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THERE'S NOTHING LEFT BUT THE TRIARII: April 2009
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THERE'S NOTHING LEFT BUT THE TRIARII. Thursday, April 30, 2009. Fauna of Central Toronto. The "cringe-reflex". A contortion of the face and sudden, involuntary collapse of the upper eyelid. Followed by a convulsive one-eighty jerk of the neck. A feeling of repulsion lingers. I am walking home past the usual cantankerous old white folk. The sun is on the demise. See the subway sign, and my eyes fall upon the bench just outside the automatic doors. Rummaging through our green bins: Procyon lotor. I shall r...
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THERE'S NOTHING LEFT BUT THE TRIARII: Poison Pier
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THERE'S NOTHING LEFT BUT THE TRIARII. Sunday, May 17, 2009. Walk from cherry street to poison pier -. Reads a poor boy's strip of paper. A pier, a-ppear-s,. Ah-peer through the side window;. All off the bus! Hesitation, this isn't our stop? But the people have decided to get off. peers decide for peers. a man, "these people must not be from around here. don't know how to get off a bus". "oh that's an insult" sez a boy,. Ambient drones for a room-full of drunks and heads. But when they get into "my girls"...
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THERE'S NOTHING LEFT BUT THE TRIARII: Heat
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THERE'S NOTHING LEFT BUT THE TRIARII. Friday, July 10, 2009. When I was seven, I stared at my fair and fleshy palms, red. Mr C was fixing the faucet, when his digestive tract got caught, the heat lulled the great gut: an extension of the kitchen pipings it became. I bent over the sink, and turned on the tap. Behold, his breakfast gushed out first, then his innards, running red and black. I gasped in excitement, biting my tongue. How long will the trial last? July 11, 2009 at 1:38 AM. Jockey Full of Nagle.
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THERE'S NOTHING LEFT BUT THE TRIARII: December 2009
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THERE'S NOTHING LEFT BUT THE TRIARII. Thursday, December 31, 2009. All night I dreamt of my home,. Of the roads that tangle and weave, confused. Until they strangle and suffocate. Strung out and bloody,. It's over, tonight I'll kill off Kowalski. When you wake up tomorrow, I'll be on my way to London, Ontario. My sojourn in this here fair city is over. Baroness - blue record. Progressions with variation, an album rich with southern drawl and heavy handed in doling out offerings to the riff. My life is no...
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THERE'S NOTHING LEFT BUT THE TRIARII: October 2008
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THERE'S NOTHING LEFT BUT THE TRIARII. Tuesday, October 28, 2008. Dialogue with a consumer product. Following in the admirable standard I have set in my bloggings, I shall not continue with my Icelandic episodes. Nothing but pilots here. Routines are for cowards. . A consistent product - Coca Cola, the Mugabes, the Olmerts of this world. You gotta know when your days are up,. You gotta know your shelf-time. So, to cut with my fascist leanings, I shall remain: the transmutating product! So come on friends.
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THERE'S NOTHING LEFT BUT THE TRIARII: July 2009
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THERE'S NOTHING LEFT BUT THE TRIARII. Monday, July 20, 2009. Excerpt, slipped out of print:. A song of the streets - the song of filth. According to language, race and nation, we set ourselves apart, and each pile up our filth to overtower the other's. Filth - for manure - for the earth, so that something may grow. Not flowers, but rather bread. Yes! But do not worship it - the filth of which you've eaten. ". Friday, July 10, 2009. When I was seven, I stared at my fair and fleshy palms, red. Zealotry, mu...
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THERE'S NOTHING LEFT BUT THE TRIARII: March 2009
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THERE'S NOTHING LEFT BUT THE TRIARII. Tuesday, March 31, 2009. Last night sleep refused me entrance into its anodynic domain with increasing resistance. Intermittently I would turn on my side, reach for my bedside lamp, turn it on, and read. The Turks and Asians are milling around in the. They keep a cat and still have no child. They give birth to Athene at the crest of their skull. They shall nurture her. An immaculate conception. Thirty years later, give or take, I sit here contemplating the rise of Je...
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THERE'S NOTHING LEFT BUT THE TRIARII: Deluge
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THERE'S NOTHING LEFT BUT THE TRIARII. Monday, October 19, 2009. Separate reason from your thoughts. Allow them, room. I related this to my mother. She agreed. The sky held sway over low-lying coniferous trees. Acres of blue/grey,. Thick line of green,. So was the tripartite division of finnish landscape. Tells of the loss, destruction, disappearance of objects. Does not speak of itself. Tells of others. Will it include them? Art as idea as idea). A Thai joint opened in Uxbrige. I go tonight. KKKK: vision...
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THERE'S NOTHING LEFT BUT THE TRIARII: February 2009
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THERE'S NOTHING LEFT BUT THE TRIARII. Thursday, February 19, 2009. 18th of March, 79. I slipped the newspaper clipping from yesterday's Le Monde, into the pocket of my blue thrift-store blazer. . DEPARTURE from Marseilles in a violent wind. . I am trying to leave my years of devotion to gospel teachings. I am in barbaric pursuit of the girl sitting beside me, clad in a soft, airy red dress. We will spend our days along the coastline, subsisting on her trust fund. Absorbing Sartre and Gide. With a little ...
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THERE'S NOTHING LEFT BUT THE TRIARII: October 2009
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THERE'S NOTHING LEFT BUT THE TRIARII. Monday, October 19, 2009. Separate reason from your thoughts. Allow them, room. I related this to my mother. She agreed. The sky held sway over low-lying coniferous trees. Acres of blue/grey,. Thick line of green,. So was the tripartite division of finnish landscape. Tells of the loss, destruction, disappearance of objects. Does not speak of itself. Tells of others. Will it include them? Art as idea as idea). Thursday, October 15, 2009. Ah well at some other point, I...