NOT COLD ;

keeping a facetious diary of the human crisis (pdf, side-stapled A4)

in three episodes.

a contemptible existence
in which the city
is your gymnasium.
contemptible because
unless you run
on the spot,
climb stairs
on the spot,
etc, you get
depressed.

“one writes so as to bring fear into a determinate form and make it more bearable” :(((((((((((((((((((

You get more out of the web, you get more out of life.

“I guess we’ve both got it.”

at last, our full attention …

In the earphone words, slow and uncertain, formed: circular thoughts of no importance, fragments of the mysterious dream which she now dwelt in. How did it feel, he wondered, to be in half-life? He could never fathom it from what Ella told him; the basis of it, the experience of it, couldn’t really be transmitted. Gravity, she had told him, once; it begins not to affect you and you float, more and more. When half-life is over, she had said, I think you float out of the System, out into the stars. But she did not know either; she only wondered and conjectured. She did not, however, seem afraid. Or unhappy.

“the [ x ] in me will hide sometimes – to keep from being seen”

—dude, we should just move to the top of a mountain. spit down.

There is a dying worse than death, which consists in a loved one killing in themselves the image through which we lived in them. We “go out” in them. THIS CAN RESULT FROM RADIATION THAT WE GIVE OFF. Quietly, the petals close themselves.

—is that angel pointing a remote control towards the sky?
—it’s a broken off object?! or cell phone pic taking ya know?
—ticket
—to the no future
—there’s only one left
—one ticket to the no arm present
—qst is who wants to go
—back to that same old place
—beneath the underdog