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Antepodean Antics
Extracts by M.T.C. Cronin

'Hayden's Serenade' by Suchoon Mo
 
Art: 'art thief' by Peter Schwartz

'art thief' by Peter Schwartz

THE WORD FUCK WITHOUT WARNING

 

Is like a little bit of encouragement. It can have huge consequences. Make people take off all excited and get a lot of work done. The word fuck without warning is sacred. Like a bull with a massive pizzle. And the cows get littler and littler. The smallest dose you need to get going.

When the word fuck without warning is said to God, God laughs right from the belly. God occasionally likes the source of danger to shift and knows that vigorousness in speech can never be under-estimated.

God, in fact, pisses God’s pants when hearing the word fuck without warning. Tickled that man is passing one’s time with as much as can fill the mouth. That God-given opening in the head by which man eats and utters sound.

Fuck is a great word. God knows this because God knows everything. Though often used as meaningless qualification it is always to a great extent. As delicate little receptors we humans give ‘fuck’ such a special accent that God cannot but be proud.

And God knows why we say it ‘poetry’s hellish bullshit one good way to suffer men love it men stupid as horses cows’1 because ‘Alone in the night … weighed down by this feeling of powerlessness’ fuck is throating us hard, simple and quick.

It’s a word we can feel. It makes our ‘tongue as raw as a butcheress. As red as a leg of lamb. Its tip becomes a coo-coo bird crying out. Its cock sobs with saliva. Its bottom becomes our goddess and opens like a mouth. We worship it like the sky and venerate it like a fire. We drink from a gash. Spread naked legs. We open them like a book where what we read kills us.’2

Oh Fuck! And God lights a cigarette. Inhalation is a sacrament. In the aftermath we chat and exchange names, dates and interests. Even though God does not exist the room fills with pungent breath. Exhaling is like a little bit of encouragement. The smallest dose you need to get going.

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1 Ikkyu, Crow with No Mouth (versions by Stephen Berg), Copper Canyon Press, Port Townsend, 1989, 2000, p20.
2 A butchery of ‘I Place my Cock…’, The Collected Poems of Georges Bataille (translated by Mark Spitzer), Dufour Editions, Chester Springs, 1999, p6.

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last update: November 19, 2008