a personification? but why? illness eats. virtue is eroded.

trends. you know us via them. we insert slithers of preset, invading. you are demoted, endlessly.

prior to traditions, paste & meaningless, was the IRKr, the VEXATION

item #5022

Clara dearest girl, thanks, but I'm no deity. You're over-emotional. No bad thing; but the distortion which that state of affairs provides is not useful. In my view, this is often overstated in the general sense; but I feel, in your particular case, I must warn you of these problematic shortcomings. More reasonably, I am a flawed lady - just like you, and all others. But, again like you, I am trying to improve, like the Modernist I am at heart. Today, earlier, I was reading Wittgenstein, looking for nothing in particular, but therein I found the following: '...There is dominion and there is dominion-as-technique. The first suggests a lumpen mortality, with its chaotic ambit of emotions, foibles and weaknesses - all glorified, edified and personified by concerns for a fictive, illusory minority who manage the notion of completion as if it was dynamic, beautiful, and intriguing. The second is certainly alluring, even magical, in presenting morality as if it offered concepts commensurate with an occluded, secret amusement, or at least its related protectorate - the ignoble swarm, those archetypes without options...'. Yes, I know ... Greco-Roman, a little robotic. But even if the reverse is true, the same determinations apply, albeit simplistically modulated into lust for extremity on any terms. That's the detail. More importantly, you know I love you - and with an intensity which is both humane and animal. Let's retain that perspective - even whilst in the throes of passion. I dislike pillow-talk. But I'm not against some heartfelt truths unfurled in that context. Often, however, what you say there feels drastic and pointed; in positive ways, yes; but it smacks of control. There are shades of grey ... you know? These entail community and they invoke all the usual necessities - revealed as a continuum of sorts. Surely you want to continue? Precious, let's be good company. Let others be omnipotent; I'm not your CCTV. Please understand. Helena x

item #0044

Please close your eyes. I'm sitting at home and it is morning. I can think of no greater affirmation of the correctness of these decisions than to say my mouth has been closed tightly for days. I have been utterly alone in this work, wearing myself out. Contact is rare at the best of times. Ten years without love. Death changed everything. So few understand, and I am no teacher. Such a fait accompli - one I can neither decode nor convincingly transform. I see everything in sections. Even after 31 years, I'm still sectioning and seeing the merit of it. All my archives - here, in this room; my love of storage, my envy of the past; the peering eyes; the sliced and pitted lids, gaping. Friends. Oh how I have loved. But no more. Now, I’m hopelessly exact but without means. My research has ended. Everything is revealing. Everything confuses. The clarities I enjoyed are no longer the lesson in humiliation they once were. I know what suits me, but my confidence is concluded. Jerome

item #1100

Hi. Decided to rework this profile after lots of criticism. I don't mind comments when they are constructive. But too many people said too many harsh and hurtful things. It was not my intention to upset anyone. I was just a bit preoccupied when I wrote what I wrote, and it all came out wrong. I'm sorry if I insulted you, but really there was no need to get so personal. I decided to take my picture off because of that kind of thing. If I repost one it'll be after I know how that will be received. OK, so I'll attempt to communicate more specifically, leaving out my recent achievements altogether for a start. I can't see how what I managed to do was so controversial, but I'll just go with the flow and try to build a few bridges this time around. It's not in my nature to just role over and turn the other cheek forever though. So that's how it is. Firstly I am not easily shocked. Please respect that and measure any communication against that particular fact. Likewise I do not depend upon any specific scenario or on any specific level of engagement in same. In time I hope to determine what activities I can be tooled up for - to avoid wasting any one's time, and in the hope that it might be more fun to know up front. I use every option available for safety, and my words are want only of experience. With that cleared up, here's what I enjoy (providing you do also): id-diminution; mind control & mind worship (mine, yours etc.); faces (any kind); rippling, crippling vibration, that is to say immobilisation and its attendant suppression. See I'm just like you all. Thanks for reading this far. Cait

item #0081

Hello Allison, new here - Alli - seeking friends only, a bit of on-line fun, chit-chat, nothing heavy. I'll have pics up soon. Just waiting to be approved. Well, recent exchanges I've had reflect an evolving unease and imbalance I have between sharing and retaining information as I see fit. I know that's a bit subjective, but I'm not about to prompt, what I see as, consumerist impulses in anyone here; nor am I advocating modes of acceptance commensurate with, for example, generalised, barely-outlined and inexactly-appropriated conduct I can never maintain. No, I cannot accommodate, sorry. Such a weird first question. I'm unknown to many users here, and that will not change easily. Some of your terminology eludes me, too. Bests, Alli

(poor cruel pax and its animal governments)

item #2900

Sorry for the delay in getting back to you. This is a good one, also. 'History' you say, how so? Care to do the work to substantiate your emotionally-stunted, logically under-explained hypothesis? And why so angry? Why with me? I'm no historian. I'm simply stating the obvious: things do change. How can you disagree with that? But anyway ... to your actual question ... There are many technical options one can opt for with any system, immoderate or otherwise. Please look back through my previous comments. My thoughts are a little unfocused here, tonight, and I've said it more clearly elsewhere. This is a free-access site, of course; so it's logical to invite you to do some work, too. You mention your partner; saying that she is about to leave you for another person, citing your inability to excite her, and your general disinterest in her, as reasons. Well, I appreciate you sharing that degree of intimacy - though I think you did so because you thought it would put you in a better, stronger light, as the victim. I'm going to disappoint you, however, and say good for her. Unlike many of the backsliders and cowards offering faint, merely symbolic support to you over at your page - all men, of course - I'm afraid I see only another hopeless situation which needs resolving. She appears to demand more than you can give. That's a fundamental mismatch; and, as such, you could just say you've grown apart. Whilst I might sympathise with your emotional dilemma, as well as feeling for you, as one human-being to another, I cannot see how simply hoping she will stay with you can be in any way positive or pro-active. You seem to think begging will work; but, when it's only that, it's deeply unattractive, in my view. Nothing good ever developed from closing down communication, but sometimes it's just time to shut up. If you find what I say inaccurate or controversial, do the work and argue your case. I'm all ears. Frida

item #7298

Richard, hello again, Sir. I have only the following conclusion for you at this time. You said I'd realise things about myself if only I applied myself. Well, so far, I am ashamed and annoyed to say I haven't; which only makes me feel worse - not so much for letting you down, more because I cannot progress, as you've said, without discovering at least one of the questions I need to ask. I wasn't watching hard enough, maybe. I did try. But I'm still unclear about what it is I'm meant to be watching, and how, and when. Something is in my way. I feel inattentive, distracted. Before contacting you, I'd more or less decided to give up on hope, and on faith in the future. I thought I was being realistic in doing so, finally getting to grips with reality, and getting my head out of the clouds. But, in the end, that put me squarely back into just believing that those strategies would work. It all still felt more like religion than science. I just cannot remove the thing between me and what's immediate and actual in this world. It always feels sublimated; as if my ideas are themselves shielding me from verisimilitude. Fortunate favours the brave, you said; but I've been brave, over and over, and I am still in the gutter. Sir, you've hooked me in now - I accept that; but can I ask what you intend to do with me? Can you say more about how I might arrive at the questions you seek? Would that spoil things? I just don't want to fail - not again. Joanne

erasur\tinder\orison

[Pale rides.] I am photographed. I get to be a trick of the light.

SECTIONS . SECTIONEERS. SECTIO
NING.
grit me teeth
















ghosts

[...]

13.3.09

This is a dressing-up-box, and in it you are dressed in silver bullets, werewolving

you give me fever

item #3198

My name is of recent origin; whilst its use and institution - though arch and metaphysical, though separate from some theory of knowing - bears upon terminologies applied to progressive strains of Historical-Materialism. I am known there for a single, out-dated criticism of a too-pure approach to logic. This, then, is an attempt to say more about that earlier comment, and to offer interested parties further, more refined information about my motivations, and the methodology I am led towards. I am no author, however; and my words, here derived, by a friend, from the original Japanese, will inevitably seem somewhat clumsy and imprecise in a tongue which is not my own. Added to such difficulties, I should say that I have no exact province within epistemology itself; in that I come from a long line of robot determinists; essentialists, that is to say, who view correspondence itself as double-bound and corroded. Accordingly, for us, understanding assumes no generality; its supposed scientific origins are, therefore, returned to nature, and to the limits, principles, and hypotheses in tune with those machines, and not the ones you may be use to.

item #7044

Hi. Was on here previously as Smithson71Diderot (mid30s). Left due to personal reasons. Back due to same. I still live hidden in a dark place, where slow light shines through the firm right-hand of women who guide me. I am lost for all that. Lost inside and lost to the outside world. I have my feet of clay and I am adrift upon them in a sea of unknown surfaces and their appearances. True enough, such signage seems an incredible concept to me. At bottom, I am too much a creature of insubstantive asides and false, affected twilight; too monstrously gentle for the journey I feel I live my life to make. I am neutered, imperfect, and out-of-place. For all that, though, I seek to love and cherish some new goddess, and to lie for her soul forever. Can you provide this? Smith

Cafe Oto, Dalston, London, UK 7th March 2009

I play in Vultures. Vultures is: Dan Beattie (guitar/electronics/keys); Matt Chilton (laptop/electronics/bass); Will Connor (percussion/objects/winds); Anthony Donovan (basses/autoharp/electronics/objects/laptop). We played at Cafe Oto last Saturday, joined by legend of experimental music and all-round lovely fella, Steve Beresford.

I'd never been to Cafe Oto before. It's a fantastic, unique, special venue. Annie and I left Northampton at noon-ish; train to Euston; tube to Angel; spending the afternoon in Islington - having an all-you-can-eat curry, for £3.95 I tell you, at the lovely Indian Veg, on Chapel Market, then a bit of shopping; then the 30 bus to Dalston. Cafe Oto is on tiny Ashwin Street, a big-windowed ex-industrial space amongst derelict buildings, like a secret one can only discover by being into the artworks it offers. We arrived 5pm. Will was already knee-deep in floor-managing and running sound. Three other bands were sharing the bill with us. Ampersand were to play last, and were already set up; their amazing, monolithic rusted iron sculptures, which they play upon, were sitting on the stage and being prodded, banged and scraped. The space was so open - when I'd expected the usual claustrophobic bunker; the noise so perfect; the atmosphere so peaceful - food, teas and coffees, glasses of wine, people on laptops, chatting ... like another world away from the busy high streets we'd just left. This is home to me. Familiar faces, too ... introductions, handshakes. Civilisation. Vultures had improvised and recorded with Ampersand a few weeks ago - at Scott Robinson's 'Tower of Music', in Stoke Newington - so we all knew one another. Annie and I parked up on a floppy sofa, supping tea, and looking around. Matt came in sometime afterwards; then Dan and his partner, Veronica. It all felt great, expectant, friendly and fun. Diva Abrasia, based in Edinburgh but from all over the world, sound-checked next. At this point, Annie's and my plan was to leave after our Vultures performance - saving on the expense of a hotel; as we were planning to stay over for several of the many Vultures gigs over the next few months. That all changed, at Annie's suggestion, when, out-of-the-blue, several friends from up North - Ste and Jan, and their two friends, turned-up; plus Martin, from Varispeed Recordings, over from Reading; again a surprise. This was fantastic. We decided we had to stay for the full evening. Annie went off to research hotels; but a friend, Andie, kindly offered us a bed for the night at her place in Finsbury Park. Civilisation again, see; can't beat it. You can keep your mainstream delights, your mainstream culture. They don't work, in my view. One never meets horrible people at events like this; and I've never seen a fight. We're another economy, based on better values. Diva Abrasia sounded fantastic. Two drummers; three guitarists - each of the latter complementing that instrument with add-ons and other instruments, bass-clarinet and trumpet included. What an incredible array of music in-store. The other band, Blistrap, contains two of my own favourite musicians - Mick Beck (sax/reeds/whistles) and Phil Marks (percussion). I'd seen these two years ago, as part of The Grew Trio - with the equally amazing Stephen Grew (keys). Tonight was made even more special because Vultures was playing with Steve Beresford; someone I'd admired for years. Steve joined us on electronics. He opened the evening with an interesting and entertaining talk on aspects of electronic music - feedback, happenstance, use of toy instruments. Vultures played next. Will used an array of objects; Dan played guitar and electronics; Matt played laptop, with contact mic on a drum; I played 4 string bass, into electronics, with contact mics on various objects. We played for about 30 minutes; and we played very well; telling various sound stories; nicely ebbing and flowing, and never unmusical or inattentive; all really listening. Diva Abrasia played next - ferocious at times, fantastic use of twin drummers, and adding to the carpet of noise with wonderful musical embellishments, of guitar and winds. Very intense. One to look out for. Then Blistrap played - similarly intense and ferocious; with, at one point, Mick Beck crying out acoustically over the din. A fantastic moment of emotional verity. Then, to close, Ampersand played - a more even, textured traverse of metal scrapings and clangs; my favourite elements being the electronics and keys of the gentleman stage left. Then, it was over; bus to Finsbury Park; all-night Turkish supermarket; tea and chatting; bed; tea and chatting; goodbyes; bus; train; home. A wonderful time.

item #6011

My purpose is to encourage. You will study this in order to understand how close we are to signs and events too numerous to list here. Have faith in me. I'm walking on my hands, in a straight line. I'm here to make things similiarly difficult. This is very important. It is key. Pause and consider this.

You should see red: the colour of indication. You should hear a kind of static. I'm clicking my fingers. Listen. One of us is purely information, and it isn't me. Get transmitted. I'm in your section, and I have even more information.

Speak soon x

item #5977

Hi. New here. Usually found on MSN, same nick.

I glorify the following installment as qualification of my nation's foretellings - of restoration and murderous contrast, attentive only to armies made over to laughter.

The slain make mountains; we all know that. I will pass between these heaps, directing and independent, crutched upon interpretations made eons ago. Populations otherwise defined, otherwise constituted, will fail to devastate as required.

Bests. Maurice (44), Beds, UK only

item #0592

Today I will not socialise further. I will stab out my eyes. We're such implicit witnesses, and, frankly, that disturbs me. When I look back upon, what you prefer to call, the clamour of human potential (what?!), and what I violently insist upon terming, the artificial origins of general deference, I see younger generations, all opposed to the concept of authority, as I am, but at odds with belief systems per se; and so, in my view, doomed merely to consume, as if consumption itself was substance and meaning personified. From that paradigm error, as I see it, there can be nothing useful ceded to those institutions necessary for the organisation of acceptable standards of living; leaving us only with constructions, movements tainted by underhand, spectral conversion at every significant level. To me, since clear terminology is required, and by way of damning such people out-of-hand, as I wish to do, I feel this constitutes a recession of a different kind - one which is primordial and successively, morbidly, unaddressed. We are still not free. That bottom-line can have no positive complexion for me. It smacks of grand and ineffable failure only - no less. Despite all the innovations of science and the supposedly desirable diminution of religion, despite the socialisms forced by extraordinary communication technologies, on the on hand, and the strictures of ecology, on the other, the young are increasingly-bred into intellectual, emotional and physical limitations and self-censorship by the very machines we thought would finally humanise us with lives defined by leisure instead of labour. What shall we call this time? Ideology is all about juxtaposition now. Yet, simplistic though it might be, we need a promontory, a leap of faith; but one franchised by science rigorously governed by an incorruptible morality.