A note from dv's biceps, who thinks it's a RODIN biceps

 

 

 

 

hodie pak among the refuse of ramble a pri
m o r t     .....   al snap s_t endeed /
row

spamournAP
sys.
5/04/06.nkdee.abcnse.do.slnt_scrn( )

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(for that frenchman from Nice, no Marseille it was, yes:)

for BEN

(sorry for not being on the list anymore Ben, i grew tired of hearing myself in French)

 

Problemo#1: it's near april 8 & i haven't got a clue as to how to formulate a proposal for a certain commission program promising lots of dinero's for those who get it ( problemo#1 popped up on 4-4-06 at 01:22 local time)
Problemo #2: it's even more near to april 8, i've thought of x number of stories, including the one below (A. thinks it sucks, well A. didn't say that exactly, but hey i know it sucks)
( so now we've got ourselves a swolen as in augmentated problem on 4 -4-06 at 19:43 - yeah the English isn't perfect, what can you expect from a biceps)

let's ponder

 

i ponder ( i am rodin's biceps)

 

 

watch me ponder

 

 

 

( o

 

 

 

 

how fast you sc

 

 

 

 

 

roll)

 

 

 

 

 

( i can't k

e

e

p

 

u

p)

 

 

 

 

 

i could ponder till

 

way

[a picture of dv's biceps in its absence, aka "you might as well have some fun while you're at it"]

 

down

 

 

 

 

 

 

you know what? let's go beyond our biceptuality. Let's thingK:

 

question: do i need a commission?
answer: i don't (bicepses don't need much besides processed food)

but then our dearest k. is telling me all the time the lot of us shouldn't spent
so much time earning zilch while the bank always says zut at the end of the month instead of ping.

 

She always points at the brain when she does that, never to me, who's doing all the work.

 

You think it's funny.
It is not funny.
We argue over it. Hers against me. It ruins the possibility
of harmony in our family (like watching kids next
door with the kids, entertaining Mrs Pall from
nextdoor, whose husband got run over by a bicycle).

 

 

In earnest: she is right. Absolutely.

 

 

 

The thing up there: it should be used in a continuous effort
to transform movements of the fingers connected to my biceptuality into solid euro's.

 

instead it's sickness now is ordering me to transform the selfsame
movements to digital waste like this. You've got to admit there's a zillion other ways
of transforming the analog intensities to digital sht
that do include the making of money as a side effect.

Instead it prefers this.

 

New (ha) Cathedral (ho) of erotic (pingping!) Misery (boo).

it does not have the excuse of producing art
(it has unilaterally declared its activity to be in the order of NAârt)


it does not have the excuse of being famous
(34.548 search results for you know who, get lost you loser.
It calls itself dv to catch the ratings of a nearly outdated video format)

it does not have the excuse of contributing
(the technology it produces is rotting away an instant after its conception)


In fact it does everything in its power to ruin every good impression it leaves accidently.
It used to order drinks to be served to it until it got all whoozy, but now it's back on its old track of a certain 'cioranesque exquisitely stylish method of self-destruct called Cathedral Building'. Haha. Our Ass.

People do not pay it for opening the mouth
it passes its speech to.
When it does transform its waste into quasi-intelligable discours,
people shrug their shoulders and move on, with a little gesture of their index finger to their healthy brains or with a knowing smile on their mouths that says it all.

And when the time is right, the moment has come, it doesn't even succeed
in transforming its illusions into nice objects for display in the choosing gallery.

it's
sick prickly figgishly sick

 

 

[...THEME OF KIDS NEXT DOOR...]

 

[ waiting for theme]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[ still waiting ]

 

 

 

 

 

 

[WHERE'S THE F**** CATHEDRAL MP3 PLAYER GONE TO WHEN YOU NEED IT]

 

 

 

[ ok, imagine an MP3 player here, Cathedral style,
well you know the basic Flash 7 thing that nobody in his right mind dare
use for artistic purposes because it's so obviously propriety stuff, and bad design as well, in fact it couldn't get it sold
to one of its paying customers 'cause even commercially you can't use it without at least give it another skin]

 

 

 

 

 

 

[ok, here's that thing playing the theme of kids next door]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

IT (hush now wrath while nude it coils)

in the manner of kids next door

its sick. the clusters in yr vein
run thick. er mi o may be
hers a thinner click. it spits

sooooooooooooooo slow
2 wear s (1,2,3 to none)ome
clot hing of yr shine

it gathers none.
it does not re-collect.
it inmag machtshuns all.

si mi
crmbl wrds nt mn
si mu prrt alla

ours is humbly no 0
its a dumbo no 0
bear counts 4 no thing

k.U,

yr hundreds do

being there
here where
fountains spring

but

the meat's sick
an assis he
it's no o but asin
worm

its kiddies
lovewith
glow 4 it

none other
needs it but to be
a me to k earn

a

ring

now/nu
frst
o
f

a
l

laddy, ousy D

be 4 2 sing

 

 

You see? & as it wraps itself in sentimental gibberish,
it doesn't do shit to advance itself
in the order of money making brains.

ah well, perhaps tomorrow....

 

 

Thanks to A. B. for the kids theme, to U. A. for the thing, to P. for mythdual links, to A. S. for the editorial efforts, to L. L. C. & [m] for getting poetry in the air again, to numerous others who have inspired me throughout the day in fact i could keep on running the alphabet until time runs out of memory, but especially to ofcourse k. for her continuing effort to keep up with me. Now whom did i get the Rodin thing from? Yees, my memory is running low on muscles again, it must have been the fair one, D. or N. or A.

 

dv's biceps

Special thanks to K's Academy
(including kv practising Bach's invention nr 6 on the piano, cv & av drawing along with me, tv nicely asleep (he's no longer afraid of sleeping alone now, thank you) and our dog neo for being such an adult dog about it all.