Attempted a philosophical exercise intended to release me from the universe’s ethical chains. It was in reality something of a poor version of crime and punishment; I stole some money and put it on a horse in the belief that the universe would conspire to make me win and so help me on my way to becoming a superman: no longer fettered by the chains of morality da di da… Raskilnikov went to prison and my horse lost. So it has gone with most of my projects of this kind, though in my youth I managed to subvert nearly all of my inherited morality; a process that has indelibly marked me with a deep distrust of youth. An attitude inevitably placing me at odds with a society that so venerates tight bald innocence. We are all given a moment in life when we may reform or erase everything grace has provided in that brief, eternal spell from birth to the first sticky sprouting of tufting aggressive indolence and self assurance. For me it was an impossibly angry blackness, ignorance tinted and flecked with Sicilian intractability, the fundamental problems with this project are painfully obvious in hindsight and hysterically accurate as my present analysis may be it does very little to ease my subsequent psychological distress. My psyche like a woman scorned; hates the part of myself rejected by my ‘brothers’ and hates more the brothers. Significant in this fractured narrative is an uncle who only showed awe in the light of my transgressions: pride in his nephew’s atrocities. At drunken wedding he would warn with glee the weak white progeny of his recent wife: “they will kick off your door while you sleep! Or even while you’re awake! They don’t care! They’ll do anything! Those boys… my boys… my boy.”
“Thanks dad”
But to be fair my dad is dead and would have singularly disapproved, disavowed and disowned all those things than are the preserve of the living. Unless you are Confucian. And it was perhaps for that reason; desiring direct interference from my ancestors, ancestor. I adopted a friend’s Chinese family: ate eggs filled with ducklings, dropped ‘l’s’ and gambled.
Tuesday 26 February 2008
Thursday 21 February 2008
On Fugu
It was at lunch in a restaurant that shall remain nameless that I first tasted Rape Beef. The eatery in question was a -----/--------/---- brassiere specializing in said bovine delicacy. It is said that RB combines all the elements of our most popular meat based treats while at once addressing the desire in present in most modern men to transgress vicariously; it allows the diner to participate in a positive orgy of blood lust and depravity during lunch and without his needing to change shoes.
On request a diner could obtain a biography, of some poor beast; complete with a written description of its final days, or for a significant surcharge a video of highlights from the killing floor. It is not difficult to deduce the target demographic for this cuisine. What did prove surprising was the popularity of RB among the legions of progressively minded ethical consumers.
Inevitably things could at times become slightly over heated: usually at the weekends and during the evening service, this was mostly down to an excess of alcohol, but on occasion the meat or more accurately the meat menu was to blame; there were several instances of wealthy patrons being asked to leave after they were found to be excessively aroused by the whole experience. There was no malice in these expulsions and the disruptive patrons were inevitably re-admitted to conclude their meal once they had relieved themselves at a nearby facility, as such a degree of symbiosis existed between the two establishments it was decided that they should merge. This decision was taken exclusively by the management and initially met with serious resistance from both sets of workers. I am told that the ethical custom dropped off around this time. And though at the time this was of little concern in the burgeoning economic climate it can now be seen as a definite turning point. In time cross-pollination twixt the brothel and bistro (sorry) had led to the most controversial/progressive/illegal service: namely rape rape. As you can no doubt see; by the time I came to eat there the initial premise of my story had collapsed under the weight of inevitability that is I suppose a human inevitability. I don’t know when it went wrong was it when the men from the sex trade got involved? Was it when the ethical eaters left? Or was it all fucked the moment it started? Rape beef indeed!
On request a diner could obtain a biography, of some poor beast; complete with a written description of its final days, or for a significant surcharge a video of highlights from the killing floor. It is not difficult to deduce the target demographic for this cuisine. What did prove surprising was the popularity of RB among the legions of progressively minded ethical consumers.
Inevitably things could at times become slightly over heated: usually at the weekends and during the evening service, this was mostly down to an excess of alcohol, but on occasion the meat or more accurately the meat menu was to blame; there were several instances of wealthy patrons being asked to leave after they were found to be excessively aroused by the whole experience. There was no malice in these expulsions and the disruptive patrons were inevitably re-admitted to conclude their meal once they had relieved themselves at a nearby facility, as such a degree of symbiosis existed between the two establishments it was decided that they should merge. This decision was taken exclusively by the management and initially met with serious resistance from both sets of workers. I am told that the ethical custom dropped off around this time. And though at the time this was of little concern in the burgeoning economic climate it can now be seen as a definite turning point. In time cross-pollination twixt the brothel and bistro (sorry) had led to the most controversial/progressive/illegal service: namely rape rape. As you can no doubt see; by the time I came to eat there the initial premise of my story had collapsed under the weight of inevitability that is I suppose a human inevitability. I don’t know when it went wrong was it when the men from the sex trade got involved? Was it when the ethical eaters left? Or was it all fucked the moment it started? Rape beef indeed!
Saturday 16 February 2008
an article too grounded in short fiction
Could you come down to the prayer room? We seem to have a problem.
The same problem?
Yes.
Is it another lay practitioner?
No, I’m afraid that this time it’s a novice. Classic case: as with the others he is showing external signs of some deep inner peace.
External signs… a deep inner peace?
Yes. It was the Wednesday meeting you see.
Yes. Has he anything to say?
Yes it’s beautiful really, enigmatic yet concise and relevant. Like a white flame; dancing before your eyes; captivating and consuming though illuminating…yes, beautiful.
Yes! I understand, but can you please try and keep yourself together. The last thing we need is for this to spread any further. Not again.
No, of course. I am sorry.
Have you left anyone with him?
Yes: one of the Cambodians.
Good, no danger there then.
Danger?
Oh yes. Sorry this is brother -----: he has been sent from our European office. To keep an eye and write a report.
Hello.
Hello. You said there was no danger. Cambodians: what did you mean exactly?
Well, it seems that they’re completely immune: something in their character maybe? They just never seem to succumb to the thing.
Guilt?
No, unfortunately not. I mean that’s something we can work with. No, this is different. Obviously we persevere with them, though they never make it beyond the level of senior novice.
Worrying.
Though they are invaluable in times such as these.
Yes, I should think they are.
And are we any closer to understanding what is at the root of all this?
It appears that we, who are native to this place- these islands are unusually susceptible to a condition resembling looking like; externally appearing to be something approaching an enlightenment.
Enlightenment!? This is what you want me to report? Surely we have not reached the point where it is necessary to resort to and in resorting to; to use this kind of emotive language? I feel I now perceive what is at the root of your and make no mistake when I say yours I mean our and by that I mean your problem. This language! How can one: anyone communicate adequately with what is obviously an overstretched and at times outraged populace whilst using language? And language like this! I see your problem. Enlightenment is that what you wish me to say?
I am afraid you may have to. For if we and by we I mean you and I and also other members. If we do not use language such as this to describe a condition such as this: one that demands a description such as this. If we fail to do this at this point; I that case I feel that is not just our presence on these islands that is in doubt. No I feel and by that I mean think our entire future may well be in question.
I’m sure you’re right and I feel as you as to the urgency of the entire episode as it is or as it may be. But (ominously) if we are to address this ‘crises’ (his punctuation) then I feel that we must feel out what lies at the root causes of the whole episodic whole. (The narrator having felt no need to intercede at last broke his silence to apologise for the turn that _____’s speech, or his rendering of it had taken.) Our group has long prided itself on the major role it has taken in maintaining and imposing of linearity, that is lines or the idea of lines on and through and in the minds of those cultures and people and philosophies lacking in…lines (his pause) or linearity. Maybe it has been the unparalleled success we have had over the years that has made us complacent; in any case we find ourselves now facing a race, and I feel that my membership of a race allows me to employ such language. A race so completely lacking in both linearity or indeed any form of lines so as to make our task nye on impossible. It is at times like these that we must truly question why we truly are what we are and do what we do! I do not! Mean that we should interrogate what we do: as to my mind interrogation is an abhorrent process akin to torture. Rather we attempt to glean from the line what its intention is in showing its or his self to us in such a curved manner.
So you think that it is a lack of linearity then?
Fucking hell! Do you not know anything? What else could it be?
Forgive me but have we not always been taught that: “our line is the line of understanding and humility.” And that being the case could it not be that these men have inherited a line of which we are unaware? Could it not be that the appearance of curvature is merely an illusion a perspectival trick?
I am fast losing patience with you? You know as well as I do that: “ the curve may appear straight until one gains sufficient distance. And so may appreciate at last it’s inherent deviance” this is the basis of faith! We know that it is ‘possible’ that linearity is merely an illusion but anything can be an illusion. Linearity is truth! If we start to question that then what the fuck have we got?
Of course I apologise.
Don’t apologise! Just help me to get a handle on this whole mess.
The same problem?
Yes.
Is it another lay practitioner?
No, I’m afraid that this time it’s a novice. Classic case: as with the others he is showing external signs of some deep inner peace.
External signs… a deep inner peace?
Yes. It was the Wednesday meeting you see.
Yes. Has he anything to say?
Yes it’s beautiful really, enigmatic yet concise and relevant. Like a white flame; dancing before your eyes; captivating and consuming though illuminating…yes, beautiful.
Yes! I understand, but can you please try and keep yourself together. The last thing we need is for this to spread any further. Not again.
No, of course. I am sorry.
Have you left anyone with him?
Yes: one of the Cambodians.
Good, no danger there then.
Danger?
Oh yes. Sorry this is brother -----: he has been sent from our European office. To keep an eye and write a report.
Hello.
Hello. You said there was no danger. Cambodians: what did you mean exactly?
Well, it seems that they’re completely immune: something in their character maybe? They just never seem to succumb to the thing.
Guilt?
No, unfortunately not. I mean that’s something we can work with. No, this is different. Obviously we persevere with them, though they never make it beyond the level of senior novice.
Worrying.
Though they are invaluable in times such as these.
Yes, I should think they are.
And are we any closer to understanding what is at the root of all this?
It appears that we, who are native to this place- these islands are unusually susceptible to a condition resembling looking like; externally appearing to be something approaching an enlightenment.
Enlightenment!? This is what you want me to report? Surely we have not reached the point where it is necessary to resort to and in resorting to; to use this kind of emotive language? I feel I now perceive what is at the root of your and make no mistake when I say yours I mean our and by that I mean your problem. This language! How can one: anyone communicate adequately with what is obviously an overstretched and at times outraged populace whilst using language? And language like this! I see your problem. Enlightenment is that what you wish me to say?
I am afraid you may have to. For if we and by we I mean you and I and also other members. If we do not use language such as this to describe a condition such as this: one that demands a description such as this. If we fail to do this at this point; I that case I feel that is not just our presence on these islands that is in doubt. No I feel and by that I mean think our entire future may well be in question.
I’m sure you’re right and I feel as you as to the urgency of the entire episode as it is or as it may be. But (ominously) if we are to address this ‘crises’ (his punctuation) then I feel that we must feel out what lies at the root causes of the whole episodic whole. (The narrator having felt no need to intercede at last broke his silence to apologise for the turn that _____’s speech, or his rendering of it had taken.) Our group has long prided itself on the major role it has taken in maintaining and imposing of linearity, that is lines or the idea of lines on and through and in the minds of those cultures and people and philosophies lacking in…lines (his pause) or linearity. Maybe it has been the unparalleled success we have had over the years that has made us complacent; in any case we find ourselves now facing a race, and I feel that my membership of a race allows me to employ such language. A race so completely lacking in both linearity or indeed any form of lines so as to make our task nye on impossible. It is at times like these that we must truly question why we truly are what we are and do what we do! I do not! Mean that we should interrogate what we do: as to my mind interrogation is an abhorrent process akin to torture. Rather we attempt to glean from the line what its intention is in showing its or his self to us in such a curved manner.
So you think that it is a lack of linearity then?
Fucking hell! Do you not know anything? What else could it be?
Forgive me but have we not always been taught that: “our line is the line of understanding and humility.” And that being the case could it not be that these men have inherited a line of which we are unaware? Could it not be that the appearance of curvature is merely an illusion a perspectival trick?
I am fast losing patience with you? You know as well as I do that: “ the curve may appear straight until one gains sufficient distance. And so may appreciate at last it’s inherent deviance” this is the basis of faith! We know that it is ‘possible’ that linearity is merely an illusion but anything can be an illusion. Linearity is truth! If we start to question that then what the fuck have we got?
Of course I apologise.
Don’t apologise! Just help me to get a handle on this whole mess.
Monday 11 February 2008
apologies for non cross posting
Wansee
1.
Anaemic ocean on whose shores
Atrocities consider
And marriages consummated
Not that…
2.
What’ll you have?
Carling
No carling; just Amstel
Or the Czech stuff
The Czech stuff?
Not Amstel… not unless
You want to see me throw up
Last… when did we have that
Greece?
No
Malta
Not unless you want to see me throw up
Do you want see me throw up?
Not Amstel
3.
I don’t like it when you turn red
I shouldn’t turn red
It’s been 48 hours
Or 36
Though it does have a very
Strange effect
Accumulative?
No
Just strange it’s an agonist or an antagonist
Antagonist sounds better
Yes
It does make me red
And can give me a headache
It’s a nice pub though
Yes
My only complaint is:
The later it gets the louder it gets
For the clientele I suppose
Not for us though?
I wonder where
We’re the clientele?
Not here?
No
Though I think they like us
Yes I think they do
4.
That boy’s never old enough
Old for what?
Beer
Beer maybe
But not scotch
Never scotch
I wouldn’t say never
Well yes he’s a young lad
Did they ever lower the age of consent?
Not that much!
For scotch I mean
Citizenship I mean
Not sex then?
I don’t know, are they not the same thing?
Not that much
1.
Anaemic ocean on whose shores
Atrocities consider
And marriages consummated
Not that…
2.
What’ll you have?
Carling
No carling; just Amstel
Or the Czech stuff
The Czech stuff?
Not Amstel… not unless
You want to see me throw up
Last… when did we have that
Greece?
No
Malta
Not unless you want to see me throw up
Do you want see me throw up?
Not Amstel
3.
I don’t like it when you turn red
I shouldn’t turn red
It’s been 48 hours
Or 36
Though it does have a very
Strange effect
Accumulative?
No
Just strange it’s an agonist or an antagonist
Antagonist sounds better
Yes
It does make me red
And can give me a headache
It’s a nice pub though
Yes
My only complaint is:
The later it gets the louder it gets
For the clientele I suppose
Not for us though?
I wonder where
We’re the clientele?
Not here?
No
Though I think they like us
Yes I think they do
4.
That boy’s never old enough
Old for what?
Beer
Beer maybe
But not scotch
Never scotch
I wouldn’t say never
Well yes he’s a young lad
Did they ever lower the age of consent?
Not that much!
For scotch I mean
Citizenship I mean
Not sex then?
I don’t know, are they not the same thing?
Not that much
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