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Just you wait until the Playtex company learns that their ad slogan from 1954 is, in fact, offensive. Just, whatever you do, don’t tell them that Krakatoa is (get this) west of Java. Might give some good folks a brain bleed.
And, for those who harbour kinks of doubt,
Post something on somniloquist's Wall
Where can I find that amazing post with the artists’ owning their particular syle obsession? Fingers (and toes) You have a source._. OBSESSED. Happy Safe Holidaze to you._I haven’t bumped into one of your amazing soliloquies, lately. Everything going ok? -xx-VacantField42-xx-
Of course. You’re looking at the work of Vuk Vidor in a series of works called Art History that he began in 2004. It has come in several incarnations, with this black and white “owns” configuration being both the first and the main. I believe the edition ending in Abramovic is the most recent. His website is his full name and a dot com.
Go where those others went to the dark boundary
for the golden fleece of nothingness your last prize
go upright among those who are on their knees
among those with their backs turned and those toppled in the dust
you were saved not in order to live
you have little time you must give testimony
be courageous when the mind deceives you be courageous
in the final account only this is important
and let your helpless Anger be like the sea
whenever you hear the voice of the insulted and beaten
let your sister Scorn not leave you
for the informers executioners cowards—they will win
they will go to your funeral and with relief will throw a lump of earth
the woodborer will write your smoothed-over biography
and do not forgive truly it is not in your power
to forgive in the name of those betrayed at dawn
beware however of unnecessary pride
keep looking at your clown’s face in the mirror
repeat: I was called—weren’t there better ones than I
beware of dryness of heart love the morning spring
the bird with an unknown name the winter oak
light on a wall the splendour of the sky
they don’t need your warm breath
they are there to say: no one will console you
be vigilant—when the light on the mountains gives the sign—arise and go
as long as blood turns in the breast your dark star
repeat old incantations of humanity fables and legends
because this is how you will attain the good you will not attain
repeat great words repeat them stubbornly
like those crossing the desert who perished in the sand
and they will reward you with what they have at hand
with the whip of laughter with murder on a garbage heap
go because only in this way will you be admitted to the company of cold skulls
to the company of your ancestors: Gilgamesh Hector Roland
the defenders of the kingdom without limit and the city of ashes
Be faithful Go
The Envoy of Mr. Cogito
Posted by homeratbat111 9 hours ago.
Speaking of cupcakes of fruitcake who think they’re cheesecake more suncake than mooncake, is never being right in any meaningful way a pathology really worthy of a Buster drop? Please reply.
Is it a pathology that ought to be dropped on occasionally? Accepting that, does it then matter what gets dropped?
And a (Cheshire) cat may look at a queen.
Now get off the moon before you fall and hurt yourself.
Is ‘rendered mute’ redundant when one uses the raptorial definition? Please reply.
I take it back. You deserve that moon.
Gibbering asswater of a rage-fueled red-pilled defective induction junkie.
Yeah. We’re closed.
You’re the one used to knocking because You whitesplaining to everyone in your life that you can.
Ever have one of those days where you have so much straw, that you find yourself basket-weaving curbside outside an asylum you can not afford [despite its being free], and the baskets [who didn’t ask for this and want a restraining order placed tween you and any straw before you hurt yourself] keep coming out too-deformed to pass as the lobster-claws you want them to be, that your only option [given the garden-variety deplorability of your decision matrix] is to panhandle naked, head so far up your own rectum with a spinal half-twist, as a human Klein-bottle? Me neither, too. Ever seen it, tho? Pleases reply while clothed.
Just a part of life’s rich pageant,
a reaper-binder in a field of dead-end mutations,
Missive to a nowt-about-town:
Here are the choices as they stand… when faced with a barrage of unwarranted perjury, a responsible member of society is compelled to either exhaust themselves proving that someone is lying all the time, spending all efforts and energy refuting the deplorable decision matrix bit by bit as it continues to build itself anew on the other side…
or consolidate ones reality to make it match up with the presented narrative, thusly drawing oneself towards the aggressor begging for some kind of shelter or sustenance…or a basket to carry your brain in…
OR we sit here on this bench, drink this coffee, and watch the dirt fly.
Response written with no consideration given to clothing choices. You get what you get.
smnlqst (That’s brevity, you see. I’m told it holds some merit.)
Dunno about all that. Just call’em timesucks. Errantula errorgies. Memeconiums. Pimperneleaia. Bicameral obscuranthills. Half-baked, thrice-dropped, quincetonce-flushed shitcakes.
A Baudrillard rate of attrition and return