oneonesevenseven(good thing i bought a bag;pigs, better, system out)

I’m listening to Can while I write this.  Prime Can.  The album has a green cover.  I love cans.  I eat a lot of canned food.  I also love looking at her can.  There are eggs boiling on the oven.  It’s a crying shame I ran out of whiskey last night otherwise I’d be enjoying a good stiff drink with my boiled breakfast.  And the tears of the victim are closing!  Rataplan rataplan!  If only I were constructed of anything.  I meant to say nothing, how curious.  can I do that?  Can I just explode and suddenly remake my – all at once it occurs to me that there’s not nearly enough vitamin C in my diet! – self with different matter entirely?  What the hell is he even saying?  I think I got into Can around the time I got into Neu!  Prime Neu!  I recall asking a co-worker if she were a big Neu! fan to which she cheekily replied, “The biggest!”  oh how we laughed!  It makes sense how Frank could and would and did consider himself a Dadaist.  Or have I overstepped my reach there?  I woke thinking about pantyhose and now they are still very much on my mind albeit in several different combinations. And all this before I’ve even had my green tea!  Rataplan! Rataplan!  

Hahaha, I just ran through my posh flat screaming “mysticism!  Alchemy!  Vitamin C!”  It was arguably the most thrilling experience of my worthless fucking life.  There’s a card in  my pocket and now it’s not in my pocket.  Quite a lovely illustration.  I need to read.  I’d love to go somewhere midday for a drink and just read my stupid ass off.  I was desperately search for a big dark iteration of the weirdness which I’ve always found to be highly underrated.  I can’t find it but I know I referenced a decade or more ago in some long lost correspondence with a former future president who instead turned to, yes, alchemy!  But as always, there are grammatical alliterations to tend with and I was just having a contorting face attack right there in my seat while stale water and the muse crocodile laughed at my rich perennial misfortunes.  Would now be a good time to conjure up a flock of woodpeckers?!  I do so love the sound of water.  Babbling brook!  Very soon the time may finally be at hand for me to write water!  Could Flick of the Switch be AC DC’s greatest album?!  Either that or Fly on the Wall!  I want a whole tour where nothing but those songs are played. 

I lost my shit there for awhile but I was thankfully able to recover it.  It was hiding in the plastic bowels of an immaculate collection (need it wax once I got the scratch!) I’ll think I’ll head to cinema tonight!  I’d like to watch something perfect or something Catholic!  I need to take a minute, just break down now and go for it.  And as I was alluding to earlier, atm’s and Mexican guys and a deep ethereal voice cuts through the foggy crap and floats above a lovely anachronistic cacophony.  Ege Bamyasi is really good. Thank goodness I’ve been reading Grant’s work, endless inspiration and opening up new avenues for exploration.  I woke up with the middle on fire and with a strong desire to be berated.  I love the exercise outfit Maria Conchita Alonso uses in the otherwise piece of shit film The Running Man (need to catch up on my Bachman reading, I know, I know, I did really like Roadwork as I alluded to somewhere before and/or after).  How I would love for her to use my face as her personal footrest after a long hard workout session, how I long for her to smash my ugly mug with her luscious aromatic sweaty hosiery clad soles, all the wall berating me in English and Spanish! 

I was deeply moved by Julie Brown’s performance in Shakes the Clown, so much so that I’m considering purchasing a remastered copy of the album she cut in the 80’s!  there’s that gorgeous running water again!  Maybe I won’t fuck things up this  time!  would duff’s iteration be any good?  That’s all I can really say, I’m a human being.  Need norm’s prime and I keep confusing adolescents with descendants because I have one but not the other but I really need the other.  As absurdist decadence seeps into the frothing sandwich that has become my life I’ve know choice but the paint the town in sheepish blue and laugh like a baboon at all this unhatched tapestry laden potential. 

seven (but before five and six and now titular inaccurate).  

This is all too structured.  And that’s when I realize that I’m only a theoretical blogger and how surprising it was to learn that Eno was behind it all but in a sense I should have known.  And again, my groin is deeply throbbing with used fishnet desire.  There may be ascension and there may be jerks in my future and.  I need to track down a first printing of Thomas De Quincey ‘s classic Confessions of an English Opium-Eater!  Maybe one of my loyal followers has an extra lying around in their hope chest that they’d be willing to part with!?  The sugar gods have us all in a grand sense and I was only all to thankful that my liquid television did not try to eat my last night (ala a one five model) as I thrilled to an old fashioned imaginary literal foot and ass kissing.  Did I mention I need to buy some books on alchemy?  In a fashionable sense it all comes down to Sickert and the ripper crimes.  I think very soon a painting may try and eat me but that’s not quite right.  A painting has the answers.  Or there is something scary in the painting, something captured that deeply frightens me and I feel a strong and awful presence coming from the corner of the room.  I really liked Tamia’s last album, extolling the sensual virtues of commitment and fidelity and I look forward to her new album tomorrow. 

I need to buy something that has peaches.  I wish I had a future.  Anywhere.  Gotta keep reminding myself about the plaster fund and plastic archives!  I need that or something.  Gallons of steak sauce.  Oh hell, I don’t even know anymore.  He can’t obsessing about her can.  It all comes back to cans.  It begins where it ends.  Maybe tago mago next just keep the dream alive or shit.  I love that black flag album my war.  Top shelf shit!  Just fucking love it.  Love the cover too.  I was listening to that album outside a sushi shop, being angry and staring at a voluptuous woman’s can as she shimmied and jiggled around and bought take out sushi.  I wonder if that Lou Ferrigno movie Instant Death is any good?  Only twenty ways to find out!  I liked Marilyn Loor’s new music vid too.  I need more Herzog stuff.  Good thing I bought a bag.