Monday, August 16, 2010



eating shit, drinking life

there is a man wearing a tshirt that says:
life is like a burning pole up my ass

Skin like a basketball

flavours gone

oversized cookie (or biscuit if youre australian.)
filled up to the point it is flying out your nose

"were from the suburbs not the city" - adrian

anthrax in the air

spray paint.

Shoes, shopping, shopping wherever and whenever. SLIMED, slimed with an existance of BAD BREATH. But what is bad and what is good? (check out TCB writing....) How did we start knowing that shit smells bad and the yellow rose smells sweet? Sometimes things are so nasty smelling and rich that a horridness can be cancelled out and it all turns to sweet. So much noise, such an intense high frequency, there is nothing to decifer but RINGING. After a while, you get used to it and then start enjoying it because everything truely juicy should be loathed in some way or another in the beginning. This is by means of jealousy or non understanding or just plain HATRED (change word)
There's a boy slumped on a couch, skin like a basketball wearing only a tshirt and these tattered silky boxer shorts he got for christmas like 5 years ago. The tshirt has "LIFE IS LIKE A BURNING POLE UP MY ARSE" emblazoned on it. The boy is reading THRASHER when his dick flops out, a member with an INTENSE girth. Mon-Fri is all eating shit, drinking life.... The WE is MADBALLS, Ballin', BB'n, catching (but mainly giving), BONKED OUT FOR LIFE '09,




There are many ways a gift can be given. Internally, face to face, through registered mail,

The Catcher hides in the grass waiting for the giver. C is reading CATCHER IN THE RYE with a mad erection, decked out in FOX motorcycle padded shirt, DADA jeans, ELWOOD hat, no brand sneakers and a backpack. This is an incognito style and is almost seen as camoflague between the long grass and sea of many other subscribers to this LOOK. C is unknowingly infectd in a strange way where he knows what is going on, but the GG won't say. It's twelve o'clock in Rome, One am in Sydney, quarter to nine in Wellington etc etc etc. There is a huge brick wall covered in the famous skinhead "oi!" stencil, and a pair of distressed jeans with imposter void, I I I I styled patches stuck on with nails. In yellow graffitti, some scrawling reads:
"Twith thy BB, the unregrettable has already begun........ No gloves, no condom.... Whatever. No face, no arms, body, brain, eyes, mind.... Whatever.......... "
Theres posters on tree stumps, chains hanging from branches. The skinhead iconography is used as a horny trade off. Mostly all you see is brick wall, an unfinished dump facade, graffitii all over the walls, motorcycle accessories that serve as another shield for anonyminity. Obviously somebody has tried to create a space inside a space inside a space outdoors. Obviously there are boundaries to where this begins and ends but with the reality given from C to GG and GG to C, the lines are blurred. Who is real who is fake?
Ksubi manufactures disrtressed denim.
Distressed body is scrunched and morphed into the point of being changed into a different form.


Twith thy bareback,
& Byron Bay (got that off nik).
I BB Therefore I am,
I think therefore I am,
I exist as a vessel, mass of weight, blob, muscle car,


sock is connected to something


Sock sculpture


colour is presence, intense colouring, smell is presence

CATCHER is instilling a new existence, starting again, breeding it's own body to start again, think differently, exist with a completely new mentality. new circumstanes breed change

huffing from the bart bag, I'm 10 years old and I'm into skating, spiking my hair up.

calm down daddy p youre almost all up inside me etc etc etc etc

sporting ware wear smelling like sweat, like humanity. Odour = presence

Proposal written for "STENCH IN NUMBERS" show, July 2009.

I also wanted to explore ideas of what kind of stench passable and what is just gross? and who decides this? It seems that stench for myself has equalled a life time commitment. You become 'known' for being dirty and gross and are treated differently or almost looked down upon. It seems lazy or as if you just dont care which is totally untrue.

I have learnt that certain things like breath and piss is unacceptable for social commitments and or standings. A certain 'male stench' seems acceptable but then why isnt something like the smell of urine not? Urine seems as much of waste as is body odour and general sweat. When i think of Men I think of BOTH body odour and piss and am impressed when somebody else can hold a stench in a social atmosphere.

I am interested in the body as a vessel that is able to maintain itself, certain stenches cancelling out eachother and creating a new mix. The body cleans itself, perhaps not to an aloe vera or dove soap level but it creates an own personal identity and i think this is an important idea and i will attempt to address these ideas within STENCH IN NUMBERS.


SOCKS IN A TUBE etc etc etc etc etc etc

Fragments of ideas from writing with no lights on:
(yes means yes, no means no etc etc etc)
"....the tree turns into a never ending path, many forks, opportunities etc etc etc. Things get real hectic and you can be taken down or either up, etc etc. If there is a setting, it is an open space like i dunno, road but real wide compassing everything instead of just a strip and there is brick walls with the forced graffitti and symbols are obviously is indicating the sexual side or horniness in the agression, taking on the yeah im as tough as that shit or i wanna submit to them or the whole its cool its cool i can just suck your dick you don't have to do anything. Unless you wanted to.... Those mouthfulls are like cartoons like a hungry souped up (topcat). Theyre making all the gobbling noises and the grunting, and its like the filthier you are, the greddier the ontake is.... OINK fuckin OIK, Oi!NK etc etcte etc....

Smegma, smegma is connected to something. A sock is connected to something. (as above)

The vessel is a container, not like a tupperware thing but more of a weight, statue esque and with huge girth, swallowing - almost - the whole of the room. The Vessel is a breather, do-er, blind fold, empty sauce container. The Vessel is not morphing from one station to another but is merely wading through all ideas, all at once. Sometimes this can mean an innevidible strength but at other times is confusing or darting experience and most can melt into nothing again. Meltin' Melissa, melting moment, melting dripping gooey aesthetic, candle all done on an alcohol bottle like 2, 3, 4, 5 etc etc etc times. There is a comic book shop, the shop is connected to someting, not like the fittings, but the vessel in an (often) busy area. Comic book shops probably wouldnt work that well in a really unbusy area like a really small town. (Like there was a cbs where i was growing up in the country but my area had a regional population of around 100 thousand.)

Slob is in an empty bathtub surrouned by kettle chips, cigarettes, flame pipe, machine gun etc etc tec, emptiness is an idea in a shell, or case of chips or cigarettes or flame pipes and so on etc etc etc etc etc. "live and let die" on a bedroom flag or on a patch on a jacket on the floor or strewn over chairs, oil drums, chains from the ceiling and blank walls. This is all displayed in the vessel or container or space inside as aboved mentioned brick wall boundary idea. Mostly everything is strong coloured or drab in it's appearance with greenish black and faded spots. Dull lifeless colouring stinks and makes up for the lack of colour hues over the presence behind the stench, the two ideas become less apparent and are no longer viewed as completely different objects but that of a general idea......