This is like an online notebook, this stuff is not finished or often even started properly.

Tuesday, 1 April 2014

All Under Heaven is in Utter Chaos: The Situation is Excellent. Leaked Sipper Memorandum

   International Headquarters of The Sippers
                     Sipper Department of Casual Observation


8:00 AM
1.4.2014

Current threats to Sipperdom.
(Internal white man memorandum)
As accessed by a coalition of pre eminent Sippers:

NEO NAZIS

After a month of field and investigative work Sipper Agents have deduced that the Far Right scene is made up a bunch of milk drinkers and “Billy No Mates” who use banter and chatter about lone wolf tactics as a cover for the reality of how weak and pathetic they have become.  Those that were tailed by Sipper field agents were observed to live at home with their mothers (invariably fat and abandoned) and to masturbate in the toilets at their places of work at least twice daily.

THE UNITED REVOLUTIONARY ARMY OF AFRICAN DISHWASHERS

This lot are a serious threat to the table legs. Led by a collection of ex machete wielding hard bastards from some landlocked African state that Sipper Agent Davis couldn’t find on a map, sent mad by too many hours with their fingers in sink (as Agent Davis poetically noted although dishwashing gives you a lot of time to think, it’s hard to gain perspective) They are quickly amassing strength and could represent a return to the kind of black militancy that has not been seen in the white man’s soup since The Black Panthers.

VARIOUS REDS AND COMMIES

Fellow Travellers:
Still out there on the edges, slowly stagnating, the idea of a global leftist revolution is dead in the water (see Sipper Memorandum THANK FUCK FOR THAT 17.12.91) however worldwide in the last few years Sipperdom has seen a resurgence of leftist ideologies, the threat of Red revolutions in the Middle Africa and certain troublesome sections of the Mediterranean should undoubtedly be monitored but can be done Sipperly from the leisure of your perch.


The compiling of this assessment has been a joint effort with Sippers on both sides of the pond putting in long hours and threatening to put at risk there very essence as  Sippers, over exertion is of course being fundamentally opposed to the proper disposition of a Sipper.  We would therefore like to suggest commendations and possible Einkommen rises for some of the key agents involved.

Rims to lips and sups up,

Top Sipper Agent Myles

ALL INFORMATION HEREIN IS CLASSIFIED

CLASSIFICATION GRADE: PROSTRATE SIPPER

Sunday, 9 March 2014

Artaud


So I demand phantasmagorical films […] The cinema is an amazing stimulant. It acts directly on the grey matter of the brain. When the savour of art has been sufficiently combined with the psychic ingredient which it contains it will go way beyond the theatre which we will relegate to a shelf of memories - Antonin Artaud

Saturday, 8 February 2014

Nepali Punk

I was going to write an article about nepali punk but I didn't in the end because I didn't know what to write and I didn't want to exaggerate and pretend there was a bigger scene than there was all I can say is everyone we met was fucking cool and Rai Ko Ris let us stay in there guestroom which was really cool...for more info check out this blog run by Maneesh from The Doltish: diypunknepal.blogspot.com

Here's some pictures I took along the way

 Practice room at Rai Ko Ris house..
 Youth Unite playing at a cultural festival in Patan (Lalitpur)



 At Pratik's (Youth Unite) house...

 Free outside contact organised by Kathmandu Punks in Patan....




 The Doltish...

 Youth Unite....


Saturday, 25 January 2014

Paranoia reigns supreme

A little bit of insanity goes a long way.  In fact someone once told me that it's vitally important that every once in a while you almost lose your mind in a basement bar.  It could be that it was actually me who said that, to myself, in the mirror, it was that kind of a night.  At some point it became clear, well actually the opposite of clear, that my friday had been taken over by some strange puppeteer.  My actions, the re actions my dialogue, whoever was controlling these things must have been one of the guys that writes those japanese anime films in which with no foreshadowing the little girls mum turns into a cat that is also a train and declares that she is also one and the same as the spirit of the forest.  It was an inverted mirror image of social interaction, it was people and things but without the logic that normally binds them.  Paranoia and fallacy reigned supreme, it was like when I was in the toilet trying real hard not to piss on my myself everyone swapped faces and picked strange phrases out of a hat, ready to say to me when I bumped into them on my way back towards the bar.  "I invite you, I invite you" "Joe, you have a stone for me" - what do these things mean? Now, the morning after I try to decode these things and see If I can't just shake them into shape.  And who sent me the text message that says "Is this your phone? I'm on to you motherfucker!!!".  It could all have something to do with the incident with the fat girl, you remember the bit when for no-fucking-reason-whatsoever she grabbed my hands like we were playing mercy and pushed me half way across the bar, what was that all about? who knows? no one it seems, people kept asking me and I could only ask them back, it will be a mystery forever.  Maybe it has something to do with the last incident in the basement bar, when the same fat girl now a regular feature of all weird nights (in future I should remember this she's a bad omen, if I see her under no circumstances take acid) grabbed me and with her tongue deep in my ear, she must have tasted wax, said "ich liebe dich".  These are all symbols, tokens of some underlying sense that I totally missed out on that perhaps I can never get in on, why did the australian never pull down his hood?, in moments like this, scrap that in times like these paranoia reigns supreme, the silver lining is that I think in reality I was actually being the least weird, I mean what kind of creature comes to a basement bar on a friday night and precedes to take everything seriously....

Sunday, 15 December 2013

Bootpolish

We were trading boot polish on the curb
I say the curb it was the edge of something
A train platform
or a roof
he ground his teeth and I could hear grains of enamel
I lent in and tried to catch his eye
his air was warm with booze
and he snorted like a bull
again my shin stung
so I let him have my toe
twisted so that my knee hit him in the thigh as well
he moaned and bent for a moment
he answered
laying both hand on my shoulders and really swinging
I felt the blood running down my shin
the tram arrived
so I freed myself
and said good bye
who is this man?
who first corned me on rigaer st in the frost and tried to kiss me
and now gave me a scab
I watch him through the window
as he tried to recover a beer from the floor  but stumbles and falls.

Thursday, 12 December 2013

untertitel

Everyday I wake up and my first thought is
I want to go to a war zone'
But I am pale and burn in the sun
and the wars have migrated from Europe
Outside my window clouds are swallowing up the trains
and I wish that they were carrying ammo to the front
that they were carrying white boys
with milk in bottles and sandwiches wrapped in hankies
mushed in pockets
along the rails to ditches and mudslides and the whistling that cracks edges off tin helmets
exhale
the trains are full of tourists
with thighs warm from laptops
to ignore it would make me mad
mad crazy
to walk down the stairs now with my old coat pulled over my head
to protect me from the peeling paint work
and drink a bottle of something unlabelled in the cellar
while the train rattles overhead and shakes the dust from in between the bricks
mixed with dandruff on my shoulders
you're right that would be madness
stark madness

Tuesday, 2 April 2013

New Young Hedonists

Articles about joint rolling
photo shoots with your girlfriends tits out
once you and her and the American boy educated in paris had a threesome
you may not know it but it was dull
it was dull and however much ink was on your arms at the time and later on the page
and how ever many times you thought about it
coming up in nightclub toilet cubicles
it was dull, a cowards story
it was sad too 
because she is pretty
I saw her once on Kottbusser Damm
we were both riding bikes and I watched her body and the seat
it was a sticky day
but she will not always be pretty
then you will just be boasting about the time when
you and the rich kid educated on the continent (it is not of value if you do not do it yourself)
spit roast the old lady with the cardboard skin 
while elsewhere reality burned white hot