Med Men

Poster for Crowfoot Records.  This is what happened.

The Black Worm

"Wait. No stop"

She stopped.

Fingers coiled up into her bag. Another hand felt the bone of her hip.

The hand smoothed over her arms and tentatively moved into the warmth of her armpit.

“If you feel anything is inappropriate you must nod.”

She stood frozen in obsequious delight. Inside, a wealth of excitement bubbled and gorged through her system.  The hand in her bag groped her keys and shuffled passed the loose change in there.

The mystery of other people's belongings, the filth of the fluff of someone else's pockets.  The men moved in to the light. 

"Miss, you seem to be carrying A Voucher" 

"Really?  This was given to me just now by a taxi driver, foolishly, I didn't check and assumed it was change"

"Clearly.  I will exchange The Voucher for the experience, in accordance with legislation”

"Please… I remember the driver's code, perhaps you would like me to reel it off for you?"

She knew they were not interested in how she obtained The Voucher, nevertheless, she was keen to extend the conversation before the unavoidable consequences. 

The man removed a pock-machine from his pouch.  As he leaned his head in the light, it appeared dented; the skin over his skull was soft boiled, no hair then eyebrows. The machine head was placed on the woman's forearm and he pumped the switch.  In an instant, the woman was wailing horrendously and her right knee had dropped in concert with the shrill scream.  It had removed a disc of flesh from the horizontal layers of skin, revealing raw tissue in a perfect circle.

"Voucher will be replaced with experience" 

The woman gripped her elbow with her left hand, she had quietened; gulps of breath punctuated soft whimpers.

A second figure revealed carrying a small foil-topped plastic container, with the diagonal corporate branding of a pharmaceutical company.  The man popped the foil with a knife to reveal a strange black worm, moving horribly as if formed from hot solder; morphing into itself as a continuous flail of liquid.  With precision, he scooped the worm from the plastic and into the woman's wound.

The woman began to nod.

"Oh?  Inappropriate? OK we'll stop. You're done now anyway"

"Did the worm go in?"

"Yes, enjoy the experience!"

The woman scurried out of the room clutching her arm. The worm had formed a hard black cap across the circular hole in her flesh.

Once home, the changes began to happen. Seated on the chair, her gaze softened, her head tilted towards the window. Her teeth began to feel bruised in her gums; her tongue swelled between her bite.   Skin around her wound was turning grey, pulsing gently from the black worm in her skin.  Scratching the chair with her fingernails, she waited, surrendering to the worm's will.

"Squeak.  I'm inside you, I'm the worm inside your arm, releasing chemicals of experience into your body." 

Her tongue began furiously rubbing the roof of her mouth. Pump went experience; rushing up her central nervous system grappling with memory cells and liquidating into her brain. Tubes of phantom food memories collected in her gullet and slipped into her stomach.  Leg muscles twitched spasmodically, implying months of imagined journeys. Emotions splurged over her, at once, attacking her frontal lobe. With the lack of grace that comes with complete sensory assault, she stiffened in her chair; her fingers became brittle poised claws and her left leg cocked away from her body.

Half an hour passed, she was mumbling incoherently, her eyes flicking left to right. 

"Ah! I see you have spent the Experience Voucher I purchased for you for your birthday. Ho! Ho!"  Her husband had returned home from work, and was watching his grey wife squirming from her stiffness.  Her eyes could fix on him by this point; she formed a smile through the grimace of the worm's muscular contractions.  "I can see you must be nearly done... I'll just wait and you can tell me all about it"

Gradually, florid pools of colour returned to her skin and her frame became looser, returning to a normal pose.

"Wonderful!" The word passed lightly out of her skull.  "What a wonderful experience, thank you so much"

The black worm had returned to its original shape and the teat of its head was searching to the best direction to move in. Slowly now, the worm shifted clumsily over the skin, down her arm and fell onto the floor.  The husband moved stealthily towards it and crushed it under his black semi-patent loafer.

“So, has it given you something to talk about?”

“Yes, the worm decided I could have all the experiences we anticipated, the cream of happiness and the belching crux of dilemma and pain.”

“Amen!” The husband’s eyes revealed their whiteness and as he thrust his right arm into the air, his suit folded between his neck and shoulder.  “Happy Birthday, my love!  Now we can get to know each other all over again.”

With that, a tickle of sorrow wriggled in the woman’s brain, and a small pump twitched the base of her spine. She looked down to the black stain at her feet then to the black loafer of her husband, then spoke: “Experience is a worm, coating the wheels of my mechanisms, burrowing through the logic of my decisions.   The worm is dead and I am left with visceral traces of imagined glories and filth.”

The husband knelt next to her, holding her hand, “Look how interesting you’ve become!  Tell me everything!  Drench me in opinions!”

The woman softened her gaze once more and looked back toward the dead worm.

The ideas ruptured inside her brain and tweaked neurones into giving him word-sounds.

“Pump pump” she mouthed, “pump, pump…”

Turn, Turn, Turn

This is mainly about getting the Metrolink during rush hour.

Old Timey Foods

Hot Gore

So here's the finished poster for the night that hangs in the reverie of a small clutch of people who communicate by flexing their pelvic floor muscles. 

Big Plate

Look at all these edible friends; some bewildered, some poised in merriment at their anthropomorphic reality.  All of them excited to be scoffed by a punter of West Didsbury's 'Mary and Archie' Cafe Bar;  their punters have particularly good table manners and know not to talk while they guzzle delicious food combos down their gullets and into their intestines.  You will often find their guts have been well maintained by eating fibrous cereals in the morning and at least 2 of their five a day, which makes it all the more pleasant-a-journey for our gang.

camera 1, camera 2

http://flisshorro.tumblr.com/

New work, dbh: Time Flies

Look, here's the cover for dbh's album 'Time Flies'. 

The Sleeping Brain

Sleeping through the hours; a natural phenomenon that we can appreciate, but when was the last time you considered this in all its perplexing glory?  You may have some idea of how your brain disengages with your conscious mind; it knows not to pull the plug totally of course! Regulatory systems keep the lungs receiving and distributing friendly oxygen and a pump at the back of your neck releases some sticky-stuff into the blood: hormones.  Pump, pump go the hormones as you sleep like a slug on your pillow with silvery catarrh forging with plaque from the bowl of Cheerios you ate before you hit the hay. Potassium and sodium are the salty brothers deciding who can or cannot pass through the cell membranes.  Brain is now recuperating delicious energy from mitochondria. Keep on keeping on!

PEACH PALS

We love the taste of peach this week.  In your mouth, with its vibrant constitution of delicious nuances, it tastes like the idea of summer.  A flavour so strong that it should be illegal.  PEACH. EAT PEACH>>>

Johnny Sack

in progress......

Here's a grainy snap of a poster im working on.  One day it will be complete.

"happy time" time

Surgeon Sage

weep

Living in M8

Bell: card-carrying communist

'We were all doing it' said paul, squeezing out his best diplomatic tones. 'We were all chasing the dragon.'
'Now now Paul, I don't think Timothy and Felicity were chasing the dragon,' said Mrs B with a sigh, 'it doesn't look good for you this time Paul, I saw you, behind the Wendy house, chasing the bloody dragon.'
'Yes they were! At first it made them sick but then they really liked it.  I told them "no!" but they had already reached the point where you're not bothered about what other people are saying..'
'Come on Paul' said Tim, urging Paul out of the room.

Mrs B furtively looked at Tim, 'You two go home... and take your rancid rotten fermented soya bean paste with you!'
'OK, OK, Tim, get the Miso. It's in the fridge' piped up Felicity from behind Paul.
'Right I'll get the Miso, but I bet Bell has drilled it'.
Bell was an overweight, blonde Labrador who knocked around the kitchen eating whatever came her way.
Tim went into the kitchen.

'She's dead!.. Quick, Bell's dead!'
Sure enough, she had eaten the Miso.  She was rife with good bacteria.  Good bacteria was oozing from every pore, the stench of fermentation was pickling the room and seeping from each hair follicle on her back.
'Oh Jesus, poor Bell' grimaced Felicity, 'no Paul, don't look!'
By now the bacteria was pumping silently out of her teets like heat erupting through a pan of porridge.
'You and your fucking Miso bullshit!' wailed Paul on seeing the dog.
'Hang on a minute' interjected Tim, 'isn't it society's fault for making Bell want to consume everything in sight?'
'Tim's right, as a mother, you want your dog to have everything that the other dogs have, to the point where it's never enough.' admitted Mrs B.
'Miso is an ancient Chinese foodstuff.  Funny this really, considering China's political history' added Fliss.
'It's actually called the 'Peoples Republic of China' now, dickhead'
'Alright Tim, she's just saying that perhaps Bell was trying to communicate to us that communism is going to usurp our western model of capitalism.' said Mrs B.
'Maybe, or maybe she just couldn't get enough of that cold unami flavour!' chuckled Paul.
Everybody laughed.

 STIR GENTRY

Rimonim

NyEve10 at the mill

Weep and Luco. Who best?

Weep is An Elder.  Weep sees string theory and shadows in the room. Weep is living in a monochrome rhythmic sensory orb.  Weep has grim dog-grill for a mouth.

Fav band: suzanne Vega
Fav meal: Nuggets
Fav haunt: Alky hall


Luco became a contender when she got a number 1 all over.  Weep's eyes and ears.

Fav band: Styx
Fav meal: fondu
Fav haunt: Trafford centre

Lauren Kirk

LAuren Kirk.

Lauren Kirk introduced me to music, namely the outhere brothers x-rated version of boom boom boom.  We would play two crude dudes whist eating super noodles instead of veg.  I was on a weedy iceberg lettuce vibe at the time, so "chicken-esque" monosodio flavours made me pop. My concept of Lauren Kirk lies somewhere between squid and the voidoids. We would march round the playground in unison chanting "har ha ha har ha" wiggling our hands in prayer position,  saying hello and goodbye to Mrs Kenderdine and tim;  it was well proto-hardcore. 

White Pee/Pandiscordian Necrogenesis et al.

Whole Voyald Infinite Light: NON TELEOLOGY

Brother Jon and Brother Barry summoning angels, archangels, the elders, four living creatures, the Gentiles, the Redeemer, a Mediator and all the company of heaven.


They are currently touring in the current economic climate in Euro::  take them some 70% - 75% choc darkness and a couple of Jonagold apples.

Euro soup

 Brussels. Everything from Brahms to Dylan.  Abba to Zappa.

Beechwood 56789

Records are being played by me at the bay horse the third friday of every month.  Generally the vibe is repulsive so any good company is welcome.   i am downstairs by the toilets, bored out of my brain killing tracks I once liked as people peck me for "fergi", no,  not the royal, the one out of the black-eyed peas that wet herself.

Eta Ebetkar Psychic Reality White Pee ... Poster

Andy Jarvis - Astragalas

Tenners Euro Trash

Kum by Ya Records talent scout took us to Tenerife in search of the avant-garde. We didn't find it there.

Some rushes with brushes.

Slicing the midweek.

35 second viddy. Old Hall BD FH axis on the audio.

Aaron Moore/Alan Courtis Film Poster....

Geeek Magazine/ Kraak Po-Po shutdown

Above: Kraak Poster exhibition. It existed for a good 4 hours before the dibble whiffed the skiffle and decided shoot rats in barrel and shut the shop. Still, here's the proof. Some of my old posters on the right complete with two of the post-it posters from the heady days of the 9-5. No frames here, would be like framing Marsbar wrappers...

Go and behold Geeek Magazine a downloadable Manchester zine with illustrations from this kid, straight from the offal on this blog (issue is winter 09).

dinner party 'mare

Nothing to report.

My pound of flesh is featured in Benoit Grimalt's current exhibition/book "Do you know Syd Barrett" available from here. England through a very Frenchman's yeux. A good pair of yeux though.

Also a nice review of A Wake tape on Foxy Digitalis.

The Admiral

Nose Friend

CSNY

Crosby Stills Nash and the other one, kindly posed for a photo the other day whilst they were having their usual xmas pint meet up in The Olde Boar's Head, Middleton. Stills plumbed for his favourite half a Fosters with a lime top, Nash stayed faithful to his packet of cheese and onion Walkers, saying "for the record, you just can't get these o'er the pond". Everybody laughed.

Huey, Dewey, and Louie

New friends

Here's a picture of some new friends I made.

Sunn O)))lives

Sunn O))) revealed a love for the decadent olive last night after their Manchester show, hinting that this is what the O)) stood for, rather than the brand of amp to which, incidentally, they were unfamiliar with.

Twin PEaks ZIne

Quick drawing for Twin Peaks Zine as part of Twin Peaks night. I'll be helping norma serve up those cherry pies.....

KRAAK MANCHESteR

New poster for Kraark exhibition: "10 yrs of Manchester Poster Art".

Who Dat?

In the flesh

Thanks BD.