Monthly Archives: October 2011

STD’s Don’t Make Decisions, People Do

This is certainly among the longer lasting of taste sensations, I think you will agree.

There, like a barbershop quartet smoking and singing in the background of the shot.

Paws and antlers, a Tao Lin in disguise like an antelope running through the condescended to Savannah.

The Future of Mass Transit grows restless looking for a solitary company to merge with in an example of Kilimanjaro Marketing Schemes.

What is with your pin-striped dream entities; who is behind your line of questioning?

Can you bless rain David Paich, arranger of synthflute-tronics, batter of Aryan eyes.

Who is to be inoculated, when there is no such thing as safety coming in second.

Not a question an order I’d like to place at the top.

Have you ever sequined a radio wave, seen all of it the full spectrum in toto, a billboard spinning and leaving us not un-dizzy.

Not remembered, of course, because you were not born yet.

The latin for numerous number ones is somehow untranslatable in the original business model.

I would prefer to just go ahead and take the helicopter.

The surface beneath the surface looks like it is covering another surface.

Who is the giant that would help you in this dark time.

What could there be under the fingernail of Last Fall’s Fashions.

Why would you sing like that.

Not a question.

-Mark Gurarie

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Comment dites vous “the Bull’s Pajamas” en Francais?


Tao Lin was not actually harmed in this post

It’s an expression, I think, a nicer way to put something, to button it up, as it were, to sanitize not things but the ideas around them. We are softly served and wearing a waffle cone. “This is serious,” the vanilla swirl in a puddle of itself. There are sprinkles stranded in stray locks of hair. This is perhaps the moment in which it would be acceptable to collapse into a self-indulgent pile of existential despair. If public school funding had not been cut in 1986 I’d be able to translate all of this into French, which is at once somehow sexier, but also, jay nay say kwa, more danjerooze? I would be skinnier, perhaps, and feel less guilt when smoking. Apologies are no reason to watch Truffaut’s films in a theatre in which they serve wine and espresso. Sorry, then, I’d just like to put this on the Flat Screen and with commercial interruption for Puegot’s latest line of automobiles. For the last month, I have been struggling against the lack of import in this commerce and I think it is because I have always been more of an extrovert. The last century is an example of how not to solve anyone’s problems, and in fact how to make them more or less worse, or at least more or less. If you catch my drift.  Sometimes I wish I were 20 % of the world’s population. Your loud kissing slices to the core of my specifically American prudishness, by which I mean, the American Project. If I may be so bold as to speak to it, or about it, or as if I had any particular insight. I’d like to know for sure whether this qualifies as a waste of time or space or like both, and part of me would be delighted if it did. That’d be cool, hanging with French Astronauts and eating pastiche, which is a pie made from many ingredients. “Zero Djee,” perhaps one of my fellow francophonic travelers might croon, in obvious delight. But I could only nod and smile. This, then, is actually a tiny argument for the funding of public education.

-Mark Gurarie


Just a Poke Around

“Nice Horse!” he calls out riding the Spirit of American Innovation. Name of his horse, the Locomotive, three-time winner of the gadget toss. “How nice of you to drop in,” And the guns are primitive and unnecessary. Wild West meet East, are you here alone Mr. West? Yes, to defeat the cybernetic vengeance of the defeated South rising. To have some goddamn verve. To the jaws of Cerberus his Will self on the lips, when anticipation is a disinterested set of torture devices. The federal government red fire passion necks the scientist inside all of us idiotic butchers in the era before armored tanks. It will also travel via rail. I was hoping Will Smith would make an album of country songs, bluegrass crossover the train conductor is pretty sure she is more into me than into a Kevin Kline version of me. She stops the train, shows pity petticoats and an exercise in futility. The woman is a distraction, a breast of fresh air, Kevin intones. The wardrobe malfunction is a daily burden. Theirs is a train that transforms into your dream of a liberated South of the mind. A goddamn nightmare. The Federal Government will not bend to your demands in this movie. You cannot escape a prison that is not there. You cannot escape magnetism.

 


Occupation Now!

 

The Occupation would like to be recognized for what it is.

 

In the absence of this self-referential bullshit.

 

There is no room for mustache in the Revolution.

 

This time we are meant to be truly angry.

 

Please.

 

 


Shhh It’s Burning or W.W.L.W.D.?

“ I wish I could have the old days back when rappers were real men not little boys raised by wealthy parents who spent a fortune getting them a record deal.” –travincal1

“shit could easily become a new mainstream song. im feelin the beat more then anything. shits pure fire.” -overtony

Don’t get caught reading this, you will give yourself away a nerd. We are not sure but TV surgery has been known to be somewhat effective in treating the common keyboard loop. There are wide spaces everywhere if you listen for them. The nerd threatens the core of your philosophy. Yeah that article, you read it. Not to be trusted, this instrumental shouldn’t be used for an older Lil Wayne. Can there be a younger one. Do the nerd. You can do it wrong, get a man with two jobs a car and a crib to follow your twittering. What are you doing back here anyway, and why is it taking so long for you to answer? This isn’t helping, probably. The stand can be taken or if you prefer it occupied. The time is nerd! Nerds threatening other types of nerds and none a nerd the wiser. Oh, I nerd about you every day, sometimes twice. A waste of effort like a wasted nerd, a handful that will probably piss itself before you get home. I would guess that much of what Lil Wayne raps about covers for his inherent nerdiness, to the lil Dweeby in his closet. The man knows words a little too well, his shit is pure fire, a bull market in itself. “He kind of smells like library,” I am imagining you remarking, unaware that that is actual Lil Wayne. But what are you doing here, why are you looking at this:

In the end of days we will be deep fried bananas

It’s not even trying to make sense. It is not a significant source of cheddar. It is wall paper, chocolate covered and in the deep. A disc pointed slightly at the tips like the wing-like extremities of a Sting Ray. A chocolate covered nerd of a Sting Ray. Open your heart shaped box to the nerdy Sting Ray inside of your milk-chocolaty chest cavity. Now get back to it, do what you were doing, have another chip.

-Mark Gurarie