Sdtrk: ‘Ground zero: Infinity dose’ by SPK

So I dreamt the other night that my friend Mike and his dad were living over an auto repair shop, and that he was working with some Brazilian/Mexican bloke on a project for a new pseudo-Kamen rider series, with the motif based on apes. The Mexican bloke had ICQed me, but he was using Mike’s computer, so I saw this message from aneamo (Mike’s online alias) asking if I liked Noise & Power-electronics and I was like ‘huh?? Mike knows I like Noise, he’s known me for years!’ He’d first sent a message asking if this was Davecat — I guess he was actually online at the time — but I didn’t respond initially, as I was busy at the time. Then a couple of minutes later, he typed, ‘i am *name*, i am 17 years old, and i like merzbow, whitehouse, masonna, mb, etc etc..’ I suppose I sussed that he was of Latin descent, as all of his sentences began with an upside-down exclamation mark.

Later, I somehow managed to get hold of the Latino fella’s sketchbook, and I was sitting in the coffeeshop section of a Borders, looking over a couple of the coloured pencil sketches he did for their KR project. Despite the idiotic-sounding motif (apes??), the drawings were rather good.. Then this pleasant-looking Asian lass that looked about 17 or 18 came over and sat next to me. When she didn’t get my immediate attention, she pulled out a coloured pencil of her own, and began doodling in the margins of the sketchbook. ‘Heh — that’s not mine, you know,’ I told her. She stopped.

Naturally, I’ve no idea what to make of that. The Kamen rider idea was undoubtedly fueled by the fact that I’ve been watching a lot of downloaded tokusatsu shows recently, such as GARO and Kamen rider Kabuto, but the rest of it? No clue. I don’t think I’ve ever known a Spanish bloke in my entire life! I don’t think I’ve ever lived over an auto repair place my entire life! Who comes up with this stuff?? Don’t answer that.

And if you think that’s bad, a couple of nights before that, I dreamt that Captain Jack Harkness, the dashing bisexual 51st Century rogue from Doctor Who, had a pet bear cub that spoke English. I was initially impressed, like anyone else would be, but it seems that the only word this cub could speak was ‘ham’, and that’s all it would repeat. ‘Ham,’ it would say, in a voice you would expect from a winsome four year old. ‘Ham ham ham ham.’

What the fuck?

Sdtrk: ‘Woman, begone’ by Zeigenbock Kopf

Courtesy of The Diner [at] Penda’s Realm, naturally

DAD BOILED IN FETISH SUIT
By Don Mackay

KINKY Robert Garnett boiled to death after snorting a potentially lethal dose of cocaine and putting on a rubber suit, an inquest heard yesterday.

His body temperature soared, causing his brain to swell as he wore a fetishist-style gimp outfit seen in the film Pulp Fiction.

The 35-year-old McDonald’s burger bar manager – a separated dad of one – was found in his bedroom after relatives had reported him missing.

Medical experts said Mr Garnett, of Lambeth, South London. had hyperthermia leading to a build-up of brain fluid.

Pathologist Dr Peter Jerreat told the hearing at Southwark: “The rubber clothing caused excessive overheating.

“The toxicology reports revealed a potentially fatal level of cocaine.

“The contributory factor to his death was the presence of cocaine.”

Verdict: Accident.

*eyes PVC trousers suspiciously*
Obviously you have to be careful with that sort of thing. Whenever I’d wear my pair of PVC jeans for longer than half an hour, at the end of the day I’d take them off, and I’d feel like I’d been swimming.

Poor Robert Garnett. He died the way he lived — hopped up on coke, and marinating in his own juices while wearing latex gear

Sdtrk: ‘Packing, printing & light assembly’ by Basil Kirchin

As I was driving through my neighbourhood going home today, I saw a young man walking down the middle of the road. Now the problem here is that there were available sidewalks on either side of the road that he was clearly uninterested in using, and he was in my way. No, the stupid bastard was more enthralled with the idea of obstructing, or at least slowing, my progress. I have absolutely no respect for people who do that shit. I don’t even mind it if a person is in the road, but perhaps walking alongside the kerb no more than a foot away, but this tosser was about a foot away from the centre of the road. I wanted to shout at him as I passed, ‘They’re called “sidewalks” for a reason, you cakefucker.‘
I should’ve run him down, like a dog in the street. Not out of nastiness, mind you, but simply to teach him a lesson. No sane jury would convict me.

On a lighter note, I present to you: the sum total of Human Evolution.

Better post later, as obviously I need to think of something arguably more interesting or profound to type

Sdtrk: ‘Lynda (Jensen sessions, 1982)’ by Strawberry switchblade

During my ten-minute break at work today, I was reading my copy of Q Magazine’s ‘Depeche mode + Electropop’ special from last year, when George, the fatter, more churlish of my two supervisors, lumbered over to my cubicle. ‘You into New wave and all that stuff?’ he asked. I very nearly choked on my drink.

Now, for a better explanation as to why this question was so out of left field for me, I’ll try to describe George, going by the kind of experiences I’ve had with him. As stated before, he is an immense beast of a man, who does indeed lumber when he walks. Also, if there’s a person on one end of the office opposite from where he’s at that asks him a question, he’s 95% more likely to shout across the office than he is to actually walk up to the person and speak to them, like a civilised person would. I attribute this to the fact that he walks so slowly, it’d be easier and quicker for him to shout a response than to mobilise himself over to the person before, y’know, the sun sets. His arms sport a number of gangsta-related tattoos, and in the four months I’ve been working there, I’ve only seen him smile or laugh about four or five times. His management skills consist mainly of haranguing the employees, such as, ‘speak up! It sounds like we’re whispering’, or ‘now would be a good time to check our equipment, so we can log in at ten o’clock’, or ‘we need to speak with some volume and enthusiasm’. He repeats those mantras at least once a day. Truly, an admirable man, with an infectious love of life and laughter that fills the room whenever he enters it! Heh. No, honestly he’s just a fat cunt with a complete lack of personality.

So! Back to the scene: I replied that yeah, I love New wave from both the Eighties and now. He then asked if I was into Duran Duran, to which I replied, ‘not so much, but I like their really early stuff’.
‘Yeah, I used to be a big fan of them and Soft cell’, George replied, ‘I used to have a lot of their tapes.’
I can’t remember, but I think I actually shook my head as if to clear it. ‘O.. wow,’ I responded.
‘That was some good stuff,’ he said, and made his leave, nodding approvingly.

Really, where do you go with knowledge like that? What else can you say?

Sdtrk: ‘Why don’t you sell out all stocks?’ by Incapacitants

No; apart from ‘teh Internets’, I’ve no idea how I find this stuff, as I certainly didn’t go looking for it. I suppose you could say on some cosmic level, it finds me. Maybe you could chalk it up to synchronicity, as I’ve been re-reading my copy of ‘Beyond belief‘ over the course of the past week..

Police go big with victim picture
BBC News | Published Monday, 23 May 2005

A 60ft high picture of a murdered prostitute has been projected onto a derelict block of flats in Glasgow.

Detectives hope it will help to turn up clues about the death of Emma Caldwell, whose body was found in woods in South Lanarkshire on 8 May.

The image was displayed for four hours on the multi-storey flats in Cumberland Street, Hutchesontown on Monday night.
the rest of the article is here

I’m sure it left one hell of a haunting impression on people in the area, at the very least

Sdtrk: some bloke yelling

OMIGOD RUN AWAY FAST NOW

The Quiznos round here are never as interesting as this. Is that a Good or Bad thing?

Sdtrk: ‘Echoes in my mind’ by Barbara Ruskin

Last year, during one of the visits that Mike & Wolfgang (of the Vulne Pro Consortium and Knitting Circle) and I had made to John King books in downtown Detriot, we managed to find several milk crates filled with various mens’ magazines from the late Fifties and Sixties. They are truly the Stuff of Legend. If it were possible to distill these mags into their component ingredients, the largest parts-per-volume amounts yielded would be (in order) Machismo, Bombast, Kitsch, and Rampant Sexism. But they did possess a certain charm, as their kitsch factor was undeniable. Usually the swarthy blokes on the covers were either 1) shirtless, 2) doing something death-defying, like shooting Nazis or punching crocodiles, 3) seducing some lusty, busty lass, or 4) a combination of all three. Y’know, typical Post-WWII White Guy activities. It was impossible for us to stop laughing.
As I was skint at the time, I didn’t obtain any myself — I intend on returning, as in all likelihood, they’re probably still up there — but Wolfgang and Mike grabbed a few, and a couple of days ago, Wolfgang Emailed me a reminder of one of the best covers:

YES, mensur fencing!
Judges, do we have a winner? I think we do