⒈
RETURNS
Woke up drunk.
Wore last night's outfit out, again.
.
Today's my birthday.
Today is a special day.
Tomorrow was my birthday, too.
.
Because it turns into today; turned into today.
Already.
Again.
█EGO TERRORISM
EGOT ERRORISM
E G O T E R R O R I SM
E G O T E R R O R I S M
E G O T E R R O R I S M
E G O T E R R O R I S M
E G O T E R R O R I S M
E G O T E R R O R I S M
E G O T E R R O R I S M
E G O T E R R O R I S M
E G O T E R R O R I S M
E G O T E R R O R I S M
E G O T E R R O R I SM
E G O T E R R O R I S M
EGO TERRORISM
EGOT ERRORISM█
ＪＱＤ
m.v.d.
.
↓ ᴄᴏɴsᴜᴍᴇʀ ᴀᴜᴅɪᴏ ↓
"LOSTCOAST SUNKCOST" 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄 (ᴜɴʀᴇʟᴇᴀsᴇᴅ)
NONE OF THIS IS ADVICE
UNLESS IT SEEMS I'M CLEARING A PATH WORTH TAKING
IN WHICH CASE
UNDERTAKE TO OVERTAKE ME . . .
Most of this is old.
Some of this is new.
All your time is borrowed.
Breathlessly born-blue.
💙
❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️
NOTE: This post is apparently (way) "too long for e-mail," please click-through to the web version for the Real Experience.
⒉
COME SEE ABOUT ME
Saw a guy in a shirt I have.
One with the moon.
.
Mine's sleeveless now, and weathered.
His was new.
.
Gave him a big grin.
He looked terrified.
He didn't know.
⒊
PICK-ME-UP
She Said:
"IF YOU WANTED TO BE FAMOUS,
YOU WOULD BE BY NOW."
.
POWER.
POWER?
.
"WHAT? YOU PREFER MONEY?"
.
A DRAG.
LOCKED EYES, LOCKED-IN.
⒋
REGARDING PUBLICATION
DEFACED DISGRACE PREFACE:
The Cafe Goblin folks loved the initial d(raft),
(or they fucked it like they did),
diddled-edit
just a bit
but they implored me to
J.Q.D.
Contemptible Vermin of the Scatological Eschaton
𝑚.𝑣.𝑑.
MMXXIII
LOST EROS, CA
HEY YOU . . . YOU FUCKIN PERVERT . . . FUCKIN PERV . . .
BEAT IT OUT AND PRINT OFF ON IT ! ! !
FUCK YOU . . . FUCK YOU . . . FUCK YOU . . .
⒌
KOMOREBI 木漏れ日
The fabrics have never been thinner.
Asses never fatter.
Hungrinesses devour.
Countesses by the hour.
Caress.
.
Sucked up away imagining.
Pinkinnarded within.
World of pipes and pearls.
That lively stretchery.
Those promised shapes.
⒍
"THE JAPANESE HAVE A WORD FOR IT, IT'S —"
Eye-fucking.
Eye beams.
Ideas of iced cream.
Melted down low-lit.
Traced-back steep steps.
.
LOOK:
You are here.
The exposure of seams.
An expanse in the sea.
Avast ye.
A clavicle's aperture.
Have at me.
Strapless.
In the backseat.
Starry wandering.
Wondering after you.
Cuz it's like.
.
Your glasses suck but you're hot.
Your friends are hot too but you're the one talking.
Your glasses suck but you're hot anyway.
And you can see me too.
Hm.
Anyway.
.
I could fix you.
I could fuck you up.
I could fuck you.
I think.
I think I —
.
Should.
Could.
Right?
Oughta.
Might.
Will.
Well —
.
Your eyes are portals to somewhere, and I am else, well-worn.
Your skin pops lush in crisp white.
But what other tones can you hit?
Is what I'm wondering.
Which notes and potions, and where and when?
.
Curl of a mouth pursed coy.
Inside alive.
Which-where?
.
And me, piled virility.
This high.
Alien hypnotic.
.
My eyes are portals to somewhere, and you are lost, wind-whorl'd.
Guess of a girl.
And you can't help the sum of all blue heavens.
The blues of sunken treasure.
Fur-loined letters.
Four-worded forever.
Like fuck.
.
Yondering ponderously, yammering.
Captive and captivator.
Cat-five whirl, nine-tailed.
Your psychic powers.
And those tall boots.
Black rounded toebox, knee-high.
High's the Fourthajuly.
And booming.
Look to be for riding.
Could be for riding.
Could be fruitful.
Could be forbidden.
.
Yeah I broke it on purpose.
You wanna see what else I can do on purpose?
.
("DO YOU LIKE CUMBIA MUSIC?"
"WHAT?"
"DO YOU LIKE CUMBIA MUSIC?"
"WHAT?"
"DO YOU—")
.
An invitation.
To playpluck sensorium vibrations.
Rabid libation.
Lit illicit.
Heavy-lidded.
Slowdown come-now.
C'mon.
.
Seriously, serially.
Ridden in rhythm.
Quiet here, but elsewhere?
A dissolved instrument, kitten.
.
Come.
You know too.
We both do.
Come on.
Me too.
Let us.
Go.
⒎
A TEASE, via CAFÉ GOBLIN ISSUE 1
I'd chosen angels over apples, having no use for the wind or its surrounds.
.
OFTEN HAVING JOKED
❗️
"𝑗𝑜𝑘𝑒𝑑" —
.
"CAME HERE TO START CULTS AND KILL PEOPLE,"
.
𝚃O 𝚁EA𝙳 𝚃𝙷E 𝚁E𝚂𝚃 O𝙵 𝚃𝙷I𝚂 𝙿IE𝙲E, 𝙿𝙻EA𝚂E 𝙿E𝚁𝙵O𝚁𝙼 A 𝙷EA𝙳-𝚂𝚃A𝙽𝙳 O𝚁 𝙿U𝚁𝙲𝙷A𝚂E I𝚂𝚂U𝙴 𝟷 O𝙵 𝙲A𝙵É 𝙶O𝙱𝙻I𝙽.
ı'p ɔɥosǝu ɐuƃǝls oʌǝɹ ɐddlǝs, ɥɐʌıuƃ uo nsǝ ɟoɹ ʇɥǝ ʍıup oɹ ıʇs snɹɹonups. oɟʇǝu ɥɐʌıuƃ ɾoʞǝp ! "ɾoʞǝp" — "ɔɐɯǝ ɥǝɹǝ ʇo sʇɐɹʇ ɔnlʇs ɐup ʞıll dǝodlǝ," ʞıɔʞ ıʇ oɟɟ ʍılp ɐup ɹǝɔʞlǝss. sǝƃɯǝuʇ ʇɥǝ ɐnpıǝuɔǝ. ɟnɔʞ 'ǝɯ.
The full text of this piece will be published here upon the release of Café Goblin Issue 2. Subscribe now.
⒏
FILM STILL
Party roar, swaying.
He's the only white boy there, lighting up everyone's cigarettes.
Is he a drug dealer?
Doesn't seem that way.
.
Wrong driver arrives.
.
"You . . . Who you here to pick up?"
"Musta got the wrong guy."
.
Stillness.
Tensions.
⒐
PREFACE (Redux)
My readership exploded overnight.
The next morning, they went to breakfast.
⒑
Untitled (Ten)
WHAT NEEDED DONE
WHO IS FORGIVEN
and
and
WHAT DID NOT
WHO'S FORGOT
⒒
PRINCE PLEASURE
Scatting into the void.
Why I do what I do.
Taking up music.
They'd plead for smut.
And here I am, guilty.
⒓
GAY PORN SKETCH (Disorienting, Fragmentary, Nonsensical)
They're not actually brothers.
Jack and Jake Hardly.
Not that it matters.
Those aren't their real names, either.
Doesn't matter.
Chosen family.
That matters.
.
INT. PAUL PEARBLOSSOM'S OFFICE (Downtown)
.
"You're just shooting stills?"
"Stills?" Ha-ha. "Honey, no — your photos will sparkle."
.
. . .
.
The computers are from the early 2000s but one piece of hardware is timeless.
.
"So you guys are — what? Fitness trainers? — OR — fit-in-THIS trainers?"
.
Pearblossom mawed.
.
𝘉𝘖𝘕𝘜𝘚 𝘊𝘏𝘈𝘓𝘓𝘌𝘕𝘎𝘌 (Expert):
𝙲𝙰𝙽 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚂𝚄𝙲𝙺 𝙲𝙾𝙲𝙺 𝚂𝙾 𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃
𝙳𝙾𝙽𝙰𝙻𝙳 𝙳𝚁𝙰𝙶𝙾𝙽 𝙲𝙰𝙽'𝚃
𝙱𝙴𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙼𝙰𝚈𝙾𝚁❓
𝙳𝙾𝙽𝙰𝙻𝙳 𝙳𝚁𝙰𝙶𝙾𝙽 𝙲𝙰𝙽'𝚃
𝙱𝙴𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙼𝙰𝚈𝙾𝚁❓
His signature red satin silk tie trailed the world's least necessary paltry inch to a withered worm impressed with itself to the extent of pharmacological advance, a dick against god, a pinkie confused with middlesomeness, a grim graveyard's soil-puncturing fist in miniature, defiant in night-sky, disrupted from its dangle in the cavernous hollows of piss-and-moth smelling worsted wool, the worst in wool, all-pissed-out, truly all-pissed out.
⒔
RECENT COMPARISONS (Shit People Say to Me)
I don't need to agree.
.
2023 𝑤𝑟𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑑:
BAKER, CHET
BOWIE, DAVID
CASH, JOHNNY
CAVE, NICK
COHEN, LEONARD
DANZIG, GLENN
DEL NAJA, ROBERT
ELDRITCH, ANDREW
FERRY, BRYAN
GIBBONS, BETH
GUÐMUNDSDÓTTIR, BJÖRK
HAZLEWOOD, LEE
ISAAK, CHRIS
JENKINS, MICK
LAMAR, KENDRICK
LEITCH, DONOVAN
LENNON, JOHN
LENNOX, ANNIE
MANSON, MARILYN
MORRISON, JIM
MURPHY, PETER
PATTON, MIKE
PECK, ORVILLE
POP, IGGY
PRESLEY, ELVIS
REED, LOU
REZNOR, TRENT
STEELE, PETER
SUMMER, DONNA
SYLVIAN, DAVID
TANKIAN, SERJ
TRICKY
WAITS, TOM
WALKER, SCOTT
YORKE, THOM
⒕
LINE ANXIETY
Come on.
Come down.
Can you come in?
Are you common?
You're getting in, or you aren't.
You weren't invited, aren't wanted.
Not specifically.
Uncalled for.
You're unsummoned.
.
Are you done up?
Do you look right, move right, stand right, dress right?
Know anybody?
Got any kind words can be put in for you?
Authorities to appeal, invoke?
Put in a word upstairs?
.
Power is flowing, and with it free drinks.
Free to the powerful, as all things, to sup.
Feeling powerful?
.
Are you done for?
Down?
Worsted best, overt-dressed.
Distant smile of an uneasy guest.
ART as a STALKING HORSE for a MARKETING CAMPAIGN . . .
⒖
MISCALCULATION
Had a lot of people I counted as friends.
Now it seems I'm missing fingers.
Must have blown-off some dynamite.
⒗
ANTEVELLUM
Toilet paper in search of an end user.
Near-death naivete.
Hackwork of a machete.
⒘
THE HOUSE WITHOUT MIRRORS
I must confess I fear my own power.
All I have.
What I've been, could be, will be.
What I am — if you can bind me.
Where I am — if you can find me.
Beauty and illusions.
.
I draw my hand over her face, self-same.
The familiar contours.
Eyes as yet empty,
But soon — SOON! — my shine returns.
We are mirrors.
.
She'd stepped out of me backward, fully-formed.
A flipped duplicate.
Like acrobats.
Synchronized.
Perfect.
.
She's motionless, not yet activated.
The breath of life not yet given.
Dollmaker and doll.
Lightning and its double.
The end of all.
.
And which gimmick shall I send you off to, trouble?
In which yet-to-be will you be me?
Sorceress and sorcerer too, when mood or match is struck.
The thanklessness of stars and luck.
A blue flame.
⒙
ON SPEC
Beacons of light.
Footfalls in flashes.
They're everywhere.
Running.
In packs and in pairs.
On tracks and out there.
Solo, siloed.
Headphones in, on.
OR fully aware.
Head full of noise or nothing.
Flow.
.
2, 3, 4.
7, 8.
Go.
.
JAMES QUENTIN DEVINE names a person-mimicking fashion corporation — a non-person, certainly not any one person — of varying origin and claim.
Prefers not to be photographed.
.
[ERROR]
⒚
WATCHING WINDOWS (AGENCY WORK)
They're out there, waiting.
Peeking through the blinds.
Peaking in the dark.
Unpotentiated.
Hid-away.
Wondering at their place.
Waiting for the light.
🟢
WHO RUNS THE STREETS?
Prospective users, latent, in the cut, activators of the environment.
Awaiting, impatient.
They want to run.
Something in the way?
The products of thwarted paradise.
Navigators of mazes and corridors.
Community disconnection, alienation, atomization, COVID,
Streets unfit for fitness, anti-human designs that must be overcome —
Each floating head a film and each film lit and soundtracked.
And the actors tucked away in their trailers.
Go on — bang on the door, entice them.
Screens playing to themselves.
Come out — show yourself!
It's OK. You're OK. It's nice out.
⒛
I GOT SICK LAST YEAR, AND I WROTE A LITTLE BIT ABOUT IT (Unpublished)
COVID finally came for me.
Seems unlikely it hadn't previously, quietly.
Perhaps I was asymptomatic.
Been years-long after it.
Past a certain point I'd practically been trying.
But this was the first known rodeo.
.
I've come back rabid, laid-up nursing home angst.
I'm daggers, again, if I weren't, if I ever wasn't.
Summon forth the strength.
Tell me how to tell you to.
.
Walking is thinking. Seeing through your own eyes is believing.
I-I don't write like other people because AI will.
IT ALREADY DOES.
I don't write for other people because I write for you.
Experimental writing up your ass.
presented in
FRAGMENTED REALITY
a subsidiary of
𝘟𝘌𝘕𝘖𝘊𝘏𝘙𝘖𝘔𝘈
"Inevitability — Delivered."
is a self-taught integrated media company
founded haunted and enchanted in 𝙻𝙾𝚂𝚃 𝙴𝚁𝙾𝚂, 𝙲𝙰.
FRAGMENTED REALITY
a subsidiary of
𝘟𝘌𝘕𝘖𝘊𝘏𝘙𝘖𝘔𝘈
"Inevitability — Delivered."
I AM A BLEEDING CHARACTER. IT IS OK. THANK YOU.
SELECT ME?
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑 . . .
𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄 / a / k / a ＪＱＤis a self-taught integrated media company
founded haunted and enchanted in 𝙻𝙾𝚂𝚃 𝙴𝚁𝙾𝚂, 𝙲𝙰.
"Thank you . . .
Thank you." 💙
Thank you." 💙
✦
Lost Eros, CA · Dec 2023.