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Wednesday, May 06, 2020

An Ending (Ascent) - Eno - Switzerland - Lauterbrunnen - Stechelberg - Frau Graf
This is what I listened to hiking on my own in the Swiss Alps when I reached the end of the trail up high, alone, surrounded by glaciers and hearing occasional rock falls, lay on my back headphones on, smoked a ciggie * That night lying in Frau Graf's bunk house which had last been renovated in the 1960s, lying there in the cosy Goldilocks row of the communal bunkbed and mildly hallucinating from the altitude, fresh air and excercise - this music was with me as an aural memory imprint passing in ever present waves until sleep overcame me.




sketched by dweller at 9:50 pm
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Sunday, February 10, 2019

Olympic Stratford
Contemplate Stratford Olympic site. 
Once waste ground. 
Chemical dump. 
Industrial estate. 
Lonely canal side. 
Haunted by poor horses dragging drunkard canal families to and fro. 
Railway banks and chicken wire fences built up with a stratigraphy of old Tizer cans, Golden Wonder Crisps and MaxPax coffee cups. 
All cleaned up and ripped away. 
For a shimmering memory mirage of stadia, flags and hysteria. 
But now, the grey clouds have descended once again and it is time for the ghosts of Stratford past to play amongst the concrete wastelands that are theirs forever.


sketched by dweller at 8:25 pm
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Monday, March 05, 2018

 I wish all these religious things were as totally uncool as they were to me back in the 70s 80s 90s. We were all (mostly) happily post-religion. Going to see Billy Graham in Wembley stadium was as naff and undesirable as going to the Bingo with your nan. Nuns and vicars were dull as fuck. Oh well.  If that's what people want. Just wish people weren't so into handing their brains over to god botherers these days. 

sketched by dweller at 9:44 pm
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Sunday, December 10, 2017

Doing the Brexit shuffle
It bugs
They dance
She cats
He dogs

Envelopes are sealed
Throats are frogged
Bins are maggoted

The Welsh are in fits
The English are stroking
The Cornish have a clavicle

So many merry men
And soldiers skipping lightly
Clink the trophy jars

Incoming Incoming
Rearrange flowers
Lobster lips in sticky clench

Viewer blocked
Hearts made to dangle
Liver me timbres

Enoch is not enough
Amen in the corner
Ghastly fish bowl reflection

Biffer Bacon
We slipped off the log
The goats are free

Look here
Amazing grace
Sung in an igloo

Pieces of after eight
Voodoo Vikings
A whiff of Roman oyster

Merry Christmas Jennifer Lawrence
Mines a Tenko Truck
You put a sock in it

We are where we are
You be won the win
Albion the other side

https://app.suno.ai/song/682127d3-e0f1-44fb-a2c3-e466a7df754f/

(click on the link to listen to an a.i. reading of this) 






sketched by dweller at 5:29 pm
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Wednesday, March 08, 2017

Me or You
Me or you, 
The emptiness of my stomach 
After decades
Feels like a final wall with no door. 
The maze with no exit. 
But no matter, 
In a jiffy the smell will pass, 
I can get transported by Captain Kirk 
or Spock. Whoever is at home. 
I have taken a liking to streaky bacon. 
Also limes. 
I believe in limes. Squeeze them with your fingers. 
Honest it is like a giver of truth. 
Those green balls of organic acid. 
Get the juice all over. 
Limey limey limey 
ziiiiiing
mmmmmmm
hot bathtub baby
little goat watching baaaaaaa
And I check my blood pressure now. 
I have a little chart. 
Bing Bong the heart it still beats mister man mister man oh mister man you is alive. 
But Carrie no she dead mister man. Sorry. 
Yeah and if you ever have a fruitfly problem just leave some wine in a bottle.
They all go in and they love it. 
It's like a fruitfly spa. They get naked, drunk, swim shag. All that. No wonder they never come out. 
Your half rotten bananas are safe!!! 
Yes, that is good. Uneaten fruit. If I'm not going to benefit from the youthful elixir of ten boring blobs a day then no dang recumbent gene little fly that makes no sound is gonna get it neither. 
So where was I. 
Fixing to not die. 
Syd Barrett was photographed in our back garden with a ginger cat. 
Has to be our garden. I reckon some time in the 60s hobvisciouslee before my mum and dad and sister moved in. 
Could be. would explain a lot. 
All my psychedelic dreams. 
The snail farm. 
The action men.
The circus. 
The Spaniards, Greeks, Texans etc.
Explains it all.
And now what do we get?
Curly Kale and couch to 5K.
Don't do it kids!! 
I'm with Arnie - shag the maid. 
May as well.


sketched by dweller at 12:48 am
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Wednesday, February 08, 2017

I gave her the blob


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Tuesday, February 07, 2017

Warrior Heart Pounders


sketched by dweller at 11:53 pm
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