Thursday, 14 May 2009
Saturday, 9 May 2009
the lines that lead up your ass
The Guru has gone so I took, what was left to him, to the sea.
It was cold in Q.
I threw the ashes, and those awkward bones that heat does not disintegrate, into the sea that divides China from Japan and perhaps from the rest of the world as well.
I played bugle music on my MP3 and watched the bones return upon the Chinese shore. The ashes were caught in the wind and went where the wind knew they belonged. Simply...nowhere.
I went back to my hotel. A solemn sadness in my heart.
IN THE HOTEL 2 GIRLS WERE WAITING.
Use.UAL. Y ì I am wary of what I do not unnerstan and go well away and look for something else just like a Beijing virgin.
This was extremely different as if they knew the most important thing that I would never even guess to know.
They handed me the square root which after careful consideration was simply just a date of where I should be and where everybody else should be too, even if we disagreed.
The date was written clearly on vellum paper. June 4 you know where.
I am thinking about this and wondering if you are thinking about this as well. And if you are, why are you trying to block what I say with your ass up a firewall, pretty uncomfortable. You are a tube because you have blocked you tube and why did you foolishly follow the order when you know, if you have any sense of history that those that come after and come after they will, and come after you, what price you will pay .
You cannot distort the truth.
You are up there, looking down. You have a tie and the cadre look. You watch these words to see what happens next.
All I can say is your tie is old fashioned and perhaps may be twisted round your neck when the real revaluation comes. As the man with the dodgy hairstyle says a revaluation is not a dinner party.
I await you with open arms and spit in your guns and your charms.
You see or you do not see you can get 82 to kill himself when he should be 89 and then you feel yourself conned into gratulations...
I do not want to go into why.
But you must unnerstan that if u get ur own people to pay for every polluted breath they take, they might just start asking ?s which you, despite your control of everything that counts, might not have the necessary answers.
The sliver of the Silver Guru is dead: URUGREVLIS will be the slogan on the wall.
You asking me what it means.
Nothing....
Just like you
however why are you so afraid, arrest me, put me in prison, re-educate me, put the electric wires into my brain and tell who I am...just do it...
It was cold in Q.
I threw the ashes, and those awkward bones that heat does not disintegrate, into the sea that divides China from Japan and perhaps from the rest of the world as well.
I played bugle music on my MP3 and watched the bones return upon the Chinese shore. The ashes were caught in the wind and went where the wind knew they belonged. Simply...nowhere.
I went back to my hotel. A solemn sadness in my heart.
IN THE HOTEL 2 GIRLS WERE WAITING.
Use.UAL. Y ì I am wary of what I do not unnerstan and go well away and look for something else just like a Beijing virgin.
This was extremely different as if they knew the most important thing that I would never even guess to know.
They handed me the square root which after careful consideration was simply just a date of where I should be and where everybody else should be too, even if we disagreed.
The date was written clearly on vellum paper. June 4 you know where.
I am thinking about this and wondering if you are thinking about this as well. And if you are, why are you trying to block what I say with your ass up a firewall, pretty uncomfortable. You are a tube because you have blocked you tube and why did you foolishly follow the order when you know, if you have any sense of history that those that come after and come after they will, and come after you, what price you will pay .
You cannot distort the truth.
You are up there, looking down. You have a tie and the cadre look. You watch these words to see what happens next.
All I can say is your tie is old fashioned and perhaps may be twisted round your neck when the real revaluation comes. As the man with the dodgy hairstyle says a revaluation is not a dinner party.
I await you with open arms and spit in your guns and your charms.
You see or you do not see you can get 82 to kill himself when he should be 89 and then you feel yourself conned into gratulations...
I do not want to go into why.
But you must unnerstan that if u get ur own people to pay for every polluted breath they take, they might just start asking ?s which you, despite your control of everything that counts, might not have the necessary answers.
The sliver of the Silver Guru is dead: URUGREVLIS will be the slogan on the wall.
You asking me what it means.
Nothing....
Just like you
however why are you so afraid, arrest me, put me in prison, re-educate me, put the electric wires into my brain and tell who I am...just do it...
Thursday, 7 May 2009
The Real World Mourns the Passing of the LINes thathe Sliver of the Silver Guru has Left Behind
As always day is the nightmare that dreams leave behind.
I slept well despite the passing of my only teacher. I mourned him in the quiet way that only real importance commands.
In the morning I was woken up by the police. They had questions to ask altho they knew the answers. But still they were not sure. Perhaps I could verify this and deny that.
I could do neither.
The Guru was neither a friend nor a passing acquaintance.
I knew him from the street.
He did not have a visa, the policewoman from the night before informed me.
That does not surprise me, I responded, credit cards were not his thing, he lived off the luck of the land.
You have deliberately misunderstood me, was her counter. I mean the visa, that is no visa, he should not have been here. He is an illegal.
Was, I said.
Was, is, will be, what does it matter, we have laws here just like everywhere else.
Look I said I am seriously tired here and I need to sleep for a million years. So will you please ever so nicely and with a sense of decorum go away. It is 2009 and the Olympic Games are over.
I do not need you to tell me where to go and what to see.
Nor how to be, I might have added but as usual an innate diplomacy got the better of my emotions.
I watched her tits heave. She was used to getting her own way. How females in power will always follow the orders from males above was one of the Guru's more obvious axioms.
You see, he always intoned, God is a Male and in spite of what they always tell you Fe on its own means little more than fucking ell or for exstance. They are meaningless without us. However consider the Bull and modern tech no ol ogee. Have you seen a bull in China. No. I thought not. Artificial in semi nation. That is the few ture. If it happens with animals it will happen with humans. They will take over, me ole sun. We will only exist in sperm banks. Feminism is the new
and only viable capitalism in this heretidary credit crunch. So make hay sunshine while sunshine lasts.
Let me sleep, I told her, then you can come back in the evening and maybe we can discuss what is a visa and what is the visa and why the and a were once of some significance in the language that once thought it ruled the world.
The Silver Guru was adamant. The English language is international and thus is dying the slow death, like you no u guys, whatever, fucking awesome in it.
She did not understand my English and I did not understand her Chinese and all her exasperated asides, some of which were simply Manchu, the dying fall of an Empire lost long ago,
but in Chinese terms just yesterday morning.
However her tit for tat tits moved and I knew, and she knew, I was in there making hay and hoping for no clouds tomorrow.
The police have only authority...
I slept well despite the passing of my only teacher. I mourned him in the quiet way that only real importance commands.
In the morning I was woken up by the police. They had questions to ask altho they knew the answers. But still they were not sure. Perhaps I could verify this and deny that.
I could do neither.
The Guru was neither a friend nor a passing acquaintance.
I knew him from the street.
He did not have a visa, the policewoman from the night before informed me.
That does not surprise me, I responded, credit cards were not his thing, he lived off the luck of the land.
You have deliberately misunderstood me, was her counter. I mean the visa, that is no visa, he should not have been here. He is an illegal.
Was, I said.
Was, is, will be, what does it matter, we have laws here just like everywhere else.
Look I said I am seriously tired here and I need to sleep for a million years. So will you please ever so nicely and with a sense of decorum go away. It is 2009 and the Olympic Games are over.
I do not need you to tell me where to go and what to see.
Nor how to be, I might have added but as usual an innate diplomacy got the better of my emotions.
I watched her tits heave. She was used to getting her own way. How females in power will always follow the orders from males above was one of the Guru's more obvious axioms.
You see, he always intoned, God is a Male and in spite of what they always tell you Fe on its own means little more than fucking ell or for exstance. They are meaningless without us. However consider the Bull and modern tech no ol ogee. Have you seen a bull in China. No. I thought not. Artificial in semi nation. That is the few ture. If it happens with animals it will happen with humans. They will take over, me ole sun. We will only exist in sperm banks. Feminism is the new
and only viable capitalism in this heretidary credit crunch. So make hay sunshine while sunshine lasts.
Let me sleep, I told her, then you can come back in the evening and maybe we can discuss what is a visa and what is the visa and why the and a were once of some significance in the language that once thought it ruled the world.
The Silver Guru was adamant. The English language is international and thus is dying the slow death, like you no u guys, whatever, fucking awesome in it.
She did not understand my English and I did not understand her Chinese and all her exasperated asides, some of which were simply Manchu, the dying fall of an Empire lost long ago,
but in Chinese terms just yesterday morning.
However her tit for tat tits moved and I knew, and she knew, I was in there making hay and hoping for no clouds tomorrow.
The police have only authority...
Wednesday, 6 May 2009
Cut Lines are not Broken Lines: they can be Mended
The Silver Guru is Dead.
They took him away and burned his oracle bones.
Now only we can interpret his ashes.
As he once said it is only a matter of time and in time only matter can persist yet be destroyed.
These were hard words for me and now they have become crystalline.
We can only persist in our persistence.
To what end?
I was asked to go to the police. I did not want to go but I went anyway, signed all of the forms, and went away. There were many silly questions... like who I am where I am and what was the nature of my dealings, whether dealt or not, with the Guru.
I told them the truth as I always do, with many lies in between. They were very happy, altho, they did not believe me. It was just a question of words upon paper that nobody no longer thinks makes any real difference. The guy typing it out wore a beret and had a moustache. He was aiming for an image. His eyes were hidden and he wore, I think, Chanel #5, and sucked on peppermints. He told me to keep in contact and I said I do not think so.
Homosexuality has never been my thing.
The demise of the Silver Guru has left me thinking of his final words to me.
He knew without any doubt that he was going to die and pretty soon too. They are not killing me, he said slowly thinking of where he had been and what he had done, I am killing myself. So it
was in India and so it must be in China where they have lost their only reason to believe, Con Fuse Ion. SS. You are young, only 32 wheras I am 82 and dying more suddenly than slowly...you must get out there and undermine their Rigid/Atrophobic Logic with the Sex that only you can unnerstan/innerstan.
I AM DEAD...
Yes He is and one hopes for the peace that passes all understanding.
And so now to what the Guru wanted and you all were waiting for ... THE SEX BLOG.
Out on the street all alone and the POLICE woman who says I think inou...
yeah she had...
tbc
They took him away and burned his oracle bones.
Now only we can interpret his ashes.
As he once said it is only a matter of time and in time only matter can persist yet be destroyed.
These were hard words for me and now they have become crystalline.
We can only persist in our persistence.
To what end?
I was asked to go to the police. I did not want to go but I went anyway, signed all of the forms, and went away. There were many silly questions... like who I am where I am and what was the nature of my dealings, whether dealt or not, with the Guru.
I told them the truth as I always do, with many lies in between. They were very happy, altho, they did not believe me. It was just a question of words upon paper that nobody no longer thinks makes any real difference. The guy typing it out wore a beret and had a moustache. He was aiming for an image. His eyes were hidden and he wore, I think, Chanel #5, and sucked on peppermints. He told me to keep in contact and I said I do not think so.
Homosexuality has never been my thing.
The demise of the Silver Guru has left me thinking of his final words to me.
He knew without any doubt that he was going to die and pretty soon too. They are not killing me, he said slowly thinking of where he had been and what he had done, I am killing myself. So it
was in India and so it must be in China where they have lost their only reason to believe, Con Fuse Ion. SS. You are young, only 32 wheras I am 82 and dying more suddenly than slowly...you must get out there and undermine their Rigid/Atrophobic Logic with the Sex that only you can unnerstan/innerstan.
I AM DEAD...
Yes He is and one hopes for the peace that passes all understanding.
And so now to what the Guru wanted and you all were waiting for ... THE SEX BLOG.
Out on the street all alone and the POLICE woman who says I think inou...
yeah she had...
tbc
Monday, 4 May 2009
I wonder why the lines were cut
I cannot see the lines I sent...wonder why...
so let the sliver of the Guru ask the ? one more time
this time, of necessity, in a more prosaic form...
Why do students kill teachers?
0r more precisely
Why do students kill a teacher?
We all know what the Kulchural Evolution has left us ...
If you cannot find the Guilty, then find the colourful Convenient.
The Gang of Four or was that Five...
Five million armed with sticks and ONE IDea
and of course that idea was 70% right except when it was 30% wrong.
The sliver of the Silver Guru asks me to consider the math in matics and the logos in logic and still we arrive at a portrait where all the people fix their cameras and pay for nothing homage at the tomb. People leave flowers which then are resold to those that come after.
But there are no flowers for a dead teacher killed by adolescent students whose only fault was that they could not think for themselves, neither then nor now, when lonely and guilty as they are in positions of power they still relate the same sad stories to students who sleep in class.
These Red Guards who killed their teacher during the time that nobody wants to remember yet no-one can quite forget are the teachers of today and they are afraid of their students because once a while ago they too were students and remember what as students they did. So they let their students sleep. It is the basic human right of students in West Peiping to sleep in class.
It is how this country will develop, in dream and in nightmare.
A country that cannot face its history and discuss what went wrong can never develop except in... what the Guru calls the nothingness of the material. The dress in the shop window may represent style but a form that does not think remains the lower of the species.
The remains of the feline Guru urges me to send this quickly to the quick to those that understand but as yet may not have the courage to acknowledge what they call knowledge.
I have seen the moment of my weakness snicker and yet I was not afraid.
It is high time to change this and also high time for a change.
thelinesleadoutbutthelineswithinleadtonowhere...
GET A SOAP BOX
so let the sliver of the Guru ask the ? one more time
this time, of necessity, in a more prosaic form...
Why do students kill teachers?
0r more precisely
Why do students kill a teacher?
We all know what the Kulchural Evolution has left us ...
If you cannot find the Guilty, then find the colourful Convenient.
The Gang of Four or was that Five...
Five million armed with sticks and ONE IDea
and of course that idea was 70% right except when it was 30% wrong.
The sliver of the Silver Guru asks me to consider the math in matics and the logos in logic and still we arrive at a portrait where all the people fix their cameras and pay for nothing homage at the tomb. People leave flowers which then are resold to those that come after.
But there are no flowers for a dead teacher killed by adolescent students whose only fault was that they could not think for themselves, neither then nor now, when lonely and guilty as they are in positions of power they still relate the same sad stories to students who sleep in class.
These Red Guards who killed their teacher during the time that nobody wants to remember yet no-one can quite forget are the teachers of today and they are afraid of their students because once a while ago they too were students and remember what as students they did. So they let their students sleep. It is the basic human right of students in West Peiping to sleep in class.
It is how this country will develop, in dream and in nightmare.
A country that cannot face its history and discuss what went wrong can never develop except in... what the Guru calls the nothingness of the material. The dress in the shop window may represent style but a form that does not think remains the lower of the species.
The remains of the feline Guru urges me to send this quickly to the quick to those that understand but as yet may not have the courage to acknowledge what they call knowledge.
I have seen the moment of my weakness snicker and yet I was not afraid.
It is high time to change this and also high time for a change.
thelinesleadoutbutthelineswithinleadtonowhere...
GET A SOAP BOX
Saturday, 25 April 2009
NOW WHERE NO
We all know certain cretins just like we know the buttons on our shirt.
Sometimes we make a mistake and expose our navel for all the world to see.
However this is a mistake not strategy.
Navel exposed we look up there yonder to the stars riding long and lonely far behind the Moon. And what do people see? Yeah, you got it, or you didn't get it--our belly buttons.
The Sliving Silver Guru wants to know . iwannanoaswell.
The silk within the silk road, the mystery that lies between the thighs, the words behind the sighs, the H before the story and the F in u r e.
You need what you miss, he tells me.
And what do I miss, I ask.
The No in Shun and the i o n in not.
Very simple so I smoke another jay below the willow tree that weeps into the canal inside the park. The Chinese magpies dance above looking for something precious to steal but here there is nothing to steal but style and the magpies are not that evolved.
The people come and go playing with kite and flight.
There are boats in the water and lovers in the trees. Dogs in the bushes and owners that call long and longingly in the dusk. Always the dogs hear, they are not feline. They run away, tripping upon their feet, but they always come back, tongues hanging out,tales wagging like signals to the status quo.
The Silver Guru indicates the lines upon the waters of the canal, the circle that runs around and back again, except there is no begiing nor is there any end, and that he tells me is where it is at. I nod in agreement except I know exactly where the waters lead and that is always gonna be where you and I belong Know Where.
Sometimes we make a mistake and expose our navel for all the world to see.
However this is a mistake not strategy.
Navel exposed we look up there yonder to the stars riding long and lonely far behind the Moon. And what do people see? Yeah, you got it, or you didn't get it--our belly buttons.
The Sliving Silver Guru wants to know . iwannanoaswell.
The silk within the silk road, the mystery that lies between the thighs, the words behind the sighs, the H before the story and the F in u r e.
- it is I would hazard a tall, beyond my present height, order.
- we stop in lonely cafes here in west Peiping and listen to our coffee and the talk that stirs in silence.
- the obvious...the message in the belly fluff and the stuff that stutters in the bars
- we are watching the buildings above and the low Islamic moon, while a light rain falls and glistens all the streets where people meet and go away slowly thinking of wind, sand, and water. There used to be camels, the grandfathers say through loud glasses but they have all gone away. I think of camels in Peiping and suddenly am sad.
You need what you miss, he tells me.
And what do I miss, I ask.
The No in Shun and the i o n in not.
Very simple so I smoke another jay below the willow tree that weeps into the canal inside the park. The Chinese magpies dance above looking for something precious to steal but here there is nothing to steal but style and the magpies are not that evolved.
The people come and go playing with kite and flight.
There are boats in the water and lovers in the trees. Dogs in the bushes and owners that call long and longingly in the dusk. Always the dogs hear, they are not feline. They run away, tripping upon their feet, but they always come back, tongues hanging out,tales wagging like signals to the status quo.
The Silver Guru indicates the lines upon the waters of the canal, the circle that runs around and back again, except there is no begiing nor is there any end, and that he tells me is where it is at. I nod in agreement except I know exactly where the waters lead and that is always gonna be where you and I belong Know Where.
Friday, 24 April 2009
everybody knows this is nowhere hey hey what's that sound around the ground howver or what u no nor can deny that it leads to the whorehouse of the s
The sound of Jagger voice in Peiping sounds irrelevant and even worse absurd.
The place in the desert that Peiping says should not exist therefore takes on more resonance and relevance. We can do it in Hong Kong but PEIéING ...what does this mean?
I think we have to get real, make a stand before we sit down, and in standing up like Marbles roll into the centre of every discourse take a long look at what is not ourself.
I am writing this in Chinglish so ihopethetheyllunderstann
oneunnrsansyjoicewritinlarhgeyhehisnoithorsesinforgottenforgeeveenwkakemeoutofthematinsjojos.
Is this sentence a threat or is it a code for a k ti shun?
The T shirts roll along the Line all bear Roman Numerals
XXX-XXVIII = II
Democracy, Peiping Style
OR LCD
We always were aware that love could not change the world as we know it but that hatred could.For those of you who linger lonely out there beyond the stars that we see or do not see, depending upon the Peiping night, let me hear the voice within your words. The trouble with most people here in Peiping is that they have lost their voice and have taken on a voice which is not their own. Rest assured this will not happen to me or to those that think alike to me.
CH CH CHA CHAN CHAG CHANG CHANG CHANGS CHANGES...do it in minor chords and wait for major changes as always in the lines thhhhhhhhat llllllllllllllleeeeeeeeeeead to know where...
The place in the desert that Peiping says should not exist therefore takes on more resonance and relevance. We can do it in Hong Kong but PEIéING ...what does this mean?
I think we have to get real, make a stand before we sit down, and in standing up like Marbles roll into the centre of every discourse take a long look at what is not ourself.
I am writing this in Chinglish so ihopethetheyllunderstann
oneunnrsansyjoicewritinlarhgeyhehisnoithorsesinforgottenforgeeveenwkakemeoutofthematinsjojos.
Is this sentence a threat or is it a code for a k ti shun?
The T shirts roll along the Line all bear Roman Numerals
XXX-XXVIII = II
Democracy, Peiping Style
OR LCD
We always were aware that love could not change the world as we know it but that hatred could.For those of you who linger lonely out there beyond the stars that we see or do not see, depending upon the Peiping night, let me hear the voice within your words. The trouble with most people here in Peiping is that they have lost their voice and have taken on a voice which is not their own. Rest assured this will not happen to me or to those that think alike to me.
CH CH CHA CHAN CHAG CHANG CHANG CHANGS CHANGES...do it in minor chords and wait for major changes as always in the lines thhhhhhhhat llllllllllllllleeeeeeeeeeead to know where...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)