Sunday, February 19, 2006

mISTERS R'S fASER and mULISH


Non-Apoplectic
(Feb 18/06)
I have been asked, by whom is immaterial, to refrain from making false and unsavory statements about dead rotting writers. As an adjunction to this injunction I have been advised to keep my pie-hole shut, else I incur an equally unpalatable libel suit, one I will rue the day of it’s excitation. My response, albeit of the chunter-ish nature, was, you can all go fuck yourselves. If I take it upon myself, which I will, to make reference to deceased rotting oldie writers, it is my decision, and one I will take a firm and unwavering stand on. End of sentence or statement. What harm is there in making false and pretend statements, some invocations, about a Mr. Robber Falser or a Hied Robert Mulish? None, I contend, none whatsoever in the least. Both Mr. Falser and Mr. Mulish, were they alive and not dead and rotting, perhaps diminished to chalky bone and frailties, would gladly commode to my making false and oft unsavory statements, or comments, concerning they’re psychopathologies and rottenness. The are, the both of them, open game, so to speak, and even were they not, they are equally incapable of waging a defense to the contrary. So to those of you whom hold an advanced diploma in comparative literature I say, fuck off and be done with your dillydallying, I will have none of it, none whatsoever, none. End of statement or comment.

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"Poetry is the short-circuiting of meaning between words, the impetuous regeneration of primordial myth". Bruno Schulz
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