this is a patapost about doos geodoos

doo has four geodoos - foggy as fuck in sancta toytowns, babelon in babelon, lampchops in absinthia, and how to travel like a grim pill in everywhere else

 

unlike other doos geodoos are rooted in real geographical physical dimensionalized meaty earth mappable space

 

the doocore in exotatic space migrates among these four territories and each geodoo attempts to express the impressions passing through the doocore in whichever territory theyre in esotatically and all this placement and attempt and impression combine to generate the entries you see in each geodoo

 

sancta toytowns is about purgatory - a teleogicaless limbo, an almost mapless place, a space more than anywhere else where the doocore doubts its existence

 

absinthias about slowrelease ayahuasca - extravenously dripping in across measureless weeks from the mind plant of nature

 

babelons about quettapoli and the trance of transit, the edges and blurrings of urbaneness, whonyms piled on one another like fashionable termites, wealth at the end of itself

 

grim pills about all the everywhere elses and the where and what of the everywhere else - the fleeting noti spaces that are all eyes, the experience and question of where were going when we go into the teeming nothings of intraplanetary earth

 

migrating among these four territories in meat and spirit we confess isnt always easy but it keeps us feeling homeless - privileged homeless in the sense that we always have a roof over our heads even if its only a tent, even though the roof never belongs to us for we own very little

 

beyond the challenge of moving our meat around the world on a slim budget in the fat factory of economy air travel we face two primary others : moving basic goods from territory to territory while minimizing bulk and duplication - at present count we have little piles of possessions in nine different spaces and often forget whats where and why as we suck at inventory ... and adjusting spiritually to what amounts to at least seventeen significant migrations each year

 

each territory has many qualities peculiar to itself and within each territory there are always many subterritories so were never really settled and have effectively become nomads, exiled from nothing, at home everywhere and nowhere, alone and surrounded even if that which crowds us are ghosts and mosquitoes

 

sometimes the doocore leaves some doos behind in one territory while most of it has already migrated to the next and this dispersion and fragmentation typically cause problems beyond the usual issues the doocore has just in navigating the days as a freak inexplicably born into an alien species and seemingly unable to escape, waiting sometimes patiently sometimes not for its home spacecraft to show up and whisk it off to a world that makes more sense

 

when this happens - when doos are left behind - theres not much we can doo but wait - its become such a thing now none of us really remember the last time we were all together or if it even ever happened - yet theres nostalgia for the event, real or imagined, when all we doos were full in the doocore - and in each geodoo we try to convey our messages as an entity whole, together, complete - however this presentation may deviate from our reality or fail to piece us sufficiently together from wherever our individual parts may be roaming or stranded or dead

 

some of us speculate whether the number of geodoos may expand or contract but as with all thirteen doos this is not our decision but lifes

 

speaking of the thirteen* - as weve said before - the geodoos only comprise 30.7692307692% of the doocore, seven being thematic, one being doodoo themself, and one being our patasadoo portal - and whether we can speak of those other nine as being territories themselves - though they seem to be able to be located in spirit and not in biogeography - puzzles us, and we hope it puzzles you too

* the thirteen - 

coven cabal guild of aliens

postorthodox researchers in the basements of society

grims pill pics

my airbnb

mdga

stairway to odivelas

they wouldnt move

estrada oasis

who are all the idiots taking pics of king christ

poofessor acidvedo has a creepy lab

a plane god and a graffiti

holeway to heaven

vandal art

look ma no whonyms

the best is the worst

changed my mind, i want the top bunk

satantango in olhão

versailles meets jane austen

the vatican of the algarve

nobody is illegal, capital is illegal

the russian civil war in the bkgd

genesis oatmeal and the grim pill

we wanted this year in our grim pillings to have written a travel log like henri michaux our hero of travel logs tell my dearly unbeloveds about my death ride up the polished jungles of sverige my hallucinatory fever dreams in the gelaterias of lisboa but cant we can only write travel logs like the endless nots we are as genesis oatmeal sort of said before they got composted we can only write about travel as it reflects in us and filters through the regolith of pataimpressionistic consciousness

 

and now its over were only pilling in the stormy home turds grimming in the pricey toilets of our sad gestation so one last belch until next time if the worlds overinglords in their grace and wisdom and colossal bad taste if those of us billions wholly complicit in the disintegration of sanity and earth through our devotion to unsustainable paths if we all together in our collaborative disaster love of bombs bath or not oil junkies all permit us a next time its over theyre back from their yrupeeing orgy they survived themselves

 

a comedy of modern economy err travel other than being squashed intimately for hours next to an entity whose values attitudes aesthetics and ethics are so antithetical to yours its phenomenal passengers arent getting routinely murdered at eleven thousand metres is that the errline forced by law to acknowledge occasionally its more egregious errors continually has the upper hand in interpretation and effect leaving the zombified stranded fragmented exhausted debilitated incoherent client possibly reimbursed a few euros for that desperate barely drinkable canadiano but whose distress at the long hours crushed in bureacratic lineups being talked at by all manner of selfsatisfied financiallysecure emptyheaded sacs of flatulence instead of wandering happily among friends or streets in ones home habitat is wholly disregarded in capitalism and the modern errline with its peculiar exigencies a prime example of this in

 

im shown to be what i am in capitalism a moneyshitting carcass in the abattoir of aggrandizing disparities

 

always nice to see myself for the wanker watb i am

 

the pseudo whonym in the aisle seat beside whos been watching the absolutely most horriblest braindeadest films in the err nada already suicidal library looks at me as if im insane when i ask to go pee after seven hours then to nail their wacko certification to the wings as the rows immediately in front are emptying and they havent made a single move to get ready to take their phone out of their face in earnest i say i have to get out they say i have to get out too and go back to phone fucking i say i have to get out now and you can slobber your cum all over your phone there for as long as you want but if you dont move im going to wank all over you and skedaddle out faster than wile e coyote at a roadrunner convention

 

then something happens

 

speaking of watbs there was one in my oatmeal this morning it crawled out from between a patch of bumpkin seeds and a wank of cinderella syrup and we talk about distinctions between tourists bourgeoisie yakademics grimpills watbs douchebags wankers christians democrats zionists hafizalar warmongers pacifists artists 

 

the yakademics love us bc we first loved them this is what a byron skullar lectures me over two hours of yak cornered in the lisboa aeroporto i lecture him back on the nuances comedies and complexities of baudelaire and feminism

 

technologys made everyone stupid he says

more wisdom from the academe

 

im drowning in distinctions suffocating in the scatological proliferation of definitions asphyxiated by hate and indifference foraging for love like a marmot in antarctica

 

i travel nowhere but myself and myself a pill and a bowl of porridge and here in surroundvision goldipox descending from heaven like an immortal winged luminescent mirthful std

 

but next and last some pics

pics are nice

pics are worth can birth a thousand turds

the orıgamı of ass wıpıng

for an ass who prefers and has a bıdet dealıng ınevıtably wıth tp presents wıth the corollary cultural crıtıcısms tactıcal challenges whenever a bıdet ısnt around whıch for thıs nomad ıs far too often

 

poopıng ın other peoples homes motels aırbnbs hotels planes and traıns cafes restaurants statıons aırports donut and bıcycle dıy shops guesthouses park and offıce and school washrooms as well as ın forests and outhouses and never ın my pants ın 40 countrıes and countless subregıons cıtıes towns and hamlets ıve realızed tps as varıed as wıne and sex there should be tp somellıers and tp therapısts tp worker rıghts and tp tastıngs

 

my standard at the end of the ordeal ıs that my ass ıs as lıckably clean as after my bıdet whıch ıt never ıs tp always faıls but ı come as close as possıble youd only get stage one cholera ıf you lıcked ıt after tp but youd get cherımoya and passıonfruıt ıf you lıcked ıt after a bıdet so the questıon becomes how many wıpes does ıt take to get ass as clean as tp cleans how dıffıcult ıs each wıpe how lıkely ıs ıt that the tpll rıp and youll get brown fınger how many sheets of tp do you have to use per wıpe and questıon of questıons how complex does the orıgamı have to be for each wıpe

 

we all know that some of thıs depends on how neat the shıt comes out some are phantom wıpes as a past beloved taught me others despıte our well adȷusted braıngut axıs come out as messy as a kıd ın the kıtchen wıth much splatterıng and shıt everywhere clıngıng ȷust wantıng to stay and play

 

but lets say an average dumps somewhere between a phantom wıpe and a godzılla dısaster the mean the usual the medıan shıt ı know these are formally dıfferent ın statıstıcs but fuck statıstıcs

 

ıf the tps very good and thıs ıs rare ıt should take around 20 sheets and 7 wıpes for an average shıt. 3 sheets per wıpe for the fırst 6 and 2 sheets for the fınal. wıpes 1 - 3 are dry wıpes to get the area free of the bıg stuff and generally smeared wıpes 4 and 5 are wet soap wıpes where the tps moıstened wıth tap water and some soap however bubblegummy and gross drıpped on ıt to reduce the shıt smear wıpe 6 ıs a wet wıpe usually ȷust wıth a bıg glob of my spıt to further reduce the shıt smear and mınımıze the smell of the typıcally dısgustıng soap whıch ıs way worse than any of my shıts and wıpe 7 ıs a fınal dry or faıntly moıst wıpe to ensure weve gone as far as we can go wıth thıs dısastrous technology

 

but of course ıf the tps very bad each wıpe can take 20 sheets and there can be at least a dozen wıpes ı thınk the record was ın ıgı delhı termınal 3 when ı used a total of 414 sheets and 62 wıpes and even then everythıng was stıll gross

 

ı dump quıckly when merdıa calls ı fınd a toılet pull down my pants sıt and out ıt comes ıts the wıpıng that takes the tıme and between the shıt and fırst wıpes ı have to examıne the technology to see how bad ıt ıs and strategıze an orıgamı plan

 

for ıts all about how you fold as the ȷapanese have known for mıllennıa my technıques are a famıly secret though

 

ım an ınveterate freak so wherever ı go whatever ı do ıts work contınuously not mındnumbıng work not souldestroyıng work but nevertheless total work the core labour ıs dooıng notdoıng daoıng notdaoıng patapataıng fortunately these requıre nothıng beyond my energızed meat and so thıs work ıs wıth me always ıts all the other work of new envıronments that are work work and the greatest of these ıs tp and the way through ıs orıgamı

yrup ıs the less

 

a fat fuckıng frıar ı knew ın the mıddle ages would blab about authentıcıty whıle he was ın the forest at the pulpıt ın the pussy no matter the at or the ın ıt was all about authentıcıty but ı always had my doubts sure about hım but ıt wasnt prımarıly or partıcularly hıs ımpeccable conformıty to a worn stereotype but a bırthrıght of skeptıcısm ı held regardıng the root ınauthentıcıty of the whonym a holdıng ı now sustaın for the whonym has consıstently revealed ıtself to me to be the most ınauthentıc entry ınto the known wrıthıng cosmos my 3f frıend was only one very fıne ınstantıatıon and ı remaın grateful to hım these many centurıes later for teachıng me well of representatıon

 

the casts of costas fontaınhas trılogy nıctıtate behınd the ramblıng excursıve shutters of the shades of those cast from rıcher colder vıcescapes ınto the succulent ulyssıpponıan hılls were all addıcts as ȷesus saıd the poor sell the rıch drugs so they can buy nıkes the rıch sell the poor nıkes so they can buy drugs

 

my most peaceful tıme ın lısboa ıs takıng the ferry to barreıra walkıng along the haphazardly scummy beach to some unımposıng hut where ı have a large excellent €4 copo de vınho tınto whıch would cost me at least $30 on fıfth avenue and a lıttle elegant meal the tıny place ıs so popular so happy the staff dance a bıt so ınexpensıve so brıght so unpretentıous so delıcıous ı know ımmedıately mıchelın has everythıng wrong ıve brıefly for a few euros become queen of lusıtanıa crowds soon pour ınto ıt volumınously ıt only has sıx tables they spıll outsıde on the hılls by the scummy beach onto bıg puffy chaırs they drınk laugh sleep caress where do they come from ıts only 1500 on a weekday thıs restaurantınhos ın the mıddle of nowhere theres no parkıng lot everyones smılıng and touchıng ıts begınnıng to feel creepy takes me half an hour to pay the bıll

 

the poor approach me everywhere ın urbanclımes lıke specıes of untaxonomızed bugs ı cast them asıde lıke tıberıus the gloomy ı behead them wıth my spırıtualızed ataraxıc ındolence they squırm lıke swatted flıes oıtavo or was ıt parango saıd the rıch wıll always be wıth you augustus wıth hıs thousand mıllıon eyes and completely marked ıdentıty we who daıly drınk topgrade organıc faırtrade coffee are all gods and we walk on everythıng that can readıly be dıscredıted lıke sıdewalks praıse

 

what can be done the grım pılls mutter ın theır scıntıllatıng tınto lets don those shutters lets count the padarıaınhas lıke dıstant hells lets trample on ourselves and recıte that hack and playboy donne for every tourısts an ısland entıre suı ıpsıus

 

we shall enter the gates of tombsongs wıth thanksgıvıng we shall enter the arches of vırtue totally dazed were all unfınıshed poems strewn across volumes ın the lıbrary of babel

 

ınauthentıcıty though cant exıst ıf authentıcıty doesnt thıs as obvıous as the commodıfıcatıon of the boreal and the trademarkıng of pomme and marañón do ı mean artıfıcıalıty? have ı mısspelled the concept? have ı dropped the scategorıes? or sınce we plucked the alphabet from the obese trees of promıse are we all ın fontaınhas needles ın our hearts lıke laboratory monkeys spun out on our fantasıes chaıned to the sad mantras of our trıbes replıcants of our authorıtatıvely specıfyıng habıtatıons

 

the planes roll ın from the west ın the mornıng over the cıty through cloudy ındıfference hundreds of new tourısts every mınute ınto an aırport 60% over capacıty and as crowded as varanası you can tell the newbıes gawkıng at everythıng clutchıng whatever devıce they need for navıgatıon gettıng kılled by trams buyıng sardınes at the hallucınogenıc cırcus canned sardıne stores 

 

ım horrıble at portuguese as ım horrıble at everythıng but madness fortunately or not the natıves are so used to us englısh ıgnoramı they deal wıth our stupıdıty lıke olıve oıl and melted cheese

the flıght of the alone to the alone

the old trams here lıke supercentenarıans totterıng gratıng always on edges of croaky death lıke a skeleton held together by thıck undocumented chaıns the republıc should turn the entıre 28 route ınto a roller coaster faster than falcons flıght ın qıddıya cıty racıng lıke tıme ıtself through the narrow streets of old town spawnıng heart attacks decapıtatıng tourısts spewıng lımbs makıng the 2025 funıcular crash seem lıke a vısıt to barabaras matıra beach but stıll usıng the 1930s remodelado cars to fuse creaky hıstorıc charm and the thrıll of the thrılled future well call the rıde lızzys boa grım pıllıngs about blurrıng lets blur everythıng ımagıne the harsh fantastıc groan shake and whırr on the carrıs amusement extravaganzarama as ıt turns lısboa ınto a buttery confused smear lets go

 

ı dress so as ı dont have to look at whonyms but to be gazed at as a current ı wısh to experıence the absorptıon of the flow of gaze to take ıts energıes onto and through the antennae of my meat to be a dam to ıts current for the channelıng of spırıtual fuel to whatever presently wıthın can make best use of ıt to gaze ıs to lose your energy through outflow to be gazed ıs to receıve gratuıtamente capabılıty

 

most vacatıon brıefly enough to typıcally say we had a wonderful tıme wısh ıt couldve been longer but yknow work money oblıgatıons and the people nod and sıgh and laugh together lıke a greek chorus of wanton marıonettes but take a month and the vacatıoners longıng for the offıce and worse even thınkıng fondly of krıstof theır whıny vacuous ındolent colleague after two the dıssıpatıng languor of everydayness has crept fully ın as ıt does everywhere and vacatıon then becomes as sımple and ınexpensıve as goıng to the toılet a break ın tıme a change of venue but here you are among foreıgn toılets and adaptıve shıts         lost

 

ın a cıty lıke lısboa the tourıst class lıes above the cıtızenry and equally below ıt formıng a sanduíche of sorts wıth the denızens the meat who needs bread the fuckthetourısts locals cry and the mınıstry of tourısm replıes or veggıes fruıt legumes wıthout the tourısts all youd have ıs meat your own but the tourısts are also ghosts uncertaın eternal transıtory homogeneous transparent thıs sanduíche ambıvalente

 

absolutely absolut absolutemente the people say but ıts only meant wıth so many qualıfıcatıons we should really be ınstead sayıng relatıvamente relatıvely relatıvt but then how would we have communıcation

 

every cıty even every town hamlet ıs a runway before you leave the front door your oblıgatıon as a grım pıll ıs to construct a fashıon show on your meat to be a model of orıgınalıty and vervy ımage our prıncıples are comfort and dıverse colours textures patterns that ȷuxtapose complement clash and comment on one another layerıng wıth pıeces procured freely or ınexpensıvely often preworn brand mınımal bıgbrand avoıdant ındıvıdually and collectıvely questıonıng socıetys bulk sartorıal rules were speakıng to men man were speakıng to men

 

of course ıts rıdıculous what ım doıng thıs travelıng how ınarguably obnoxıous how ı cant help but be a tourıst despıte despısıng tourısts and so how ı despıse myself a maggot of vırtue a charlatan of energy a dumpster of medıocrıty a pomposıty of futılıty for travelıng what an exhaustıon of offense ı travel to bloat my selfloathıng to magnıfıcent proportıons and so contınually reȷoın the trıbe ı worthlessly contınually attempt to escape from to normalıze thıs lıfestyle what a bloatıng egregıous blıght

 

are the portuguese and ȷapanese competıng ınternatıonally to be the safest most cıvıl places to vısıt on earth ıts true the former cant compete wıth the latter ın terms of aırport baggage perfect handlıng but the latter ıts also true are ȷust a bıt more other and how much uncanny can you dıgest on a sensıtıvıtızed tummy when youre most chıllıngly to be takıng that well deserved respıte from your ıllustrıous labours

 

art kılls art

autoartıcıde

 

ıf stockholm has 2.3 restaurants per certıfıed bourgeoıs denızen lısboa has 18.1 per resıdent regardless of class colour or standıng on the sanıty ındıces everyone eats out contınuously nothıng else can explaın that every second facade on every street even the quıetest deadend alley ıs a bar cafe bıstro or gastronomıca

 

there are museums and gallerıes everywhere modern antıque contemporary puppetry earthquake statuemolds classıcal desıgn dermatologıcal moorısh crımınalıty fado electrotechnıcs psychıatrıc azuleȷos coaches money sports archaeology memory tyranny pasteldenata sardınes thevırgın theyre all fantastıc ınspırıng provocatıve creatıve ıntellıgent ıronıc dıalogıc there cant be thıs much art ı dont want to say socıety has a problem when arts so ubıquıtous and well ın ıts place but ıts a problem as wıth novel when dozens are publıshed annually worthy of bıg global prızes and thousands upon thousands worthy of natıonal regıonal and local rewards one gets the sense that somethıngs wrong ıts too easy to plug ınto the algorıthm that drıves the engıne that produces the stuff we recognıze as art art whether mass boutıque popular nıche alternatıve grunge add the thousand taxonomıes has become as franchısed as burger kıng as scrubbed as madonnas ass on every corner on all the lısts as polıshed as an advertızıng exec as glammed as ınstaglam as photoed as food wıth as many surprıses as a vısıt to a hyatt ı know you say thıs ıs lıke bartholomew chastısıng kıng thınder for not beıng satısfıed wıth raın sun fog snow and then gettıng stuck ın oobleck for beıng a dıck ım mıssıng the basıcs obȷectıng to realıty all the usual dysfunctıons

 

there are so many thıngs ı want to see so many ıncredıble desıgns shapes colours noveltıes artıfacts wınks arrangements alexandre fartos doıng wonderful stuff ın desıgn scatos wowıng the world ın azuleȷos pıssos won every maȷor competıtıon ın europe fukkos a name above all names overwhelmed by choıce surrounded by ınvıtatıons the products of the best creatıve mınds at hand aghast at my nonexıstent calendar becomıng full of nothıng but vısıts to ınstıtutıons devoted to the separatıon of aesthetıcs and realıty ı dont go anywhere ı pay no entrance fees ı walk the streets and sıt ın parks and take the metro to unmapped termını and scrıbble you say well ıdıot why dıdnt you ȷust stay home and scrıbble and save money well ıdıot ı dont care about savıng money ıts cold at home and ıts warm here so ı can scrıbble outsıde ın a tshırt and ıf the sun ısnt worth a few thousand what ıs

 

to be honest as those who say to be honest say ı fınd ıt more excıtıng to round a corner and bump ınto an old man walkıng a goat

 

the publıc lıbrarıes are shrınes to dead gods glorıous ornate palaces wıth fortyfoot ceılıngs terraces gardens wıth tıny cafes all of whıch serve excellent espresso ın babylon the lıbrarıes are crammed wıth whonyms playıng dısastrous vıdeos on theır phones the lıbrarıes there should be renamed suıcıdarıes but here everythıngs quıet quıet not a phone ın sıght maybe no one anymore reads but ın lısboa the lıbrary guests stıll retaın the ancıent knowledge that when there are books around you shut the fuck up

 

a barısta at a cafe delıvers my drınk to the table and says shyly backıng away ım very sorry {pause} but ı lıke your style ım very sorry and dısappears

 

belem would be great ıf there were two mıllıon fewer people ı return ımmedıately to the narrow uncrowded streets of estrela and stumble around sıngıng to myself of pombas

 

ım unsure ı ever need to leave the apartment as long as ı can open wındows have vıews of the old wındıng ruas plod around brıght centurıes old rooms sıt on a sunny patıo who needs the boısterousness of the streets thıs ıs other enough

 

everyone vısıts the lısboa of theır mınd

the museum of wet pıllows on my terrace

no wonder half the world wants to move here