Spitting Come

I don't what it is about it, being lost, that scared you so much that time, I realised I've wanted to die so many times that I can float. Do you know it means to die? Probably not. I woke up with my heart beating in a panic. I flogged my inanimate dick last night. I was sleepless at 2:45 in the morning in Tokyo I switched on the tv and the manchester derby was on japanese television. Sometimes things are so accelerated for me they make me want to spit my come down on the faces of all the people I used to see. I was there. 4-3. I was there. Even the TV screamed when they scored and all the japanese characters turned into english as they ran. Manchester United 4 - Manchester City 3. I was there.

-LPM

Just been eating pasta with figs, pasta with fresh artichokes, pasta with sardines and sultanas, lasagna, breaded turkey with potatoes, cassata, perfu

med Neapolitan cake, cake with pinenuts, mirto liquor, a selection from 100 ice creams, custard donuts, potatoes with porcini, tuna wrapped in aubergine. 4-4-2

Schmeichel

Cafu Nesta Ferdinand R. Carlos

R. Keane

Iniesta Maradona


Zidane


Ronaldo Inzaghi


-AP

Ernesto Colnago

Where we been? Where the boys been? Haha just popped for a quick suck off underneath the bridge haha. We gave her an extra twenty bucks and said wait that’s for the guy who rides past on his colnago around six thirty in the evening, she said colnago yeah I had Ernesto here once grabbed his head while he was doing me and pulled off his hair, I mean his wig, you know, yeah I know Ernesto, no no we said to her the kid is called Lodovico he rrrides a colnago ok?

-LPM

comment; raw egg in beer

While painting out the shades of the white square, the gambler indulged himself in thoughts…
During the last year, a strong contempt, to which he had always been inclined, had grown fiercer. His gnawing hatred of humanity had reached such a pitch, that the sight of a disagreeable person, or most people he knew, would etch itself into his brain so deeply, as to require several days for its imprint to be even slightly dulled; a touch of a human form, brushed against in the streets, was a most excruciating torment and he would return to his room in a rage and lock himself in with his books and greasy racing posts.
Here he pickled himself in letters and gambling; everything vanished in the dust from those galloping horses. He was not one to romanticise loosing in this game; a systematic winner, he started to see overwhelming patterns of time floating before his eyes through the hooves of the speeding beasts…shiny numbers, tensed veins, all this made up a real engagement with the pure duration of a detached life
It turned his stomach, the look of disgust and disappointment he received from questioning faces on finding out this was sole occupation. It infuriated him beyond measures; who the fuck were they? WHAT the fuck were they?
And thus, he eventually became a complete recluse (was it even a choice?). Ready to beat the world on half seconds, he took off on his own ... A n y w h e r e o u t o f t h i s w o r l d.

TMR

Raw Egg In A Beer

fuck everybody, tossers, can we just win this so we can fuck off and retire, and write, im tired, and angry, ive been reading against nature, there is a passage in it where he describes des esseintes walking down the street, and all he is thinking about is smacking someone around the face because they're so fucking stupid...john the number of people who look at me like i have a disease when they ask what im doing, and i answer that im watching and betting on horse racing, is enough to turn my stomach, the look in their eyes is disgust and disappointment, it infuriates me, disappointment pah, who the fuck are they? what the fuck are they? they have no fucking clue, "slaves give birth to slaves" snarls Nikolai Luzhin, i cant wait to leave it all behind, only a you understand the work that i put in, and only a few know that this is a way out, a way out of the shit, i was walking today in the sun and was watching my shadow, i was amazed at how calm it was, it was just floating, it wasnt walking, it was floating, completely at ease with where and what it was doing, i tried to imitate it, i want to be a shadow in this city, "i dont wanna be a product of my environment, i want my environment to be a product of me" F. Costello

TH

Analysis 1

How and why did the future change???
As unemployment becomes an increasing reality, how might we think of unemployment as an artistic and philosophical category?
TMR

The Evening

I thought the glory… the world would be at my feet… as I punched the air with one fist… everybody watching me… the glory… the world at my feet…  satisfaction is, obviously, having nothing left to do, imagine!  And… the piss-stinking city was below me, me… ha ha… I am scorched pink earth (THAT EVENING I DIDN’T DISTINGUISH THE EARTH FROM THE SKY, horizon)… the world actually streams out from my head… like tending to the plants on my small balcony.  It’s true.

When I can’t sleep… or who knows when (actually that this thing is happening)… aching for… I think… it’s all a question of this battle with death… I run to suicide inventing all before me…

with nothing behind your eyelids… only the world is a couple of lines I invented… until youth hits some extreme exhaustion like a truck running straight into a wall at 90 clicks in the middle of the night with the high beams on…  And what then may await us?  … Your head in the stars.

And then refuse to die, as if the shell of yourself can keep going… without anything to distinguish itself from a shell.  This being your pathetic will, I imagine, and I admire it.   Everything after youth merely refusing death… in a straight line, any other discourse being deviant bullshit.

-LPM