''e's interesting and has good moves, long work

Caveman Bashing a Bone

Posted in Uncategorized by tetradugenica on May 22, 2016

(Written a long time ago after a sorry event, capitalized and spell checked today)

Again it’s come to this. Whistled notes communicate the universal unease.  Everything seems to live and die ,over and over, youre having to meet everyhing at the moment in between.

Put both hands in front of your body. Now put them in the airs of the skulls in front of you

Keep touching until you can feel the opposite finger. Strike it once until it makes that forever note. Now watch as it vibrates the fake breast , they dont know walking, stealing urges  with salt water is no different than any witch’s tricks. The charms against witchcraft have become pale skin, the tan being the indication of acceptance. They’ve planned all their future conversations from tv shows about people who are supposed to be them. Four people together licking their shells off, rubbing them with mineral oils til the skin starts showing, and we see the little fringe below the nose that shakes, and we see these down leg spots.   Seeing it gets you ready. You’ll be ready after you spot it. And you touch it to be hungry, if youre not. Lions shake around you, rolling in place like they’re on spits , paws smash your skulls in. Dead and eaten again. Dead to be reborn again. Coming out of a pretty plant again or the stupid dirt mountain again. We never have acknowledged it. We just push our own hands up each others suits. Or skirt suits. We rode in a car together. Does that mean something. That we rode in a car. We can do our best not to bother once another but we’ve been taught to hate anything that doesnt entertain us. I’m entertained by all the worst things. I love the worst things. And I got fucked by the worst people. It’s the best thing. Now we can just fall asleep over this agian.

Aligned again and all we need is this card. Si was taught by a dead man under a mountain, that looking at the window at passersby is the best way to  become insane. Anyone who sees a person and who isnt seen by the person they’ve seen has added one foot towards the grey black with white highlighted that houses all the crazy misery.  Just go out and hit them if you have nothing to say. At least disagree about something good

Be with a person who pays you to be whotever you dont want to be. Thats how I did it. That’s how I know. We’ve made enoug n money to do everyhing we wanted and instead spent it on  on things we never want for the preson we didn’t want to be.   Now we climb these climbable rocks and love the progress of the person who climbed the rock with us. With us. Ask your friends how to look better. Lok better.  Clean you up. If youre clean you’ll ready to fuck. If youre dirty youre ready to fuck as well . But a different person.

Or the same at another time.

It’s cloase enough. at leat for now.

finish when im better. or you can finish it


Legs Too Long

Posted in Uncategorized by tetradugenica on May 3, 2016

In progress, draft

My cane collapses in the sweat on the escalator of Berlin-Brandenburg Airport, I am trying to receive my eyes to gusts of wind of sun, useless. Windows block all elements. Behind us is a cop of a toddler, yelling “No, No, No!” to all.

The cane couldn’t take the expansion, it renounces me, once again, my longer and thinner legs, to everyone in range. It is sitting there in two pieces, one abuttinga child with an ice cube filling his mouth, the other wedged between the steps, vibrating as the escalator transmission shifts gears in preparation of a cane-snapping release of torque. I would like to ask this one favor of this ruin, stop anyone from asking questions, I’m afraid I’ll immediately fall in love after hearing their sympathies. Afraid I’ll never be able to return to who I was before their kind gestures.

Glover and I, in all the times we’ve traveled together, have never had a misunderstanding. It makes our work higher class, and even more valuable. We could label it as A-class, no disagreement, but are prevented by European commission directive 2000/13/EC. We no longer know very well if we’re doing anything cool, but we can tell the truth, “my legs are very long” “they’re growing very long.” We can build diesel electric turbines, we can’t label them the way we’d like, each is taller and less conspicuous than the usual. Each puts the air in suspension, and is cushioned by the same air.

The sun and the overhead lights fail to show us a hidden third piece of cane. It’s soft enough to melt if the fire sprinklers heard our song and started trickling. It was an adorable twine of mint and water in the center of the cane, rocked and acquired into the nap of the top and bottom of the supposedly expandable cane.

We are not very far from the business class shelter that is built into the former radio repeater station, I, moving like an old dog, lope in and get good mornings, “this quiet village of fantasy” painted on the walls, mild music plays from the waterfall sound speakers. All waterfall sounds have finished and are being rewritten. We board our plane.

Legs are too long. Legs won’t stop growing. Pants too short. Legs keep showing. Legs too long. Won’t stop growing. Liked to comtest. Like to rest.  The pressure of a hand at at this height melts plastic, it loosens and falls away like attention. I can’t sleep without a zealous guardian who swats my legs away from the windows and the framed photos.  I could easily be a victim of toxic vapors that harmlessly float above the heads of most. Have to make another cane when we land.

To pass the time

I will NOT skip steps. I will NOT jump hedgerows. I will NEVER bypass crosswalks with a stride.  It’s a promise that I break immediately. A spiderlike scribble, a giraffoid lope, Public art’s blue glass reflecting no body,  but long legs lines blurring by. It’s worthless art. It’s shiny like a mouse’s eye. It has no business reflecting my legs.

I cleaned the screen of my new metal shoes  with a relentlessness wipe, reflected in the schedule of my day, 1. to the influence of the soul on the Mpousi brothers, and 2. verified the updates to the safety map of town, which written in English, reminded me where I could travel without being decpitated, elecotrocuted, smashed flat by heavy weights, or chopped to pieces by spinning automated machines . Then without thinking, I clicked on the folder “Capricorn”. I listen to an embedded audio file and the hear something very pure, very beautiful, a clear throated bird gives all my favorite notes, it starts to make day.

Off to find high density metal rods. Off to find hydraulic lines capable of the highest pressures.

Posted in Uncategorized by tetradugenica on March 29, 2011

He wonders the same things you do

teak team

Posted in Uncategorized by tetradugenica on March 29, 2011

oct 8 09

Posted in Uncategorized by tetradugenica on March 29, 2011


Posted in Uncategorized by tetradugenica on March 29, 2011

Posted in Uncategorized by tetradugenica on March 29, 2011
caption of mine

I think I'll archive good short image text here too

I’m to stupid to lie

Posted in my writing, Uncategorized, writing by tetradugenica on August 1, 2010

part 1

This week, this week, is like  the return of the former fighters to the battlefield.  The problem this is that their minds feel  like a spray painted plant, marked, feeling itchy and miserable but not sure why, formerly  lucid but  now only aging, full of knowledge but fortunately again all plants were introduced to the wild by man. The tiger was introduced by man before it was ever wild.  And this is no metaphor, man as god , god as man, this is the truth. We have s deiscoveed marks along their  stems that seem to be vestigal radio collars, dina transistors broadcasting locations to  a spot in the central cortex  that we know use for tasting food.

To explain, in 2008 my sense of  identity dropped to a sense of assumed name and skin color.  Was this a punishment for sitting idly by  as my former self  planned acts that would later resonate into the future as the attacks on September 11th and as dance music.   When I go on to the plane on which I meditate, I have the impression of  trying  to extinguish the fires of Kuwait’s oil wells with no human help, only a  seal,  or a walrus who pretends  to be my father.  Sea animals playing and having fun as their world is poisoned, if water is full of oil, will eating  a fish from that water  recall the taste of the components of the oil. A gene in each one expands its size if it smells me. Seals and sea lions are attracted to me. When I was 8, my family took me to sea world, I was invited to feed the seals a small fish.  I slipped on the mat and fell into the water. A seal dragged me tto the other side of its enclosure and its penis came out of its thick fatty, wet pvc-like skin, it fucked me for 2 hours. The personnell said that I was lucky to be so beautiful that they didn’t devour me afterwards.  But this is not a surprise.

I want to be perfect forever. This is the source of my every problem.

Every hardship and tragedy was brought down on me by my own desire to be amazing manifesting itself as my current being.  Tonight this is the evil night that transforms  me into  something worse than  a bat who flies about, talking about music, but better than a  sparrow who flies around  clumsily, as if a fan of ska.

end of part 1


In these awkward times, my striving for perfection led me to the intersection of Europe and Asia, Turkiey.

High level weapon production facilities surround me. While you may make a gun in many different ways, there is only one method here: stamping followed by hand  assembly.    The manager, Deb Chel, is taking me on a tour,   He tells me that he learned to play piano,  and he is doing drawings and maiking a serious effort  to experience more culture his everyday life.

Deb’s even  producing music and plans to make Anakara the new Ibiza.  WHile this is so simpataico, I wonder if its relevant to the factory.  Mr. Chel responds: How isn’t it.  With a powerful army and modern arms, Turkey could become the middle eastern hegemon it was during the long reign of the Ottoman Empire. With this glittering capital the country can be remade into something of majestic and avant garde beauty. He wants the army to start teaching conscripts how to play piano and sing, or how to make films, to make Turkey the cultural center of eastern europe and the middle east.  Deb Chel’s  partner in this plan is  Hector “Vernal” Hind-Legg, best known for his award  winning remixes with the step step twalala  character that we all love.

Hector flirts shamelessly with me, while Deb is modest and almost shy for a man with such a massive plan and hope for his country.  Hector plays a new arpeggio track he calls ‘Tella  (Peaceful Future)’ as the song ends he feels my thigh andworks  his hand up my cutoffs. Before I can slap it away, he makes eye contact with me and frowns, then removes his hand.  He knows how I like it.

The manager and his friend go on to enthusiastically describe the time they were in Ibizia on spring break 2003, and tiesto called them personally, to man the foam cannons.  Vernal got the crowd so pumped that tiesto let him spin the next 3 songs, he tells me that it was the best night of his life. I don’t believe him.  After this, he hands me a photo album full of gory pictures he says are of Kurdish Terrorists that he has personally killed.

On his dusty workshirt is a patch that says  COILS, the english translation being roughly “To the best, dying is only a way of forgetting being alive’ It seemed stupid to me, but he was too beautiful to argue with.  ” PARTY right, not a sour night!” said Deb.   Deb explained to me that Vernal was the big bear  I heard growling outside the walls of my hotel room. it was just him mimicking an animal sound from his sound effectss record.” So far, Have usual, quality tricks from your new friends :)” — Text Vernal sent me the next day.

Deb, in his benevolent professionalism offered me a crate  premium of the grenade launchers, assault rifles, rockets, and body armor, all in new perfectly operational condition.  Thank you Deb.

These weapons have helped me destroy the police forces in my town and my gang of cool friends, All girls and boys who look like me, but who don’t have my je ne sais quoi, or my enigmatic  dress sense. We’ve taken the money from the local bank and founded 2 co-operative factories, with the residents helping us build 10 more. We will create revolution in this country if we have to make every new proletarian ourselves.

I’m to stupid to lie part 3

The BLEEN-BLEEN  battery alarm of my cell cone wakes me up from dreams about beautiful new factories.  Calming monoliths full of gleaming  transparent floors, metal tools coated with ceramics and soft-to-the-touch polymers, workers laughing and smiling as they create  the pretty machines I  invented to save you, the sings you invented so we could save each other.

The only nightmare it could ever evolve into is a vision of a robust young worker with nothing to screw in.  Women in practical coveralls with no fine detail work to examine. Teenagers learning no craft,  Dogs without cats to chase, cars without roads, trees without frogs, and on into infinity.

This is a moment I can live without, We are all  well occupied in our head head, engaged in  imagining  new positions for yoga. Sketchbooks with little  poseable men, who are not poseable enough.  Not for for tracing our new positions.  I  lowered my  pen hand onto my handcouch. While it rests I drink perrier.  As I reach the bottom of the bottle, I sprinkle the last few drops on my hair. It’s blonded to my skull, getting darker as I get angrier about the tiny old man who told me that my gang would never be able to invent worker-yoga, that yoga was for the masses. The yogi Peranthawpi stared at me, being a bit taller and more muscular than I expected. “It’s a unversal.”  I felt threatened.  He might have been checking me out, or sizing me up, somethinging me.  I ran out of his ashram in tears.

End of part 3



Posted in my writing, writing by tetradugenica on August 1, 2010

making lemonade is not what you should do when life gives you lemons. You should make lemonade whether you have lemons or not. As nasa scientists have observed over and over, observing a landmass in the shape of an object is enough to trigger the taste and nutritional imprint of that object in the human body. Maroon, berries shining chrome to white, reflecting off the huge white spots on the lemon spectre below.  A suicidal french fruit trucking tree that drops boulders in front of itself as it drivees along, each one has to be rolled aside. Making progress is no as difficult as one may think.  Bouldres may weigh several tons but seeing a boulder as nothing but a crushed apple is an easy way to a satisfying meal, a tenor apple crush player, playing 5 note duets with the little  ostrich chick in the front pocket of his overalls. He wipes his eyes and sees a  Caribbean green blue gold wavelength flop around til he finally opens his eyes.  AS he does  he’s startled by hiss name written on the ostrich in raised letters, maybe in melted feathers on a feather?  He wasnt’ sure and closed  his eyes again.  AS he opened his eyes again he realized that he was feeling the seeds in a mango and had left his contacts in the ostrich’s empty egg, floating in the yolk, if you’re nostalgic for the warm watercolor  of 70s film  youcan try this for yourself.

The truck rumbled ahead, regularly stopping and picking up trash pretend like it had any legitimate purpose to be on this road at all.  A slide whistle interrupted the florid rocket show Rip Pepper was watching iwth his eyes closed while he drove the truck.  ”the headliner in this thing is in no shape for the big screen , haha, hahaha , he laughed to himself, and to everyone Else” the rest of the folks in t van looked mad because the headliner had been the star of several magazine covers, it was studded with bulky  grey gleamy stones with a few facets each.

Plus there was a pancake shaped apparatus attached to it that would spit out real vinyl records 12 inch clear limited pressing rubber stamp cover  rare misprints of the conversation in the car, of the thoughts people ‘d said to themselves, or just whatever.

more to come, less to fix, somethingsomething,keep it bigfooted


Posted in my writing, writing by tetradugenica on August 1, 2010

animal curtain, animals are just metaphors for mathematical equations  about how animals move. dusty too, dustier than you would think. all for my benefit/

was a campfire that could be easily puffe from smoldering o raging the earliest burglar alarm. dont eat my sleeping baby and i wont use this unimaginable power over heat an light to against you, notice to predators, when this mud hut is puffing dont come a huffing.  notice to evan, I think you were right. I think you are right. i rwote what you said on tis piece of paper.and you were rright. notice to everyone else. i think youre great, but not great enough to mention by name. caustic self righteousness is not a personality trait but a side affect of long term alcohol and nicotine use. wind currents shift and blow all of the mythical fragments of drugs that studies are finding on the things of people

unless its a commodity. then no thank you  i need to pay for this otherwise i’m tstealing. stealing is my ownly lov aside from the people and things i love.   rich enough  why dos it bother people when you bring up the fact that youre  amistress. everyone needsa something to do. i need something that helps me to do other things. mistress mayb e the wrong word but i will use it first so you know. my spots and pigment,  my spots and pigment indicate that i am a mistress. i am flowing around over ground  once i k new that this ws wrong to do before i forgot, but i discovered my notes . in which case it doesn’t matter where it is becuase it should be there  clearings, clearings, clearing space for new commoditiesthanks you for being brightly colored so i noticed you, thank you for being neutral so i noticed him., thank you for wiggling wildly  so i noticed you. thank you for tasting this bfeore you served it. skin dewey glowing nice, thanks  thank you for saying that to me “hm at  wrk 11:15” notes notesnotes.tyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

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WEnt outside, heard people laughing and talking outside. wa s wearing [[checks relevant polaroid]] wearing high waisted leather shorts and  cut up shirt, hair wrapped up tight, air looking white and skin face happy and cheeky, pretty cutey, a banadana with cords wrapped around it on the right armholding a pen and a construction pencil in blue, other arm has a white sports watch . black armband that isewed a crescent moon on. racoon shoes. little socksk. smiley face underwear  detail on 2nd polaroid.  talked to the people outside and sat .  took notes about conversation “swee nnr 3 aa2 ” provvbaly means something playin g a trick on my future self maybe? when i wanted to know what happned. must have been important to keep it a secret from mysef. my lifes become a stupid time travel thriller. please just  make me some pineapple juice smoothies and let yourself out