brightstupidconfetti: Scuffy Global Chancre // Blank White

Kurt Kren & Günter Brus - "8/64: ANA"

"a little bird called and said, CEO dick and I said, armies of pussies crawling out my pussy fucking armies of CEO dick and then this one CEO said, you should sing a song about the black president, and I got so pissed I cut off his head as he was depositing money in my pussy and a little while later this man with a shovel watched me fuck another CEO and I waved even though I knew the man with the shovel wasn't a CEO and the man with the shovel got embarrassed and dug a hole and put flowers in the hole, but he bought too many flowers and didn't buy enough holes and he didn't really care because he liked to watch me fuck CEOs more than planting flowers and then this couple walked down the street and thought about marriage counseling and two CEOs fucking each other crawled out of the married couple's son's dick and the married couple blamed themselves and got divorced, then the husband became a CEO and I fucked him."

Krammer Abrahams, from "CEOs"

Alexandra Gorczynski

"OH I wish there were some words in the world that were no the words I always hear!" Snow White exclaimed loudly. We regarded each other sitting around the breakfast table with its big cardboard boxes of "Fear," "Chix," and "Rats." Words in the world that were not the words she always heard? What words could those be? "Fish slime," Howard said, but he was a visitor, and rather crude too, and we instantly regretted that we had lent him a sleeping bag, and took it away from him, and took away his bowl too, and the Chix that were in it, and the milk on top of the Chix, and his spoon and napkin and chair, and began pelting him with boxes, to indicate that his welcome had been used up. We soon got rid of him. But the problem remained. What words were those? "Now we have been left sucking the mop again," Kevin said, but Kevin is easily discouraged. "Injunctions!" Bill said, and when he said that we were glad he was still our leader, although some of us had been wondering about him lately. "Murder and create!" Henry said, and that was weak, but we applauded, and Snow White said, "That is one I've never heard before ever," and that gave us courage, and we all began to say things, things that were more or less satisfactory, or at least adequate, to serve this purpose, for the time being. The whole thing was papered over, for the time being, and didn't break out into the open. If it had broken out into the open, then we would really have been left sucking the mop in a big way, that Monday.

Donald Barthelme, from "Snow White"

"Satan's God"

I wish I had a sister. We'd probably hang out on the couch together. Once in a while, we'd go to Applebee's. She would get a Grilled Shrimp 'n Spinach Salad and I would get a Riblet Basket and it would be funny for like ten minutes and then we will have to get drunk. I hate you, she would say. I wouldn't say anything back but my feelings wouldn't be hurt. I would drink another cranberry margarita and stare at her. I can't wait until you die, I'd say. I'm going to pour hundreds of Riblets on your grave and mom and dad won't say shit because they know it's the right thing to do.

Ben Mirov, from "Duffle Bags of Vicodin"

Masonna - "Like A Vagina"

The father ripped my cock from the freezer snow and sang "Dead Skin in the Line Up." The kitchen wept dick crust. Pedro stuck a dildo in my heart, I crooned from certain throats, not knowing. I brought a leap year down the front of his pants. The father worked my ice with a ball-peen flute. A hole chipped perfect blue from piss colander sprinkle. The mother jaws were fluent in that era. The father rattled my flesh cubes between his teeth and said he could never drown. He beat-boxed in disappointment.

Blake Butler and Sean Kilpatrick, from Stab Pyramid

Kathleen Daniel - "Meaningless"

Jimmy Joe Roche

Vito Acconci - "Open Book" (1974)

MICKING CATCHUP, MAYNASE
CATCHUP, MAYNASE, COTTEN
CATCHUP, MAYNASE, COTTEN, HAMBERGER
CACHUP, MAYNASE, COTTEN, HAMBERGER, WIG HAIR
MICKING PINK SAUCE PUTTING OVER MY CHEST ARMS
MICKING PINK SAUCE PUTTING IT OVER MY HAMBERGER TAPED FACE
MAKING ONE SIDE OF MY HAED LARGER THEN THE OTHER

COVERING MY LEGS IN MAYNASE
COVERING MY DICK IN MAYNASE

PUTING HAMBERGER MICKTURE IN MY SHORTS
FILLING MY PAINTS WITH CATCHUP HAMBERGER
INCLUDE MY DICK WORKING CARFULLLY WITH IT
SHAVING MY LEGS APPLYING MAYNASE AFTER
CUTTING MY MY WIG
EATING THE HAIR
MY FACE BECOMED HAIRY
SHAVING MY LEGS ON THE TABLE-LONG PERIOD
FILLING MY PAINTS WHILE I AM ON THE TABLE

HUMOR
~~YOU THINK IAM FUNNY~~
STANDING AT THE TABLE _I PERFORM AT THE LEVAL OF THE TABLE ON THE BODY PARRT AT THE LEVAL OF THE TABLE ~~CROTON HIGH~~ YOU MIGHT SAY

HAMBERGER ON MY ARMS
HAMBERGER NEAR MY ASS - IN MY SHORTS

MAYNSE ON MY ARMS NECK AND SHOULDERS
MAYNSE ON MY LEGS
HAMBERGER BUTER TAPED TO MY FACE ONE SIDE

LET THEM SEE THAT I AM PUTTING HAMBERGER IN MY MOUTH

CUTTING HAIR OF WIG
SHAVING HAIR ON LEGS SHEST
PUTTING HAMBERGER ON MY HEAD

MIXING HAMBERGER_ BUTTER_ MAYNSE_

MAKING FLASH SUBSTENCE

MAKING IT XXXXXX SMOOTH

CHANGING CLOSE COVERING OLD LAYER UP

SLOWING DOWN TO GET INTO AN ACTION

CAN NOT THINK ABOUT PEAPLE XXXXX MUST ONLY GET INTO ACTION IT IS IMPORTANT THAT I DO ACTION, STATEMENT OF ART

Paul McCarthy, from HEAD SHOP/SHOP HEAD: Works 1966-2006

Andrea Pensado

Harmony Korine, from "Devils and Babies"

Marie Bites the Dwarf's Cock

On the floor a dreadful wrestling ensued. Marie went berserk, got her teeth into the Count's cock, the Count howled.
Pierrot hauled her away, pinned her at the wrists, her arms outfling; the others had hold of her legs.
'Let me go,' Marie wailed.
Then she was silent.
Finally it was all she could do to fight for her breath, her eyes shut.
She opened her eyes. Pierrot, red-faced, sweating, was on top of her.
'Fuck me,' she said.

Georges Bataille, from "The Dead Man"

Prurient - "Time's Arrow"

Tony Arnold

The Enemy

Somewhere in the world I have an implacable enemy although I do not know his name. I do not know what he looks like, either. In fact, if he were to walk into the room at this moment, while I am writing, I shouldn't be any wiser. For a long time I believed that some instinct would warm me if we ever came face to face: but now I no longer think this is so. Perhaps he is a stranger to me; but much more probably he is someone who I know quite well - perhaps someone I see every day. For if he is not a person in my immediate environment, how does he come to possess such detailed information about my movements? It seems quite impossible for me to make any decision - even concerning such a trifling matter as visiting a friend for the evening - without my enemy knowing about it and taking steps to ensure my discomfiture. And, of course, as regards more important issues, he is just as well informed.

The fact that I know absolutely nothing about him makes life intolerable, for I am obliged to look upon everybody with equal suspicion. There is literally not a soul whom I can trust.

Anna Kavan, from "Asylum Piece"

Maxlabor

Text 21

drum with whitewashed bones
r
stretch a wire and hack through it
spill ashes
fill balloons with gas
hang up whitewashed dolls and cadavers
fill a balloon with foam pop it with a whip

Text 37

screaming shrieking shattered glass
2 of the 3 actors lie head to head before the door, so that visitors must step over one of them to enter the room
3 bright red fluorescent squares measuring 1x1 m have been drawn at irregular intervals on the floor

sound:
air escaping from an air compressor
light:
blue
an actor holds a light bulb in his mouth and screws it into the socket
as soon as the light comes on, the sound of an electric bell is heard
darkness
flashlight
a man who has been nailed to the wall by the tips of his shoes at a height of 1 m, and whose hands have been tied behind him, bites on a [bright red...]
light:
rapidly alternating green and pink
then dark blue (indigo)
the first actor breaks open a vial containing ammonia
a sharp smell of ammonia penetrates the room
the third man opens a vein, the blood flows into a glass
kneeling the second actor presses a cloth soaked in chloroform over his face, until he falls unconscious
the first actor vomits into a bowl half filled with green fluid
sound:
SCREAMING
the first actor throws light bulbs
second

Text 47

musical comedy for television (color television)
4 musicians (string quartet) sit in a conservatory and play the string quartet in g minor by arnold schönberg or another suitable string quartet
a young girl with white-colored hair clad in a white dress white stockings and shoes drinks a glass filled with a white liquid during the first movement
during the second movement she drinks a glass filled with a bright red liquid
during the third movement she drinks a glass filled with a dark violet liquid
during the fourth movement she kneels on the ground and with the help of a feather vomits into a bowl

Rudolf Schwarzkogler, "Scores for Unperformed Aktions"

WHyTe WiNDoW - "And The Game Of Life Is Not It"

there will be humans in basements looking at each other

wandering, solitary humans that want more to find another human than to avoid dying

solitary, severely depressed and/or enlightened humans that commit suicide by seeking out alien faces and looking at them; these humans may feel happy inside an insane nervous breakdown

humans that kill other humans because they feel insane

humans that sit in a corner, feeling extremely small, maybe considering intense killing rampages/some indefinable, positive emotion for humanity

humans that watch tv, use the internet to read the newspaper, and drive their cars around; they will be motionless on couches with their eyes open

Brandon Scott Gorrell, from "gigantic mountains"

Georg Baselitz

Creative action, destructive action to express a perception of thee weird phenomenon of being alive tries to illumine, clarify and describe some part(s) of human experience, it tends to achieve long-term relevance to individuals coming into contact with it by trying to graps, or even form, thee values that guide that experience in a given age, or in this case "SECTOR OF TIME" And whilst "Time is that which ends" culture, for better or worse, is that which does not. And thereby lies thee endless trick. Unlearned and unsung denying explanations butter avidly seeking them. Thee mirror receives our staring gaze and we melt quite gently and sink away leaving a smoky, cloudy effect like bleach spreading in water.

Genesis P-Orridge, from "Thee Reversal of Fate"