Showing posts with label Dordery Marks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dordery Marks. Show all posts

August 16, 2017

WE SAY NO



WE SAY NO
TO FASCIST PIGS
AND WHITE SUPREMICISTS.
WE SAY NO
TO LOVELESS BASTARDS
AND DICKLESS ANTAGONISM
FROM NAZI SLEEPER CELLS,
OR TACKY COSPLAY TYRANTS.

THINK AS YOU WISH, BUT ALL THOSE KKK DOLTS ARE ALL MERELY SCREAMING LEAVES IN LONELY MISERABLE AGONY, CHEWED TO BITS BY EXISTENTIAL ANXIETY - SO MENTALLY MALNOURISHED AND INSANE THAT IT IS CLEARLY BEYOND THE COMPREHENSION OF MOST TO PERCEIVE THE SHEER POVERTY OF THOUGHT THAT HAUNTS THEM. FOOLS FOR FOOLS SAKE INDEED, ENSLAVED AND EMPOWERED BY THE DEMON FIGURE UPON THE PULPIT AND PODIUM.

THE GUN OR KNIFE OR CAR IS NOT OUR WEAPON.
A MIND IS SWIFTER.
A PEN IS SHARPER.
A HEART IS STRONGER.

WE SEND LOVE TO THOSE FACING THIS WRETCHED STRUGGLE IN THIS DISTORTED, OTHERWORLDLY NIGHTMARE AMERICA. ITS NEXT PHASES INTO THE DARK SIDE OF THE MOON MIGHT MEAN SOME NEEDLESSLY TAWDRY TOTAL WAR, BUT THEN AGAIN IT MIGHT MEAN EXOTIC RAINBOWS OF SUBSTANCE IF ONE WERE KEEN ON CARRYING PRISMS. WITHIN OUR CONTEMPORARY MANIC PANIC WE HAVE WIZ KIDS, OPTIMISTS, AND FEARLESS PUSHERS OF COSMIC ODYSSEY, WISHING TO SHARE THE NEXT STEPS TO HUMAN EVOLUTION WITH INTREPID THOUGHT.
IT'LL HAVE TO BE YOU AND ME, BABE.
WORLD WAR FOUR MAY WELL HAVE BEEN PREDICTED TO ONE DAY BE FOUGHT WITH STICKS AND STONES AFTER CIVILIZATION IS SQUASHED BENEATH NUCLEAR BOMBS AMID IRRADIATED FIELDS OF PELENNOR, IF TRULY FORETOLD BY EINSTEIN HIMSELF. BUT ALAS, MARSHALL MCLUHAN SAID IT BEST (WE FRET) THAT CURRENT CIRCUMSTANCES PAINT THE POINT THAT THE IMPLOSION OF WAR AWAITS AT HOME. 

FROM THE DESK OF MARSHALL MCLUHAN
World War III is a guerilla information war with no division between military and civilian participation.


WAS THE WEB ALWAYS A WEAPON OR WAS IT WEAPONIZED?
WUZZA WUZZIT?
ASK THE POISONOUS ORANGE SPIDERS IN OFFICE.
ASK THEM THAT HAVE TASTED THE FREEDOM OF FLIGHT.
NOTWITHSTANDING WE'RE STILL STANDING AFTER DEMOCRACY TOOK A BAD HIT LAST NOVEMBER WHEN A FASCIST NAZI SWINE WAS ELECTED WITH OPEN AID OF DUBIOUS RUSSIAN INFLUENCES ALONGSIDE.


LOVE AND KISSES TO THOSE THAT FACE THE STRUGGLE.
LOVE TO THOSE THAT RESIST THE INFLUENCE OF MINDLESSNESS.
LOVE TO THE KIND ONES THAT KEEP FIGHTING.
LOVE FOR OUR DEAD. 



With Love For Heather Heyer For Ever


August 11, 2017

COLUMNS / CORINTHIANS



Smell the smelter. The iron works. 
A charmed mind is resilient in its efforts to evade the rusted palaces, shoreside.
Paperwork. Paperwork.
Had some π and coffee, thinking of that old mathematic mechanic cafe that used to be around here.
There was also a boutique that played songs with a stir of strings when it got lights out and late.
Washington Square could spare some more tales, a splash of port mayhaps for this salty dog. 
It serves a dood draped in ox-blood any ole' time.

This goldern necronomicon got side-saddled stitching and was distributed by this zine distro out near where James Dean got wrangled in the reins of his Little Bastard.
In life's free-for-all explosions of emotions the question persists as well.  
Is the internet about good or bad vibes?

Does hell prevail? Oh well, I'm not sure. The demon-haunted world seems undaunted - joyous, even.
But the kicks are getting higher than a legion of chicas' can-can.

Another fax came in with all the words - funny ones.
The end came with the question of when a joke is a joke or a funny statement a funny statement or just merely an actual inescapable position witnessed from afar. 
Laughter draws blood into the lungs. 

Singing is thrilling.

Singing is resisting.

----


July 27, 2017

HIATUS? NEVER.



OH MY.
took a look.

there's a room of animals.
there's a room with drawings all over the place.
it's scary.
oh yeah, another hole in the wall now looking greasy along the edges.
IT'S A MESSAGE.
did something disappear within like a sick animal or is this another calling crevasse? 

more faxes came in. the pile is a pattern. too much damn profanity in it. it mentions some orange chump whose name rhymes with CHUMP. 
it's abominable stuff, the work of this creature and its minions. Yuck.
there's also a love letter to trans people.

we aren't slowing down for shit.
it's just a bit of quiet civil war that we beloved artists are facing. will we give up? HAH.
fuck, i got a high-five last week for yelling at some pig in his patrol car. fucking pig sped up at me at a crosswalk on the stroll home. lousy stinking swine then goes all Biff Tanner with sly mocking "watch where you're going..." like some fascist scum out of a movie. The pig was dark-skinned; pig traits travel along all the pathways of the body to taint its souls. It's a nasty power trip that seemingly attracts weak characters and unpleasant bullies into its service here in the good 'ole USA. His eyes were brimming with menace, the frustrated eyes of a murderer with free time on his clenched fists.
I yelled back, "you're supposed to look out for us" and then called the pig "the proverbial" as I turned to leave. he stayed in his squad car, angry as a beaten back rapist. 

FROM THE DESK OF SHALO P
honestly kids, fuck the pigs. 

this won't make news. it won't set the world on fire, but an old Italian fellow followed me into the store I'd ducked into for cover and shook my hand with love and spirit. 

he said "good work, they should be looking out for us, but that just isn't the case". 
his smiling eyes were a pep.

keep love in your heart and don't let those pigs get to ya. 

love,
The Management



transcribed by Dordery Marks and laid down here by a kind creature...


June 2, 2017

DREMME FRIDAY : ZESTY / LIQUID PANTS







NUWS ZOUNDS NIL

HI HI HI.
It's me.

HEY.
It's UH found below.

FROM THE DESK OF DORDERY MARKS
Look up or just below blow me push the red button. Lock up or jest below me push the red button.

A song sorta felt right for sharing today. 
THIS JUST UH.
It comes with a very uh special transmission from UH YA KNOW and WE HERE amid the squalor of democracy clashing with those filthy sombitch alt-nazzies and scumfuck patrol of narrow-headed bumpkins trying to send this country to hell in an armpit. Dead America at night is a frightful sonovabitch to encounter at cold dusk. I tell ya true.

DEVASTATE, BUT FORGIVE.
AND AND UH AND.




FROM THE DESK OF SHALO P

UH YA KNOW I KNOW

why hell prevails...
Have ya read the news?
That march might get to goose-stepping, but brother and sister I gotta tell ya that I'll SLIDE ELECTRIC this motherfucker to oblivion before then.
Ya see, I got this system.

Tippity-Tap, and that's outreach.

You got to learn to let it go.
You got to know when it's all over.

And upon that horizon lies another in the haze of some morning.
Morning breaks some where, every there like an egg as the doom dawns, love.
There something mysterious and compelling about the mix of oxygen and sentience.
And if I hang by my words - when I'm alone and its dark, choked up and sensual - then I pray I get my kicks in too.

I hope you sweethearts are keeping to being speculative and zesty.
Reach into your pants and pull out a libertine.
Tell BB to keep her heart in the shadows of the black cape and her hands off my magazines.

I'm in UH hiatus. High Ate Us as one of my forlorn swore companions states as we take turns wrecking the wall and sneaking in to use the fax.

I slept beneath trees once and swam in some hot springs.
There's a big ole' rock on the California Coastline that smells like Mammoths.

Don't tell any one.
I BELIEVE IN FIRE.
I BELIEVE IN IMAGINATION.
I BELIEVE IN LOVE AS THE LOVE OF BEING FREE.

I do my best to make an effort (lest any truculent wretch flip my record) to show it rather than just say.

I'm a miserable prisoner of this unending passion for life.

See you sooon.

HEP! HEP!

sp




AND that's what was in the fax thing.
AND there were other sorta stuff that Void Fox sent. Most of it's schematics and maps.
AND now back to the program, starring a stalwart scythe of a brittle babe.

FROM THE DESK OF BB

Doo-Wa-Diddy Diddy-Dum Didddy Doo

OH OH OH

An Aside from Glowy. She ran onto the balcony and was last scene leaping from rooftop to rooftop. Poor girl didn't know the forest from the cold steel breeze.
Plus, we're getting a P.O. Box for correspondence ASAP but that stingy piece of shit fink of a MAN is on our back with paperwork. Frankly kids, fuck the fucking system. 
LOOK I'M A TROUBLED LADY and life isn't getting any, ya know, koolr.
Oh no not me. I'm actually koolr than I think sometimes.
I take it in STRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIDE PART TWO - this time it's personal.

I'll never let the bankers bankrupt my soul.
Without at least a smidge of free-thinking independent loveliness, the world would soundly plummet into infinite darkness.

BB


FROM THE DESK OF DO DO DO DO DO DO DO DO


...
loosely transcribed by Dordery Marks
San Francisco, California 


April 4, 2017

SLITHERING SNAKE / FROM THE DESK OF BB













The ascension of snakes is old hat to us, son. Pres-don't Orange Manure can't fire us. We cuddly as fuck.
NONE THE LESS
It's no limit craziness from that "florescent shockwave" Shalo P and the whole Television For Ghosts gang. Fistfuls of courage to all our peace-loving angels.

Shalo P sent a postcard themed-up all "Jack The Ripper". It poured out crimson out onto the floor when it was handed over - serves him right for sending a gull to do his dirty work.
CUT TO THE CHASE
New books are in the works but we're also in the studio making music and working out these dang riddles 
Void Fox keeps faxing.
More "new" soon. We're part of the resistance that keeps singing freedom. We UH love UH freedom of UH expression and will UH fight for freedom of speech for every one, even the UH damn fools.
Well, this fool here thinks all life is one and that our only battle lies with the human heart. 
Open up and take freshness balls deep, bitch.
Reach out to your brothers and sisters and trans-community. Reach out real-life interesting friends.
Skip out and live with your beasties. Live in caves full of laughs instead of like slaves seeped in wrath.
Don't sink into the Beat-Off Generation, fingers clinging to the edge of a pool of endless "YOU", like Narcissus.
Forgive yourself for chasing those lying bastards' dreams, or any old wack shit, and join us. 
Meet us out in the Wilderness with a boombox and a bag of tape.
We just want a weirder stronger sexier gender-fluid tasty creative clever common conniving future for everyone. We're into optimism, cause that's the only thing keeping these little fists from just flying.
If I rip another dress or have to shave my legs higher than my fucking knees I'm gonna go kerzy. BUCK WILD (while also probably nude and rude to boot).

ANYHUH
We always believe in artists. THEM FUCKERS SELL PATCHES OF HEAVEN!
TELL YOUR FUCKING FRIENDS 'CAUSE ARTISTS LIKE US LIVE BY THE RICHNESS OF TODAY'S AUDIENCE.
SWEAT AND BLOOD MAKE THAT GREAT MUTHA'S MILK NOURISHING AND JIZZY GENIUS.
THINK ABOUT IT. BEING AHEAD OF YOUR TIME JUST MEANS YOU'RE SURROUNDED BY GOLDERN BACKWARDS SOMBITCHES. EGAD, SQUIRE.
ROLL THAT SHIT FORWARD AND BE A STEWARD FOR PURE INDEPENDENT MADNESS. LET'S LIVE IN THE FUTURE WHILE FIGHTING THE EMPIRE.
BE AN AGENT OF THE SENSUALLY ENIGMATIC. KISS THESE INTELLECTUAL TITS. TAKE A NIPPLE INTO THAT HEATHEN MAW. TASTE THAT?

From The Desk of SHALO P
"We make no truce with the uninteresssting."  

OH OH OH
That would be crimnal,

BB
San Francisco, California 





February 9, 2017

WHAT COMES BEFORE ZERO / SORTA A PORTAL






WHAT COMES BEFORE ZERO?
SORTA A PORTAL





THE HILLS ARE ALIVE WITH THE SOUND OF VENGEANCE.



.

A PRESENCE PRESENTED FROM PARLAY BETWEEN TWO SIBLINGS,
freely WILLING TO PARTAKE IN A fresh CINEMA ENDEAVOR FOR THE SAKE OF THE SAINTS (WITHOUT WHOM WE'D NOT BE OBLIGED TO INDULGE WOULDA WUZZA WUZZZIT)
THIS PARTICULAR MASTERPIECE IS BY JOHNNY ROGERS, PRODUCED BY SHALO P AS THE PRIMORDIAL SLASH BEFORE EVENTUALLY BEING ENVELOPED INTO THE ORGANISM CRAFTED IN STEELY SLICK VOID.
IT WAS PRODUCED BY SHALO P UNDER A CLEAN BET - OR A BARGAIN, STRUCK BACK IN THE COLD LAST DAYS OF "THE TORMENTORS" CYCLE WHEN HE PRODUCED AND PRESENTED "THE FIRST ROOM" TO YOUNG MASTER ROGERS, A VERITABLE MONUMENT TO WILDERNESS CONFINED IN THE SEAMS OF A DREAM, a bridge - the first. 








THE TORMENTORS WAS A STEADY WAVE OF FRICTION BETWEEN ANOTHER PAIR OF CURSED CREATURES THAT CAME TO FRUITION WITH AN FASHIONABLE EXHIBITION AT MERIDIAN GALLERY, WITH CRITICAL ACCLAIM ON A LUSH SPOT ON FOGGY NOB HILL. THAT'S SAN FRANCISCO, YA KATS. YOU CAN HEAR ITS VOICE IN ITS SPIRIT.








"WHAT WAS POURED INTO THE FOUNDATION LAID AT STAKE OUR VERY SOULS. IT WAS A RITUAL OF BLOOD, SCARLET FOOTSTEPS FRESHLY PADDED ABOUT EVERYWHERE."
THE MEDIUM WAS THE MESSAGE AND THE MEDIUM WAS AWFULLY MANGLED INDEED, DAWG. THE "TELEVISION FOR GHOSTS" OF THEN, WAS A SPY'S VENTURE, A SPECTATOR'S COLLATION OF A GREAT STORM'S MONUMENTAL TRANSGRESSION INTO THE PRIME REAL ESTATE OF THE ZEITGEIST, A VERITABLE SINEWED COLLECTIVE PSYCHIC BORDERLAND THE HUMAN RACE INHABITED IN ITS WANTS, WILES, AND WILLS.







THOSE YEARS WERE WROTH WITH STRANGE METAPHYSIC BREAKTHROUGHS, LIKE FIGURING OUT ABOUT FOOD STAMPS AND ENDLESS COFFEE REFILLS AT GAS STATIONS, AND WHICH BAKERY THREW OUT STALE BREAD EARLY. GLADLY, ONENESS WAS ATTAINED WITH SOME RESOLUTE QUIET IN THEM "INNER WOODS" INSTEAD OF JUST BLOWING A COUPLE OF TRUCK DRIVERS FOR MONEY LIKE THAT GYM TEACHER ONCE ADVISED.







ANYHOO
.
VOIDS OVERLAPPED LIKE SHEETS AND DRAPED SHADOWS ON LOVERS ENTWINED - VENGEANCE AND ITS WEAPONS WERE SEIZED BY THE DIVINE - SET TO DANCE OR PRANCE AS WE SOMERSAULT FORTH TO THE GATES OF TRUEST SOUTH

THE FIRST STEP WAS VENGEANCE. MIX THAT WITH A KNACK FOR BINDING IMAGERY AS ONE IN A RIVER TUMBLING HUMANITIES SACRED SYMBOLS INTO A BLENDER - THE ZEITGEIST DISPOSSESSED, REPOSSESSED, AND UNTETHERED FROM ITS MOORINGS, TO LUMBER FORTH INTO VAST NEW TERRITORY. 

THE ASSEMBLING / DISASSEMBLING IS A LIBERATION TO ITS CLATTER OF INTERPRETATIONS AS WE ALL DANCE TO A CLASH OF QUESTIONABLE INTELLECTUAL CREATION, MELDED HOT FROM MATERIAL IN THE MIND, SAND FROM THE DESERT OF THE UNREAL, CLAWING AT THE HUMAN SPIRIT, CHARRING THE INSIDES TO CINDERS AND SHIFTING THE STONE PUS CLUTTER FASHIONED TO FUNCTION AS A INHIBITER OF EXPANDING THE IRIS. WE WERE DOWN AGAIN FOR NEW PERCEPTIONS.
THIS HAD TO BE THE BEGINNING OF A DIFFERENT CINEMA, NOTHING LESS THAN CRIMNAL.









SHALO P REPORTEDLY STARTED THE DEAL UP TO SET A MENTALLY CONCEIVED "DEDICATED ROOM" - the prototype - TO BE EXTRAPOLATED UPON AND SHARED UNTO FUTURE TRAVELERS IN THE AS YET-TO-BE STORIES AWAITED A HORIZON UPON THE HORIZON AWAY. SHALO P ELABORATED WITH A ROOM FURNISHED WITH A BEVY OF MELTED CEREAL BOXES, DECREPIT AND DESECRATED WITH IMMOBILE FIERY SPIRES FLASHING OUT, AND CUNNINGLY CUT PAPER FLAMES SPILLING FROM ITS COLORFUL SHAFTS. THE PAINTED MOTIONS WERE CRAFTED IN PANCAKE-THICK DRIPPY COLORFULNESS, A PAINTER, A POURER, NONE POORER THAN THAT RICH BITCH. SOME OF THESE SCULPTURES SEEMED TO BURST, CAPTURED IN THEIR FROZEN CARTOON TIME, YET ROTTING LIKE ABANDONED PLANTS. THE ROOM WAS PEPPERED WITH BALLOON SCULPTURES TOO, ALL SWIPED FROM A SWEETHEART. THAT LIL' NOOK SHOOK WITH ZEALOUSY CRAFTED FROM CEREAL BOXES BLEEDING BRIGHT SMOLDERING COLORS ONTO THE FLOOR. THE GLITTERY GLAM GATES OF HELL HAD BUT A WORD OVER ITS GLISTENING SEAL - REJOICE.




THE MOUTH OF HELL OPENED WITH A HANDSHAKE. IT WOULD EVENTUALLY BE AN IMMERSIVE TALE WOVEN OUT OF WILD VOLATILE FABRICS - REPRESENTING A GENRE UNTO ITSELF - A DRASTIC TAKE ON FUN CELEBRATING SORROW IN THE SACRED FOOTSTEPS OF HAPPINESS.

OUR CINEMA VENTURED TO WRESTLE WITH ITS UNBALANCED NUMBERS / ONES AND ZEROS, LIGHT, INTEGRITY, A JOURNEY BETWEEN PIXELS, AND THE CAPTURING OF DECONSTRUCTION - WITH GLITCHES IN THEIR NATURAL HABITAT - CRAFTING A SHADOW LANDSCAPE REPRESENTING HUMANITY'S DYING FROZEN GRINNING FACE AU NATURALE WITHIN THE ONSLAUGHT OF THE INFORMATION AGE'S SELF-MADE BLISS. A GREAT UNFATHOMABLE STORM WAS CASUALLY RUMBLING FORTH ACROSS MENTAL PLANES WITH A BOOMBOX STASHED IN FRAPULOID FOLDS OF VOID OVERLAPPING SYNERGISTIC ECSTASY, SETTING THE STAGE FOR OUR SINGULAR SONG.





THE HILLS ARE ALIVE WITH THE SOUND OF VENGEANCE 2.0.
IT WAS VITAL TO CRACK OPEN THAT PROVERBIAL CASK OF AMONTILLADO AGAIN TO LURE ALL OUR FRIENDS ON DOWNWARD TO A QUAINT UNDERGROUND CELLAR SCREENING WHERE THE DISEMBODIED LIGHT BUSTS ALL THEM BRICKS WITH ITS DIVINITY-GIVEN CINEMA SPIDER LIMBS, A SORT OF CONSCIOUSNESS IMBUED TO PROVIDE HONEST DISCOURSE, AND AN IMMERSIVE COFFIN FOR THE PESKY EXPECTATIONS OF THE WORLD BEFORE. 
THIS IS ONE OF THE FIRST TASTES OF TELEVISION FOR GHOSTS - A RESPONSE TO JOHNNY ROGERS, PRESSED INTO VHS BACK WHEN THIS OFFICE WAS SET IN THE WOODS, PLAYED ON THE WEDDING NIGHT WITH THE VOID TO CHIME IN OUR FIRST REAL DAYS WITH THE MYSTERY COMPANY - TELEVISION FOR GHOSTS, A NEARLY AGELESS ENTITY THAT ONLY EXISTED IN LEGEND AND TAPE.





FOR THE FIRST FEATURE "PRODUCED BY SHALO P" JUST MEANT THAT THE STORY WAS HATCHED UNDER DURESS FROM THE COUNT OF DEFCON FAB, WITH VENGEANCE PERSONIFIED WRITHING IN WRATH, AND A JOURNEY SOMEWHAT CUT SHORT PERHAPS,
MORE LIKELY ENVELOPED IN THE WARMTH OF THE VOID. THIS SECOND CAPITULATION WAS CARVED FROM THE DANK BLACK STUFF ITSELF.
SO SINK A TOE IN THIS BLACK RIVER TO STROLL ONWARD TO THIS SECOND INCARNATION WITH KIND RESERVE OR PERHAPS ANOINT SOME UNHOLY CHAPEL SINCE ITS A BIT OF A UH LOVE LETTER.

THE ALLUSION IS THE ILLUSION AS MUCH AS THE ROSE IS THE RUSE.
YOU SHOULD PROBABLY HEAD ALONE BY YOURSELF FROM THIS POINT.



.

WITH LOVE AND KIND REGARDS,

VENGEANCE.

Dordery Marks (with notes provided by Shalo P)

San Francisco CA



February 8, 2017

FAX FROM HUNGRY TIMES PRESS / STABBER



FRIZZ UNFURL / FAX FROM HUNGRY TIMES PRESS / NOTHER EDITION / DODO

There was a strange turn of events last month. I saw it myself. There was a hole in the wall, big enough for a brute.
It came outta nowhere and led nowhere too, deep into the walls and in-between what's between them



DOWN DEEP. 
We're patching it up with stucco but also thought of using the yogurt in the break room before it all goes "off".
I saw his ghastly office door, now gone awol, all haunty and shit - that one mentioned in the first fax from Void Fox, leaning keen at the laundry mat up on Grant Street beside a folding machine that mangles kids to bits (just guessing). There's a bench in the park that had the door there leaning onto a glinty red dewey Madrone at an angle, as if furniture were practically Fonz.
These things came at inopportune times, so I put it into song and ignored texts asking about the boss and its whereabouts.
BB was already handling that stuff. She's culpable.
Where he went was deep and where he is now ain't any mind to this Minnie, not since I saw the bare dusty footprints strutting up on the walls and on the ceiling.
I got faith in freak.
Good ole' naw naw's UH numbwhere



UH ANYWHO 
Come on sisters and brothers, Trans, daddies, mamas, nanas, num nums. Get close and send your monetary gifts in form of checks mixt with lil' presents to our new PO Box mailing address (COMING SOON). Mail Art and Friendship Peace Gangs are cool with us. Let's be pen pals, but above UH all pals, asshole. I accept nothing but love and likewise my love is rough as sandpaper, but true as sweet rain.
The printers are humming hot, more news coming soon. We might have a subscription-based bargain with the devil that will be made available soon for new works from TELEVISION FOR GHOSTS and our MUTANT BOOKS projects - POST-VALLEY - fathoms deeper than death. Shalo P wanted me to personally convey that- Wait. Wait. Wait. UH.

Just got an urgent fax from Hungry Times Press:

WHAT COMES BEFORE ZERO?







August 1, 2016

PSST






WE'RE GONNA BLEED OUT THEM PORES OVER HERE PRETTY SOON.
THERE'S A LOT OF NEW FUN COMING, WRACKED WITH SORROW AS WE RILE UP A WHOLE LOTTA WILD. TO PARTY.

WE'RE THINKING ABOUT NEW MUTANTS BOOKS - ITS A VIVID, STRANGE CONCEPT FOR RESTLESS MINDS.
NEW TAPES ARE COMING SOON TOO, LIKE HUNGRY GHOSTS - PURE PLEASURE.
WE'RE GONNA DO SOME
SCREENINGS AS WELL - MAD MAD MAD TELEVISION FOR GHOSTS BANQUETS FOR THE SENSES - FROM THE HOLE IN THE VAULT TO THE BASEMENT SHOW PROCURED BY THE COSMIC COLOSSAL VOID.
HOPEFULLY THE WALLS HOLD BACK 'CAUSE
WE SHANT.


IT'LL BE DEF & DIVINE. WE JUST GOTTA REACH THEM SEARCHERS THAT BEEN SEARCHING TO CONNECT WITH OUR SWEET NUFFIN.
COMING SO-SO SOON, DOOD.

&
WE FUCKING LOVE YA SURVIVORS. THAT LOVE IS TRUE HONEST IMMORTAL - LIKE A FUCKING VAMPIRE.
IF YOU'RE FEELING WEIRD IN YOUR SKIN IT'S JUST THE BEGINNING OF SLINKING AWAY CLEAN FROM THE CRIME.

oh oh oh hell prevails,
SHALO P

FROM THE DESK OF DORDERY MARKS

I'M GONNA SMASH YOUR FACE IN.



LOVE IS THE ONLY THING I KNOW HOW TO DO RIGHT.


June 21, 2016

BOP!






(heard howlt thru the wall, not sure from where though)

GODDAMMIT MOTHERFUCKING SHIT I'M GONNA DIE IN HERE.

Not one fucking sweet lil' card from anybody
that's called me "DADDY"
all these filthy fucking years?!?

CAN YA EVER TRUST ANYBODY WITH A MOHAWK?

(sound issues forth: a brusque inept knocking about of cheap trophies from cheaper wooden shelves, unto the sudden stab of contact with an orgy of broken glass
like the proverbial Christ's kicks at the twinkling shit of awful capitalists; tossing them out like barrels from his Donkey Kong temple. That is, until a boom struck THONK upon our holy walls when the lord's voice shot out to say.)

THESE PURELY ORNAMENTAL, 
DECADENT
WHIPS AND THINGS
AIN'T JUST FOR SHOW.

(transcribed by Dordery Marks)