The revolution
Posted: April 6th, 2009, 10:10 pm
Notes from Mr. Atkins
JACK DINGLE sits with his usual ingrate smirk on the bed with a laptop in front of him. His face is gaunt or maybe more “skelitor” to use a more up to Date phrase. It’s surprising that Jacks got the LAPTOP. Its surprising that I am writing again about Jack seeing as what has happened...
Lots of shit is funny so why go on if that yammering in vein of repeating things to make some type of point that could of easily been made with the very first “SUPRISING!”
...Surprising like that day you suddenly realise what life is. I remember I was just in a daze, a warm fuzzy daze (gum-drops and fucking lolly pops) AND I AM SURE THERE are people with shit loads of degrees and shit that can classify these moment and subdivide them into phases of life, but I have not read them, nor do I care to and even if I did care to read them I would not remember the exact numbers and stats but just the jist of it which is what you get from me, Mr. Atkins...
It is an older model and Jack tapes at it with the ferocity of a masturbating monkey of which his ejaculate produces bananas. Jacks loads (slang for ejaculate) are the mundane travelings of the book that will be found long after. Found to be brilliant by some and bought by some who find them less than brilliant, but for the fact some find it brilliant whom these people admire they buy. It’s Mr. Dingle of course. He is angry and agitated about some plane that is flying over head and his thoughts race to a cigarette he needs to have.
Jack writes “The porn shop closed around 5 pm and Dan walked happily home with his discount DVD of the privates in the Carrabin AFTERNOON SUN flashed in his eyes causing Dan to squint. When he reached his home he found Henry sitting there in the chair,”
Mr. Dingle has that smoke now and he leaves the laptop on the bed in the hostel in front of the university students to make their jokes about the ancient machine. I Put Jack’s Lap top behind the desk down stairs for safe keeping because even though it is old and worthless some shamuck could get a crack rock out of it some easy.
Jack runs into Madness out front whom is pulling on his left suspender and twingin his right side of his moustache, the usual glint of madness I his eyes, hence ,hence the name. “so what’s it going to be today?” Madness says with a slight (what he claims to be) Mexican accent... Jack turns to me. I suggest we go out on the town.
“This aint even a town man...” says Jacks as an actual dust ball rolls down the deserted street.
Did I mention that we are in a ghost town squatting, there are about 100 of us. 100 that actually stay the traffic through is something of, no no, fuck that, IT IS a tourist attraction and we’re what we want not to be by doing our best not to be it, and that is part of it and that is society.
“they’re are those high school girls coming through again this weekend man.” Madness says trying to avoid my ear shot.
They Have not turned out the power yet, they will soon and this will stop being a party, and then we’ll see. Most likely that we are just like a bunch of girls “wanting to have fun.”
XXX
Jack’s book is a murder mystery that Jack has not figured out who the killer yet is yet himself. He tells me “I want to have these real up class artisy typos in it, you know the kind that dress like me but always have money in the bank” Jack goes on to tell me how the main character in the book “DAN” works in a porno shop and is a chronic masturbator “with a good soul”.
I don’t feel there is much need for writing anymore.
I don’t feel art...
I feel media, and I get the message.
SO THERE HAVE BEEN SOME WARS... same old shit, some shit loads of people have been killed and some part of the world is a hellhole and we’re still in the nice part of it but we dress in dirty un faded clothing and speaking to people with warm sincerity and not between (I am on my way right out getting on the subway) other conversations with people who are not there.
The first day Jack was feeling real leaderery and he got all the younger guys who’d kiss his feet to dig shitter holes. There is some kind of an earnestlyness in a leader with a black eyes and a HYPER COLOR shirt that still works in kakis and combat boots...
And yes you’ve all seen fight club or read it, and you’ve all read 1984 and you’ve all read Jack Kerouac and you’ve all be inflicted with the same bombardment of media and there was a book out called generation X and it had commercials and was that not clever, ubik had commercials too but what an obscure reference... But there is not grand destruction of the system, there will never be, there is a slinking and slithering throughout the crack crooks and crannies’ of bordering on insanity always trying not to question to feel—be-caused what are feelings and what are programmed into us, and for that matter what’s the difference why not indifference... That is JACK DINLGLE on a drunken rampage... blazing A TRAIL NOWHERE, BUT WHERE IS ANY ONE GOING ANYWAY...
We built shiters out boards laying around and were attracted by hornets and felt things crawling on our skin the whole damn time. We had bonfires at night and Jack boot fucked anyone who started to even play something that remotely sounded like the eagles. And girls that did not shave their legs or pits with dread locks laughed and drank huge jugs of wine in the fire light and off in the distance buy the generator Jack wrote...
“Dan sat in his lazy boy and popped in the pirate when a knock came on the door. It was frank. Tall Hansom, however as dumb as a doornail. (unsure what a door nail is, aside from a nail used for a door why than would that be a dumber variety of nail is beyond me) . ‘can I use your wash room’ said frank and Dan said yes. Dan noticed that there was blood all over franks hands.”
“Dan turned off the DVD which was just about to get excitingly naughty and waited for his friend to come back in. There was nothing unusual about his friend frank coming over to clean blood off his hand. Or blood off any part of his body inparticular. Frank being accident pron.”
Jack sits and ponders a moments. “perhaps I SHOULD LEAVE THAT SCENE SHIT” he yells at me thrusting his crumpled up mounds of loose leaf at me....
JACK DINGLE sits with his usual ingrate smirk on the bed with a laptop in front of him. His face is gaunt or maybe more “skelitor” to use a more up to Date phrase. It’s surprising that Jacks got the LAPTOP. Its surprising that I am writing again about Jack seeing as what has happened...
Lots of shit is funny so why go on if that yammering in vein of repeating things to make some type of point that could of easily been made with the very first “SUPRISING!”
...Surprising like that day you suddenly realise what life is. I remember I was just in a daze, a warm fuzzy daze (gum-drops and fucking lolly pops) AND I AM SURE THERE are people with shit loads of degrees and shit that can classify these moment and subdivide them into phases of life, but I have not read them, nor do I care to and even if I did care to read them I would not remember the exact numbers and stats but just the jist of it which is what you get from me, Mr. Atkins...
It is an older model and Jack tapes at it with the ferocity of a masturbating monkey of which his ejaculate produces bananas. Jacks loads (slang for ejaculate) are the mundane travelings of the book that will be found long after. Found to be brilliant by some and bought by some who find them less than brilliant, but for the fact some find it brilliant whom these people admire they buy. It’s Mr. Dingle of course. He is angry and agitated about some plane that is flying over head and his thoughts race to a cigarette he needs to have.
Jack writes “The porn shop closed around 5 pm and Dan walked happily home with his discount DVD of the privates in the Carrabin AFTERNOON SUN flashed in his eyes causing Dan to squint. When he reached his home he found Henry sitting there in the chair,”
Mr. Dingle has that smoke now and he leaves the laptop on the bed in the hostel in front of the university students to make their jokes about the ancient machine. I Put Jack’s Lap top behind the desk down stairs for safe keeping because even though it is old and worthless some shamuck could get a crack rock out of it some easy.
Jack runs into Madness out front whom is pulling on his left suspender and twingin his right side of his moustache, the usual glint of madness I his eyes, hence ,hence the name. “so what’s it going to be today?” Madness says with a slight (what he claims to be) Mexican accent... Jack turns to me. I suggest we go out on the town.
“This aint even a town man...” says Jacks as an actual dust ball rolls down the deserted street.
Did I mention that we are in a ghost town squatting, there are about 100 of us. 100 that actually stay the traffic through is something of, no no, fuck that, IT IS a tourist attraction and we’re what we want not to be by doing our best not to be it, and that is part of it and that is society.
“they’re are those high school girls coming through again this weekend man.” Madness says trying to avoid my ear shot.
They Have not turned out the power yet, they will soon and this will stop being a party, and then we’ll see. Most likely that we are just like a bunch of girls “wanting to have fun.”
XXX
Jack’s book is a murder mystery that Jack has not figured out who the killer yet is yet himself. He tells me “I want to have these real up class artisy typos in it, you know the kind that dress like me but always have money in the bank” Jack goes on to tell me how the main character in the book “DAN” works in a porno shop and is a chronic masturbator “with a good soul”.
I don’t feel there is much need for writing anymore.
I don’t feel art...
I feel media, and I get the message.
SO THERE HAVE BEEN SOME WARS... same old shit, some shit loads of people have been killed and some part of the world is a hellhole and we’re still in the nice part of it but we dress in dirty un faded clothing and speaking to people with warm sincerity and not between (I am on my way right out getting on the subway) other conversations with people who are not there.
The first day Jack was feeling real leaderery and he got all the younger guys who’d kiss his feet to dig shitter holes. There is some kind of an earnestlyness in a leader with a black eyes and a HYPER COLOR shirt that still works in kakis and combat boots...
And yes you’ve all seen fight club or read it, and you’ve all read 1984 and you’ve all read Jack Kerouac and you’ve all be inflicted with the same bombardment of media and there was a book out called generation X and it had commercials and was that not clever, ubik had commercials too but what an obscure reference... But there is not grand destruction of the system, there will never be, there is a slinking and slithering throughout the crack crooks and crannies’ of bordering on insanity always trying not to question to feel—be-caused what are feelings and what are programmed into us, and for that matter what’s the difference why not indifference... That is JACK DINLGLE on a drunken rampage... blazing A TRAIL NOWHERE, BUT WHERE IS ANY ONE GOING ANYWAY...
We built shiters out boards laying around and were attracted by hornets and felt things crawling on our skin the whole damn time. We had bonfires at night and Jack boot fucked anyone who started to even play something that remotely sounded like the eagles. And girls that did not shave their legs or pits with dread locks laughed and drank huge jugs of wine in the fire light and off in the distance buy the generator Jack wrote...
“Dan sat in his lazy boy and popped in the pirate when a knock came on the door. It was frank. Tall Hansom, however as dumb as a doornail. (unsure what a door nail is, aside from a nail used for a door why than would that be a dumber variety of nail is beyond me) . ‘can I use your wash room’ said frank and Dan said yes. Dan noticed that there was blood all over franks hands.”
“Dan turned off the DVD which was just about to get excitingly naughty and waited for his friend to come back in. There was nothing unusual about his friend frank coming over to clean blood off his hand. Or blood off any part of his body inparticular. Frank being accident pron.”
Jack sits and ponders a moments. “perhaps I SHOULD LEAVE THAT SCENE SHIT” he yells at me thrusting his crumpled up mounds of loose leaf at me....