Orphantasy (1)

You cannot switch on every emotion at any time.
You can resist recognition of an emotion down to the betrayal of its desire that would make you panic,
You the one who made a comfortable life without it.
The disturbance.
“O, that´s really disturbing!”
Yes it is, get along with it,
beyond any recognition.
Until then, as the ravishing passes, a small hole in the fold of your iron(ed) underwear or sweater, and the sweat comes pouring out of pores that never existed before, 
or so you thought,
makes you
Buy POREMASTIC.
POREMASTIC stops your sweating, bye buying. No more staring at evading slime of the forgotten. 
POREMASTIC stops the fear of losing temper and the beloved skin that showed no fatty reflection.
At your focal store: POREMASTIC

The housekeeper in the old appartment building over at whelm street used to chase the rats on sunday early evenings.
We smelled the smoke from his kitchen chimney later on, but he liked it.
He went on staring at the tiny flowers that grew on the wall in the backyard and never had a doubt about how to unfold the cardboard book where he used to dry them.
I am strict with some things so I asked him to leave some for us, for the others.
I was too small to understand, or was that what he said, I don´t know.
The squeaking shutters killed the hush of his early morning watch once forever.
Must have startled down the old stairway, down to the basement
Found what was left of him some days later.
But the nose remained like new, for no reason anybody knew, like new.

I was always sweating a lot, in former times more than these days.
Real sweat.
As my father always got cramps from being touched I was enjoying comics and played soccer.
The sweat changed during the years. The rules at school were far less tensing than the rules of children, or so it seemed. At 13 I started to develop potential for throwing hate against oppressors of any kind, or what felt alike, and a lot felt alike and the hate felt good. Like life.
The sweat had started to diffuse into the distance before I could put on any lotion and I never really felt it, even on the pitch.
Years later, as I was gliding wet on a girlfriends skin in her room in the dorm, this still was no nearness to the sweat of fear, no fear of the sweat of nearness either, but a first step. Drowning in beer and talk, though.
The fear was to come as the pores opened anew.

Some people wonder, some don´t.
Some get hit in slow motion
Then the mouth would take more time to open and you see the face changing its shape to the most unreal distortions.
But the view would not remain in realtime, so they couldn´t see.

The electronic Nazi

Today the internet provider 1&1 shows an advert for a biography of the SS-Leader Heinrich Himmler, titled:

"Tipp: Heinrich Himmler"

Gummo and the president´s last shit

It is as if the continents on your unexplored planet are are not driftin apart, like they do not only do in the books and on this earth, but there´s also the minds and histories of those who observe it happening the other way round.

I´m sitting here, watchin the movie Gummo, and I started writing, setting the “i-n-g”s or “i-n”s like I´m pleased and the cut up half-documentary style goes through me, and something tells me that I will only know by tomorrow or later what this over here does at all and anyway.
You are the most real underdog I ever got to know.
I pity those who are born into this and that, and escape by just joining the next this and that, not more than I pity the rubber band moral of the scene they come from, as I don´t pity any of those informal groups, and on a certain level I don´t suppose you either to do it, although we are both very feeling persons, not only for ourselves.
Just there is the undefined impression that we come up with the same non-scene, in what we do and say, especially with what we don´t say.
On some important fields our selection of what we say and what we leave out is diametricly oppositional though, and that´s o.k., gives potential for cross fades.
It´s 59:40 and the family pic on the wall was just displaced by a little boy sniffing glue with Solomon and the others, and there are insects a lot coming out from underneath.

The boys will definitely leave her when she will only have one breast left, may you be young or old, good looking or anything.
My environment took care a lot to prevent me from getting into contact with people who are boundless in the way the characters in this movie are, though my room didn´t look quite different from sleeping or living rooms I see in this picture.

There is that boy who became a girl.
I did that in performances only, but I got a hunch of the need for essential turn of one´s character. Believe me.
The boys are now in an old woman´s house like burglars with masks, and it is the home of a rival guy who like them kills cats for fun and that guy´s granny is lying in bed, held alive by a lung machine, or is she dead already? The one boy says to the other: shoot her in the foot, see if she´s dead.
Solomon does so, the woman won´t react. “she´s dead”
The other switches off the machine. 
“she´ll be dead now”.

There are many films where they pretend to show some really freakish reality that the characters each have as an incorporated mind, each with themselves and with oneanother, but they are real only from the linear attitude of a male need for violent hierarchies.
This movie feels like the first anarchic sensation.
It enters the bodies like the bullet enters the foot of the old lady.
The girl now shaves her eyebrow and laughs about it, accompaigned by accordeon dilletantisms. It is the boy with the bunny cap, playing a children´s instrument, sitting on the toilet.
We saw lot of empty toilets before but there should be some people sitting on them.

You can compare all this to the characters in the organism that are strangling in a non-order order of and with themselves.
They do as they not please. They just do it cause that´s the way it is.
Your blood cells are your endorsing friends, but they can´t help and let you hanging dying as they are not resistant against that cancer, that´ll switch you off, as you are dead since long from its point of view.
Does it make happier or better, whatever that is, to always know why?
Take that from one who asks so much directly and even more without doing so.
In the end much of it is about forgetting. The same for all kinds of learning:
You wanna have it as a source code, go let it leave the consumer window. The real thing returns anyway.
It´s a freakish generic programme.
Solomon takes a bath, meanwhile gets the spaghetti served by the mother (which is more than many children can say), and she starts washing his hair (which is more than many children can say) while he starts eating.
What do the official anarchists want anybody to think?
That they got the plan of not having a plan and that this makes them be the anti-pic of the official beauty calendar they never had the money to buy?

The tornado is coming.
It tears down the whole city.
Deathmetalpunkcrazedmusic with the credits, after the couple in bed, the fat sisters, sang Jesus loves me.
The president will take his last shit a different day only.
There used to be plasma all over and it was everything in the everyspace in times gone and times to come.
So don´t care too much, it will take care of you anyway.
Don´t stop shooting cats or you will go and kill people.
Don´t miss out in collecting any garbage you like or never learned to hate.