More than iron, more than lead,
more than gold I need electricity.
I need it more than I need lamb
or pork or lettuce or cucumber.
I need it for my dreams.
(The output of RACTER, an early 1980s computer programmed to write prose at random)
More than iron, more than lead,
more than gold I need electricity.
I need it more than I need lamb
or pork or lettuce or cucumber.
I need it for my dreams.
(The output of RACTER, an early 1980s computer programmed to write prose at random)
Bill sings to Sarah.
Sarah sings to Bill.
Perhaps they will do
other dangerous things together.
They may eat lamb
or stroke each other.
They may chant of their difficulties
and their happiness.
They have love
but they also have typewriters.
(The output of RACTER, an early 1980s computer programmed to write prose at random)
Down by the Fairway waterfront
where all of those artist
studios are the surge
broke into the first floor studios
drawing out paint and chalk across
the whole walkway, splashing
it back up against
the side of the building,
wave by wave,
making this insane rainbow
colored splatter paint all
across the Red Hook
shore. There must have been
mostly red paint
because the ocean in that
little alcove has turned a deep maroon.
Taken from a letter describing the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy. Submitted by Marika.
The face
of nature
reflects
all of
life’s ups
and downs.
Carve your
name on
your heart,
not in
marble.
You are
the center
of attention
wherever
you go.
Three slips of paper inside fortune cookies from a Chinese restaurant in Chinatown, New York City. Submitted by J.R. Solonche.
Feel me ‘ands.
Go on, feel em.
Freezing.
I’ve got gloves in me bag,
can’t wear em.
Make me ‘ands cold.
Got em off our Mandy for Christmas.
I’ll wear them next week though.
Going down to see our Mandy.
Look at me fingers.
Blue wi’ cold they are.
Feel me ‘ands.
They’re freezing.
A customer in my place of work, January 2013. Submitted by Pauline.
Why should we
tolerate
a diet of
weak poisons, a home in insipid
surroundings, a circle
of acquaintances
who are not
quite
our enemies, the noise
of motors with
just enough
relief to prevent
insanity?
Who would want to live in a world which is just not
quite
fatal?
Taken from Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring (Houghton Mifflin, 1962), p 12. Submitted by Wesley Brown.
You haven’t forgotten
Anastasia
Marina
Natasha
have you?
i hope you stay well.
will you be my valentine?
there are no
obligations.
no fee to pay
this chance comes just once
in a lifetime
again
this chance comes
just once
in a lifetime
Svetlana is waiting.
A compilation of various subject lines from my Spam box. Submitted by Mr. Wilson.
Him
In our turning we do this, that or the other. I’ve lived in this turning for fifty years,
and here I intend to stay. They’re new here they’ve only been here eighteen years.
I’ve got friends at work and friends at sport and friends I have a drink with. I know
all the people around here, and I’m not invited into anyone else’s home either.
It doesn’t seem right somehow. Your home’s your own.
They’re all related in this street. It’s awful, you can’t talk to anyone in the street about any of the others,
but you find it’s a relative. You have to be very careful.
Her
It’s friendly here. You can’t hardly ever go out without meeting someone you know. Often it’s someone you were at school with.
Since we’ve had the children I’ve got no more friends – outside the family I mean.
I don’t see my best friend much. She’s married too, and she’s always round
her Mum’s like I’m always round mine. Since we’ve had the baby, I’ve got no men friends – outside the family, that is.
Direct quotes from the research commentary in Family and Kinship in East London, by Michael Young and Peter Willmott (Pelican Books, 1957). Submitted by Peter Raynard.
A recent exhibition of the work
of American artist Jeff Koons was
called Everything’s Here. I subscribe to that
worldview: you can live on “lipgloss and
cigarettes”. There are more references to
TV shows and showbiz entertainers
in my songs than references to the
Greek myths but it’s all valid. You can
mythologise anything if you put
your mind to it. In a way it’s more fun
to look for profundity in something
that’s not designed to have it. Or maybe
that’s just awkwardness on my part – I do
have a tendency towards that. When I
was nine years old, we were learning how to
draw bar charts at school when the teacher
decided to construct one based on the
times we got up in the morning to get
ready for school. For some reason I was
determined to have a bar on the graph
all to myself and so claimed to rise at
6am every morning (which was an
obvious lie as I was usually at
least five minutes late each day). The teacher
was sceptical but let it go and, much
to my satisfaction, I got my own
exclusive bar. I don’t know why I was
so determined to be different from all
the other members of my class, but it
felt important to me. Perhaps it still
is. But I’d like to think that it was more
than mere cussedness on my part, that it
was the start of a sensibility,
a desire to look in the less obvious
places – less obvious because they were
right under your nose. Pulp was the perfect
name for the band because this was an attempt
to find meaning in the mass-produced and
throwaway world that was, after all, what
we were surrounded by on a daily
basis. To sift through and find some beauty
in it all. Take a look – it is there.
Taken from Jarvis Cocker: the secrets of Pulp’s songs, The Guardian, 16th October 2011. Submitted by Marika.
fo shizzle ma nizzle
is a bastardization of
fo’ sheezy mah neezy
which is a bastardization of
for sure mah nigga
which is a bastardization of
I concur with you whole heartedly
my African american brother
Definition 3 for ‘fo shizzle ma nizzle’ in the Urban Dictionary. Submitted by Gabriel Smy.
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