Sunday, 18 November 2012
A very polite letter indeed
hello neighbour
this is a polite message from you new neighbour please forgive any errors in my writing as english is not my primary language.
i am writing to say hello!! i am new and would like for us to get on very well as good neighbours are made to be. to help get on with you i am going to
1. i will not make loud noises with music or my voice after eleven at night and until seven in the morning.
2. i will keep my house clean and tidy so as not to attract pests!!
3. in the mornings i will be polite and share greetings with you and if you would like a conversation we can have a small conversation.
we are not friends, even though this is a polite message. i have had very bad neighbours before who have caused trouble and touched my personal property and been inside my house. i am sure you are very nice and you are going to treat this polite message as a piece of information that i would like to be treated in the same way as i will treat you, especially with the noises in the night and the CLEAN and TIDY house!! i have had too many problems with pests and animals before and it is not me who has the reason for the problem.
i do not want to have the door knocked on for any reason. if you need something from me please QUIETLY leave a note and i will deal with it in a polite way. i also do not normally use my parking space so if you need to use it that is okay and you do not have to ask, except for if it is the first sunday of the month when i receive a very important delivery. please MAKE SURE to keep my parking space clear then.
please be aware that i grow tomatoes and tomatoes are poisonous to cats so please if you can encourage them not to come into my garden, so they are safe. i will also encourage cats not to come into my garden.
if you have a dog that barks in the night i would be happy to help pay for training so it does not bark. i like to have a very quiet night for my rest.
if you have mice or rats or you hear any sort of mouse or rat PLEASE let me know VERY QUICKLY!! i do not like them and i can not have them in my house at all. i am sure you understand. it is very important to me.
if you would like to say hello!! to me that is very nice of you as a good neighbour should be. i would welcome a letter in return or a conversation in the mornings as i have mentioned.
to finish it i am in hope you will be a very good and clean neighbour and you will not touch anything in my house and we will not have any disagreements.
mister twyss
Wednesday, 14 November 2012
How The World Was Sung
At the start of the song that is the story that is the world, there is only Bes.
Back then when things were dark and strange, Bes was lonely, so she started to make little bubbles of life. Some bubbles were big and simple and lasted a long time; these are the souls of the trees. Some bubbles were flurries of activity, briefly spawning new bubbles before popping; together this stream of bubbles became the fizz of the insect-folk, scurrying and swimming and making the world alive in their quiet way. And so on Mama Bes went, making bubbles and life more and more complicated, until she decided to make people.
Bes didn't really have a shape yet, or a name, because she'd not made anything that could think about her properly. So she decided to make a new ape, one which stood up and was clever enough to know her. So Bes made bubbles for these apes and put part of herself into the bubbles, as well as life. These were the first people; and straight away when they saw Bes, they decided what she looked like.
Bes looked like a girl of about 17, who was 16 feet tall. She had coiled brown hair down to her neck, and her skin was the colour of hazelnuts. And the people she'd made called her Mama Bes and told her what she looked like, and Mama Bes was pleased. And she wandered the world, meeting the people and their children and their children's children, and for a long time she was not lonely.
But then she started seeing how the people loved each other, and thought that that was most fine. So she took one of the little monkeys, and stretched him out until he was as tall as a man, and breathed more life into him, and more love, and more joy, and so she made Papa Tan.
Papa Tan was and is a happy little fellow, and he likes jokes and tricks and lying in the sun because part of him, like part of us, is still a happy little monkey. And he loved Mama Bes with all his heart, and she loved him too.
Papa Tan wanted to get Mama Bes something special, and so he went to wander the world to find her a gift to enjoy. As he went, he sang to the rocks and the rivers and the sky, even though they were not alive; and because Papa Tan was a god, the world came a little bit alive because he sang it so, and it is still a little bit alive now.
So Papa Tan talked to the world, and it whispered to him what he should give Mama Bes- and Papa Tan loved the idea, because it would really be a gift for everyone, but for him and Mama Bes most of all. So he went to Mama Bes and said that they should make children together like the people do, and Mama Bes was most pleased with this suggestion.
And so they made children together, and they had two sets of twins- one pair of which was joined in the body and the mind, LockSal, and one pair of which were as different as could be, Froff and the Judge. And these children grew up and went about the world, and did what they thought was right and talked to people until they were Gods as well.
Lock and Sal were brother and sister, and both handsome and fine- they were joined up the back, and they concerned themselves with the love of two people in the dark, where they become as close as Lock and Sal are. One of them is more concerned with the pleasant feelings people's bodies get when they touch and hold and sex each other, and the other is more concerned with the pleasant feelings the mind gets when two people think and hope and love together, but they can never remember which is which. They won't admit that if you ask them.
The Judge's face is like a mirror, and he is tall and stern and honest, and he concerns himself with the way people lived. After they die, he makes them look at what they did without any of the lies they told themselves, and then makes them decide what should be done with what was inside their bubble. He is hard-working and strict, and he only ever wants people to do the right thing. He is not forgiving, because it is not his nature.
Froff does not look like a man at all, but more like a big furry beast, with a comfortable mane and a deep, numbing purr. He concerns himself with comfort and security and the release of sleep and narcotics, and being around him is like sitting in an opium den- you can feel your worries and cares and self getting more and more distant, until all there is is his deep, safe purr, and sleep eternal. He rarely leaves his house, but people come to visit it all the time; he only enjoys their company for a while but makes no effort to stop them leaving.
This was the way of the world and the Gods for a long time, but then there was something new. People started to make little suns, and take them inside to read and draw and play and live like it was day even when it was dark and cold, and Papa Tan loved this. He said to Mama Bes that they should make a child to celebrate and protect the little suns, and so they made Sunn together. Sunn is a child who loves to read and play and do experiments, and he wants to know everything so much that he always spins as he walks, so as to see everything. He thinks that his name is something secret that he has to find, so he looks after all the little suns people use to heat themselves and light their knowledge. Everyone else knows his name is Sunn, but he says that that is just what he's called until he finds his real name. Some evenings, you'll see him fishing with Papa Tan, and he'll look like an old man with a strange little smile, and you'll wonder if he's already found what he’s looking for and just likes watching people find stories.
This was the way of almost all the Gods, but there were two left to come. First, Mama Bes was suddenly always pregnant, and ready to give birth tomorrow. Always since then she has been ready to give birth tomorrow, and her baby is called Hope, and is always just about to be born. The other Gods all wait for it to be born, but Hope can never really live, or someone would be disappointed- Hope is happy to exist just behind a veil of existence, almost ready to see everything.
Lastly, there was a man called Yeshua, who wanted everyone to be better to each other, and was looked upon with great interest by all the gods except Froff, who never was interested in anything. And he was killed for saying that people should be better to each other, and when he died Mama Bes rewarded his hope by making him a god, and the advocate for everyone who dies and meets the Judge. So now, when you die, you'll have Yeshua the Advocate standing at your side, and telling you not to be so hard on yourself, and he'll quote precedent at you and go bowling with you and take you out to tango until you stop being so hard on yourself. He wears a nice suit, and always says he needs a holiday but never takes one. You would like him. You can give him a card on his birthday by giving it to someone else, and he will be embarrassed but secretly quite grateful.
These are the Gods who live now; Mama Bes, Papa Tan, LockSal, the Judge, Froff, Sunn, and Yeshua the Advocate. Hope is always about to live. And all of them watch your stories, and dance with you.
Back then when things were dark and strange, Bes was lonely, so she started to make little bubbles of life. Some bubbles were big and simple and lasted a long time; these are the souls of the trees. Some bubbles were flurries of activity, briefly spawning new bubbles before popping; together this stream of bubbles became the fizz of the insect-folk, scurrying and swimming and making the world alive in their quiet way. And so on Mama Bes went, making bubbles and life more and more complicated, until she decided to make people.
Bes didn't really have a shape yet, or a name, because she'd not made anything that could think about her properly. So she decided to make a new ape, one which stood up and was clever enough to know her. So Bes made bubbles for these apes and put part of herself into the bubbles, as well as life. These were the first people; and straight away when they saw Bes, they decided what she looked like.
Bes looked like a girl of about 17, who was 16 feet tall. She had coiled brown hair down to her neck, and her skin was the colour of hazelnuts. And the people she'd made called her Mama Bes and told her what she looked like, and Mama Bes was pleased. And she wandered the world, meeting the people and their children and their children's children, and for a long time she was not lonely.
But then she started seeing how the people loved each other, and thought that that was most fine. So she took one of the little monkeys, and stretched him out until he was as tall as a man, and breathed more life into him, and more love, and more joy, and so she made Papa Tan.
Papa Tan was and is a happy little fellow, and he likes jokes and tricks and lying in the sun because part of him, like part of us, is still a happy little monkey. And he loved Mama Bes with all his heart, and she loved him too.
Papa Tan wanted to get Mama Bes something special, and so he went to wander the world to find her a gift to enjoy. As he went, he sang to the rocks and the rivers and the sky, even though they were not alive; and because Papa Tan was a god, the world came a little bit alive because he sang it so, and it is still a little bit alive now.
So Papa Tan talked to the world, and it whispered to him what he should give Mama Bes- and Papa Tan loved the idea, because it would really be a gift for everyone, but for him and Mama Bes most of all. So he went to Mama Bes and said that they should make children together like the people do, and Mama Bes was most pleased with this suggestion.
And so they made children together, and they had two sets of twins- one pair of which was joined in the body and the mind, LockSal, and one pair of which were as different as could be, Froff and the Judge. And these children grew up and went about the world, and did what they thought was right and talked to people until they were Gods as well.
Lock and Sal were brother and sister, and both handsome and fine- they were joined up the back, and they concerned themselves with the love of two people in the dark, where they become as close as Lock and Sal are. One of them is more concerned with the pleasant feelings people's bodies get when they touch and hold and sex each other, and the other is more concerned with the pleasant feelings the mind gets when two people think and hope and love together, but they can never remember which is which. They won't admit that if you ask them.
The Judge's face is like a mirror, and he is tall and stern and honest, and he concerns himself with the way people lived. After they die, he makes them look at what they did without any of the lies they told themselves, and then makes them decide what should be done with what was inside their bubble. He is hard-working and strict, and he only ever wants people to do the right thing. He is not forgiving, because it is not his nature.
Froff does not look like a man at all, but more like a big furry beast, with a comfortable mane and a deep, numbing purr. He concerns himself with comfort and security and the release of sleep and narcotics, and being around him is like sitting in an opium den- you can feel your worries and cares and self getting more and more distant, until all there is is his deep, safe purr, and sleep eternal. He rarely leaves his house, but people come to visit it all the time; he only enjoys their company for a while but makes no effort to stop them leaving.
This was the way of the world and the Gods for a long time, but then there was something new. People started to make little suns, and take them inside to read and draw and play and live like it was day even when it was dark and cold, and Papa Tan loved this. He said to Mama Bes that they should make a child to celebrate and protect the little suns, and so they made Sunn together. Sunn is a child who loves to read and play and do experiments, and he wants to know everything so much that he always spins as he walks, so as to see everything. He thinks that his name is something secret that he has to find, so he looks after all the little suns people use to heat themselves and light their knowledge. Everyone else knows his name is Sunn, but he says that that is just what he's called until he finds his real name. Some evenings, you'll see him fishing with Papa Tan, and he'll look like an old man with a strange little smile, and you'll wonder if he's already found what he’s looking for and just likes watching people find stories.
This was the way of almost all the Gods, but there were two left to come. First, Mama Bes was suddenly always pregnant, and ready to give birth tomorrow. Always since then she has been ready to give birth tomorrow, and her baby is called Hope, and is always just about to be born. The other Gods all wait for it to be born, but Hope can never really live, or someone would be disappointed- Hope is happy to exist just behind a veil of existence, almost ready to see everything.
Lastly, there was a man called Yeshua, who wanted everyone to be better to each other, and was looked upon with great interest by all the gods except Froff, who never was interested in anything. And he was killed for saying that people should be better to each other, and when he died Mama Bes rewarded his hope by making him a god, and the advocate for everyone who dies and meets the Judge. So now, when you die, you'll have Yeshua the Advocate standing at your side, and telling you not to be so hard on yourself, and he'll quote precedent at you and go bowling with you and take you out to tango until you stop being so hard on yourself. He wears a nice suit, and always says he needs a holiday but never takes one. You would like him. You can give him a card on his birthday by giving it to someone else, and he will be embarrassed but secretly quite grateful.
These are the Gods who live now; Mama Bes, Papa Tan, LockSal, the Judge, Froff, Sunn, and Yeshua the Advocate. Hope is always about to live. And all of them watch your stories, and dance with you.
Thursday, 25 October 2012
Orientation
S29UYTN8dfpcuj][CW; aaaaaaaaasssssssssss.s.ss.sSYTHERE
EASYTHERE, KIDDDD
CooL YOUR JETS, alright?
You understand me Now>>?
Okay/. Okay, I think you're
getting the hang of
it.
This is how it is only for a little, bit, alright?
I know you're all messed up and there are
peop le you're missing but first you're got to pull yourself
tog
eth
ewr
WHoa, get, back, stable there, here we go, now you've got it.
Phew!
Look, it's not that bad. Question answered, right? There is something afterwards, and this is it. It just takes a little while to get yourself lined up enough to make sense of it. It's like being a baby all over again, new sights and sounds and all, except you don't have the tools you used to have to filter things out. There's only two things to worry about, alright? If you fall apAART again- Stp thaaat-
come oonNNN
there we are! Knew you could do it. And that's how we keep ourselves together. You can do that over and over. The other thing is harder to deal with so you've got to watch out for it, and that's falling in on yourself- focussing on one thing over and over and over and stop that and over and over and STOP THAT or I will have to and over and over and K!!"dh808
@nfd]!!
"*D
NHXUYettt
sorrrccy
Okay tthere
I had to breaky ou out of that one, and that hurts you a hell of a lot more than it hurts me. Spirals are rough. The shorter they are the easier they are to break, though. You usually need an outside influence to reach in and pop it, and you've got me. Everyone gets mentored for a little while. Heck, even I make mistakes sometimes, even now.
Now, I'm going to leave you aloone for a little while now- you seem to be getting more stable- and we'll find out whether you tend to spiral in or fall apart. And when we've found out, you have to try to pull yourself out of iton your own- no help- and then we'll keep doing that until you can be y'know, yourself. On your own. And then we'll get you someone to mentor. Don't worry, if you get stuck I'll come and get you eventually. You'll still be you. You'll get the hang of it.
You'll get the hang of it.
You'll get the hang of it..
You'll get the hang of it...
You'll get the hang of it...........................
You'll ge tthe hang of it.
You'llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllgetta
Yolgethangofiittt
upi#;; hry yjr jsmh pg oy/
fjeiw 0w33 sa0jfcms
OFPECWPWkdw3-#
S29UYTN8df
Monday, 1 October 2012
For you, Empress
For you
I would search every stone on a grey pebble beach
until I found one that reminded me of you
somehow
something in the curving quartz that reminds me of your smile
or a piece of volcanic glass that makes me remember
the day you unleashed cleansing fire across half the world
For you
I would walk forever
through wood and hill and desert
one foot in front of the other, until I came home to you
and seventy-five percent of those walking with me had collapsed
in accordance with your population-control edicts
(which
I must add
are both reasonable and elegant)
For you
I would build a mighty statue
that spoke of your wisdom and your care
the world held protected in the crook of your arm
and your eyes, your beautiful eyes
would be your thousand-megawatt execution lasers
with which you destroy all traitors
roasting them to a crisp in the noonday sun
as the crowd chants your voice in delight and applauds
For you
I would start this evening again
and I would not allow you to confuse my expression of rapturous joy
at being selected as your paramour
with any sort of terror
(as though
I could be scared of you
when you protect us so well)
For you
I would do anything
so please
put down the gun
and kiss me
Monday, 17 September 2012
The End of the World
"Ragnarok" is a modern corruption, of course. The old term was written "Ragnarokkr" in the romanic alphabet, and better written "RAGNARAGR", and these days best written TAGCATAGT , in the modern vernacular of our life-acid; those things we know not in our bones but in our every cell, written instructions for heart-engines, fingernails, and the end of days. Ragnarok writ small. Waiting to awaken.
Wednesday, 12 September 2012
Be A Better Man: Excerpt 1
Chapter Sixteen, Time and the Thing You Used To Be , Question Journey 3: What if?
What if you're not the same person today as you were yesterday?
What if you won't be you again tomorrow?
What if you drowned someone just like you?
What if you saved you from yourself?
What if you were a fractal of destruction?
What if there's someone new underneath your skin?
What if your skin is all that's keeping them in?
What if their eyes burn like digital static?
What if your new skin grates and peels at the edges of reality?
What if I replaced your brain with robotic neurons?
What if I already did it?
What if I am yesterday's you?
What if you did this to yourself?
What if you are not yourself after you change?
What if a tattoo is mutilating someone you don't know yet?
What if you could read your own mind?
What if you hesitated at the top of the stairs?
What if you didn't?
What if you could fly?
What if you can fly and you don't know it?
What if you test it?
What if you can be better?
What if you should be better?
What if there's a you outside yourself just waiting to exist?
What if they're happy?
What if they need you?
What if they need you to fly?
What if you can't really swim?
What if knowledge doesn't carry?
What if you forgot you could play the violin?
What if you forgot you could read?
What if you could read this anyway?
What if you throw your identity to your future self?
What if they fumble?
What if you fumbled?
What if you refuse to catch it and peel your skin off?
What if there's marble underneath?
What if you could say exactly what you think?
What if you can never talk to yourself?
What if you shout into the future and wait for the new you to hear it?
What if they laugh at you?
What if who you are now is laughable?
What if the new you knows how small you are?
What if they know how badly you've thought it through?
What if you can never fly?
What if they can?
What if you are different now than you were when you started reading this?
What if the old you could shout something to you?
Don't listen. Drop it. Laugh at them.
They have no idea who you've become.
You're almost ready to fly.
What if you're not the same person today as you were yesterday?
What if you won't be you again tomorrow?
What if you drowned someone just like you?
What if you saved you from yourself?
What if you were a fractal of destruction?
What if there's someone new underneath your skin?
What if your skin is all that's keeping them in?
What if their eyes burn like digital static?
What if your new skin grates and peels at the edges of reality?
What if I replaced your brain with robotic neurons?
What if I already did it?
What if I am yesterday's you?
What if you did this to yourself?
What if you are not yourself after you change?
What if a tattoo is mutilating someone you don't know yet?
What if you could read your own mind?
What if you hesitated at the top of the stairs?
What if you didn't?
What if you could fly?
What if you can fly and you don't know it?
What if you test it?
What if you can be better?
What if you should be better?
What if there's a you outside yourself just waiting to exist?
What if they're happy?
What if they need you?
What if they need you to fly?
What if you can't really swim?
What if knowledge doesn't carry?
What if you forgot you could play the violin?
What if you forgot you could read?
What if you could read this anyway?
What if you throw your identity to your future self?
What if they fumble?
What if you fumbled?
What if you refuse to catch it and peel your skin off?
What if there's marble underneath?
What if you could say exactly what you think?
What if you can never talk to yourself?
What if you shout into the future and wait for the new you to hear it?
What if they laugh at you?
What if who you are now is laughable?
What if the new you knows how small you are?
What if they know how badly you've thought it through?
What if you can never fly?
What if they can?
What if you are different now than you were when you started reading this?
What if the old you could shout something to you?
Don't listen. Drop it. Laugh at them.
They have no idea who you've become.
You're almost ready to fly.
Friday, 31 August 2012
Missing
She isn't there.
In the morning, I roll over and half-smile in
reflex
before reality creeps into my too-cold bones and reminds me
It's too quiet in the morning
and there's no music
she took it with her
so I dredge my memory
pull up the sunken places and forgotten days
polish them all off
build a fiction of her from spun thought and the dawn's light
she is far less fascinating than the real thing
and she doesn't make me giggle
snort into my cola and bang my teeth on the edge of the glass
when she is gone
i lose my laughter somewhere secret.
She takes it with her.
I'm so glad she's coming home.
In the morning, I roll over and half-smile in
reflex
before reality creeps into my too-cold bones and reminds me
It's too quiet in the morning
and there's no music
she took it with her
so I dredge my memory
pull up the sunken places and forgotten days
polish them all off
build a fiction of her from spun thought and the dawn's light
she is far less fascinating than the real thing
and she doesn't make me giggle
snort into my cola and bang my teeth on the edge of the glass
when she is gone
i lose my laughter somewhere secret.
She takes it with her.
I'm so glad she's coming home.
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