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illustrations of end events (two) plus description of affectionate cat visitation as dreamt muggy morning(with some night) of 2nd May 2015


from pre-dawn crows gathering, v.vocal -- I think they are sensing the beginning of public holiday "golden week", the exodus (their (crow's) outlying recon flocks are reporting) "successful begun of exodus) means they are freer to gambol in the metropolis, less angry encounter, more frolic, more revalry// good, I think, for them, and I don't mind it at all either//
-- but I thought one crow clearly sang out "today's the day of your final fatal hour" / I worried about the half or is it more than half, phantom or is it true, redundancy i.e., "final fatal" / we are all in need of editing /

and because I had been over-reading in the straneglet/mini-black hole/ top quark/neutron star/ result of CERN LHC experiments etc and the recent increase in earthquakes

these sky events come and go / a daytime sky, no specific direction/ the time of day? it's just day/ it's to be the last day. Night as it typically occurs (assume sunset? I think that's how) may well not/

as I saw in some fraught stuff in dream: moon clear cirlcle in daytime. and another/ Each moon's white circular departs somewhat down and to the right from perspective of me in dream, leaving a greyish dirty circle. While the removed white circle warps and becomes maybe a projectile. The lands and skies shake.

Some orbitting (or who knows how far it is) / is unlidded/ and the lid goes sailing . . . groundward

I depict as thus:































lids, or seals, I think. like in "revelations"! -- a year ago, listening to a new current93 album, contained extracts like from a radio seminar perhaps, of an evangelist or what shall I call them, in this great calm yet decisive voice described "revelations" in a way full of sense, starting from one aspect we can't begin to understand, relates to another, and soon a shape of something not quite yet of the world but pure logic and waiting, to be logically be, "manifest"/ seals and lids, in any case. Sometimes a seal was more meant as a proof of authenticity of source of a communication i.e., a letter . . . ?

another sky event was a mottling of bright light in circular formation before presenting as a super nova as understood by me in this dream/ / super nova on radiating fatal collision very soon with the earth which is our planet here, we are, as far as I understand it.

and I depict as thus/ -- no, iin the end I could not depict to my satisfaction.  Use your head can't you, while there's still an earth to be on.

By now the crows (21st May) are quiet. Humans returned to the city in a "U-turn rush". The world: not quite ended.

my cat-who-is-dead visited me as a heaviness (cat-heaviness, bearable) in aftermath still in the dream, perhaps I went out,in, further in, to relate to the cat who-is-dead, vocally-speaking, as a cat, he was vocal, while "still with us" -- crows their vocals, often sound similar -- crows I think have a network of squawks over unknowable distance, we in our housing may hear the initial sounding out, it's reiteration, and same, each a distance out, then a gap until response is coming in. Then I suspect a more animated for local purposes debate call response, until next long distance message is to be decided on, and is relayed, by whosoever, has best voice, most authority, is most trusted so the copy to propogate into distance can be assumed to be most accurate -- contain most as close as possible to the original, information.

I cry in a dream when greeted by visiting gone cat but once awake I note I've shed no tear I may be a sentimental dreamer but otherwise it's OK.

Ready your ending and that . . . days ask food and that, for example, end that
halve your acts
the very many all creatures are reducing in number, the great and the small

notes to a the fall song "ibis-afro man"

as I said, notes to a the fall song "ibis-afro man" -- from the record album release "are you are missing winner"

--

think if this is was/were a(n) LP, this would be the track split between prompting you turning over/ one track two sides, requires analogue participation to complete the listen. Like, like, is it "winter/deer-park"? or the other way round?, not having the original vinyl, nor a record player, since 6 plus years gone. No analogue means to ascertain.

possible initial stage is cover of a racist or thought-to-be song by ??iggy pop: I refer you to the excellent source of transcribed the fall lyrics (w.annotations): "annotatedthefall, specific page of song "ibis-afro-man"

-- it renders all my transcriptions below wrong so I add (sic) to all / and I add the time, i.e., xx:xx minutes seconds where when I thought I heard what I likely didn't. Some approximation thereof . . .

left ear only firstly, then the band coheres to the right . . . fork/knife -- elephants/lions , juxtapositions/ monkey/ for breakfast/ etc, something here, is the wrong way round, or both/ colonisation from inside out / the band asserts the main drive plus leftward half-insisted-on assertions / to as-though, make a point, but shan't/ better aspire to chaos/ collision/ oxy-moronism celebrations/ -- the gap, now, starts / estimated 03:20 to 04:50 -- )) then turn over your LP , &, 05:05 "nothing have I left to say . . . "

05:15 approximately thereon: "move fast and move me, down the line" (sic? &c) // repeats// 06:06))

"sometimes the sky(sic)(things)/ gets so slow, the sky /----/ above me, it looks so great" ~~ 01:53 )

(only what the hotel, supplies) // ~~ 02:10 )

jungle plus hotel service references/ great contradictory oxymoron bloom stretch-song to go long/ and it does

/atemporally I repeat re-discuss the the in-between (3:20~4:50) with what sounds like an electric machine animal replica voice/ (but see the notes on "annotated fall" site above) -- link persists through this, like a gap zoomed in/ and (because of the gap) it gets real good/(i thought, this is where you turn over the vinyl, if have/ and if that is the case, but it probably isn't (the case), but -- ) as atemporal anyway I picked by sic~misheards, and it's no problems.

fade-out/in to robust /move fast and move me, down the line // (sic) // many implications from this line, I thought, but (sic)?

great bloom of electric melody-field/

06:30 -- "I looked around, I looked around, I always did"//

some basic the fall as an anew spark perform footage captured thanks

--
I used to live in a hotel. I ate "only what the hotel supplied"/ which was very nice/ then there was a sandstorm and virus carried within got in me and I couldn't go to school for months and then we were moving to bahrain for reasons no-one ever bothered to explain, then 18 months or somewhat less later kuwait would be invaded (August 1990 or so I believe) and in januaary 1991 we would be sent to england, a cold unwelcoming place where I am supposedly "from" /

in the hotel lobby, (in all hotel lobbies) there were reuter's machinery, they remind me now of ticker-tape or something, no I don't know for sure, perhaps in a physics highschool class something like that was used to measure a distance, a speed and a distance perhaps. The reuter machines constantly printed out dot-matrix style news reports, and spread if the lobby people are busy and/or unattentive, to spoool spill over onto the (hotel, lobby) floor. It was some quiet corner anyway. I used to like the reuter machineries (some sort of perpetually-ready attentive fax-like machinery, a printing machinery, let it be noted -- transmits reports from remote "in-the-field" workers(?))






hereby further fulfill obligations as decided to myself i.e. see previous a blog entry: __link__ though not with any concern for day of week nor frequency as originally intended, yet it's OK.

deliberate PRE-SLEEP scene // later deliver a sleep please

day today alright
I want to carry on a day alright make it some days same but how's it done how you know but for the next we they I shall'nt
there's chance

my encountered things 003

I juxtapose(hardly a juxtaposition) japanese google thingy animation as of now (I prntscrnd) plus just-other-day re-discovered photo of wife-woman's childhood(?) pouch featuring as you may well see for yourself the same as-of-yet identities unascertained character thingies, strange bulbous beings




against submission as such

I list the repulsion methods used by some (they are many) publisher-type-kinda places that force me not to submit to them

1/ a submission fee -- reasons: i) I don't have moneys most of the time, nor a credit card with which I could conjure money and put in on the paypal, which I am assuming is how the submission fee is supposed to be done (how the transaction shall('nt) transpire) -- that's one reasonable reason. it is more of a "predicament" than a reason but I'm glad to be in it (predicament) because I escape confronting the moral concerns (moral and, I don't know, ethical) that is the 2nd (ii) reason i.e., ii) like in the old days we knew not to pay to be published, that was called "vanity publishing."  Sometimes a "publisher" would send a letter, like to the young quite mentally-ill girl my mother, who worked as a "pupil mentor" at a girls school on the wirral peninsula in england told me about, this young girl wrote a a something-or-other, and gathered the courage or fool-hardiness, to submit, to someplace maybe was advertising in a newspaper or something (this is before internet) and they reply: "we love your work, please in order to cover costs etc pay such-and-such and we will publish etc" and the young girl was confused and upset, so said my mother, and so I said, whenever you are asked to pay for your writing to be published, you say "NO" -- nothing has changed.  It is a simple stance to take.

just. say. "NO"

there's other stuff to say about this (sometimes you are offered a book for having paid to submit, etc, this almost makes it reasonable) no-one reads etc. The fact that no-one reads is not my fault. I read more than most. I read poetry, yet don't write it. That makes me remarkable. I should be exempt from all submission fees because of this. (in the next two weeks, I will compile every book of poetry I have in this little appartment I am in, and write about each and every one to prove such -- then you, editor-thing, shall formalise my exemption as stated above etc/)

see too mr Adam Golaski's editorial essay "A Sing Economy" in New Genre#6 for some nuance etc/


2/ guidelines mention "well-rounded characters" = I'll immediately know we shan't be getting on.
also, isn't this an assertive act, like demanding a "normative psychology" ? (demands that the characters be unbroken is same as you are expecting the author not to be unbroken?) (what world demands of us (invisibly as it may seem to you, Editor-thing) every hours of our daysnightsfraughtlife -- although admittedly there are times, I call it relent-time, when what seemed so relentless (the life-fraught) relents -- and during such grace relent-time, maybe, Editor-thing, I can "see where you are coming from", but I see this with distaste, I see you are in utter unaware thrall to the coersion-world systems . . . so, just say "NO")

As an assault against this frequently occurring "guideline" I composed the attack squadrons called "the Rotund Chums" as featured in Work Planet Welt Space almost-always-forth-almost-coming in New Genre#7

3/ guidelines mention "a good tale well told" = the same as above basically applies here too.
I here embed a jpop song that amply expresses my stance as detailed in all this blogpost.
I present "やめました” by spoon+ (don't pronounce the "+", apparently)


compulsory cat , offered as solace for those suffering after results of recent british election



I can't offer much (none) words of use, but the world is going towards the bitter where the resentful party, resentfully, secretly hate each other, and I would rather the opposite: openly love all if it seems at all possible. Love, not tolerate. I am speaking of a hard path. No path to follow as you must make it yourself.

I tried to enter the system for postal voting but it did not seem feasible: a 5-day window for the ballot thing to be sent to me then me to send it back . . . post takes a whole week internationally speaking one-way only. Maybe I misunderstood something. The language of government sites is so vague, I think they want me to be uncertain. Well I am (uncertain) prior and post to their (government) involvement, yet I had intended to do something (vote) yet I couldn't. Or I simply didn't understand. At this point in time, it amounts to the same thing.

I want to offer comfort etc. You people who used to read this place and used to also live in liverpoool it was long ago, do please speak to me (not verbally, I mean via the email technologies that have been created in the last 20+ years) And if you don't (within window of the five days same as provided by international voting service) perhaps I shall begin to pester you.

but I think I shall retreat after one pester to complete until death silence so you needn't worry too much.

My dear gone friends.

peculiarity of habitat minor edition 002

what's this plastic cap kinda thing just showed up?
assume it's a pen cap (though pencils may have caps too, I only recently came to know this) (the things this world withholds for so long!)
somewhere a pen/pencil is without its fitting cap

and now it's gone! the possibly-a-cap
did I swallow it without thinking?
just what is going on here

(I photographed the item before it's disappearance)

accumulated over days text with no memory of /writing/accumulating / I fancy happily it is text of no value



my son, he's not been playing by the rules, there's no eye to eye, I think he wants us
dead half the time/ more than half the time he helps with the dinner. though not necessarily
the washing up/
the kitchen has become smaller, things -- dinner -- only get done in it with elbows, low-level
violence, almost, almost, as on TV.
the weather has not been awful but inconsistent, yes, like we are not being looked after quite properly

perhaps it's because we have not been playing by the rules/
at dinner, for example, those rules

whatever the conditions, we shall be playing by the rules!
. We stoically eat. Watch TV
Be glad of one diversive thought voiced//

something -- the something that will work -- must be done!

My son, he's in his room. He quiets in there.



peculiarity of habitat -minor edition

how'd this happen?
(light pull cord -- what's the actual term? -- wrapped round saucepan -- is it a saucepan?)
am I witnessing first steps of a final destination destiny deathtrap?

-- a pre-end reading / saga begin

Somehow always or is it merely of late seem to pause my reading near the end of a book, i.e., within 40 pages of the end/

the book currently in question "night work" by Thomas Glavinic, translated by (this information should be on the front or book cover but is unforgiveably not): John Brownjohn -- (possible reasoning behind this: readers may be "frightened off" a translated work(??) -- by deception shall you sell books) I saw the book mentioned on M.John Harrsison's webzone and it(book) waited on unthriving wishlist(?)for the right time to purchase or have it purchased for me by some kind benefactor (probably my mother(?) --thankyou)

"night work" is this sort of tale: wake up, it's morning, no-one else now exists. And, it is all life, i.e., animals, all forms of life, including, presumbably, the microscopic kind? The book is shy in approaching this/ it may require you the reader to think of the possibility first, and then the text may half-confirm wanly -- that still frozen meat is all that remains of the world's animals is an interesting image// the main character, Jonas, thaws and cooks this meat, though a whole goose proves too much for him/
-- wait, Jonas must be the sole living in terms of animal matter, therefore the only remaining habitat for bacterial microbe viral and all other strange forms of the life/unlife nature of which is unknown/ is this why his toothaches so soon//(within a month -- yet he brushes his teeth)(though he seems to have a sweet-tooth)(I thought this was more due to the situation and him returning to childlike habits for some attempt at security emotionally)(yet he is also often afflicted with sniffs and mild cold-like symptoms)/// an inverted "patient zero"/ ?

Jonas, who is an interior designer (?) (what is an outside/-inside/ dichtomy/ when unpeopled?) -- seems embarassed about this career, he so skirts the matter

other matters so skirted / / most things borne out of implications// his wife is an air hostess/stewardess//
the matter of the disappeareds garments -- no apparent mention of bundles of clothing etc /
but the prospect of nearing london, /major city/ and finding shoes, many, perhaps, in most-orderly rows, disturbs our Jonas, so he avoids (skirts) the area, the possibility

speculation prior to finish: am not expecting any particular "resolution" / / a possible complete psychotic break after his wife/girlfriend(?) dies in plane disaster? The "incongruous" repeat of one of final text messages as seen intially p.58, on p.125 "I'm just overhead -- only a few kilometres above you" sugesstive of this, or also a rapture-style event, though thus reductionist approach seems unlikely at this late-stage/// yet suggestive ambiguities: the early finger cut (to the bone) yet never mentioned again? the extraction of the tooth / / -- presumbably by the "sleeper self" / the knife in wall, seemingly not removeable, but removed by "sleeper self" / / the video of family members prior to channel tunnel ??/

typically a psychotic break "narrative" is signalled early on : examples, doris lessing "briefing for a descent into hell" / christopher priest "the affirmation" -- other!other!

diverge -- (diverge to notes on theory of schizophrenia/ psychotic break as perennial SFnal aspect built-in at the base-root/ examples (tentative, unsupposrted/ ill-confident in) "warrens" / prodigious life un-anxious close quarter nakedness, foods all sorts little care, sex overdo seem precocious permissive yet shame, guilt is big revenge wave/ in those spots/ stinks, attempts to cover up/ patterns of behaviour, dwelling spot, systems of commerce, based on complexes of ultra-vulnerability strongly unacknowledged/ but this all better for later . when, when you'll know. . . ) (see below, mention of drug umirome, etc, is this an "Inverted World" scenario -- that was by C.Priest, I'm sure you remember it)

here I collate some seeming nonsense 6-letter words with pg number: (pg61) UMIROM (pg263) MUDJAS / SAJDUM -- that's it backwards/
though I don't know how much a translated text is supposed to retain whatever word-game-clue-play was in original --

then (I repeated myself from the above here for some reason but I shan't change anything from this moment) speculate: some twist explanation is unlikely (highly) -- I thought for a while the wife or is it girlfriend died in plane crash and the result is psychotic break -- the above 6-letter words reminded me of two airport destinations combined. But I suppose there will be a continuation of the basic situation and no explanation (I am happy with this) :: for example, there is no actual "justice" in the world, anything terrible that happens is not made better by any process of any kind. Justice is like an imaginary lid placed over something imagined as being able to be lidded and contained and you may all relax. I shan't.

from the page I was maintaining (remaining on) in order to do this:

That afternoon he found it. He turned the page on impulse. At first he thought he was mistaken, believing that his clouded brain was merely misrepresenting what he was reading. But he checked and checked again until he was satisfied that, according to the pharmicopoeia, the drug Umirome contained various stimulants such as ephedrine and was one of the most effective remedies for sleeping sickness available. // pg 332 //

In any case now I may finish this book, thankyou, I am eager. addendudumb:-- this is/was/ a terrible idea/ I spent a month not finishing reading a book I was enjoying reading in order to do this paltry web note/
book in question socialising with other current being-read books
cover is not good
-- also, on back page, it summarises basic premise then says "Just don't read it on your own."
-- I ask, just how am I supposed to read it then. Also, I am become very anti-blurb. And it is a terrible cover.
If I was Jonas, I would find some cctv or what-have-you centre and rewind to recorded footage of the moment things disappeared. Plottwist/development, however far you rewind, there is no people or life in general. A video tape of an old film shows only camera movements of empty streets rooms etc . . .

compulsory cat -- close-to-home edition



same cat, one year is between these photos i.e.,
one year ago (21st june) (above), this year and, just the other day (3rd may) (below)
and the place the same, not just generally the same, but absolutely, the same corner where a green -- what is it called -- it is unfolded (by whosoever first bothers) near bin collection day/ receptacle, where must be a good potent smell, for the cat would not stop snuffling the underneath, of the, I-don't-know-what-it's-called-yet receptacle, temporary and mobile

this cat (it's missing an eye perhaps?) is admiringly heedless of all human peoples. (so be youse, why nots??) among the swarm of our world this cat cuts through. I aim to be unconcerned as this cat//

I saw also the cat one time one street removed hunting a buzzing beetle in the summerlate afternoon, found perch surface higher approach for beetle, I reckon on successful play kill.

snuffle old kill spots.

a way of life.

close-to-the-bone edition almost a cat an entrance-way familiar (familiar as the collections of our bagged wastes)




HugO_o

--

kerfuffle over "hugo awards" "S F" in general, continuing in various distant net eddies (all that you may not need nor want to know: __here__)/ I extract (from here __link__ one boon / appleseed approval/ printscreened without permission or notice, sorry, because I am shy (and I inverted the colours):




 


and I suggest my own slate for "hugo", ecto/exo/^temperanous works, just like the summoned heroes from the "fate/staynight/zero&c" franchise (though I haven't myself knowlingly read works from the actual future as it is from my perspective//

my summons are:
1/ 80 Flowers, Louis Zukofsky
2/ the HD Book, Robert Duncan
3/ Operators and Things, Barbara O'Brien
tentative 4/ (that is in fact current, purloined from recent birkensnake): "I, Y’know Who, Having Stepped into Well Street", Ahimaaz Rajesh

 
 
appleseed seems like a prelimenary moment in this new to-(not-yet)-be sfnal~/// I sometimes think of it as kinetic science fiction . . .

the Sfnal  I pray for is yet to be,  shall most likely not be , in any sense (probably for the best) but I know because I recognise its pre-born resonance, some compartment that fits my idea, shall be available, small though open and with some slight product, and alll's good, well, with the genre: world&c/

sf like meillassoux's virtual god, yet to (& maybe never) be, yet shall gather if in the future becomes manifest, all works that sensed what may (not) be,  that is (not) (may not) be rendered with great hindsight O_o

therefore thereby thusly SF's problem is in truth it doesn't exist yet. Some attempts have been made to describe the shape it thinks it may be yet is not yet yet may. O may it may. And I am looking forward to it.

daemon+.1,2

that's this is the perspective