4.19.2017

spArtAgordA

iF only were I a bit more like my lacónica gorda, pienso mirándola de soslayo. qué poco espartana ella, la de la rajita de sus globonalgas acumulando polvito gris. she is happy among the petraweapons on the cold marble stone, by the cup-of-guillotened-joes... why can´t I follow suit, entre tanta caja fosilizada. echada barrigona en la parrilla de la rejilla, la envidio. cualquier día te aso, le atesto mientras el ventilador encima me alborota el pensamiento del pelo. ni se inmuta y dejo caer el aparatico donde leo tanta mierda. nooo, mi gordita, me disculpo veloz, que la quiero bien. y sí, la envidio, satisfecha entre tanto petrifollaje de mausoleo. 

whyOwhy ArtThou YetSoFair ScolpitaDiPietra. se lo pregunto y ni se molesta en abrir los ojos. vetealamierda, que estás insoportable, hablando jerigonzas y lo peor, escribiéndolas...  SIGUE

el tren fantasma

seen at BoingBoing/2011:

Chris Watson was a founder of the 1970s experimental music/performance art group Cabaret Voltaire who has become an ambient sound recordist for television, film, and radio. More than a decade ago, Watson spent a month on a train traveling across Mexico with a BBC TV crew documenting the Ferrocarriles Nacionales de México's last continuous passenger service across the country from the Pacific to Atlantic coast. Watson has since gone back and cut his ambient audio archive of the trip into an acoustic journey, "evoking memories of a recent past, capturing the atmosphere, rhythms and sounds of human life, wildlife and the journey itself along the tracks of one of Mexico’s greatest engineering projects." The recording, titled "El Tren Fantasma," was broadcast on Radio BBC 4 last year.
Here, in full, the result:

El Tren Fantasma by Chris Watson

4.01.2017

aPriListheCruelestMonth::1

The Triumph of Bullshit
T. S. Eliot

Ladies, on whom my attentions have waited
If you consider my merits are small
Etiolated, alembicated,
Orotund, tasteless, fantastical,
Monotonous, crotchety, constipated,
Impotent galamatias
Affected, possibly imitated,
For Christ’s sake stick it up your ass.

Ladies, who find my intentions ridiculous
Awkward insipid and horridly gauche
Pompous, pretentious, ineptly meticulous
Dull as the heart of an unbaked brioche
Floundering versicles feebly versiculous
Often attenuate, frequently crass
Attempts at emotions that turn out isiculous,
For Christ’s sake stick it up your ass.

Ladies, who think me unduely vociferous
Amiable cabotin making a noise
That people may cry out “this stuff is too stiff for us”—
Ingenuous child with a box of new toys
Toy lions carnivorous, cannons fumiferous
Engines vaporous—all this will pass;
Quite innocent— “he only wants to make shiver us.”
For Christ’s sake stick it up your ass.

And when thyself with silver foot shall pass
Among the Theories scattered on the grass
Take up my good intentions with the rest
And then for Christ’s sake stick them up your ass.


DANZóN