Introduction.

I hadn`t really thought about what to call it.
I reasoned I would find it helpful to [re]join the blogging community here perhaps as a kind of nursery slope, a sharpening of tools, a jumping of the gun, a tennis ball punted into naive orbit.
To find my condition.
Lost? Could say.
Remembrance of things lost. And live action, of course.
Hiatus. Has to be called Hiatus, because that`s what it is. I am in hiatus. It`s not my fault and yet it must be.


I like to lay into obvious sycophants and hypocrites especially those who get paid for excruciating banality.


Images and texts which snipe at the passer-by. We are all treated as though we are adolescent, pubescent, nascent,unfinished, incapable of individual identity. We are all houseplants at their focus groups.
The pitches of High Street brands especially when they`re grooming young people. Or shafting the stylish sophisticates. Or necrophobics.
And `Ethical` consumerism. Foot-in-mouth disease.

Accelerated times.
We are beyond the Spectacular, beyond Simulation. There is certainly a scramble towards digitalia. A massive shift in our use of time. I sit on the fence. An unpainted spiky metal fence around a flagpole`d mews-y newbuild. Fucking hurts.
Many of the strongest words ever written seem to apply, as though on a loop. I feel I am being consumed by a blossomdrift of Post-it notes wafting in from history and herstory. Genii and lunatics in sync. Lautreamont, Mary Daly, Baudrillard, Anais Nin,Vaneigem and many others. They`re all on Jonathan Ross tonight.

I`ve got a catapult of twig and elastic, doubles as a bullshit divining rod. And I`m going to use it.