Thursday, October 29, 2009

In plane sight, yet the fuselage is torn to shreds.

Keyboard party.

I stopped believing as soon as I saw the shakey ghosts in my artwork.
I normally overwork things, but sometimes, just sometimes, I get Rorschach.
Raw like my scotch fillet cooked blue jack, outback or hungry, both ones i know are bad for your arteries.
Stuck in time by recording old footage and resimulation of rehabilitation in reconciliation with no retaliation.
I can never change my sticky ways.
If there's a way to do something, then do it,
McFly was wearing Nikes.

Recorded by general generator banter, chatter heard on the aubergine skinned twitter,
the one that flew through your window and collected a bunch of paperwork from the desk forever.

Disengage frontal lobe now,
disqualify yourself from the oral obsession you benefacted while the miserable wack got attacked with a pair of scissors EXTRACTED,
Cough, squat and pivot.
Too late to notice the way I'm living it, shitting in the shower and pissing in the bottles,
If's it's possible.
Could we bypass any form of hospital?
Household name for a worldwide game, my behaviour, my life, the world as I see it.
You are like a hypochondriac, you think you're as sick as me, but you're not, blatantly.
Jacked into the Matrix hanging for a fix, betwixt the cat o' nineteen ninety nine.
Self taught.
Fight the inner demon to raise up a new sense of being. The being of prediction, never used at the TAB.
That's why we know the people who own horses.
Or dogs.
I like the dogs.

Snatch pussy cream, whipped, with lashings of caramel melting over pale, white, young skin.
Everybody knows.
What, said the peasant.
Nothing yet, said the king.
We believe in nothing but the truth, and the whole truth and the fact Jack Nicholson ain't the wack.
Tobacco farms and Coca leaves.

Left lean as the thoughts crushed our spirits.
Sudden change of emotion, feelings granted and understood, scarred mentality worn by the mental case with a briefcase.
What's that Kylie Minogue song?
She did it again?
And whoosh, came a kick. She kicked him. Liar, she spits at him.
The lump of furry mess begging for attention at his side. Lost, the televison show, leaning on shoulders. Not trying to
pass the blessed test, fuck the rest, the heartache is all they live for now.

Generally, I try not to think at all. The things I think are bizarre and twisted, demonic, Trogotronic, hooked on phonics.
I got myself into this mess, said Name. Name was a 32 year old backpacker from the lower regions of South America.

The format of these graphics makes me want to pack a tomahawk.
Change font?
Nargh, not today.
Calling all guzzle, never showing dismay.
I wonder, wonder as I wander street to street, being smart arsed and retarded.

Attention dragged back into reality, with all happening for a reason, everything having purpose as the proles turn to
new ways of creating a time machine, so we could go back to THE DAY.
Fuck this off for a laugh, I'd rather make go get me a cigarette and then a tongue bath, striking fatal blows with
my staff, but not my mates, I don't run a corporate body but if the bodies get naked, they can't be fucking with my pimping.
I wonder to myself, if could life ever be sane again.


I never panic, the solid Sakura stays staunch, the stench staining city surfaces, on a mission from God, no time for rehearsals,
the beat is all I need to rock your mind to the next level, level up, one up you while playing two up, gamble like a winner.
The only catch is being an eternal sinner for trying to fuck with me, I'm on a tip that's non stop non on top linear.
Can't leave once im in. No problems.
It's a shock, with no horror.
Got a spot down the way of the silent, the security straight stungun steelo, on the reelo.

Put it on it.
Sick of stories and lies told by girls who'd open their thighs to a man in a stocking mask disguise.
These strumpets with breast cancers distended, walking around acting like Feminism was only just invented.

"Maybe say SFC, instead of sci fi conference, because we at the agency believe time is of the essence."
Dad - American Dad

I used up all the Nescafé today. Sorry is standard. Happy Birthday to all who bestow this day.


Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Get on it.

Check out the addition to the flogrole.
Fire fighters don't stand a chance against a burning avalanche of Dante proportions.

Friday, October 23, 2009

Schadenfreude and Cinema City

"'Aren't I free? asked Lola.
'That's not the same thing.'
Too difficult to explain. Lola was a victim, she had no luck, and she appealed too much to the emotions. Which was not in her favour. Besides, she took Heroin. That wasn't a bad thing, in one sense: indeed it was quite a good thing, in principle: Boris had talked to Ivich about it, and they had both agreed that it was a good thing. But there were ways of doing it: if one took it to destroy oneself, either in despair or by way of emphasizing one's freedom, that was entirely commendable. But Lola took it with greedy abandonment, it was her form of relaxation.
It didn't even intoxicate her."

Jean-Paul Sartre - The Age of Reason pg. 30-31.

I think I had the taste of an invisible agoraphobic nosebleed at the bus stop this morning.
I had a large Double Whopper with cheese meal for breakfast.
I was woken at 2.30am by a call, so I stayed awake.
Now I'm just half asleep. Or is it half awake? Pessimism and Procrastination pushing kids onto the tracks at Oats Street station.
I remember vaguely a game called Station.
Didn't they say Station in Wayne's World?

I remember finding a Helly Hansen jacket in the Cinema City arcade in town. I found it immediately to the right of the photo above, the newsagent is just out of shot.

I wore that jacket with pride, at that stage there was no Harbour Town, I couldn't go buy one off EBay and noone stocked it. But I rocked it hard. I can still remember the 600ml Burner Chrome splash back on the right hand sleeve, the Antique Pink Plasticote and white Posca drips seemingly falling out the right hand pocket. As hard as I tried to keep it clean, I couldn't not wear it, I mean fuck, it was dope.

It became a uniform for me. A symbol of my teenage angst and rebellion, a symbol of my personal individuality and freedoms.
The guy whose jacket it was had walked into the newsagent and left it on the scratchie booth.
Bad move Mr man, you turned your back on the wrong Jack of Spades.

I was with Scott, who now instead of writing on walls most of the time, writes songs.
Scott and half of the people who knew me in those tumultuous times would remember the blue Helly Hansen jacket. I remember hanging around with friends wearing that jacket, with them getting all antsy and trying to swap paint and speed with me for it. If half of the people who tried to swap it with me were still alive, I'd probably just give it to them in hindsight. Just for the memories.

When we were fourteen we used to luge down, face first, on our skateboards down the incline of the Cinema City arcade, getting chased by rent-a-cops. As I grew older and embarked on the journey of forgetting one's life, I may or may not of been chased by real-a-detectives down the Cinema City arcade as well.

Quote Unquote?

The Cinema City complex was based around the Hoyts cinema on Hay St, and the arcade connected to Murray St. There was a Rocky-esque flight of stairs you had to scale just to get your ticket checked.
Wow, Darcy just came into my room, i'm pretty sure that was Polo Sport or Polo Blue, possibly Joop.
You used to be able to sneak into movies quite easily. Due to the stairs being sized epically, they had to install a lift in between the stairs. By just catching the disabled lift upstairs, you could waltz and whistle past the ticket stub collection monkeys and watch movies there.

My school took us to see the Passion of Christ in town. I think that was the last movie I saw at Cinema City. I don't remember it, I just ate a handful of Serepax. I think I woke up while Jesus was carrying the cross, or it could of been a dream. We might of even seen it at Piccadilly and not Cinema City. In any case, Piccadilly is the last cinema left in the City of Perth.

Sneaking in there is/was even easier. You could wait 15 minutes after the movie started, and just walk past the ticket window into the cinema. They'd normally be snoozing or doing something absent mindlessly, due to the fact you'd be stupid to buy a ticket to a movie that had already started. Lo and behold, if you think about it for a mere ten seconds, you'd realise that a movie normally doesn't start until about 15 minutes after you take your place.

That is what the Cinema City arcade looks like now.
Whatever they build in it's place, which has been proposed as another cinema, besides the point, I will always remember Cinema City. From the breakdancers to the small cafe that sold nachos. Fuck that is depressing, I'll be back in a second, I need a cigarette.

"I'm dead broke, I hate welfare, I'm kinda nervous I can't afford health care."

"I'm tired of buying sneakers, it's evident fam,
So I'll think I'll take the cheddar, and invest it in land."

"Even if i made more more money than the porno biz, had a genius accountant, some sort of whiz, id still be broker than an orphan kid, cos i wear more Jordan's than Jordan did."

Only three reasons(do you need more?)to go cop this.

I need some time to unwind.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Calling bluffs with fisticuffs.

Felt too much, did she feel a thing?
Long, dark hair, never saw her cry.
In two halves I was torn,
My maybe love who wouldn't even try.
She loves me, she loves me not.
I saw you only yesterday.
We shared a smile, then went our separate ways.
Perhaps one day?
Never mind.
All the nights we shared, were we just killing time?

She loves me, she loves me not.

For all the things I said to her and all the ways I tried,
And all the things I did for her, they're lost, with one goodbye.

She loves me, she love me not.
She loves me, she loves me not.

Why would someone want to be on Lithium? They make batteries out of that fucking shit. I sit with my doona wrapped around me in bed. It's all punishment and false religion.
Where did the plane in Pennsylvania go?
Is it hiding where the wild things are?
Making mixtapes for your own life is the new making mixtapes for a potential partner. And that ain't bad news. Only smooth and good with a hood.
Clitoral stimulation, your boyfriend needs education or possibly a lesson, on how to get that zip down, without the file compression.
Depression, leaving personalities split like peas. War is Peace.
Rotten since birth, and only now just ripe enough to eat.
Open up your mouth, because it's close to your brain. I heard that the female mouth and genitalia are exactly the the same capacity wise. Example, if I can fit my fist in your mouth, be careful.
I disgust myself.
Just what I needed. A job. It could all fall into my lap this time.
But if "all" is a hot cup of Soto or Exomod coffee, it might be worse than I imagined.

Exit music for a Blog - Theme from A Clockwork Orange by Walter Carlos and Rachel Elkind.

I want to beat the fuck out.

NB. Just received a broken ceramic tile from Budapest with either a small hat, a marker scrawling or a weird T shape scribbled on it in blue permanent marker. Boy, am I lucky. Also I apparently have a doctorate in something, which is fucken a'.

Monday, October 19, 2009

Get your head out of your arse.

And purchase this shit from any airport lounge, petrol station, pub, club, music festival or Adelaide.

That is a lie.
I haven't stocked these 15 copies anywhere in the world except my bedroom.
Google it.

FOR THE LONG AND THE SHORT OF IT ALL, please approach/email/jump me in an alleyway.
And purchase a copy.

By the way these things are open for discussion.
Nurse Jackie.
Self Diagnosis.
Evolution as a Religion.
Can of warm Cougar taken from my brother.
Cougars, the female kind. Hang on, they were always cool. No they weren't, not until Stifler's Mom. Isn't that weird? You know? Like? Mrs. Robinson doesn't count, the seventies were shit, who the fuck wants fondue and shag carpet.

Hang on, I do.

Fuck yeah.
Flogspot just got flogged sooo hard.

Friday, October 16, 2009

ancient dead zombie prints

Sometimes I play a game whereon I type random words into google to promote mind enlightenment, devils scent of the heaven scent.
I'm content with posting this.

Spurred on by movement and communication, Frosty grew tired of discontent.

BYO facepaint, paintball guns and Tamiflu. What a great way to spread a virus. Have an event based around the premise of a virus.

Too wasted to comment.

Relevance, yes.

Apparently a vile reputation. Sad story ain't it.
Signing off.

Thursday, October 15, 2009


I've just finished a new self publication that has been in the final stages.
I haven't even fucking proof read it.
PS. I need a manager or a PA or something to handle this shit, I sure can't. I can pay you. Maybe.

We'll talk.

Here's a taste.

It would be advised to click the shitty little jpeg thumbnails.
My desk/floor lamp keeps flicking on and off. I see the light then it get taken away from me. More Robin Williams, more genies and Genesis. What a rollercoaster last few weeks.

I don't remember much, but I remember things that were important to me. These are the things that get you by each day. Then you can always catch up and remember old new times. In between a stocktake sale and a swarthy gale.


The "I forgot to name you" Post

The all seeing, focal vision, decision time comes for a good time or some great music. Oh, it's magic, you know.

The door was blown off years ago. Days upon days of dazed and confused, bedazzled wearing people had trundled though it. Those daze now long gone, all the people had thoughts of escape. To flee, emerge out of a spectrum of kids kicking pebbles down the curb. The sun shone. It shone brightly on the road, and the man on the run never once sailed another ship. He wasn't about to go down with or on her though.
He left, a long time ago, along with all the rabbits and the bunnies and happy things escaping through the hole in the fence, the one the neighbour used to peek through every Saturday. Dusting off the pill box with all its coloured treats. The war time throwback setup, was set back.

Hectogram amounts of turbulent times, living in hell, being driven away by a woman with a wizard spell.

Saw this and I liked it. It's the first time I've seen someone rock that angle since Kurt wrassled.

The days, they can try but they, they can't be like the nights in the city.

I made a badge that said Protest ProTools Prostitute Program.

No tears underneath all the tired, old bullshit you'd expect. Fuck what you heard, it means nothing to me.
I got nothing for you.
Oh, I just finished some work, 13-14 pages of bullshit that will clip you in the ear then slit you side to side.
More news soon.

But finally tonight,

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Put a sticker on it.

Future, present, past, all, at, the, same, time.
How did Paulie know?
I think the powers that be, are blowing in the wind, with a tambourine man, stuck in Memphis again.
Note: Find hardcover copy of Fungus the Bogeyman. Will purchase it from people, offers accepted.

Wasting time, mine and yours.
To be sick to death, only to have yeast make you rise.

What have I been doing?
Not much.
Life has become.

Friday, October 2, 2009

I'm an undercover agent.

If this is true, than rich people could buy themselves personal armies, with gun permits outpowering the standard issue Robocop, under the guise of a private security firm. This makes me violent.

I'm not really down with that idea.

"A shadowy private security company that has no known clients but claims to have helped foreign governments combat terrorism and will protect anything from cruise ships to Pakistani convoys has taken over a jail in a small Montana town, with plans to build a law enforcement training facility on the property.

The state legislature is looking into the matter and residents of Hardin, MT, were alarmed last week when executives from the firm, American Police Force, showed up in the town, which does not have its own police department, with Mercedes SUVs bearing "City Of Hardin Police Department" decals.

And the town has had to tamp down reports on conspiracy Web sites that APF plans to impose experimental H1N1 vaccines on residents under threat of quarantine in the jail."

Click here for the whole article.