Blanket city run along soaked in rain. Idiot Boy wastes his time visiting a passing crush at the other end of town. Slips between two houses and a metal sheet, communal refrigerator in the middle of the road filed with half-empty soy bottles. Dead bell stop, mocking red blink of the operator. Father arrives … More Black Box Idiot Cult
Born into colonial Aotearoa, I had no right to my heritage. It had been defined three hundred years ago, by an expert panel of British imperialists, who’d divided the world by civility and barbarism. Socialised white, the mock of genetics wrote itself on my skin. At age six, the kids at school climbed the fence … More This lack is not my own.
Awhile ago, I had been at a party. I’d listened to someone talk about Kate Moss for ten minutes straight. I left the room, found my flatmate and asked why anyone was interested in anything at all. We’d come up with no answers. All this started a month ago, and all that started long before. I will not … More Exit Bag Out
His arm circling round her waist. Maybe . . . A blare. Sweat of traffic. Muggy afternoon. The sun bounces off every surface, paints the surroundings white. I stand at the corner of the street, feel the pavement seep through my soles. Sesame drifts from the marketplace; cheap soba, oil and soy. A cat stretches on the neighbour’s roof, white fur … More Suītopī
The frame has blurred away \ Fever death arising like burst glass || mangled spines \ This is the age of fact | where the violent insertion of cancer cells into animals is applauded by scientists across the globe \ Objectivity is the new face of barbarism | death god // sublimating existence for truth … More Biospace in the Age of Epistemic Mutilation
[[More real than the real, that is how the real is abolished]] de facto slogan to the virtual economy \ Reality has collapsed through its own fiction || rummaging through boxes // a DVD from the 2001’s states [[the future of gaming is here]] opening with ten minutes of nauseating zooms on women’s asses \ … More Cyberspace in the Age of Libidinal Banality