{"id":17847,"date":"2022-12-19T05:00:43","date_gmt":"2022-12-19T10:00:43","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/?p=17847"},"modified":"2022-12-19T13:31:26","modified_gmt":"2022-12-19T18:31:26","slug":"domestic-punk","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/fiction\/domestic-punk\/","title":{"rendered":"Domestic Punk"},"content":{"rendered":"<blockquote><p><em>Collins has said that he &#8220;improvised&#8221; the lyric. Collins was just playing around with a drum machine, and the lyric &#8220;su-sussudio&#8221; was what came out of his mouth. (Wikipedia)<\/em><\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>I\u2019m a little fond of loathsome historical aberrations. No thing holds me quicker than a wonderful cop. I\u2019ve got the floor now pay attention. I\u2019ve listened for years to the people who sing. I\u2019m a bit of a corpse you see, you see it yes? Put this word here and then include a word which would end the sentence. I\u2019m ending the sentences for you. I\u2019ll end this sentence just as soon as I started it. Goodlooking men and women shopping for saws. My son is named Garold and he\u2019s an avid fan of milk. Welcome to the park I\u2019ve gotta steal your car. Listen up dipshit I\u2019m going to steal your brand new car. Good boy I say to the fish I\u2019ve picked up. Noxious plume of your dogshit personage happened upon by an evening walking spy. I can see the cows upon the hill from where I sit in Walmart\u2019s lot. The red car breathes a snotty smell. The blue car dipped its nose into the small mound of shit upon the ground. I\u2019ve mixed two doubled cups of tea within the large Nalgene bottle with its Yeti sticker. I bought a shirt and two books. The smell of piss adorns my every cloth. I have on my Adidas hat. Good weepy eyes upon the lover\u2019s gnarling dimple. One side of their face is subdued, a palsy, like Conway the Machine. I saw upon the slew a bit of rock I longed to tongue. I filled my cheeks with salty rocks from along the ocean\u2019s side. I have no teeth and so the rocks were comforts. Every gnawing made me better in my standing. My living thus enhanced I went in for a swim. The shore was gray like the water. The air was gray like the sand. My body went out into the waters there in dim light. My anxiety went out of me like the moors. My body didn\u2019t stop its churning within the icy waves until I\u2019d shat and slowly ambled back to find my clothing. I went for soup within the village and heard an old man playing his guitar. I do not think I had my bicycle. Every morning I wake up and bury my face in a mound of mold I\u2019ve kept in the corner of my bathroom. It\u2019s black. I inhale deeply through nose and mouth then urinate out the window onto my neighbor\u2019s deck. I see the bodies of runners slowly fucking their ways up the stupid streets. I go into the local thing. I buy a local piece of shit. I take it outside into the lot and crawl under the van. I open up the oil and let it empty onto my body. I walk down the street while it goes away. People are always behaving like such gigantic piles of filth. How high can the blood sugar go. How much more of your spit can I borrow. Cut the lingual shit with your magnificent caterwauling you insufferable politician. Cut it. Quiet it. Address the reader. Mere pseudo mag ed. Another quiet morning atop the sea of shit within the bustling world of the Americans. Hello Phil, good morning. Welcome home Phil you\u2019re home here. Good day. Rest up. Eat a filet upon the buffet. Quiet down. Long have I wished to plug in my fist through my own wiry eye socket and see what pops out. I\u2019m a glutton for big meandering idiots. I\u2019m so grateful to see you all father it. I\u2019m so grateful to see you all gathered there in Dallas. For someone somewhere it was the greatest day of their life. For someone it was the end of a long path, a simple conclusion on top of a big fat cake. Mine eyes have big dusty polyps when I go to the top of their ladders and prepare myself to die. I\u2019m so grateful to the city of Phoenix. I\u2019m so glad I\u2019m dead now. What a wonderful weeping morning on Washington. Upon the Washington. Upon the river. Pete Seeger upon the river going there. His body there. Welcome to the bubbling river idiot. Welcome to all idiots upon the river. It\u2019s the day on which the bodies will be buoys in their tubes. I like to go beneath them to look at the disease they leak out upon the oils. Now now, we won\u2019t have that now now. Moocow nope not now. Good dog upon the now now. Good whispering \u00a0dog illiterate on the now now. I embody a husk upon the ground with the corn. Shuck me and cut my head off. Good idea you insufferable idiot. Good welcome idea on the morning of your idiot. I can\u2019t wait to see you get married to the police. I just can\u2019t wait any longer. I wanted you to understand. I reached back into the guts of time and tried to pull an apple out. Why would anyone deny Eve her apple. You\u2019re a piece of shit if you want a person not to eat an apple. Unless they\u2019re your allergic child. Kiss a stump upon the dumb ground and feed your head through a sleeve of lambskin. Great. Another dumb idea from a dumb asshole. A wonderful time to be alive and to witness yourself becoming a corpse. I will leave a heaving corpse. I will leave behind me a Nascar driver corpse. I will get one of those jackets. Like Dave Hickey, I will get one of those jackets. I will smoke cigarettes in Las Vegas, like Dave Hickey. I will someday be in the arms of Dave Hickey, dead by the pool. He never had kids. Why couldn\u2019t Dave Hickey have had kids? If he\u2019d had kids I could\u2019ve been more like him. Now I\u2019m not like him and I\u2019m not the same as him so I can\u2019t have anything to do with anything adjacent to him. That\u2019s literally insane. That\u2019s stupid. It\u2019s stupid, and yet. There it is stupid and yet. The reader wants a break\u2026 The reader wants a break\u2026 Give them the C\u00e9line break\u2026 Take a rest alongside that stupid anti-Semite. The racist moron. The dumb bubbling moron\u2026 He knew how to layer his clothes though\u2026 He knew how to dress himself\u2026 There is the world at dumb war with itself\u2026 A middling world commingled in its own shit with its smiley dipshit teeth. Ah yes he\u2019s stopped the ellipses once and for all\u2026 Not yet. Wait\u2026 Not yet\u2026 Yes. How hoary is your rasp. How ugly is your album. How great can your album be. How great can the albums of time be. I sat there playing their piano. I took the piano apart on the lawn with an ax. Is it ax or axe. I won\u2019t look. I refuse to look. I refused and I refuse. I can\u2019t wait to fuck off. I can\u2019t wait to fuck off of earth. The girl who\u2019s been on my mind. All the time. She don\u2019t even know my name. This is not an entrance. These are not entreaties. The heater won\u2019t shut itself the fuck up. The heater won\u2019t stop clanging. No it\u2019s a radiator. Whatever it is it won\u2019t shut the fuck up. I can\u2019t wait for it to shut the fuck up. Do I hear twenty-one, twenty-one. I\u2019ll give you twenty-one. Willem Dafoe there dead upon the ground. Abel Ferrara being interviewed by Conan O\u2019Brien seemingly drunk out of his skull. The forest. The forest is burning is Satan\u2019s church. Is it Dafoe or Defoe. I\u2019ll not be looking. I woke up inside the sun. I went out onto the surface of the sun to celebrate its perpetual rising. I felt lucky. I felt very lucky. My eyes were curled teeth. I wasn\u2019t burned because I was within a thing. My body waffled, hither and yon. I welcomed a good god. I walked through a forest of burning material. My flesh was touched. One step, another. One step upon the sun, another. I woke up inside my body. My body therein wherein the sun, or son. My world peopled with burning. A humanity composed of shoulders. A hand upon the neighbor\u2019s shoulder. I quickly whittled a stick to knife. I split the root to hold my neck. Pissant hand on pissant hand. Take her to the movies. She hasn\u2019t seen this one before. It\u2019s German, or Russian, or both. A query to the person sat within the theater\u2019s edge. A question. More of a comment than a question. A human question. A human document. A human rotting upon the floor within the church. I felt as though plopped upon the wood with splinters stuck into my flesh. I welcome the discomfort of meetings, of gatherings. Cool. It\u2019s very cool of you to recognize that. It\u2019s very cool to remember the crimes I\u2019ve committed. A human personage within the bondage of an age of guilt. Everybody was facing their executioner. Thank god. Thank the good lord Ethan Hawke has written another novel. Thank god Tom Hanks wrote a story collection. Thank Jesus Christ B.J. Novak wrote a story collection. Thank Jesus Christ Sean Penn wrote a novel. Thank you for interviewing them on your podcast. Thank you for caring so much about literature. It\u2019s so wonderful. You\u2019re doing such a service. Thank goodness for New York City. For actors. For artists who get their footing then fuck off into some other tradition they have nothing to do with and take the place of every scream of every desperate artist there and pinch them off, rendering them mute. I\u2019m just so grateful Matthew McConeghey wrote a book called <em>Greenlights<\/em>, as I have no question this person holds the secret for all the rest of us. That\u2019s not how you spell his name. I don\u2019t care. I can\u2019t be bothered to care. I\u2019m too busy reading his book about \u201cgreenlights.&#8221; I\u2019m too busy. People are too reductive about the notion of hatred. Being someone who hates is probably a good thing. Love is an overrated thing. The world is full of love. Love has funded this world. Hatred is the belief that love has failed this world. People are too reductive about love. I\u2019m embarrassed to have the misspelled name, however, I believe I have come too far to turn back now. The little idiot sits upon the stool and paints a picture of his home. His limbs skirt and dawdled upon the paper. The paper covers the sheet. The sheet covers the room. Their images cover the paint. My body there upon the floor. My dumb body upon the floor in the center of the living room. Hatred is purity. It said that somewhere, maybe on a church. A book can be a sacred item, at least I think in that video game. He\u2019s had a rough go of things. I\u2019m drinking from a 1 GAL jug of Arizona Diet Green Tea with Ginseng. I poured some sparkling water in there. Ice. And some Crystal Light with some Green Tea. I\u2019m dieting. I\u2019ve been dieting for months now. I\u2019m the lowest I\u2019ve been in years and I\u2019m still pretty fat. I carry it all in my gut. I\u2019ve only ever carried all of it in my gut. My body is putrid. My arms and my legs are skinny and not muscular. I carry all of my fat in my chest and gut. I look like a cartoon butler or something. I don\u2019t look good. My facial hair is not attractive. I don\u2019t brush my teeth enough. I don\u2019t shower enough. I don\u2019t bathe enough. I\u2019m pretty gross. I\u2019m an ugly woman. My body is an ugly vitamin thing. The vitamins smell bad. I\u2019m freebasing vitamins. I\u2019m an American. I\u2019m a boy. One time. I\u2019m watching Survivor. I love Jeff Probst. I carried the computer across the room. I picked it up on its side. A person is wearing a white outfit and they look like the leader of a cult. I\u2019m listening to something in my right ear, and nothing in my left ear. I\u2019m not listening to music. If I were listening to music I think this might be easier\u2026 I like to let the ellipses return\u2026 I have no idea whether a reader would feel grateful for them\u2026 It\u2019s my belief that a writer should think about a reader, though this hasn\u2019t always been my belief\u2026 I believe a lot of things\u2026 My teeth are silver\u2026 Every tooth in my stupid mouth is silver\u2026 My breasts are violent\u2026 My teeth are silvery violent\u2026 I got a copy of the book they\u2019re talking about\u2026 You know the one\u2026 Whoever you are, wherever you are in your life, you know the one\u2026 What a gigantic piece of shit we\u2019ve made of living\u2026 Isn\u2019t it just wonderful? Isn\u2019t it the most wonderful thing within the world? A body sits within a room. A person has that body. Someone has that body. It\u2019s important. It\u2019s so incredibly important. It\u2019s obvious how incredibly important it is to every single person alive. The Oscars. People like to talk about the Oscars. Will Smith slapped Chris Rock across the face. Oh my gosh it is so good. I love the texture of it. Someone slapped someone. A famous millionaire slapped a famous millionaire. You can\u2019t get enough of it. You love to see it all. Shave your head. Drive in your Subaru Crosstrek from 2014. Drive and get excited about the music that\u2019s playing. A wonderful song. A wonderful whispery woeful song. A screaming song. Someone else is being told it\u2019s what they are. Here are the young men. The world on their shoulders. Here is a hung neck of an Ian Curtis in his home. How long was he there before Deborah Curtis discovered him. How is it possible that his work was completed when he was just twenty-three years old. I mean, I know technically it wasn\u2019t completed, probably. But that begs the question, if someone ends something with such finality, aren\u2019t they sort of saying they\u2019re done. They\u2019re sort of saying they\u2019re done, but only sort of. Lots of people choose to kill themselves. He was one. Apparently he was interested in doing more in the realm of Dub, of Reggae, of embracing his fondness for Genesis P-Orridge. I can see that. I can hear it. New Order doesn\u2019t seem like it continued in that spirit. They did something else. I want to like them much more than I in fact do. Maybe The Pale King is sort of finished, right. I mean, in terms of the work that author felt capable of completing, it is sort of finished. It\u2019s sad. Of course it\u2019s sad. A person ends their life. There are sadder things, but that one\u2019s up there. A person kills themselves. I\u2019m so sorry. I\u2019m so sorry for those people who kill themselves. I do think it\u2019s possible to think of the works left when a person commits suicide as being finished. A lot of people don\u2019t feel like that. I haven\u2019t read what\u2019s left behind. Not all of it anyway. We\u2019re gonna play tennis soon. He\u2019s a really good tennis player. That\u2019s one of the things that\u2019s amazing to me. He\u2019s a wonderful athlete. You have to go to the top of a mountain with the big rock person. You have to help them hide as you scale the mountain. It\u2019s nice to think of the ways in which this is exactly like the first example of it. Prior to this this document contained two-thousand-six-hundred-and-sixty-six words. Now it contains more. And more still. I\u2019ve never finished that book. I liked The Savage Detectives more. I guess it\u2019s O.K. to talk about this kind of thing in a project like this. This is a novel, if I say it is. I\u2019m sorry to the reader as this paragraph isn\u2019t going to stop until the book stops. The ellipses hopefully offer a bit of respite\u2026 Do they. I hope they do. I like to break up a sentence. I like to break it up. I\u2019m too scared to break it up now. I\u2019m just too frightened. People are talking about fucking on the podcast. Again and again the people are talking about their fucking on the podcast. Your body is wonderful. Your body is there upon the beach ball. You\u2019re curled over the beach ball and you send a text to your grandmother. Your grandmother gives you a kiss and a Ludens or Luden\u2019s or Ludens\u2019 thing when she gives you a kiss just in case you get a cold from her kissing you. She doesn\u2019t exist. That woman doesn\u2019t exist. Maybe though you do, or your grandmother does. I can\u2019t wait to move to Florida when I\u2019m old. I\u2019m going to watch so much television when I\u2019m old. I completely understand why people move there when they\u2019re old. What a wonderful way to live one\u2019s life. I think if I\u2019m able I might move there sooner. I\u2019d like that quite a bit. I can\u2019t wait to be old, except for the defecation. I can\u2019t imagine the defecation for an older person is much in the way of pleasure. Now I\u2019m probably about at my peak in terms of defecation. I don\u2019t remember what it felt like to defecate when I was younger. I remember being anxious about it, though. I wonder a lot lately about how I don\u2019t remember the first time I masturbated. It seems insane to me, that I could\u2019ve done this thing, such a drastic thing, and then not remember it as this almost kind of traumatic event. Alright, I\u2019ll stop. I don\u2019t want to talk about that shit so much anymore. I just don\u2019t want to. I think talking about it in books and novels and the like is sort of clich\u00e9. I just think there\u2019s more stuff a person can write about. I think it\u2019s important to try and write more about other things. You tell me it calms your nerves. You, just, think, it, looks, cool. The comma there I don\u2019t enjoy so much. I was going to do full stop periods but that seemed dramatic. At least I\u2019m fucking trying. People have to try. Man, so awful. So awful in that Fugazi documentary. The fans don\u2019t even know what band they\u2019re seeing. Just 90s people using it as an excuse to get high and fuck off. The band couldn\u2019t be more sort of against that spirit. However therein lies a problem, of course. The band is of this spirit that they\u2019re not against any spirit, but I do think that Jem Cohen is sort of making the case that they might be against that particular spirit, which is a negative, unhelpful spirit. It\u2019s unhelpful to just fuck off out of life. I like that band though. Not Fugazi. The other band. I like that band Uncle Acid and the Deadbeats. That\u2019s a spirit I can enjoy. Uncle Acid and the Deadbeats they say I was born a wicked man\/No hopes or dreams\/I get my kicks from torturing and screams. Something about it compels me. I\u2019m not actually drawn to the reality of that lived violence, but the spirit of being sort of antinomian. At least it\u2019s my belief that this sort of thing is antinomian. Antinomian being sort of against the every day, that sort of thing, the conventional, that sort of thing, sure. I didn\u2019t much enjoy that one book that was very long and contained largely one sentence. I did however enjoy that other one book that was very long and contained largely one different sentence. This one will be shorter, which is probably a selling point, though I have to accept that I\u2019ve never really written anything that could be sold. A night in Moscow, Idaho. A night when the sun is setting there. On the floor are Legos. Elsewhere is a podcast and a Nickelodeon TV show about monster trucks that turn into other things. I don\u2019t think it\u2019s the thing you immediately thought of when I said that, though. Piss upon the floor and run away. Drive a truck made of bones. Check your email. Write an email to your dead dad. Great. I love it. Incredibly stupid purple prose. Feeling so stupid. Feeling so incredibly stupid. Take a shower. Take a bath. Don\u2019t listen to them. Don\u2019t let the world go away. Or do. Great. Another book. Another godforsaken book. A godforsaken book printed there. A little room in hell, the glassy part. The frozen part of hell nobody talks about. In what capacity are the hostages housed. It\u2019s difficult to think of the worst thing in the world. Whatever it is it has nothing to do with writers. Whatever it is has nothing to do with hair. Maybe not. It\u2019s tough to know where to put one\u2019s energy. We invest in lots of dumb endeavors. It is a shawarma onto which a lot of lamb is put? Is that the word for that device? And what of the questions without question marks. I could easily get very interested in firearms. Of that I have no doubt. I think a lot about the second Indiana Jones film. Or Imbiamba Jombes. Combs. Too many combs. When I was young I tried to rap. There\u2019s nothing as embarrassing as a person\u2019s entire life. Here I am, naked in Manhattan, being flogged. Ah so you\u2019ve finally made your way through The Mad Man; or, the Mysteries of Manhattan. Is that how the title goes? One is never sure. It\u2019s Melvillian. Or Melvilleian. Is it Melvilleian to attend a sex club? A leather bar. That sort of thing. Was Melville\u2019s house really filled up with young men to do his work. Who said that. Melville and Hawthorne rolling around on the floor of a barn while a cow sits there idly chewing its cud. Is it the cud it chews. One is never sure. A ferris wheel upon the scream. Personalize your screensaver. Did you know. Prime members have free unlimited photo storage with Amazon photos. Not now. Get started. A waterfall gives way to a field, possibly a moor. A moot moor. A moor run amok amorously mooting its physical body. The moors murders. Bataille writing on Wuthering Heights. Was that the work. The immorality of literature. On Immoral Literature. I get to sit in the room in my body again. I like to put a sound on. How mortifying it is to be young, to age, to be old. A person, just think of it. A welcome home. I\u2019d like to live in a cemetery. I\u2019m not being melodramatic. Doesn\u2019t that seem like a peaceful prospect for a body. Graveyard clay. The dirty dust. Whatever it is. That Irishman. A violence undertaken by mankind. I like to watch the people making fun of one another. I like to billow out like a fat bloated cloud. Good morning, fuckface. Good afternoon fuckface! Good evening fuckface! Good night fuckface! I\u2019m glad to hover around the counter with my friend whose grandparents\u2019 kitchen looked like the one in the YouTube video that\u2019s always being recommended to me. I\u2019m looking forward to playing the song \u201cScapegoat\u201d in a minute, again, for I think the fourth time today. Once your wife and your body or your family or a snow cone drove around that city where the people lived to try and see how they lived and it felt bad but your wife liked it and you felt it was this big secret you could be a part of and this meant something more to you than the little things you\u2019ve sort of amassed as talismans around your living and there\u2019s such warmth to that it\u2019s difficult to think of anything better than that. Sometimes writers romanticize criminals, or being a certain way, or whatever else, and the only thing you can respond to it with is you\u2019re right, but you\u2019re a fucking calendar. When I shot Jesse James I was sixty-four years old on an island in the South Pacific and I had gout and he came into town and put a knife to the throat of a young girl there and I walked up to him and stuck my head under his arm so that the knife went to and through my own neck and I shot through the top of his skull from his underchin and both of us perished there upon the sand swept path. I can\u2019t wait until they make Flamin\u2019 Hot Diet Mountain Dew, perhaps it\u2019s already been done. My wife and I did the One Chip Challenge and just felt like bad people for half an hour. For several days I\u2019ve been trying pretty hard to figure out what to spend a small amount of money on. I\u2019ll convince myself I\u2019ve got the thing, but then convince myself I don\u2019t need it. Over and over this happens, which is probably something, though I don\u2019t have any interest in figuring out what it is, like when Bandini sits on the bed and eats a big bag of oranges, with no desire to go anywhere, with no desire to do anything. O.K. let me sit in the corner of the room and try to figure out where I hid my pliers. O.K. welcome to Hazelden good morning here\u2019s a folder here\u2019s some other shit here\u2019s some other other shit. I need to take your phone. I need to eat a phone. A good morning phone. Good I\u2019m holding onto the phone. Oh that\u2019s wonderful another nine-hundred-page novel. Oh that\u2019s wonderful a book that has nothing to do with the world. Oh that\u2019s wonderful a novel that has nothing to do with Megan Thee Stallion. Oh that\u2019s wonderful a book being published by a publisher that\u2019s clearly paid for all of its reviews. Did anyone even write the reviews. I don\u2019t like to see the men. Renditions of the theme music from Ocarina of Time is playing on Alexa. A phone on the couch.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Welcome to the bubbling river idiot. Welcome to all idiots upon the river. 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