The current question:
Do this?
Do that?
It is the Stuckiness,
is it not?
To approach the situation:
From bottom?
From
top?
Wherever the Stuckiness
is?
Or not?
In this inflection:
It’s bliss.
It’s rot.
Always the Stuckiness
in the pot.
Always the Stuckiness,
cold
or hot.
The Stuckiness is in you:
Like it?
Or not?
As meaningless as Stuckiness:
AI bot.
As useless as your Stuckiness:
Still blood clots.
I want to be a Forest Man
I wanna be Orang Utan
Can talk but I don’t wanna chat
Cause they’ll make me work and fuck fuck that
But they’ve burned my house
Filled my homeland up with smoke
And there’s nowhere left to hide
I ain’t made to be inside
Old man of the forest
Didn’t know I was a problem
Naked ape of the city
So much knowledge you’re forgotten
If you need some trees
I can spare one two or three
But you never come and ask
Now that’s just rude and that’s a fact
But you won’t step up to tell me
What your issue is with being friendly
What’s so wrong with living a life of grace
You’re a coward little pinkie who won’t tell it to my face
Yeah you’re pretty tough behind the chainsaw there
No wonder your women choose the wildest bears
It’s not enough to burn your own homes like fools
So you find somebody else’s and set light to all theirs too
I am the only Forest Man
You named me an Orang Utan
Can talk but I don’t wanna chat
Cause they’ll make me work and fuck fuck that
Yeah fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck
fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck that
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.
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every answer is a pronouncement therefore any subsequent second hand writing up of the pronouncements is immediately out of date even if true and in this case the journalist is acting as the anticulturalist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
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.
