then? is it some sort of computerised pipe? electrickery?

that was a device intended to prompt the reader into the realisation that reality is a manufactured commodity... and i was being poetic, so go away. you've spoiled it.

the reader? do we have another lurker then?
if we do they're awfully quiet about it. and it's not my fault this time, i distinctly remember closing the door after me last night.

think of a number.

seven

without telling me...

it takes you this long to think of a number?

you said i wasn't to tell you.

... the number!
don't tell me the number! only that you've thought of one.

ooooo, close. it was two.

fat head!

i'm thinking of another one.... perhaps i should have told you?

hello........ . . . . . . hello?

oy vey.

shmendrick.

Millicent has been trying to send a message, but in every effort to recall it all I remember is her name.

Best regards,

Robert

Not Mildred? I had an Aunt Mildred.

my aunt maud had stakes in a race horse called myface, although we never actually got to see it and weren't allowed to mention it to uncle jim. you should have heard the old girl cheering it on of a saturday afternoon while uncle jim was getting drunk at the pub and me and my cousins played cowboys in the garden.

happy days.

same tree, different tree......

where have all the flowers gone?

long time passing....

ohhh my old man's a dustman,

he wears a dustman's hat.... feel free to join in!

he wears cor blimey trousers..

and he lives in a council flat! Hey!

lurk lurk

note to self: refuse to be surprised by anything.

different tree.

but can you still be surprised by nothing? or Something?

same tree.

.... don't kick him in the dust bin,
he might,
be,
my,
old,
DAAAAAD! hurrah, hurrah! how wonderful! ....marvelous.

pipe, i am here. make yourself known.

blank surprises. some things can wait, but ten of me wrapped in bandages had to go the day i found them. birds in a nest, they smelt of warm growing meat. and i knew straight away that keeping them would only spell misery and heart ache.
~-U.

i got me an angel and blacked both her eyes with one hard slap. i broke her wings over my knee and hid them in a high place. it was a good, clean break but she bled from the back a little. for forty days and nights i told her stories and showed her the pictures. the stories were bad but for me the pictures were far more terrible. except than her lifeless, blackened eyes.

a horse, a flea, and three blind mice
sat on a curbstone, shooting dice
the horse he slipped, and fell on the flea
the flea said "whoops, there's a horse on me"

it says here that the french navy have changed their motto from "honneur, valeur, patrie, discipline" to "a l'eau, c'est l'heure".... which i think is much punchier.

have you eaten today? do you like mutton? there's plenty left.

thank you. no.
mother could only afford the head. she'd say "leave the eyes in, it'll see us through the week." .... and it did.
can't stomach the stuff now.
come and have a look at what i bought today.......youuuu'll be jealous.

Millicent?

one can hardly hear her passing. do not entertain doubt when you lie alone in the darkness which you used to share, be strong and smile. uddham soto. sheng ren. do not lose yourself here. cuando reparas en algo dejas de arrojarte al todo. be kind and fear nothing.

"i prepare the bread and my mind within"

it doesn't hurt to dwell on mysteries while we wait.

~-U

* * * * * * POOOOF * * * * * *

it's gone.

glad to hear it, never liked it.

who am i being?

the village idiot?

nope. the village idiot sits on a wall.
i am standing with my shirt pulled up and a lollipop in my navel.

is it thursday already?

belly savalas! good eh?

lend me a cigar.

don't do anything silly like break it in two will you?

who's this?

must i guess?

cobumbo! get it?

here..

please, keep it.

why do we meet here? why not just go to the other place?

the waiting is important, you know that.
cheer up. same tree, different tree and all that.

i suppose so.
come on.
it's getting cold.

atrocity, sympathy, atrocity....

pipe?

no.
i wasn't there.

where's the bobbin at ?
what am i gonna die ?
hot coffee from a krimpt up can.

if you get me.

.

Period?

Best regards,

Robert

?eid annog i ma tahw

.em teg uoy fi

.revo

wake up wake up wake.

oscar tango this is papa one. do you copy? over

"...th..(my positio... equest artillery..... it down now..ver)"

oscar tango from papa one are you requesting artillery fire on your co-ordinates? over

"..............( ...niner two...)......"

oscar tango please confirm that you request artillery fire on your hill over

".........................................."

so you've put me on a hill, facing certain death, crying eloi, eloi... well i'm not playing.

i was with alex last night at the dork and that pretty little sparrow was waiting on us again, the one who surprised us last time. she's priceless! alex said he fancied the crab salad and so i lifted my head from the menu and said "crab salad twice, please" "i heard you the first time" says she and about turns quicker than i could raise a smile.

the square will be down for several more days i'm told (you no doubt know more than i do about that). did you get your invite for the k......?

that's affirmative oscar tango yesyes we have a green light for k. repeat a green light for k. over

i have been approached by a rather large collection asking if i shall be there and will i please take a "comprehensive list". i have told them that there IS no list. i do not want them to understand.

cool.

it's hard for thee to kick against the pricks
in measured hundredweight and penny pound
when the man
comes around

arise, therefore.

il fait du tonnerre ?

do you need to ask?

i just kicked at the fridge door to close it.... missed.

i thought you had someone to do that for you.

i had to let him go, he hardly ever missed. besides, a chap really needs to make his own mistakes, so the arrangement was slink from the start.

got as far as the d's then had one of your nihilistic short comings and retreated to the kitchen for a mojito. I KNOW! let's distract ourselves with meaningless tigers.
not with these hands, this head, this thirst.
i take it that the thunder is...
....'s tooth etc.

~-U

....'s tongue.

when you return you will see this.

and he did, too.
same tree, different tree, same tree...
"much prognosis today"
i have painted my head yellow and i am waltzing about the room to newman's love story, this will bring me good luck for tomorrow. not that they believe me when i say i want good luck !
gimme a gig's foot and a gottle a geer any day....

i'm early.
why yellow? you ARE strange.

yellow is the only colour which doesn't make my ears appear larger than they are.
they said "a possibility can exist without ever being realised, hmmm?"
i, of course, agreed and disagreed and gave bullet-proof reasons for my certainty.
the whole thing was designed to be a flop and very cleverly didn't entirely succeed.... and that was that, in a nut shell.
the twelfth kierkegaard is potentially a new "thing" and as such should be approached carelessly and at the first opportunity...

.. i have a crippling ennui, how do i shift it ?

The ennui will take care of itself. How do you number Kierkegaard?

Robert

how is easy
why is the ticket here.... but explaining it would not benefit this sickness unto death, and until the sky clears i must reserve my faculties for busting clouds.

~-U

I didn't realise that Kate Bush had a university. How hard would it be to get tenure on the Faculty for Wuthering Heights?

i am onto it, and i am being as slipshod as possible. yes, and the simple application of the fourth dimension has generally sufficed to extinguish perfectly reasonable possibilities.. and no few likelihoods too.
how many buddhas do you suppose have walked the earth? someone has counted them.

fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-nyadah nyadah nyadah....
23.1407..... is that the number you were thinking of ?

"i was once engaged to a tennis player but it was hopeless, to her love meant nothing"

will somebody please own up to this charade. answers on a rhetorical postcard.

Nothing notwithstanding, love was sufficient. Oh the dreamy days of youth!

Robert

it all repels analysis as like poles of a mag-i-nit.

and goes away and stays a bit as energised paral-y-sis.

i love children... i couldn't eat an old one ! haaaahahaha !
I MEAN A WHOLE ONE ! I COULDN'T EAT A WHOLE ONE ! ...... oh, sod it..

he saw god's foot upon the treadle of the loom, and spoke it; and therefore his shipmates called him mad. so man's madness is heaven's sense.

".......(....)......."

mick said he was going to, and i quote, "marmalize that dicky mint."

. . . !

tityrus fishing. blank surprises. the gun sounding "palm!"
swinging about in those ridiculous slings, hunting tigers.
has the overall effect ever been equalled in modern writing ?
quite possibly not.

well, there are the two passages in j.t.t.e.o.t.n. which pull the rest from the gutter and plop it gently into god's lap... and the one less subtle passage in hunger.
but the overall effect.... yes, quite possibly not.

(we're talking "over the counter" stuff, of course?)

i'm not sure it is surpassed in ANY arena.

fast and loose in one thing, fast and loose in everything. i never knew it fair, no more shall you. nor no one.

tea at one?

or tea for two?

show parade at 8.

penthesilee has distinguished herself once more.

"she came to the door wearing one of those diphaneous nighties, you could see right through it."

and.....

oh, yes... keep moving around withershins for now.. starting here.

"it wasn't a very tough school, our patron saint was francis the sissy."

but....

oh, well... we still have one cycle in which to comment on the dirt.

they say it will go on well past midnight, better take refreshments....

find the brains!

tat tvam asi.....

spooky, eh?

for god's sake why haven't they the courage to make a move??

o.t.

(now orbiting deasil-wise) tautology intended.

fishing with clocks as bait.....

.... what do you suppose they'll land this time?

Starfish.

Robert

Handfish?

it is almost impossibly difficult to employ a caesar cipher and have the ciphered element itself speak cogently so as to appear not to be a cipher (obviously the world's languages are all at hand to be employed in patchwork fits and starts.. which alone makes the whole thing workable.. any incongruity will be pounced upon by their best men) and preferably.. here's the masterstroke... be textually misleading in some way so as to divert the stymied would-be-cracker's attention in a direction tangentially irretrievable. this time they landed.

.... found dead in a ditch, covered in crushed nuts and raspberry sauce....
.... we think he may have topped himself... penthesilee can now count to three!

regards, o.t.

trois baguettes magiques s'il vous plait madamoiselle.

what the HECK were they thinking of ???!

i think this strengthens our position somewhat what what what !

Like a backbone of tungsten.

Robert

mais, ces baguettes sont trops magiques! est-ce que c'est possible madamoiselle? est-ce qu'il fait du tonnerre maintenant et est-ce qu'il va faire du tonnerre pour toujours?

like a velvet glove cast in iron....

.....cut his whole body off with one slice, the brutes! all that was left was the ear in the knifeman's hand....

i done a big job like that once claret all over the show.

then you know exactly what i'm talking about old chap!

just out of interest you understand, what would a fellow have to cough-up for a big job like that? just out of sheer nosiness of course.

not for sale no more had a ten stretch knocked me about rotten but if i was which i ain't it would be three goggles an ear and i'd of done the two for five but i ain't in the game but i might get off side if you know what i mean.

i seeeee....

fascinating stuff...

you might say that but it's cost me a pickle and grief over the years too much bird puts most on their toes when they senses a nark but you'll do for me you check out and anyway i can do a five to seven spinning on my c**k it ain't no biggie let me know.

i can vouch for pipe's credentials, i'm not so sure he could spin so long on his c**k but he'll pay up promptly for services and he certainly isn't going to rat.

i'm,,,disguised as a reaching hand,i'm a working man
ii don't,,,understand why clock-out,comes so slow,ev'ry time
tha-at's one,line i'll stay, right behind.......
tha-at's one line i'll stay, right behind, hind yeah!

regards, o.t.

how you doin i've spoke to ray and everything is cushty funny how things connect ain't it i bet you dint know i knew who i did and all i won't spoon this up or i know we'll all get grannied take it easy and sit back and enjoy the fireworks you geezers are a blast yourselves so go with the flow you don't owe me nothing.

breathing factory of codes

cut his mouth off and feed it to him..

factory of moon.

the 12th k is traveling around the globe faster than i can keep track with paper and pen. i believe we have reached the part where butterflies have the capacity to suppose they ought to get dressed of a morning.

regards, o.t.

thanks for that i don't get it but i know it's worth a bit so i ain't complaining or nothing will you need more of the same soon or is that it for now just that i need a couple weeks heads up as you might understand and the way the last lot got used i can't say for sure if my man can match yours.

all men walking
no men hearing
all men being
no men seeing

it will take another n lives to .... . . . . .
turn fear to pearls

the candy man can

the candy man caaaaan

the candy man can he's a chocolate covered fool la la the world do something...
how's it go?

anyway, imagine the funniest joke you've ever heard. what's the point of telling new ones?

i have imagined the funniest joke i have ever heard, then pretended that it was even more funny, and i cannot raise a titter. please road test your notions before publishing them as glib philosophical tidbits.

~-U

keep pearling those fears, i'm afraid your imagination has been stunted by them.

"......conducted your sperm count and there's some good news and some bad news, the bad news is that the count is one.... the good news is it's the size of a kipper!"

my guardians began work on the atrophication of my imagination when i was four years old. in order to suppress an imagination the patient's world must be replete with all and any manner of fabulousness beyond the scope of possible invention and complete in itself, that is, leaving no room for the subject to embellish. for instance, the above anecdote was delivered to me AS FACT by a talking llama dressed as a chimpanzee when i was seven; a shy teapot was holding my hand for moral support, and the three of us marched on the spot to souza throughout the prognosis.

new york, new york, oh they scanned the land device
i love it !

i reckon they stitched you up old fruit.
....like a kipper, in fact.

yes. the souza record kept jumping due to the size of the llama, i couldn't look at the teapot we were both so embarrassed, and the purloined jelly beans in my free hand melted due to the exertion.... 'twas nasty.

i seen them llamas do some terrible things in peru when i was there doin' a little spot of tidying up in the seventies getting tight for a job in india where the terrain ain't so different least it wasn't where we went anyway you can use EVERY part of those muppets for something useful but i ain't never seen one dress like a monkey are you sure?

i wouldn't doubt it.

dit de de dit dit... 12th k over the hills...

i just caught the thing about ttg and i have to say i can't see a good reason either, can you?

row row picay row
picay coolay rattertam row.

this is ridic, you louse !

....and there it goes...

got my lowry this afternoon, what a biscuit it is too. dare i say the finest known ?

gemini two sixer niner sixer

a kind of a spoonerised oxymoron
barely breathing

in my pocket!

.......i daren't utter its name.

iliterati mint elegance, perchance?

Butter rum Lifesavers with lint.

Adam I'm Madam.

Best regards,

Robert

. . . . . .NI ON. . . . . .

(borrow or rob)

rub nor burrow

hmmph, too easy.....
NO X IN NIXON.

il fait du tonnerre ce soir.

reviled did i live, said i, as evil i did deliver or some shit i ain't heard a squirrel's knitting needles out of you two since that last lot funny that how there was a mass hysteria it don't often go like that but you have to be ready for it all the same made me chuckle i still do when i think of it you pair of mugs

charming.
seeing as hysteria was their "only choice".
get back on the square old fruit.

same tree, different tree....

that was close!
everyone just say we we're at big.job's watching a film.

which film?

(in case they get cute, you understand)

seul contre tous it's the only one i've got blinding film it is i must have seen it two dozen times by now and i still aint bored of it or nothin have you seen it cus what if they ask you what happens? just tell em it's about a fella who wants to kill everyone but he aint got enough rounds in his spout

tuna roll or a nut, anyone?
oh, have we stopped that now? which film shall we let them pretend they believe we watched next? how about solaris? tarkovsky of course...

I thought it was declared in 227: Seul Contre Tous.

Robert

i believe that they are referring to a second faux-watched film, Robert. I would have thought that Irréversible would have been the logical second choice, myself.

Do you suppose that if you don't take the proffered tuna roll, pipe will "nut" you, aka give you a glasgow kiss? Dangerous group, this one.

Well, this.is.not.a.pipe does not seem ungentle to me. big.job seems to travel in a difficult world; if we stand back in the presence of his anger or his duty (mind our own business) I don't think we are unreasonably endangered. The cost of freedom, after all, is eternal vigilance.

Robert

yeah what he said and something else gents choices ain't logical when you're blowin' out your arse avin botany bayed from you know who tarkovsky's ain't a bad flick but under the circumstansays i'd of thought bob le flambeur might of sprung to mind joking you mugs calm down it's just a giggle no one's gonna believe you two fairy cakes are up for a blaggin'

Hi big.job,

What's a blaggin'?

Best regards,

Robert

allow me to elucidate.. a blagging in this context refers to armed robbery, a diversion in which, i can assure you, i have had neither the need nor the inclination to divulge... despite the attempts made by monsieur melville et al to glamourise the pursuit.

encore trois baguettes encore.

qui se repose dans la cendre une fois son travail fini?

puissance a bas!
(l'histoire et justice aussi..... i merci)

what a life! true life is elsewhere. we are not in the world.

je thank you grand pois.

pas du tout, mein lovely jer sweez grand happy to avoir un proper conservatoire pour un change.

why is it always my watch of a friday evening? hmm? hmmmm?

could ye not watch with me for an hour?

jesus, you are making us wait for too long.

desert fathers desert father

you are one step behind me

you are afoot one head of me.

HEAD CHEESE!

Best regards,

Robert

(double gloucester with chives divided by tempranillo) squared.

huuuuman, all too huuman.

tape this.......
...........................................................expi..................in the............demands. if these are not................solub......................exege....... ust
........ ........... ..d em.. .......................................................... ..

....j... ......third response team withdr.... .... ..heavy ca.............. rel...
......................................................................................................................................................come on baby! doo the loco-motion...... missing in field..ver..

too much nutmeg

Do you have one of those little graters that don't actually seem to grate?

Best regards,

Robert

hard cheese? hard cheese. pecorino non grata? pecorino non grata.
17,18,19,110,111,112,113.... 199,1100 for instance. basically looking for expressions which could have developed which did not. primes are a tangential path across the field but the motorway is several miles deep now. "i could figure it out with my eyes tied behind my back."

does the pope shit in the woods?

you don't wanna start that one son that's sacrementous or some shit what's he ever done to you any road up if a bloke's toting a skinful and a ruby and maybe a kebab and chips believe me pope or no he aint got a choice where he's layin his log if you get me and at least the woods aint the town hall or maybe you was just joinin in with the mix metifours i aint got a clue no more i cant spot the sines like i used to so don't take it persnal

No wukkas, mate. She's right.

no wukkas either i used to be andrew jones a coupla times its a good name for keepin you out of trouble if you need a bit of quiet time or such them two pansys must be swoppin books or some shit

that's funny, i used to be Bigjob Jones. But i found Andrew was better for keeping out of stir, if you know what i mean.

widdershins meets deasil at four o'clock.

for the edification of whom it may benefit, your gearage was awry.... they met at closer to three.

which reminds one, strangely, of rimbaud's favourite foot.

very untidy,
get.
a.
grip.

Which side?

Best regards,

Robert

... the whole thing scanned like a limerick, which was, of course, hilarious, damn, ed,co,m,m,a,,,,s
this has gone on for too long now, when is the sympathy exhibition to start?

(and is there not one side only? those for... a foot close to my heart.)

o.t.

stay away from little 2 and t'other until further.

how does one know when one is having fun ?

i check to see if my tail is wagging.

it asks nothing.

going back into the cold.

yes,
he started a book about everything imaginable and began quite randomly with the first thing which entered his head (which would need to be included eventually if not then). and so he wrote about a grasshopper which was consumed with guilt for forgetting to take his maternal grandmother's knitting to her hospital bed as she had previously asked as a favour the next time he visited. and consumed by said guilt he got home from the long train journey and shot himself to death... he was already extremely highly strung and this episode, for reasons we will never satisfactorily fathom, was the final straw.
he shot himself with a pistol.
now.
the thing is.
this story had to be told again and again, before he could move away from this grasshopper and his guilt, and in each subsequent version the weapon of choice had to be different from those which preceded.... a grizzly, poison, swallowed needles, termites, a knife to the throat, a knife to the stomach, a knife to the chest....
and now he is stuck on the knife
a long one, a black one, a stolen one,
from where was it stolen? bulgaria, a butcher,
of what was the butcher thinking the very moment, two minutes prior to, three birthdays after the theft ?

in crude summation we may never leave this grasshopper's guilt. we may only get to know more about it and the imagined possibilities around it. and of this we shall know an ever decreasing amount.

I think so.

Best regards,

Robert

sir, you agree that while we give birth to an escalating number of possibilities our comprehension of the scenario diminishes in size even though it grows ? that is to say, the more there is to reckon with the greater our ignorance yet the more we know... marvelous.
furthermore, is this explosion, this embarrassment of possibilities not double-ended (at least) ? by which i mean... can the text not explode and then implode upon itsel(f/ves) unto a stoney crunch at it's conception as well as at it's omega. furthermore, sir, can we even speak of an alpha or of an omega with any degree of seriousness ? are we, as wittgenstein would put it, cramming the universe into a yard of ale as it is all we have in which to house it ?

would anybody like a ham sandwich ?
with lettuce and mustard. you can take the lettuce off if you don't like it.

I would like a ham sandwich.

Thank you,

Robert

'tis yours, sir.

Reading the manifests of futurism this morning, I came across this snippet, from 21. XI 1913: "Stage 'Ernani' with actors tied up to the neck in sacks." (Far recitare Ernani da attori chiusi fino al collo in tanti sacchi.)

your'e wastin your time precious those muppets are probly tryin to get sunshine out of a grape or summin numpties the pair they are tutta la gamma della stupidaggine dell'imbecillita della balordaggine e dell'assurdita che spingono insensibilmente or some shit i've done the old sack trick only the bag went a little more higher and it never come off again neither

I'm wondering if this is the earliest instance of an idea for immobilising actors on stage in this way, reducing them to talking heads, and who else thought of it or did it before Beckett.

Or before Marinetti, for that matter.

i am not the world's most physical guy but this all reminds me of the time i ran the brighton beach three mile fun run in aid of battered husbands. it is something which i strongly protested against doing but in the end i was bullied into it all the same. anyway, about half a mile into it i was quite left behind and apart from the odd gaggle of sneering wives and girlfriends the beach was rather deserted. i was enjoying this arrangement and felt at one with nature for once when i happened upon one of my fellow competitors who had obviously been pushed too far and was having a very heated, very public argument with his wife right there in the middle of the beach! in a moment of symbolistic clarity i shouted "that's it brother, you tell her!", and to my horror my words gave strength to his frustration and he took up a large stick with which he began to beat his wife about the head and shoulders....
needless to say, a coward is terrified of ANY form of violence, even this, and i was suitably shocked and came to a halt close to the scene.
god bless those boys in blue! from nowhere an officer appeared (probably, i later rationalised, a steward for the race) and began to wrestle the poor chap's stick from him... but this fellow had taken great strength from his years of straining against the leash, his forearms were knots of muscle from hours of standing holding an iron, and he wasn't going down again... so to speak.
here is where things got ugly, and my head began to swim.
i remember the chap going berserk with his stick and roundly thrashing wife and officer..
i remember, strangely, a throng of small children gathering around to watch, laughing not so much at the unnerving spectacle of violence but at MY REACTION TO IT!
and then i remember the crocodile... those huge, gleaming white teeth gnashing gnashing gnashing as he stole the string of plump, bloody sausages from the beaten wife's bag.
dear reader, i fainted.

ha ha you spanner like the time i was driving round and i seen a fire engine behind me but e cudnt get by cos of there was a bloody great horse in is way he's ringin his bell and i'm all distracted i nearly crashes into a jiraff i aint seen i was glad to get off that roundabout i'll tell yer

that's lovely princess thats what this place needed a little bit of colour to liven things up a bit nice one ere and it looks a bit like them two plums an'all pair of dreamin clowns look like a cupple a baked spuds talkin gobbleygook to one anuther spot on i aint laughed so much since well i aint laughed in munths if im onest

and now dead astronauts try to climb the trees in the cemetery. they do not realise that they are dead and fall from the lowest branches and stare at the moon.

constant craving has always been. maybe a great magnet pulls all souls towards truth.

i. if one stands next to a busker for more than two hours one is entitled to half of his takings.

ii. in belgium, the worst sorts of prisoners are made to wear one-man-band outfits to deter escape attempts.

viii. bob dylan used to pretend he was a wasp and paid girls to comb his hair so that he wouldn't sting them.

i seee.
tape this.......

.............................................................."..."
27 escalators of insanity
most redux
uninfinite tigers,........,,,.... unserialised.

do yer get me though?

o.t.

tape the following......

unconventional ugliness
reusner's woodcuts
pandora arodnap the third
meaningless redux well received in p on b2

best with that, ~-U.

just this morning i was watching a murderer practicing his mean stare,
(in a jackie mason accent) "he did not know that i was watching him"

where are the ...(mumbles)
-pardon me?
where are the...you know (pulls a suggestive face and wiggles his hips)
-the young ladies will be joining us later (stares into distance)

thank you for the old coins,
o.t.

it is tough to live where everyone has boring hobbies.

crumb, at least, plays a mean mandolin.... when he is not stunned by his own existence.
~-U

That's what I wish I were -- stunned by my own existence. Or maybe I am, and it is not a good thing.

Best regards,

Robert

make your mind up bob you are or you aint it aint like do i like that colour or not this is your existens mate so sharpen up a bit this fella use to do a bit near boreham use to ware shades all the while cus e sed e was too brite to look at hisself bloody great nonce turned out e'd done a three strech for rollin old ladies corse e denide it but no one forgets that sort of crap ive forgot why i came on ere now ive wound me self up thinkin bout that burk

prrrrrangk!

collink oll der schtinkerje

collink oll der frankychenz unt der murrrhhz

schpittink out der hyssop unt der veenigersh

harvink jher funk harvink jher funk harvink jher funk

on and on like a blinking madman...

he said "two hundred?"
i said "no! no where near. less than fifty."
he said "that's still a lot." (!)

..... where "that" could have been anything from 49 to zero.

it just does not make sense, does it ?

~-U

i'm not sure, but

leetle oat laydee
leetle oat laydee
i don't have no time for no MONKI! bizness
leetle oat laydee
leetle oat laydee
i get so lowly lowly lowly lowly YEAH!
got to be some good times ahea(.).

incidentally, and a propos of the falling (wet?) snow...
... what is the point of letting pride nibble at you when dos doth let it nibble better? people are thundermentally stoopid and do not deserve rankling status. tat tvam asi. count ten mississippis,

come on,
one mississippi
two mississippis
three mississippis.....

and to where was the huysman thing leading?

THUNDERMENTALLY! Thundermentally?

Best regards,

Robert

the right hemisphere thunders when aching with beauty
the left is a puddle

not to london, i think we may safely say.

neareturntohumdrumareturntopedestrianlifepas

~-U

anyone who has ever, i mean, the yea-saying bit... jade upon jade upon... then all that is left is this sickness to the end of the night. last night i dreamt i danced with an automated girl, beautifully crafted but the face was never made to fool. and she was almost full of glee with her hair whipping about, yet i remarked that something was sticking into my palm, and lo, a splinter of chewed plastic from her little finger. she was quick to dismiss it as her nail, but from that moment the fun was tainted by the idea of not living.

pass the grey poo pa,

o.t.

i know just what you mean.
last night i dreamt that i was in a haunted house and that the bathroom was down a series of ill-lighted corridors, dull amber. when i woke up i went to the sweet shop and bought the biggest marshmallow they had and broke fast with it.

more wine ?

my mead is clearing and shall be ready for christmas eve. i have added nutmeg, perhaps too much nutmeg. i hope that it will impart an hallucinogenic quality to the mead. the mead tastes of honey and nutmeg. the mead hopes it will be ready for christmas eve. i always have a party at christmas mead. i must write down that one only needs a little of the mead at a time it is strong mead with perhaps too much nutmeg and hopes it will be ready for christmas. christ's birthday or when he got killed age 19 by a battlefish.

how do you get out of here again & a cruel wet battleface called wood. i always loved you so please let my head get out of here again & what have they done to my question marks &

i meant signs. i'll go to sleep instead.

i mean't mean't i'm just tired now.

wazzok

i rather think your christmas eve party might more closely resemble bosch's garden of earthly delights by the second glass. are you well ? do you know where you are ?
i have read several good accounts of the life of christ.. jung, dickens, w.g.knight, matthew.... not one mention of the battlefish....nor face.

saying a prayer,

~-U

ahhhhh ahhh-aaaaah mennnnnnnnnnn.

-hello?
*(giggles)
-hellllo?
*(young girl's voice) can i speak to chris, please? (stifled laughs)
-speaking, who is this?
*(click, dead tone)

real mysteries are in the streets
and in the rear view mirrors of the car in front
simply satisfy the craving and we'll be on our way
i cannot say more on this at this time

pencil and lined page

just ow many rear mirrors does a car ushully ave then ten or summit you sound like one of them crappy poets sometimes i should stand back and ave a think before you put stuff like that out its imbarasin to look at i cannot say more at this time was you wearin a cravat wen you rote that crap chalfonce old ot is on the other side if you want to turn over

.................................
in a castle dark or a fortress strong
with chains upon my feet
you know that ghost is me
and i will never be set free
as long as i'm a ghost that you can't see

happy friday tree
same friday
same atrocity

o.t.

-hello?
*(rustling sound)
-(nervous silence) who is this, please?
*(giggles) hello, chris
-do i know you? (pause) hello?
*(muffled movement)
-(hangs up)

~-U

crisp?

no thank you.
peanut ?

no, thank you.

is this going to take very long because i really do need to be elsewhere shortly ?

just keep watching, any minute now..

crisp?

NO. THANK. YOU. !

what flavour are they ?

lightly salted.

no thanks.
what the DEVIL was THAT ?! SHUT UP !!

see, i told you!

SHUT ! UP !
THAT.DID.NOT.JUST.HAPPEN.

wait wait wait

watch this

EUKK ! PUT IT DOWN !
MY GODD ! WHAT THE HELL !?!

you can even do this with it

you take one step closer and i swear to christ i'll knock it out of your hands and stamp on it.

oh, poor baby. it's shivering.

it should be drowned. you shouldn't have gotten yourself involved with it.

whooooosh! and it's gone...

did you enjoy that?

you are out of your depth, sir.
i am going to pretend that this never happened. i am going to see you know whom about you know what. you are ill. please never show me anything again. are you coming ?

yes.

smell my hands...

what would you like to accomplish before the lights go out ?

take the first small step towards it. try to make it happen.

or is trying to ignorance
as stillness is to gnosis ?

there, we can neither lose nor win.

trying:ignorance::stillness:gnosis

More curious than the SAT.

Best regards,

Robert

that could end badly. but catisfaction brings it back, so they say.

tarquin fell from timothy's yacht today. one minute he was dragged up on deck, the next he was up to his pearls in salt water. i am losing my qualities one by one.

o.t.

she said, "i am mine own ark."

i wish i shared her conviction. i manage a gain in failing goods, she gains a menagerie in gale and floods........(are you having that?)

"could ye not watch with me one hour" i sometimes ask myself,

how does one remove such redolence from one's skin anyway?
puncture!puncture!puncture!

fred=anti-what?where digits play beneath digits.

o.t.

SLATE

clockwise it is, sir. may you be protected from that which you desire.

o.t.

bravo. same place as you jumped the queue, fittingly.. do yer get me though ?

-hello?
*hello?
-(pause) who is this?
*(pause) who is this?
-(pause) who is this, please?
*(pause)(muffled movement) who is this, chris?
-(covers phone with palm)(hangs up)

but it is an aural rorschach, other people hear it as the beginnings of a lovely love affair...

MOSS

did you hear about the contrary insomniac agnostic dyslexic&
well.... he slept all night with the conviction that there was a god.
that is to say, so to speak, and by logical extension, he existed only within a feeble sort-of-an anti-joke. ergo it follows, (tautologically at least) that he may never accept an invitation to (...anywhere.).
sad&
non!
why, just this midday i overheard him telling everybody that his recent celebrity had left him at least double-booked on several evenings over the holiday period.

now, please tell me, how does one make an apple crumble& how DOES one wind-up a clock&

(......................................................no, not that, please)

maceface

try the lemon and ginger.
see you at 1/2 past J.

it reads, "dear xxxxxx, slashmarks on your boogaloo". it then goes on to speculate upon the title of his next book; this, with the association, makes it unique and more than a little desirable, hmmmm.

'TOON, 'TOOON HALT!
(check two three)
BT THE RIGHT, QUICK MARCH! DEF FYE DEF FYE DEF FYE DEF FYE.........................

can i be serious for just one moment ?
no.
i don't believe i can.

MOI ?! je doit arreter ici le vendredi soir ? non, je ne crois pas ci.

please ask, for i have everything there is to have right here in my pocket, next to the fellow who might have been there from hamsun's victoria. i paraphrase from memory (i expect) "why, i could fold you up and put you in my pocket." truly i have each permutation of the things you know and those which you hope to someday articulate. allow me to lend you something of it all...

i can't go on. i'll go on.
that's something and nothing right there.

flood me with your pent up beauty. i wait.

crash landing........ dead eyes watching television.

please may i have a pickled onion?

this is great!

there, that'sh ya lot.

vincent says hello. he said that the film with n*@!$* was "absolutely funny".

keep on movin'
keep on moooooovin'

toojore as in always or toojore as in still cus if you look at it its a bit ambigyus if you ask me mind your french

either way... nous ne sommes pas toujours ici. both interpretations are valid and therefore i choose to have meant either. tomorrow i may choose for it to mean one or the other, it is flexible, a chameleon of a phrase.

~-U

i've had my best men on it since sunday and they've cracked it!
you were saying "that's your lot" as in "there is no more" but at the same time insinuating the word "shallot" into the phrase.. IN REFERENCE TO MY REQUEST FOR A PICKLED ONION!

and you very nearly got away with it too... s,neaky.

my feet hurt terribly.
and.
is it the crack of the pool balls?
the thing about the gunshot sounding "PALM!" was terribly clever and stuck in MY head too.
who put bella in the wych elm?
oh.

o.t.

dont start on that again i told you satday night we can go and ave a look if you fancy use to be my old pach for a wile back when i was on the lam for a coupla months ive sent them things today but youll ave to share for now cus theres only six ill put the other half in the other place alright

spread the love, old chap. so glad you worked out where i was tonight... not difficult when you get the hang of it. i mean, it's not as if we're using the joy of cooking is it, hmm ?
"there is a short-cut which leads from childhood to the adult world, but the teeth which let you slip through are angled like a shark's and are many more fold. few are those who enjoy a second chance at being like a child, and they shrug off their bloody clothing and the lacerated flesh of experience."

DRINK PROBLEM !! i don't have a drink problem ! i drink, i fall down, i cry and i laugh; i talk to the angels about their plans for me. i tell myself it's never too late.

(speaks into pretend thingy.. what's it called ? the little.. dictaphone) note to self: stop using your dictaphone.
click off.
click on..... inhale, hold it..
click off.

AND?!
and, there is nothing i can have that i want
and, we allow the devil to grow that his defeat will be all the more satisfying
or, how might one prevent one's nose from being broken at the golden ratio ?
and, either/or steps closer
or, we step closer towards either/or
and, twelve times

gerda... do you see this ?

~-U

shest on the nose... i was running late so i had to rush.

god hate us for pointing out our subtleties.

Gerda has taken a new sue-donym.

if you gave the worst one one light and he later said "please" then i think we can consider it a victory.

regards, o.t.

(something like.. the best becomes the worst..i took it to resemble a moebius strip {non-chiral!}).

yooooou....... whyioughta !

and, we allow the devil to grow that his defeat will be all the more satisfying

Oh, the infinities!

Best regards,

Robert

but of course there is room at the inn
and, falling face first would save you from asphyxiation
but, oh! the indignity of it!
and.
or.

(.....)(................
...................)

the king is in the steam bath
the king has old blood
he quickens his demise by cutting at his ankles, but the lamprey will not bite.

s.c.r.eaming peacocks!

If the inn has an infinite number of rooms, there is room for all, but the mathematicians say you have to move all the current residents over a room or two to accommodate the later arrivals.

The devil is in the details and growing.

Robert

Edited to remove a slander and an immense embarassment.

immense. Don't half fancy yerself, do ya?

truce ! truce ! truce !

climb out from your trenches, it's not a trick i tell you...... let us clash cups in no-man's land..

... postpone this madness
................................................. merry christmas to you and god bless. here's to absent friends, cheers !

~-U

you aint never been in a naafi let alone a trench so stop givin it large anyway ave a good one and ill drink to absent friends as well so cheers pal nice one

the battlefishday today when christ was dead and born all together. the mead says it is o.k. so let us say hooray on battlefaceday. too much is a good thing. of. merryface.

oaty mace face x x x

face painting i mean't.
mend. x x x

sreken bozhik, oaty mace face, wassail ! wassail !

-hello?
*hello?
-(pause) i think i know who this is
*(stifled breath) i think i know this is chris (giggles)
-(pause) what do you want?
*(whispers)... (click)

meh, kids; whatyagonnado ?

oatymaceface.igavemyspacesawaybecausehisdidn'tworkanditwaschristmaswiththebattlefishcrashingaround.
sonospacesforme.ificouldputmyheadonpaper.iclimbedasteepmountainwhiletheywereplayinggamesandididnotspilladrop.it'shere.they'redownthere.abas.
theywon'tknowi'vegonebecausemyarmchairisstillfullofme.iknownowthaticannotseewithoutlookingdown.nooneeverknowsorlovesanother.
i'llgofurtherandsaythatweareallofusinseparateversesandusingthesamewordstomeandifferentthings.
oatymacefaceisinspacehismountainissotall.cuckooclocksspringtomindinafunnywaythatmakesmesmileabattlefacesmile.
ineedtodestroymythingsnowbecauseiknowthatishallnotdoitatsealevelbutmythingsarenothere.mythingsareabaswiththegameplayers.
icouldpullupmyropes.ididnotspilladrop.mycheeksarewetbutitmaybefromthinkingofcuckooclocks.thundermace

you plum

this is what happens when you pull a loose thread. we shall have to take in lodgers to pay for the extra furniture we'll need. the tree seems awfully small against all that extra background... i am afraid i'm not particularly smitten by it, what if you have broken something ? stay off the nutmeg, old boy... at least long enough to try to remember what happened here.

jetpacks
false soup
and, newspaper face parts
or, i cannot claim ownership of something which i will not remember.

"hello to the pretty faces", there, now do you believe?

rosicrucian dustbin,
beef marmajam, laid,

"i had a dream in which i asked her to hit me about the head with her hair dryer because they would not prescribe e.c.t. for me... we were very poor."

or, blank mangles.

or, chinese dolphins
and, wind-up shopkeepers
or, napoleon's merchants

"what is woody woodpecker? is he some sort of trouble maker?"

"yeah, he's an instigator."

o.t.

MURDER ! ! !
MURDER ! ! ! WE ! ARE ! KILLING ! OUR ! LIVES !
MURDER ! ! !
WON'T SOMEONE HELP ? ! ? !

unt...... relox

"one mississippi, two mississippis, three mississippis, four ........"
afterall, what else would we do ?

and, awkward politeness from a filthy soul
or, buddha's grace during a forced make-over from hostile ladies...... on stage.

~-U

have we included this too much? what does one do after the breakdown? life should really end with one death, not be punctuated by numerous. it is a problem.

"i love you, you're my bestest mate ever"

"it has been an absolute pleasure to meet you, i mean it, i've had the best time of my life tonight"

"don't leave me again, i can't go on alone"

la mort. l'amour.

not 8..huit intolerance if you will.

see you with her daughters.

i cannot come out to play today. i have a note from my doctor to say so, and a thumping great headache also. jasper thinks he may have frozen his brains.
too ill to tap.

thank you oh spirit of the lamb for surrounding us with your agents who defend us against i know not what for i am as a child amen.

i take it that you have explained the differences between snows?

b2,7.

mercury b-cup mon amigo. brown-papered. go deasily at your convenience, i have light sketches.

god preserve fascination.

i honestly suspect that i am becoming increasingly incapable of enjoying anything... although i have not yet lost the ability to look forward to things.

Ah, the raptures of anhedonia!

Best regards,

Robert

how do you turn a duck into a soul singer ?

put him in the oven until his beak melts, or something... (no, i didn't get it either).

dear diary, i hate you for making my life seem boring. but my plaster smells like an orchid so it's not all bad. i think i will try to engineer getting myself hurt today, or possibly tomorrow.

~-U

want some help

thank you, no.

my thumbnail once lifted and the knitting blood beneath began to smell of vermillion kidneys.

in india mr.bump is regarded as an ascetic saint and it is not unusual to see powdered blue sadhus partly wrapped in white bandage.

jam sandwiches can cause stick.
which some people sometimes or always find annoying.

thank you for looking.

never mind that, smell the top of my head.

you've found him?

rather it found me. please be more careful, you know that i am superstitious about it. use more wire in your cage, it is growing stronger.

which way did it fly? you might try rubbing your head with one of my socks. it'll smell differently worse but he won't land there again, that's how i shoo him from the room... by taking off my socks and kicking the air around him.

tell me not one more detail of your relationship, thank you. the kettle lid is fitting. i shall pour.

being is relative. our being is not the same. an eagle is not a sparrow is not a dove.

"put down the fist, punchy. the game's up."

zero, infinitesimal, finite, small infinite, big infinite. Do they all "be?"

Best regards,

Robert

infinity can put any man under the bridge.

and, "oh, man ! i useta have one of those !"

or, "benevolence is the easiest word to see someone think."

pardon me.

what for you squeezed cheese or sumthing you joker

lord grant me the pleasure of living in a place where i fear no indignity, where sophistication reigns over barbarism and stupidity skulks.

No skulkers!

Best regards,

Robert

this message has not been deleted by its author.

this one has merely been changed..

but this one remains the same.

http://www.librarything.com/topic/77491

Best regards,

Robert

gawd grant me the pleasure of living in a place where i dig no inferiority, where barbarism reigns in fur loincloths, and cupidity baulks.

So, with fur loincloths does the fur face in or out?

Best regards,

Robert

look chalfonce youv started someone else off with your rubbish i told you you sound like a tit somtimes and now theres a pare of em you spoons keep it real boys you sound like youv swallowd one of them shakspeere books you taters

thank you, how colourful. i can feel my scales tilting inexorably towards boorishness.

go back and have another peep at the "german" one... i think you may have missed something... ?

d2,8,9,

det derder det.... or 2 for 3.
(start again next weds anyone?)

o.t.

>#384: who you callin' furface, bob?

I don't bob.

I cherish my beard; no fires.

Best regards,

Robert

tree.
no vegetables to eat. not allowed.
too much scenery.
sympathy before the atrocity, because it comes around every sixty days anyway so what need is there for order?
three nails. one go.
"with a few friends is how it should be, when everything is through"

i. have not been feeling the same.
i. am not fit to carry your name.

sincerely, o.t.

foot.
bowler.
no time to waste. all gone.
too much seen.
same atrocity different person. because they go away every sixty days anyway so what chance is there for continuity ?
a claw hammer and a strong stomach.
"............................"

i.
i.

DRY !

~-U

"..... cut off the bottom of his trouser leg and left it in the library......(.. 'nt run with sciss...).. ......... that's a turn-up for the books.). strange, i thought i lived around here, but.
i've never seen those hills before....

{strange}

what have they done with my square parents?
or. this is what happens when one tries improperly.

thats better you fraggle there wernt no point in avin it long it just looked messy that john who as the frech name was after your mate i dont like the geezer he aint right drop im out if i was you i told im to get away from my table the granny he needs a mustard dildo explodin up his arse i reckon you two should tell im to do one he aint never right trust me

calm down, please.

and. "my butcher was put in a wheelchair for not paying protection, i said are you going to carry on with business ? he said no, the stakes are too high"

jvk

i can draw bandages.

i can draw fire.

i can draw a fine line.

If you draw the bandages from a deep freeze, you can use them on cold cuts. All the better for the butcher in her wheelchair.

Best regards,

Robert

my old dad use to keep a pencil by the window and he told evry one it was to shut the curtens on a night we ad im put away not long after

my father kept jam in his doors, sometimes.

Well, duh!

Best regards,

Robert

401: wouldn't it keep better in his drawers?

Not door jams! Silly.

Best regards,

Robert

door jam, window jam, head jamb, side jamb: I say keep them in the drawers close to the spoons.

Yeah, well I hope you fall into a jamboree, Missy.

Best regards,

Robert

Swing 'em early, then swing 'em late,
Swing 'em 'round Mr. Durick's gate.
YEE HAW!

keeping jam in your drawers is a bad idea.

i think he only could of kep jam in a door if it was a jar have a look at this i said i was goin to do a bit of writing so here it is its a poem cus im best at those a love one for you now who

oh doreen you look old but i seen the photoes you was a looker once
i dont smoke no more but the smell dont bother me neither
the ends of your hair are like yellow crayons and your eyesshut if you laff at my jokes
i wish i could afford you some nicer clothes
i aint so keen on all the cats but they wont keep me away and i swear i aint got a thing to do with the ones that ave gone missing
ill ask around theyll turn up
or if not ill buy a pup
on valintines day we could drink a cup or a beer in the old swan

i got into a hard rime at the end and i almost ballsed it up but not too shabby for somone who aint writ a thing since prison letters and mostly they was done by somone else what you rekkon you said youd help

That was so beautiful
I envy Doreen: no one's ever written a poem for me :(

#408 Did you find yourself in a sticky situation?

The door stuck in the jam. It was ajar, a sticky situation.

Take advantage of it. If life gives you oranges, by thunder, make marmalade. That's not such a big job.

Best regards,

Robert

Is that a poem you wrote for me?
*smiling sweetly and batting eyelashes*

ETA special effects...

Up in Toronto, there you are Canuck Jenni,
With a book in your hand I bet you've got plenty.
...

Only a couplet so far.

Best regards,

Robert

“Good-night, sweet prince;
And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.”

jusqu'à ce que la prochaine fois...
*Bisous, bisous*

not too shabby at all big guy... (it appears to have fanned miss jenni's flame)

however, you do seem to be focusing on doreen's negative aspects rather a lot, perhaps you could make a list of her positive qualities and work those in, what's the nicest thing she has said to you ? what song reminds you of her ? what was the first thing you noticed about her ? where would you like to take her ? those sorts of things.
personally i would lose the rhyming parts at the end, far classier without.

oaty has gone to ground...?

oh doreen youve said alot of nice things to me and the best was probbly that youd not get any more cats when your ones die due to im illergic roundem
i swear i aint behind thm ones going missing and ill ask around theyll turn up
your hair is like yellow crayons and your eyes close if you laff at my jokes somtimes they cry like taps
you remind me about that song about faverit things
the first time i seen you was at fat frankys i think it was and we never left the pub till gone 3 remember
id like to take you round my place probbly due to the cats getting in the way at yours but theres no rush conserning that
on valintines day i could pay for a chinese if you like or a beer in the swan

i could put another part at the end that says or we can leave the beer if you dont want none it rimes its a shame to wast it

much better. i would leave it as it is, well done.

did we mention the s.c.'s ? they need to be done before monday.

~-U.

there in your box i cuddnt get you on the other thing there all cleen sepfor the last but one on your list but ill phone that throu your mates been to away ask him

did we not say 8?
i think that you shouldn't be surprised if doreen cries a little when she reads your poem.. this is normal.
i'm orf for a bath. see whoever wherever. no real news.

yours on the scene, as it happens, o.t.

did the salts clear your chest ? trust you are feeling more human today, in any case everything is squared away.

regards, ~-U

wen my old dad got him self propper ill toward the end so as he cuddent even talk for coffing mom rubbed his back all over wiv gooses fat

he went downill quick after that

I hope he enjoyed the ride! A little grease certainly made my toboggan fly downhill although we tended to use bacon grease since we kept the geese to produce eggs.

it wernt funny blossom they straped him to the strecher and he slid out on the way down the stares

ouch!!! did he survive to throttle the attendants or did you have to take care of that on his behalf?

hed allredy gone by then princess passed away in his sleep the nitgh before there was mom and us twelve kids round his bedside and i remember our ginny she was the youngst got us all to say the lords prare bless her she was like an aingel that moment

blesshissoul you have such a way with words *wipes away tears*

thankyou treacle it was spoiled a bit thogh on account of the dog got a wiff of the gooses fat and it sentim a bit how do you say amorrus i think is the polite word we found him a bit later than dad mite of liked it wernt very dignifide

(slaps open palm squarely into his own tired face and drags downwards slowly while looking into camera)

#429 at least you found him before the rats did. it would be adding insult to injury had he become dinner as well.

#430 Are you going to post the photo?

red lorry yellow lorry temporal memory seasonal fix time+time=gravity

only you can read this

waiting for waiting for godot (nly knows what).

Best regards,

Robert

.......beautiful day..... shame to waste it............. why this spring?................... twisting arms............shame to waste it...i don't get it.......................what's with the polar bear?.... i don't get it...................... why this spring?......beautiful day.. you are you... use up what is left..... shame to have wasted it

yes, or to paraphrase into cogency..... "i have returndeth from the void bearing false beard and glasses linkedeth with a plastic nose."

subject "the ultimate bookshelf"

(removes trick face, gently! due to > and places it next to an empty jar into which it would only fit with the application of "squashing")

(takes up pencil and pushes blunt tip for it is an used 4b into palm... images of pink fondants and/or self referring loops shown in monkey-time to an unnerving jazz drumb eat *i have a specific piece in mind* ... flashes of upskirt panty/tree tops/howling pigs use empty paint pots to make them howl horrifically...and from his perspective-subject passes out... i.e. camera falls sideways from eye level, onto waiting bed)

i would also like to recommend nine books which have most recently fallen from the end of the ultimate bookshelf

if it is i who has fallen over, will somebody please pick me up.
but, i no longer let pride get in the way of ease
and, i no longer thank people for helping me.... or if i do i do so with genuine meaninglessness except that they are secretly smiling at my misfortune, in which case i am, of course, sincere.

finally, today, if you right a man in a tricky face... ( ten words or less )

First of all what are the nine books?

Best regards,

Robert

well?
that was ten words........

does it win? (a little weak but....)

f-f-fff
whewmaaaah
A!SCHOOoo-errr .. oy, bless me

"i'm playing on my tricycle, right, and these bigger boys come down the street and one of them's vinnie ashcroft and he sees me and shouts "oi! dickhead! get here!" so i stand up and turn the trike around and i'm pedalling away with my knees around my ears, yeah, and i'm going so fast i can actually hear the propeller on top of my hat turning, yeah, ..........."

put it in gravy and it all gets a little serious

"so i'm slinking along the lawn in our back garden, yeah, and i've wrapped myself tight in the yellow picnic blanket and painted my cheeks red with mum's lipstick, right, so that i look like a caterpillar, yeah, and i'm playing moondog's "viking I" and crawling 'round the windfall apples having a moody nibble here and there when i hear a voice over the fence shout "oi! dickhead! come here!" and i look over my shoulder and it's vinnie ashcroft and the other bigger boys...."

gram

I knew Vinnie, I think. He takes good care of his auntie.

Best regards,

Robert

note to self: how quickly a year passes! ..................... doh!

and the century joggeth on the spot and thinketh not and all i ask for is a view of the gardens, my old hands are too weak to turn this chairrr............. hello, didn't i see you at the chloe sveginy thing in new york? yeah baby! you were with harmony! nice treads, bro

it is critical, CRITICAL, to erm, to do the thingymajig

the first two books to fall were gers****'s tough tales trilogy in two parts.

~-U

what a hoooooooooooooot!

"7 again..... i mean eight, yeah, eight."

mizarrevere?
...................i'll look it up.

"oh, right."

bridge?
rubber?

cold condition

do not reply 2 hours

tacky tigers! these mammals are your favourite type!

must have a sit down, it's me ticker..

o.t.

yes, o.t., what is it ? shall i not be there again tomorrow ?

pipe.

nor was he, i suspect.
i have partaken of a lamb shank each evening this week, will my pork hock forgive me? and. in vino veritas. or. may some kind angel help me find the right music to this part?

melmoth

i smash bric with bare nucles

attila

i gnash micks with near buckles.

flotilla.

Is godot here yet?

No.

Best regards,

Robert

"so i'm walking to the fancy dress party at william's, yeah, and the theme is anagrams and i've gone as lana turner, right, and i get to the toilet by the park and i'm really busting for a whizz, see.........."

consider if you will the man who fell into the squirrel pool and drank of the water therein and so became as a squirrel is. even his hitherto devoted wife asked of the sheriff "they are vermin, are they not, captain ? and as such is it not acceptable to kill them, sir ?"

"....... swear to god i woke up and the officer was slapping my face, not too gently, yeah, and saying something about the shame of something, right, and as i'm being helped into the back of the car i hear "oi! sausage jockey! show us your knickers!" and i'm still squinting because the sun's really bright, yeah........."

the first time they shot a squirrel they wouldn't pick it up, they admitted later that they were scared it would suddenly wake up angry and shout in their faces "WHAT YOU DO THAT FOR?!"

"i never get past my front door because i don't consider that zeno's paradoxes have yet been satisfactorily resolved"

you get close, though.

i get closer than that but the doors almost always open inwards so close to the street and this creates clear, tasteless jam with plenty of stick. i fetch my own mail from the mat but i employ unfurled wire hangers which have been thinned with files and so do not be affected so much with the puddledock of xena

problem. there it is again. "the sock of babel". we cannot get near to the truth with words, not allowed. and we certainly cannot overtake our front doors due to the jam. proposed solution. telephone a man - ask the man to rehang your front door so that it opens into the street - shout to the man to knock when he is finished - answer the front door covered in blood - as the man retreats (in doubling phases) attach a wire mail fetcher to his jumperfront and hold on tight. question. will his retrogressive journey through the puddledock do a opposhit thing to my halfed sizing jam stick ?

problem. there it is again. i had two further remarks to satisfactorily develop this proposed solution but the previous paragraph, predictably, fizzledicked in time.

problem.

"je lam ung pertee. kellarger to ? jay nurf on"

(fizzledicked?)

i cannot see the advantage of a front door which opens out onto the street, it is an accident waiting to happen. my father used to rattle sticks through people's letterboxes on his way home from the pub on a sunday and shout things like "not too much gravy!" he'd have been too drunk to get out of the way of a door opening outwards.

may i suggest replacing fizzledicked with castlepranked?

o.t.

castlepranked implies a third party's intervention and is therefore unsuitable, please do not allow your sensitivity towards onomatopoeic interfaces to cloud your logic.

by the way, we are told that jean paul's christ was fizzledicked when he did not find his father in the empty chaos of the cosmos and returned to earth as an orphan.

it is raining in taormina, beautiful and electric.

its pissin it down in shoreditch the skys filthy with it never ask me to mark youre french aggen you makrall do the do at 8

channel hopping?

very untidy.

he is in the grip of a symptomless coma. things do fall apart.

~-U

"so i've got a part time job, yeah, undercover work due to i've gone and done a deal with the policemen, yeah. and i'm on the job, no wire because it's too dangerous, and i'm riding the lift up to the fourteenth floor of some tower block in some town up north and it's past midnight and the lift STINKS, right....and.. and i've got school in the morning but.. and i look down at my hands, yeah, and they're looking..like, old....."

you muppit

i was tending to my hosta border and shuffled along on my knees and knelt upon a small stone, it was the worst kind of pain there is, i wished myself dead. and as i lay there on my back, staring at the treetops, i prayed to heaven that i should never fall off my bicycle.

kinetic death to bored wasps!
o.t.

i stubbed my toe on the corner of the chaise longue and whilst writing a tearful note to those who would find my body i wondered why the inquisition had not thought of a darkened room with heavily-legged furniture.

potential death to ambivalent civets !

~-U.

1940's radio set gets .........ish

what now? it's old seymour! (excitedly"wot wot wot wot")
don't what now, it's old coughtrie (disappointedly "wot wot wot wot")

ember 56
pp200's
sp3rn is in the cellar. let us get him out in good time, brothers.

~-U

the fleshy machines sell flowers to people with all kinds of names
she has perfected her disguise and forgotten herself
when the grave becomes boring it is perhaps time to leave
she shows herself through her direct gaze

i like films to be starting in twenty minutes, and for the shop to be open
i do not have time for smoke

oaty

prime over
....due to nothing two bad

pipe

to the dead, drunk sailors who ask innocent questions " oh, my darlings."
or, ...ah ! pook is here. (moving picture version)

"i'll tell you a story about the time we went back and took care of business, shall i ? i changed my name to gut-buster barrel boy and there was a film crew in tow....."

wanted, muse. must be confused.

Can anybody tell me where I can buy candied popcorn balls?

Best Regards,

Robert

acorn infection inherent in thinner removal

good luck,

oaty

I know!

Best regards,

Robert

WILLOW WANDS

only one though....

my bicycle is composed of matter i need to list

.

my attic room has a low sloping ceiling i need to list, on the wall is written:

a. bee
b. 'orsey
or c. bee and sea 'orsey
or d. 'orsey and 'ay
or e. bee and sea 'orsey and 'ay ?

and. plotinus wrote in the margin that "all horses are the same beast, they fashion their hair similarly differently but i have proof, and there is insufficient room to go into it here.."

giving us the first recorded example of the employment of the "dismanaged and"

i thank you.

maybe the first, but i can dismanage one worse. observe:

1st arsonist "i sense rain in the air, it will rain before nightfall, mark my words."

1st parrot "mark my words! mark my words!"

2nd arsonist "hold your tongue, not one more word or i'll burn the both of you!"

2nd parrot "(blinks)......and....."

i am a prime overdue.

later prime earlier stop not your and stop not even the parrot's stop think it through stop you know where i am

Where is the parrot?

Best regards,

Robert

"so, i'm going to visit my old dad in hospital, yeah, and he's not got too long left because of they said that the pencil was the only thing keeping him alive... so they couldn't move it... but they couldn't leave it there neither (uncle paul told him to get a good barber!) . and i've got on my best sweater and a brand new pair of chino trousers, powder blue yeah......"

consider that there may BE no options

"...... and it's a hot day so i've had a cherry ice lolly on the way over, nice yeah. and i'm sitting by the side of his bed, looking at the pencil, and i lean over and kiss him on the head, gently right, so as i don't wake him. and there's a bloody great pair of cherry red lips left on his head! so i'm puckering up trying to see how red my lips are, yeah, and i'm reaching down into my pocket for my handkerchief, and it's proper stuck in there, and i'm fumbling around for it and i look down and these new chinos, right, the ones i've never worn before, yeah, they've bunched up into the biggest trouser tent i've ever seen! and i'm puckering and fumbling and i notice in the corner of my eye that the pencil's turned towards me......."

-other than a person, what else can talk?

-um, ah! a record!

~-U

- technically not..... sorry (awkward)

corduroy makes the tallest trouser tent, as demonstrated by mr. round (head of geography 1977), it is also one of the softest fabrics even after many washes (ibid).

o.t.

dic cur hic ! -leibniz (schelling schmelling....... exclamation mine)

did eat.

helo i aint no one you now i am just a lady ow do you do i m lost but before i go let me tell you that the things your after are in the post and shuld be there by satday if not dont ask me im just a lady what aint got nothing to do with it so if not go to youre frend

my! what big hands you have....
it just so happens that i shall be at home on saturday to receive a package of shotgun shells from my good friend big.job.... not the sort of thing you want left lying on your doorstep!

my calculator is so full of maths that i've had to trepan the screen and let out all the excess 893's (which are seldom used in modern life and which are the only autotrophic replicating digit sequence)

i have been allowed to glimpse today

Beckett was once asked what he was trying to say in Waiting for Godot. He replied: "If I could have said it any other way, I would have done so." I presume the same goes for artists or all sorts. What if Michelangelo expressed his paintings in words instead of visual art?

This is a "Waiting for Godot" thread? Holy smoke!

crud chici ! I've missed you guys *sigh*

haha yore a very bad man sayn them things about yore frend like that sham on you is it worth gettin hurt for a joke cuz of it if you now woht i mean silly

bravo mr monk! a marvelous example of the delayed double-take! avigdor arikha asked beckett what he thought his play might look like as a painting, at which beckett carefully took down a canvas from the wall of the inn in which they were drinking and stuck his head through it. the owner of the inn excused him this liberty and later sold the ruined canvas at auction where it realised £1200, (this was in the early 1970's). it is now celebrated as some sort of commentary on the "is-ness" of things by a certain group of literary types who...................

PEA-NUTTTTTSS!!!!

excuse me,
PLUGS!! PLUUUUGS!!! P!L!U!GG!GG!!!SSSSSSS!

sorry, where was i .....?

penuts and plugs you tit weres chalfonce

pah!
if i can make you say eighteen i don't have to tell you... deal?

helloooooooo-oooo ?

mug

thank you.
what is 10x10?

100

what is 100-25?

75 how long do you think ilm gonna play this for

what is 75+5?

80

***GOTCHA!!!***

TOOO EASY!

you sed 18 you muppit

i thank you!

tell tarkwin to get on the blower you magit

cobblestone gardens
"wrists or palms, sir?"

~-U

"i heard a smashing little joke today, a real bobby dazzler of a joke. lovely it was. smashing and terrific. ever so slightly poor taste, but a pearl all the same. something about a dentist and what he did. really clever when you think about it. he did it to a lady so, you know, you've got to be careful where you tell it and all that but very clever all the same. jokes like that get you thinking don't they? who makes them up?! it's amazing really. i really enjoyed that joke but i did wince a little when he did the thing, but then i soon got over it and started enjoying the rest of the joke. i can't remember it all now but i'd know it if i heard it again. the ending didn't really make much sense but i just laughed when everyone else did so i was ok. if i had to choose i'd probably say that the beginning bit was the best. if this joke was an animal it would be a hedgehog because it should only come out at night, and it mentions the word "prick" about a hundred times."

what are we, the living, supposed to make of that ?

yours, disgusted.

i don't get it.......
thought you'd like to know that gb has some canvas on ..(!)
a little experiment in anonimity.
, we have a wager on it, would you like in?

when little mabel literally blew her chances in the deportment section everyone who was there said they swore it sounded like "BRoNZzze !!!"
is that a joke?

yours, hopeful

dear hopeful,

certainly it is a joke that the judging panel, in a supposedly enlightened world, should dock points for............ although, perhaps precautions could have been taken in this instance?

yours non-sure, miss lonelyhearts.

y67 if z=101 ?)

"i ate the cannibal who loved me" 1 copy

Yes 67 through timebolt, over.

oh,
we the elected..... etceterum

o.t.

bundy is almost up......
shows what a state the whole game is, what?

..........i, don't suppose... there's any chance of seconds? on those?

we the elected wish to dine on canvas.

everyone heard crow or kaww

shadows moved

wipes face with prosthetic hand (gain=normality-loss (loss) loss {or +losses?})

oaty.

buying green and red pens can make a man happy for a short while.

we could use more colour, please.

pwffferh......wasp....wasp.....eeearrrryabluddy!

stupid.
bloody.
things!

I bought a Montblanc fountain pen one day, and it made me happy. Later that day I was on the phone with a client who was unhappy; I told him to go buy a new fountain pen. He laughed.

Best regards,

Robert

marvelous!

and. pens are like schrodinger's cat. much more fun unopened......... ?

best, o.t.

i like the alphabet, things got pretentious when people started messing with it, duplicating letters, mixing them up..........

pens are the bloody apparati of stabs at truth

and/or gate. microscripts apologise for their square inch, as did buddha

regards, pipe.

And manuscripts apologize for their four inches?

Best regards,

Robert

dook dook dook, dook of oil
dook dook
dook of oil
dook dook.........

i was down the shop THE OTHER DAY
and this chap SAYS TO ME (something mundane but surprising)
so I SAY TO HIM (expression of confusion)
and he SAYS TO ME (glib response which confounds my confusion and makes us both look silly)

...i have more..

A link equals 7.92 inches. There are 9 inches in a span. How many square links are in a square span?

Best regards,

Robert

(never end a maths joke with a question, otherwise not too shabby)

rook to b2

did eat snowballs.

snowballs schmoballs, i have a receipt for ten-fold candy. (i am not a policeman)

"the biggest elephant in the world except for himself is back" 1 copy

i am calling it. RIGHT HERE! PICK ME UP, (unpronouncable name here).
i said thankyou when it was good and i tried to remember to say thankyou when it was not, so....

oaty

why oaty&
here is a joke to cheer you up,

she found a photograph in her father's copy of unamuno. he was covered in battlefield and his brothers' blood and in his fist he clutched the "wretched thing by the hair." it took him many years to understand the image. she never could. BOOM! BOOM!

and. a man walks into a cake shop and asks how much the wasps cost.
the. girl. has heard the joke before and. says you can have the lot for. say. £2.
the man walks back out, back in, touches the floor, says "ticky no play." and. is lost.
the girl suddenly addresses him as though she knows him and is fond of him. he is. unlost. he realises this is a dream or. he wakes and slowly forgets everything quickly except that he should burn the photograph.

why would she be looking through unamuno? you don't explain.

anyway. yes, it will be in three parts. T H S,M - - - B T - - - and S P I S D

MONUMENTAL stuff.

i am orf fra'shower, toodle pip.

o.t.

been a long time been a long time been a long lonely lonely lonely lonely lonely time

i chew chew chews, they're o.k.

"we live downstairs because we think of ourselves as stuck to our tricycle seats" - goethe.

"poetry is quick 'n' easy, finished. do you want to play or what ?" - rimbaud.

"great slapstick we are having" - nietzsche.

show

...off!

Best regards,

Robert

the box of unselfconsciousness. one person in box. IT can't see out, they? can see in. there is a one in (one to ten) chance that they? will be present at any time during the TIME and IT knows this. IT must go about IT's life. IT will eventually lose selfconsciousness regardless of and because of they? or they not?

"chocolatiers are sympathetic children" - duchamp.

the box of jams. three jars of jam. one box. the jams are emptied into the box.

"furb icun niander ralzon. furber icunnen ralzon." - dully orton.

"hensh icunnen dier lammenen, mier luosch niande" - borsch torksky.

starving over here.....

Have a sandwich, a glass of milk, and a cookie. Or some brioche, perhaps.

Best regards,

Robert

"i'll eye core keys" - stephen hawking. from "intergalactic snack ideas" 1 copy.

Or ee! Oh, core keys. Better "brioche." M. Antoinette from the gallic myths.

Best regards,

Robert

nice.

regards, o.t.

when i stopped playing with toys i dropped my tractor and stared into the sky,
and lo, a white horse.

dea 33.3333333333
or. bright red waxen beads.

"i love animals with messy writing on their faces." - perky pat.

agent lay would like a word with you about the noise coming from the farm at night time. do not expect him to advocate the currently popular use of force.

"show me anything bigger than the bethlehem thunderer." - charles dunning.

displace ghee mead acre heaps !

Heaps of creeps were displaced into the clarified butter over here.

Let them eat curry.

Best regards,

Robert

dear lamb on my plate,
i cannot eat you for you are still alive, there has been a misunderstanding between the waitress and i. you were not supposed to see me.

displace goa knee bead add ether me!

seriously.... now when i count to three, grab yer kazoo! onE, TWICE, twa!

voooooooooooooooooo! voooo vooooo vooooooooooooooooooooooo!

zherrrrrj! darn it! misfire!

i have invented the middle indicator for when one intends to go forward.

may i borrow it ? i suspect i may be suffering from ambivalence again. second thoughts don't bother, it's probably nothing. i once met the man who uninvented replying. i said to him, i said "sir, and what applications do you imagine your idea will satisfy ?"

tdralwhoth + ptpdlapiutfbab + lnotep

.in
THAT
order.

pyip (as in "loikes yer pyip"

done.

earthworms pop up their bristly faces during cool rain and wonder about butterflies.

"but, christ! they're makin' swiss cheese outta my garden! they ain't poets, the rats." - capability brown.

"and now, as i remove my bullet proof vest and drop onto the sofa, i see again that it is all an extension of the playground, and that we are still children playing at gangs. the nurses who took frank's trousers from him were girls who had made their uniforms from brightly coloured cloth. practical girls who

my hands ache." - ( forget it, it's christ sevenhundredandsomething

or. harold bloom on the corner of a dice.
(you may take that to the bank)

"bless you" - ( forget it, it's the tricked englishman

ooooooooo-kay)

vermont kick.
nipple-coloured piss.

and. i'll tell you over nate.

jababolin when i play my viola

"the thing is"
(second man looks at camera)
"i'm not really into the things i bring about, for instance yesterday i received a book about human aspects of the golden ratio and it wasn't even yesterday"
(second man sighs and is about to interrupt)
"so you begin to see my dilemma. only there are always at least three more things for every one i mention, for instance here jam, stick and photographs of executions. for instance yesterday no pleasing rectangles nor no me nor no one"
(second man slowly sits back down)
"and the only way i can explain this to you is for you to lean forward without standing up again and touch my head right here just where you see the scar"
(second man says quietly and patiently "i won't do that")
"yes, just lean forward and touch here and see why i'm not really into the things i bring about. perhaps you would like to nominate a third man to do this for you?"

how ignorant i have been, please take off your jacket and look at the marigolds with me

n 1 a 4 2 9 7 10

jababolindeed seela

when i take off my hats it is not difficult not to shplit infinities up so i never remove it unless. the moon in most ceases. least heat.

"she said she wanted a camper van so i painted it pink, the thing. how was i supposed to figure?"

Abacus.

Best regards,

Robert

"so she says to me, buddy, she says, we're gonna need a hire van to shift all this stuff. i say no problem angel, no problem, i'll get the jack."

CAN I GIT A POLICE ! ?

anything once considered exotic was previously quotidian fare to less developed minds as well as more developed ones in the same other land.

to try at chess is to miss the point, maybe.

pipe.

ha. hire.

"she asked me what i'd been reading so i told her about the experiments with the boiling and the howling which could be heard from the other side of the compound. and she looked distracted and said that she was sure they hadn't howled." - getting close to it by i.. d...

I have from time to time tried to imply that I was in the higher van, but it was mostly just posturing.

Ars celare artem. Ars gratia artem.

Best regards,

Robert

"we have been thrown some lemons" - tombstone champion

the common tiger is the most patient animal. exactly twice as patient as the next most patient animal in the world, the long nosed dog.

have fun singing and remember it like this, (to the tune of la marseillaise)

a long nosed dog, will, wait, for, haaalf an hour
the common ti-ger, for twice as long

but if they waited next to clocks....... ah, "if" and "but"

~-U

The common tiger will bite you in the ass in the wink of an eye.

The long nosed dog, well, some will and some won't.

Best regards,

Robert

i had a medium nosed dog, he used to get embarrassed when we talked about him, he would actually blush and pretend to fall asleep, you could see him peeping, and when we shook him he'd open his eyes and act like he was confused. hilarious.

haff not ate.

o.t.

kynobellinus knows where the cave door is.

opening hours are now published to the left, right?

"nothing. oh, i've been despotic today with that measuring nut."

through a harmonica - "do you still want to go away?" .... (the trick is to choose which words to hit on the exhale.)

"your ear is still bleeding. oh, i'll remind them of what i did."

through a harmonica - "oh, i'll remind them of what i did."

ladies and gentlemen, trust me when i tell you that you have been bored for generations.

jonjoviolentstopcooper'savenuestoplastthreedays

remindedoneout.

"i heard a joke today, witty and nodding if you know what i mean. cool too. i missed the first bit because someone laughed too soon and another man joined in, but then it started again, unexpectedly, and i heard the rest of it. (the men who laughed too soon had to keep up really wide smiles for the rest of it because they'd gone off early, but i didn't have to so i used my face normally but i couldn't help looking at their eyes. they looked like the devil.) the rest of the joke was told really well with different voices for the man and the woman in the joke. they were married but the man didn't seem to care for the woman because he talked about her to his friends about private things, mostly about her body. there's a bit near the end where it's funny but you do not have to laugh, you can just tilt your head back and look at the ceiling and say "ahhh" as if you've just realised something clever. at the end you'll hear a slang word for vagina and that's when you have to laugh (don't be the first to stop, and slow down laughing rather than stopping suddenly which looks wrong.). if this joke had a face it would probably be staring at you maybe chewing gum and never looking away. it is probably not a good joke to tell to one person at a time."

dear miss lonelyhearts, do you even care for effort ? i mean really, i need to know.

you shuwed them girl wat it mean to be prinsess

luxy sed yer bout lass ngh

pop three, kid

! epip

pipe !

dik ,eerht pop

hgn ssal tuob rey des yxul

Best regards,

Robert

deeper return

needed 27

go do not go go

ecam.

discreet issues chapter one,

a man walks into a grey tablet housing fly spheres taken back from the bull-punch champions of 1927. he stops on his mark and he listens, but only for seconds and to broken or non-broken bells. he loves nothing more than again and when he gets tired of books he throws a meated hook in the death pool... the dying water.

i. due to the flies were collected in chinese glass from the bulls' eyes.
ii. except that all bells are heard or not.
iii. a grey what.
iv. remember to 1927, and more than and again.

music

I reckon.

R