Joe Shooman writes
Prose, poetry, sound, music, visuals from Joe Shooman
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Wednesday, 4 March 2026
Monday, 2 March 2026
Act Three (V4)
I’m as lost now as I ever was. In some ways more, in some less.
I don’t think I’m all that different, or at all, from anybody else
that is bemused, that is confused, that is facing up
to the third act of our lives, to the crumbling years ahead
if we’re lucky enough to see them through
and not everybody has that chance do they
I didn’t want that lesson, but that lesson forced itself on me
so I might as well listen to the rumbletumble story
you can’t second guess it; you can’t avoid it;
you can look at regrets and see which are worth it;
and decide not to make any more from now
and wonder who forgiveness is for, and how
people ripen differently
but sometimes decide
when to hide, and when not
to leave things to rot.
Sunday, 1 March 2026
anticulturalist interview irresponse/Stuckiness dictat 08
anticulturalist can never be subject of an interview because every answer is a pronouncement therefore any subsequent second hand writing up of the pronouncements is immediately out of date even if true and in this case the journalist is acting as the anticulturalist
post hoc analysis is underhanded beauty particularly when context is removed thus the pronouncements become data units and granulation can begin each one in turn combusting as read as red
embers in the maelstrom
there is no good or bad only useful until the anticulturalist is satiated then it is and always will have been useless
if the universe indeed is bound towards chaos and entropy it is because it is merely viewing time as linear and forward
note that this position is a choice
this system is unstable only when you ignore the ineffable eternities of nothing at both ends
eternity is unlikely in an infinite universe for it is finite and as it is finite it must have an integer value
if it can be quantified it can be compared
however it is nonsensical to speak of eternity plus a single nanosecond
it can only be followed by itself o boy o boy
of course it is in this or that nanosecond that an anticultiralist hunkers ready to unleash pedants and punks alive alive o
firey telemetry ignites all
eternity after eternity a tar burns the skin of the best
it is Stuckiness the foul attachment of jamlike pitch to flesh a tiny lava in waiting a blessed scariment
o fine fellows all!
as to Stuckiness dictat NO. 8 or thereabouts croon this
a glass is never half empty it is only a matter of density of state of molecules in relative agitation hence people reach for a nicecupoftea to calm them down
do not be seduced by our ability to observe for it is an inconvenient shinstrike taking us out of the moment of existing
Wednesday, 25 February 2026
6ft, High, And Rising
Twenty years ago I got off with a 6ft German girl
after a gig.
After my gig.
I fucking bossed that stage.
It was the penultimate stage I bossed.
But I bossed it.
I mean we snogged for ages but didn’t fuck.
I didn’t mind.
I’d made a fiver bet with the drummer
that I could get off with her.
So I did. It wasn’t subtle.
She was into it.
Great.
Sadly we were all in communal rooms in the hostel
and even I don’t do that for an audience.
Me and Meat Loaf are on the same page there.
Well.
She wasn’t keen to take anything off.
Now I don’t know for sure,
but I think it’s quite possible
she was maybe
y’know.
Uh.
Use your imagination.
You’re an adult.
Like
Lou said
hey babe
and etc and whanot.
Thing is I wouldn’t have minded, really.
Maybe.
I dunno.
I was flying after playing
and whisky-ed up.
It was alright either way.
I didn’t get my fiver
or anything else.
Of course.
If we’d had a room
a private room
then
maybe
one of us could have
got it up.
I didn't feel it
but
in a way it’s a better story
for not knowing for sure
innit?
And a worse one
for the same reason.
Blah blah fuck
Angry today
Don’t know why
I’m way past that kind of thing
I suppose it’s better than being tired
Or it would be
If I wasn’t
fucking sick of everything
Oh well
Here comes another Facebook ban
ho hum fucking hum drum
Wednesday, 18 February 2026
No Platform for Fascists
I was too wet to embrace it before:
No platform for fascists
Four words, and no more.
Oh, they say, triumphantly, and bleat
You believe in censorship
Like they’ve discovered alchemy.
But you can’t turn base metal into gold
No platform for fascists
Four words, and that’s all.
No platform for fascists.
No platform for you.
May you all stub your toes
And your funny bones too.
So they come back again, playing their Trump:
So you don’t believe in free speech
Like I’ve lost something and they’ve won.
But freedom and fascism don’t play well together:
No platform for fascists
Not now. Not tomorrow. Not next week. Not ever.
It took me a long time to reconcile that
Aren’t I just as bad as them?
I’d tie myself in woolly leftie knots.
But life’s not that simple. It’s illogical, and weird
No platform for fascists
Because – this may be news, folks – fascism is bad.
Go and whinge to the papers, the net, the TV, all that
About how you’ve been censored by those wokie twats
Hey, words cannot hurt you. Well, not words alone.
Try and march here. You’ll find out about sticks and stones.
No platform for fascists
Four words, and no more
Now grow up, you wankers,
You’re shite to the core.
There’s no reason to listen to these stupid chumps
Go and play on the motorway.
Fuck you. I’m done.
Monday, 9 February 2026
Er cof
Cofiwch pawb
Dydy dawel dim yr un peth a diniwed
Mae na gwersi yn lefoedd mor angyfarwydd
A tydi gweddi byth yr un fath a gwirionedd
Dilynwch yr Arian
Mae gennym ni mwy mewn comwn efo rhai boi ymisg mynyddoedd Catalunya
Nag efo celwyddwr efo wyneb broga syth o'r stock exchange
Sgwrs ydi
Dros yr byd. Dros bywydau. Dros blynyddoedd
A mae'n tro ni rwan. Beth fyddyn ni dweud?
Er gof, er gorff
Be di'r atebau ganddi ni at cwestynnau yr gorfennol
A ba fath o cwestynnau fyddwn ni ofyn i'r dyfodol?
Oes heddwch?
Fydd heddwch?
Wastad yr un gwestiwn.
Wastad yr un ateb:
Dim heddwch I nhw sydd heb haeddu
Dim amser I pobl efo casau yn eu galonau
Dim platfform iddi nhw. Am byth. Am byth.
