Watch the K Foundation burn a million quid

Watching this video makes me giddy. The world seems to peel back and the ground folds away beneath you, and if you concentrate on it in just the right way, you can step through the portal, temporarily, into a zone or region completely unlike anyplace you’ve ever been or ever will.

Chapter 5 – conclusions.

Well this is weird: twitter account swapping

So Sam Crisp tweeted the following a day ago, and I only just saw it:

Who wants to run my twitter account for a week? See what happens lol

I thought it was a good idea, and something I’ve been interested in ever since discovering semi-public account @crashtxt, but I thought we could do one better – what about if we swapped twitter accounts? What the hell would that do? Would we both lose followers in the confusion? Or would we gain interested new fans and observers? How do I navigate the fact that Sam’s account is protected? Who will show up in Sam’s stream that I don’t follow, or worse, who is protected that I would not normally get to see?!

And what about the threat of “missing” important things (insofar as anything at all ‘important’ happens on twitter) that happen on my timeline? How will I cope with the more relaxed pace of Sam’s quite minimal 158 following count?! If I tweet at my normal rate, am I going to box all Sam’s followers out? Likewise, what will Sam think of my very disrespectful 666 following stream, one that I long ago gave up following with any particular attentiveness?

I’m writing a big thesis chunk this week (I wrote about 2-3k words yesterday, which felt great and was an important boost) so will I appreciate the lessened distraction of twitter, spend more time lurking the profiles of the people I most interact with, or just spend it on Facebook instead?

This comes off the back of a week on Facebook in which my 2x housemates and their circle of friends all “stole” my identity on Facebook (a pic of Tony Abbott sipping out of a pink child’s teacup) and assumed some form of variation on my name. It was all very confusing and chaotic and excellent for a while there. I should post about that exercise but it requires a bit more detail.

Thesis tribulations

I’ve found that sometimes the biggest impediment when it comes to actually sitting down and writing a certain thesis section is un-thinking the things that I had thought about that section prior and which now… are incomplete, wrong, or just don’t fit the argument. It’s like my provisional thoughts – having had some before – actually blocks the process of forming coherent complete thoughts in the present. Weird. WEIRD.

This has been a tweet.

Untitled, 1920 (Murdering Airplane) by Max Ernst


Christ who flies higher than the aviators…
Icarus Enoch Elijah Apollonius of Tyrana
Hover near the original airplane…
Everyone eagle phoenix phis
Fraternizes with the flying machine.

– Guillaume Apollinaire, “Zone”

I’m writing about Max Ernst, dadaist and surrealist painter/collage/sculptor/artist and his fierce exploration of Hybrid beings. Neither machine nor men, but something like a God; a Cylon.

Hunter S. Thompson could write

From an essay in The Great Shark Hunt (p.201), titled ‘PRESENTING: THE RICHARD NIXON DOLL (OVERHAULED 1968 MODEL)’, originally published in Pageant, 1968:

“At one point I was making notes near the studio door when it suddenly flew open and two of Nixon’s staffers came at me in a very menacing way. ‘What are you writing?’ snapped one.

‘Notes,’ I said.

‘Well, write them on the other side of the room,’ said the other. ‘Don’t stand around this door.’

So I went to the other side of the room and made some more notes about the strange, paranoid behaviour that had puzzled me for the past few days. And then I went back to the Holiday Inn and waited…”

“Mainstream poetry”

Kasey Silem Mohammad:

So what would it mean for poetry to be truly mainstream? It would have to be aggressively public, perhaps–distributed via mass mailing or spam messages, say. It would have to be as shameless as television in its bid to engage new readers, and even, potentially, make money. Imagine that: poetry that made money. Do you feel a bristling in your blood at the hint of sacrilege? What shall I do with all the money my new, Mainstream poetry is going to make…? After I pay off my student loans and credit card debts, maybe I’ll finance a series of poetry billboards that respond electronically to the radio signals from passing cars and compose digital aleatory compositions designed to influence the way people shop for fabric. Maybe I’ll fund a political party whose platform involves the legalization of plagiarism. Maybe I’ll pay some high school kids to translate the Iliad homophonically and have homeless people read the results on cable access TV. Although it would make more sense to pay the homeless people, wouldn’t it? You see how anarchically irrational and unfair poetry in the real world would be!



Words and Pictures


The trouble is — whatever it is about pictures, photographs

it’s just about impossible to follow up

with words

They don’t have anything to do with each other.

Art — or what we call that

You can love it and appreciate it,

But you can’t really talk about it.

Doesn’t make any sense.