Speaking In Tongues
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T-ough Press
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Flash Screw Jack
Go Now Gentlemen! Too Overloaded for Mad-Baths
by Vladimir Shulgin
Everything was quiet & calm in Moscow Babylon. «What a crew!» —
as William Burroughs once wrote. Sucking mass-media junk food provided
by «mooches, fags, four-flushers, stool pigeons», zines by self-indulgent
morons drowned in onthological cocquerty — «unwilling to create, unable
to steal, always short of money, always whining for credits». No style,
no taste, no spirit of music. They are hiding in a forced smile a waste
ground of self-pity. Like cockroaches bustling into Black and Tan headquarters
after gas-attack, nothing-to-say journalists are floating from one born
dead glossy magazine to another. «Their veins mostly gone» in dependent
correctness, «retreated back to the bone to escape the probing needle».
Waiting like hogs their groundwank day. They hate just an idea of true
artistic union fulfilled in life of true visionaries, «bright & somehow
fastidios», as Georgy Osipov said, «cause of being too close to beyond»,
«whose charm, hedonistic discipline, provocations, discoveries & findings,
transgressions were often reached by loosing good name, reputation &
even life». «One toke over the line, sweet Jesus… one toke over…» to leave
those bastards.
Why we are not in there? — are screaming those always cool recurrent
VIP cops & respected lousy dwarfs, breathing heavily, feeling Old griming
Artistic Monkey pissing on their backs & are desperately trying to
dissect that sworn enemy. «Show us persons to crucify in remorse!» — that
is their demand. «Crowfy us showsons to cow in perverse!» — they insist
on a «disastrous zoological experiment». Everything was quiet & calm
in buzzing Moscow Babylon.
Like venomous snakes coming with a flute whistling right from the grave,
obsessed by frozen tuneful energy, appeared another hated shark cunts,
too international to be castrated, too overloaded to be lobotomized, too
easy to be killed, too healthy to believe in them, too comfortable to be
a myth, too many skin for a theif. Not recommended for cheek to cheek conversation
with «Silent Majority» dancing in its Re-Awaken Drug Hysteria, searching
«for Nazis run their Towns» or Satanists fucking Evangelic polar bear.
Not recommended for fashionable youth full colour magazines. Not recommended,
not recommended… «As your attorney I advise you… Surgery uncertain after
eyes removed»… with Tzar`s bones far gone pruning carrots.
Georgy Osipov invocates ghosts of Transilvania… after midnight each
Monday & Wednesday. Radio 101. Alex Kervey, provocative author, hustler
in charge for the TRI Operation, hardly to be identified, still searched
by the law, invocated sonic power beasts of the Home Office… those dead
pilots of the endless flight «smiling, screaming and dreaming, testing
high passing out cold, goin` for each other, talkin` together head off».
«Lock them out and bar the door…»