you've come a long way baby.

those eyes grazing with careening jeers.
they want.
they desire.
they raise their glasses.

i'd fuck her.
you'd fuck her right.
i'd fuck her.

with those automatic lips curved into a false acceptance.
her fake approval.
they tell her it's her right. to exist for them.
to be seen and desired by them.
God Bless Us All Because She Can.
her rights. and their rights.
they tell her they have the right to stare
the right to snarl to themselves and each other about all of the things they would
do to/at/on/in her.
but never with.
not together.
not as the same.

i'd fuck her.
you'd fuck her right.
i'd fuck her.

because she is. it.
she is that thing to have and hold.
to be touched and fucked and even hurt and used.
because.
she. is.
she. is. it.

as she moves. eyes gazing and grazing and looking but never seeing.
this is her right.
cheers baby. you've come so far.

i'd fuck her.
you'd fuck her right.
i'd fuck her.

seeing. is feeling. is knowing.
that her body.
her. self.
that she is not an entitlement.
entertainment.
or a receptacle.
sex.
not a fuck.
a sweaty palmed release.

every time she looks too long.
too hard.
too closely.
she tells herself.
as long as they look but don't touch.
touch. but don't hurt.
hurt. but don't kill.

when do we allow ourselves
women and men. him and her.
she and us and them and him and you and me.
to become human?

I think I heard Jefferson Airplane on the radio.

by Tropicalorange.

She smiled and reached down for the bottom of her pant leg. I kept eye contact as long as I could, only until her gaze fell towards her busy hands. Mine quickly followed.

She pulled at their hem but the pants were so tight it seemed as though they were fighting back.

Fighting against her kindness and my guilty desires.

She eventually pealed them up, semi-successfully, then I sat, bewildered.

I could sense her stare move up and notice my eyes hadn’t shifted from her legs at all. They surveyed and analyzed and began to ache as they were unable to absorb the beauty that lay in front of them. I almost thought she could feel the smile stretch across my face.

To me, the seconds that passed felt like time away from the homestead of realty.

A dreamer’s time zone.

Drugged with euphoria I looked up at her like a starving toddler and before I could even produce speech she nodded and that was all the permission I needed. I reached down slowly, for moving too fast would risk ruining this experience and I let my hand float down onto her unshaven leg, which I was being treated to.

I asked her weeks ago for the favor and I can assure you my end of the bargain will be hard enough to satisfy.

But I’m not here to complain.

When my hand touched her skin I could feel the spiky hairs pierce my flesh just enough to send a shock down my back and when my hand journeyed further up, the sizzling sound that was produced wooed my eardrums.

A twist of Beethoven’s 5th.

To me, each hair was like its own cat, purring as I caressed it.

I closed my eyes hoping to enhance the feeling but no sooner did her arms race to pull her pant leg down demanding “ENOUGH!”

I looked up at her rosy face.

At that moment, in that spiral of emotion, I knew what had to be done next.

After all, Gary from the room next door was getting impatient.

He was knocking at the door and usually I wouldn’t open it 3 inches for his trailer park ass.

You see, Gary is a bit of a lap dance junkie. Really, you can smell it on him. Whether it's his bud light endorsed gut, the sweat building up around his forest of neck hair, or his obvious habit of picking through daily news flyers looking for the walmart bra models, you wouldn’t even let this guy pet your dog.

And she knew this as she pointed at the door.

I can’t say I’ve ever given a lap dance before but I didn’t shed tears forcing this femme catalogue lingerie on for nothing.

h.u.m.a.n...b.e.i.n.g

We know the air is unfit to breathe and our food is unfit to eat, and we sit watching our TV's while some local newscaster tells us that today we had fifteen homicides and sixty-three violent crimes, as if that's the way it's supposed to be. We know things are bad - worse than bad. They're crazy. It's like everything everywhere is going crazy, so we don't go out anymore. We sit in the house, and slowly the world we are living in is getting smaller, and all we say is, 'Please, at least leave us alone in our living rooms. Let me have my toaster and my TV and my steel-belted radials and I won't say anything. Just leave us alone.' - Network, 1976

Busy. So busy.
Work hard.
Play hard.

Every moment of everyday filled with tasks and options and deadlines and obligations.
With parties and booze and music and film. And television.
Keeping busy. Never stopping. Bills have to get paid.

Mouths have to get filled.

We run and we search. Stream and pour through subway lines and side walks.
Have to get by there is work to be done.
Stimulate and saturate and exacerbate.
Don’t look me in the eye.
It’s a dog eat dog world.

Not a moment to waste on thinking and thought. And criticizing and wondering why it is.
We are afraid to leave our houses.
Afraid of our neighbors.
Our friends.
Our lovers.
Ourselves.

Divide and conquer. The beginning of the end.
We don’t trust others.
We can’t.
It’s not safe.

When we stand side by side. Yet so apart.
Isolation and alienation.
The real terrorists.
That grow and devour.

Never so alone.
Divided we all fall.
Down.

It’s not just us versus them.
The blacks the whites the reds the oranges the women the men the gays the straights.

It’s me against them.
It’s me against you.


Just let me get by because there is work to be done.
There are important things that I need to do.

All human beings are becoming humanoids. All over the world, not just in America. We're just getting there faster since we're the most advanced country. -Network, 1976

I want to look and feel.
Not as if I grew from a Hollywood script where love conquers all.
And the free and pure reign.

I want to know that my life was not already imagined and explained.
Rehearsed and recycled.

I want to connect with a human being because I can.
Not because I saw it on a television show.

You're beginning to believe the illusions we're spinning here, you're beginning to believe that the tube is reality and your own lives are unreal. You do. Why, whatever the tube tells you: you dress like the tube, you eat like the tube, you raise your children like the tube, you even think like the tube. This is mass madness, you maniacs. In God's name, you people are the real thing, WE are the illusion. - Network, 1976

Alone.
We will fall apart.
We are falling apart.
Fallen apart.

Divided and conquered.
Separated and segregated.
Scratched out and erased.

toronto. june 1st

put this into action.
make it live.

june 1st get together.
toronto. somewhere.

email:
cut.et.paste@gmail.com
if interested.

shot. in the dark.

a call has been made.
is being made.

for the beginning of discussion. and action.
for the end. of excuses and toleration.
another day and time is possible.
when our lives become our own.
not the flickering images on the television screen.

another world is possible.
we have to make it real.

get angry.
real mad.
together.

mmmmmm.hmmmmmm.

Hear it? This lull.

This sort of mid-range hum.

This soothing, calming, in descript sleeping-ness.
I guess you can’t really notice it until you seek it out. It’s the seeking that makes it crack. But sometimes you crack with it.

This cloud like a dream. This cloud like a drug. This cloud of something with no place or time.

Nothing matters. I don’t matter. You certainly don’t matter. This or that.

It doesn’t compute.

Christ. I have so many choices. I can choose something in green or pink. With spots with stripes. The big one. The small one. The ‘I don’t care what you think of me because I’m different’ one. The ‘I’m an up and comer and I have the expensive’ one. The ‘I wish I was an up and comer so I’ll try and fool you into thinking this is the expensive’ one.

And I’ll have it. And I’ll have many like it. And I’ll buy more of them because it’s what keeps this lull peaceful in my head. In my body. In my soul.

I don’t feel anything and that doesn’t matter. So long as my hum. Our hum. Remains intact.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
This. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Means I don’t have to worry that my health is shit. That our planet is shit. That people are dying because of me and mine. Because of us and ours.
That people are stepped on and shot at and shit upon because my mmmmmmmm says its hungry and says that bad things sometimes have to happen. But its not my fault. Its not our fault. I didn’t shoot anyone. I didn’t rape anyone. I didn’t tear apart someone’s life.
So see. I shouldn’t worry because there was nothing I could do. Although. Maybe it was a little bit my fault and all our fault.

Now I know why, when a mmmm starts to crack you crack with it. Because its bigger then just a personal mmm. It laughs as it cracks because it knows that you are one. And it is billions strong. That lull. That monstrous mmmmmm says its ok if the world buckles and breaks. That women should be treated like a thing. An object. A piece of gum in our back pocket that can be chewed on and spat out whenever we feel like it. She likes it when I smack her ass. She likes it when I look at her. Up and down all slanty eyed, with my ‘you’re hot let’s fuck’ look. After all. when she feels like shit. She’ll buy whatever our lull will push infront of her to make her better/perkier/sexier. Because that’s what the boys really want ladies.
The mmmm. Says its ok. If people die from things that could have been fixed. It wasn’t us who couldn’t afford the medication so. Why should we give a shit.

My mmmm says its ok for people to hurt everyday. Why else would we have all this medication around. It reminds me of the time I went to the doctors because I didn’t feel quite right. Scary feelings about being outside and with people. And I walked out with a prescription for some tranquilizers and anti-depressants. Which I didn’t fill. And now its my fault I still don’t feel quite right. Not my lulls fault.

Because my lull says that as long as I have things. More things. Everything my little mmmmmmmmmmmmmheartmmmmmmmmmm wants. Nothing else matters. Not you. Not me. Not them. Not us. Not anything.
Not nothing.

Fuck. my lull tells me a lot. I cant remember when I told myself something. When I told someone else something. That wasn’t lull inspired. Have I gone my whole life. Having this lull talk for me. Think for me. Buy for. Me laugh for me. BE fucking me?

I think this lull was trying to kill me.

I will kill my television if it means I will be free.
I will kill my iPod if it means I will be free.
I will kill my car if it means I will be free.
I will kill my corporate sponsored toilet stall if it means I will be free.

Create a consciousness despite our lull. Despite ourselves.