How to get out of debt

Monday, June 28, 2004

When in debt, it’s important not to simply bury your head in the sand and hope everything will be OK. Instead, you need to face facts and come up with a plan. You don’t have to be a financial expert, or even Alvin Hall, to come up with a sound financial plan. As soon as you have a plan, you will instantly feel better, even if your plan is to simply bury your head in the sand and hope everything will be OK.

There are no magic bullets for indebtedness. Avoid loan companies whose television adverts contain any of the following: ugly people, handsome people, people dancing or singing, people with hangdog expressions, fake game shows, people walking through a maze, helpful telephonists. Instead, visit a loan shark. Like the Lone Ranger, the loan shark is to be found stood at the nearest saloon bar, his famed steed the Silver Beamer idling outside. Give the loan shark a copy of your financial plan and ask him to advance you a pony. He will lend you Tonto’s pony, because Tonto, who is addicted to gin and suffered ricketts in his infancy, will be slumped unconscious over by the pool tables. Watch out for pool sharks. They are usurious typists and secretaries who intimidate their victims by deliberately inserting typographical errors and lewd jokes into legal documents. Ride the pony into Jerusalem while having your friends fete you with palms. Credulous people will hurl dinari at you. Convert the dinari to Pounds Sterling at a Bureau d’Intertemporal Exchange, and use it to pay a Private Dick to dig for dirt on Alvin Hall. Use the skinny on Hall, who almost certainly is a closet heterosexual, to blackmail him into giving you insider financial advice. Hall will tell you to spend less money and work harder.

But remember, there is no easy way to get out of debt.

transatlantic

Saturday, June 26, 2004


Fine. A continental fucking shelf
(thank god) is busy separating us,
and I feel like falling under a bus.
Regardless, you can go and fuck yourself.

frieze!

Saturday, June 26, 2004

put your murals in the air!

swap deal

Friday, June 25, 2004

Two golden bollocks for half a litre of stale Mateus Rosé? Please? Pretty Portugese please? No? Oh well. Can’t say I blame you.

Urs Meier? Sounds like someone taking a shit. Who does he think he is, anyway, telling eleven Englishmen what they can and can’t do on a foreign field? Typical EU beaurocracy from the Swiss. Err…

Fuck it, he’s probably a kraut in disguise.

As for Helder Posterior, the Tottenham Flop himself, five words: no-one likes a smartarse.

Hang on, what am I saying? I am Canadian, right? Who gives a damn about this soccerball nonsense, anyway? Hey, isn’t it time for the NHL draft? Rock on! Go Canucks Go!

Honestly - Europeans. Bunch of girls playing girls’ games.

kui

Saturday, June 19, 2004

I swished my tail in a sunshaft dust disturbing

toggle

Saturday, June 19, 2004

Last night, temporarily alone with just the groan of the grapes tolling through my bones, I sat down at a computer and for what I am told was a half hour or so lost control of my mind. Lubricated by a large Clamato caesar, I envisaged reality as a tumble-dryer full of sheets and shorts, in which I was a mislaid five-dollar note being tossed and pummelled, ruffled and rolled. Rising, only to fall again, only to rise again, within the ructions of linen, I slipped in and out of self-awareness, and finally sank utterly into a soft, warm capsule, my ears buffeted by a whooshing, muffled womb-noise.

Jingle jangle

Wednesday, June 16, 2004

Enough! Let me be, for mercy’s sake, I beg you! I get down on my knees, my elbows, my navel, my nipples and my nose and beseech you - no living thing, and very few dead things, for that matter, deserves such a torment! Remove your fishhooks from the loose skin of my upper back; take the barbed wire from around my neck, the bubble-wrap from my mouth and the Amazonian weevils from my ears!

Listen!

I won’t buy a fucking mattress anywhere else, OK?

gyougle

Wednesday, June 16, 2004

google image search for my name turns up my extension number:

i suspected it but now i know. the magentic resonations of the internet are diverting flocks of metallic sparrows to roost on the pylons of my consciousness.

the others ide

Tuesday, June 15, 2004

the telephone is making a strange noise.

ring, it goes, then a pause, and then ring again.

someone is trying to tell me something.

it’s the periods of silence that really get to me. the rings themselves i can get used to.

but i wish i could make it stop.

code for a cruel oligarchy

Tuesday, June 15, 2004


the coffee pot
is less than hot:
an insult not
to be forgot