Comments Posted By Snufkin
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Never had good colour co-ordination. Tried different theories of it from Goethe to Newton but if you don’t feel it, you don’t feel it. Girlfriends have tried teaching me, shaming me, tugging at my shirt and pleading me not to leave the house like that. A good head for dates and a musical ear is some sort of consolation, but if I could be the Jerry Lee Lewis of outfit management, fingers banging that keyboard of colour like a shithouse door in the wind, I’d know I was really living right.
» Posted By Snufkin On 05.22.2016 @ 2:28 am
“Only you can dance to the rhythm in your head.” Said my occasional flatmate, an itinerant Kora player. There was a time he rang on the door piss-drunk at 3 in the morning, and my other housemate and I padded downstairs cautiously and opened the door. He was stood there on the doorstep swaying with the weight of a large backpack. Safari hat, eyes half closed, a wide smile on his face.
“If I can’t stay here tonight, I shall go where the wind takes me.”
“Of course you can stay, Mousa.” Said Tej, opening the door even wider.
“NO!….I will follow the wind.”
And with that he left to share his rhythm with the sensible chaos of the evening.
» Posted By Snufkin On 05.18.2016 @ 12:47 am
We all stole from Jobs’s tree of knowledge. Half of us write this on a mac book as the info-rhizome of congolese minerals, chinese slave labour and californian hot air suck the nutrients out of the larger picture. The world is dying to keep in touch with itself.
» Posted By Snufkin On 05.15.2016 @ 3:39 am
The body takes its nourishment from the sun, through the lenses of whatever excuses biology could make. I suppose the human body is its own excuse/proxy/barrier between sunlight and the earth, but the plants and animals in the interrim perform several levels of excuse, perhaps enough that we never have to question the body we stand in, just enough nourishment to keep the monologue going.
» Posted By Snufkin On 05.12.2016 @ 4:47 pm
I have a problem. I call my best friend. The girl who has suffered me turning up like Mary Poppins to clean both myself and her house up once in a while. Let’s make this crash site look like a launch pad. The last time I appeared was when she was literally pulling her hair out during finals week. I hitched over to London from Italy and she was so glad and pissed off when she opened the door. I was the safety net to accelerate her breakdown that time…as she’s been there every time my hare brained theories of meaning went awry (like half the projects in her broken fridge) and I ended up weeping in shame.
Anyway, when shit hits the fan, you call her. Just dial Emma.
» Posted By Snufkin On 05.10.2016 @ 9:07 am
“So, this is a farm?” Said the weary space traveller, sipping on a fresh glass of lemonade.
“A farm? No, this is earth.” Said the farmer, scratching his head.
“7 billion of you? That doesn’t happen on its own. Who’s your farmer?”
» Posted By Snufkin On 05.08.2016 @ 11:23 pm
That time the Eagles won the grammy for ‘Hotel California’ but refused to accept it as the lead singer ‘doesn’t believe in competition’. Hearing this aged 14, I then went on a school trip to London where some blue-fleeced missionary handing out Olympic leaflets told us as a class to prepare for British Olympic Gold coming out of the ya-ya.
My response: “Not into it. I don’t believe in competition.”
He ripped the piss out of me for it in front of my class, but there we are.
» Posted By Snufkin On 05.08.2016 @ 2:49 am
The sublimation of the German zeppelin industry into mass production of aluminium-framed folding scooters. German? Well most of my friends had the cool lightweight Swiss micro ones, but mine was this heavy German deal that would snap your shin if you ever dared to tempt the Gods with a tail-whip.
» Posted By Snufkin On 05.07.2016 @ 2:21 am
The most common question in Japan for a “long nosed blue eyed omelette eating hockey player” (don’t ask) is ‘But can you use chopsticks?’
It’s learn or die, people.
» Posted By Snufkin On 05.05.2016 @ 10:34 am
Some madison avenue peeholes took rainbow coloured dumps over the windscreen of our childhoods, and now we drive blindly into the future trying to match up the coloured flecks of our aspiration to those writing shapes dotted across the the rapidly decaying landscape in the far distance. Someone needs to give that thing a clean. Liberate us from the saccharine payload. Free us from love in the time of corn syrup.
» Posted By Snufkin On 05.04.2016 @ 9:16 am
A plague of short sighted unimaginative beetles. Coppice the fuck out of all the elms and they’d be saved but sadly if the elms grow in range of the flight path the little bastards infect them with nasty fungus. I grew up in a country where my relatives spoke in hushed whispers of this beautiful working wood that is no longer available.
» Posted By Snufkin On 05.03.2016 @ 8:11 am
The fullness of that hollow. Why can’t other objects sit against each other, filling in what the other lacks? I write from the god graced temporal position of being able to spoon nightly with a tall, slender deer of a girl, from St Petersburg. A shock of black hair. Eyes like a doe’s, but tawny.
Long may it last.
» Posted By Snufkin On 05.02.2016 @ 4:05 pm
No shortage of signs, all shortage of signals. The human cultural fantasy has traditionally consisted of symbols/signals and taken place in the margins of our overproductivity. In the information age it is pure signal at the cost of the viridian mainframe. This website probably doesn’t help.
» Posted By Snufkin On 05.01.2016 @ 12:57 pm
The kingdom of heaven is spread upon the earth, and men do not see it. This is the Thomas gospel. The level of wonders in a world of harsh harsh physics and kind kind plastic sheathed nitrogen-junkie talking mammals is enough to eat whatever semblance of ‘sanity’ is fashionable at the time. Good luck staring at that sun.
» Posted By Snufkin On 04.29.2016 @ 4:10 pm
That strange man in the year above me at school who thought that ‘burger’ was onomatopoeia.
“You know…you pick them up and just eat them like…BUUUUUUURRRRGGGGEEEERRR.” He said, mouth pulled wide as he chomped theatrically.
Only other thing I remember him for is being an absurdly good driver, even when high as a kite…only when high as a kite.
» Posted By Snufkin On 04.29.2016 @ 11:13 am
Primal. Not backwards, just first. Prime…the point at which to smash the clocks. No more entropy, please.
» Posted By Snufkin On 04.27.2016 @ 10:39 am
Noticing is neither listening nor observing. It is printing. It is bookmarking the last term you used to describe the phenomenon. Or at least this is what I have noticed so far.
» Posted By Snufkin On 04.26.2016 @ 8:59 am
To womb it may concern….those hyperdimensional gateways seem to concern all of us really. From nothingness to somethingness, we all have to pass that diamond gate. Seems a shame to go from that to a lead-lined wooden box.
» Posted By Snufkin On 04.24.2016 @ 7:39 am
Sharing the same rhizome in time if not space. The same rhizome in space if not time. The same loneliness.
» Posted By Snufkin On 04.23.2016 @ 11:37 am
Gnostic fool saint. Patron viridian. Resolved social unrest upon a plane euclidean. Starved anger.
» Posted By Snufkin On 04.20.2016 @ 3:12 pm
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i surround myself with good smells. things that are clean and airy, things that open up the space. sometimes i want to install speakers in all four corners of the room so that music can infiltrate my entire surroundings with music
» Posted By snufkin On 01.01.1970 @ 12:00 am