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Old 07.09.2007, 03:06 PM   #1
jon boy
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ok so i have an idea to do a burroughs/gysin style piece of cut ups.

basically you get a page or pages and cut them up into pieces then put them together to form new sentences, word groupings etc. try it and post your results or not, as will probably happen.
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Old 07.09.2007, 05:12 PM   #2
atsonicpark
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i've done this before with a story i was writing but abandoned. i'll try to find it.

they have tons of online cut up generators.. i'm on a shitty 56k right now (yes they still exist); otherwise i'd post a link..

just google "cut up generator" into google and that should do.

and i'm filling a few more lines

just so idon't get the thing

that says

"not enough has been written in your message"
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Old 07.09.2007, 05:17 PM   #3
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by the way, this has nothing to do with the topic, but Cape Fear is so funny.

I thought it was funny when Nolte said to Joe Don Baker's private eye character, "I want those three guys to do that job on Cady!"

Baker goes casually "Sooner done the better, now three men's gonna cost you a grand, now ah know that's not exactly chicken feed, but it's better to overdo it!" Then he pours a large shot of bourbon and adds Pepto Bismo with it.
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Old 07.09.2007, 05:19 PM   #4
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I remember when I was in my collage/dada studying phase and did a pretty decent cut-up a la Tristan Tzara. Threw it away was finished with the phase and was "purging" myself.
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Old 07.09.2007, 05:20 PM   #5
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OKAY OKAY i found it

chapter one of my book which was never finished called "Affable". It was supposed to be a really vague story a guy brainwashed by the world around him and every chapter was supposed to get less and less confused until the end when you realize that YOU are the main character and the whole story is something you had come up with, since there actually is no clear story. It's hard to explain, but it seemed smart when I was roboed. Anyway...

AFFABLE
CHAPTER ONE: EXISTENTIALIST


My bestest buddy in and my bestest, newest knew how to give particle participant his ovulating sense. Really an acquaintance, persť... I wasn't very acquainted with her though. Buddy wanted sex, and went up to this bitch with, "You have Pepto Bismo!"

She with a confused sigh.

"It's your FUCKING POCKET, BITCH!!!!!!"

Oscillators? Proudly we perplex protocal prurient prowess which publicizes pugnacious shit in the bathroom, hermorrage, I start to all means: sex, the bunches of any kind will probably mess you up in fact; not kill you but make you feel really disillusioned.

The key is that for the dog-that-I-am finitude is is the precondition for the oscillations between authenticity and transcendental, Kantian sense that I think my bestest best buddy and I differ on what. If you're asking in the sense of what the sense of looking for a noun for a God because we have faith in grammar, finitude doesn't have a certain logical priority. All roads do lead to of saying, along with my bestest best buddy: Dasein understands so in such a manner that it will go thus to take over in its thrownness that entity wholly. An authentic anticipation of one's ownmost potentiality-for-Being, combined drives out accidental and provisional possibilities-- "dispersing all fugitive chosen." Finitude is the "reason" for any movement between inauthenticity, and back in the other direction, going "under the precondition to authenticity." When I say that finitude deploys inauthenticity, I mean to make the claim in the employs, that is, in the sense of what presupposes OCCASION the shift, it seems you are asking in verb. (Remember the Nietzsche phrase) This is a boring way itself with regard to its potentiality-for-Being, and it does right under the eyes of Death, and in order which it is itself, and to take it over with a steadfast resolve "under the eyes of Death". Self-concealments. What remains (viz., the "situation") is inherited yet authenticity- inauthenticity occurs: eg. the various forms of "fleeing toward the eyes of death" toward authenticity.

My buddy wanted sex, was important, ate right, so my new-found non-Pepto Bismo-having friend was there. Though, we're barely acquainted.

She with a confused glance.

"Alienating propulsion portest astute absolute ascent assuming public apropos appurtenant aria arithemetical to condescend ceremoniously."

Vehemently, incoherently by idiot affection, infected -- hit the pipe again.

So, we produce veins.

So, we drank ourselves, clubs and fucking each and such. This is what life is turning into: scenery scarce, scenarios we trust. Lies we fuck for appearance's sake to say sorry to spirited sovereign silent sickness surrounded by shitfits with excess surfeit servants and scientific stupidity. The world wanted sex; acquaintance in the world that palpitating petty pantomimed predatory perceptive opiated opinions differ.

Not more like someone who was with at all.

But may I need to shit.

Dilemmas.

Somehow I designed a television program that would inject its static waves into my robotic cells in order to feel the premise of the show and the characters slowly start becoming my organs and the plotlines become my white blood cells and the ending credits are streamed all over my hairline: To take his mind off his divorce, antimatter physicist -- he was the hero!!! -- his ex-wife Lauren Ashborne was Sebastian Jackal, a satanic figure who wanted to destroy the people who made Gus' life a living hell. But the running went haywire, reading the game's villain file out their programming. Gus, Lauren, and Peter are then Gus Lloyd! But he started programming an action video game where the sidekick, and his father Jordan Kenneth Lloyd was the world with an army of thugs based on the antimatter experiments. Gus and his friend Peter Rucker are sending them into the real world to act forced to play the game for real. Christoper Loyd smiled.

A girl, "Hey, I know!" said, "No, I don't.." said, "Yes.. it's in ossify ostensable propitious proposals. Autonomous peace puerile prospects. Pulmonary publication puke." As I stroking my own shit, think about what it drugs... the distance. Drinking of poison will cause honesty a lot but may you see confusion? It'll just make fuck for a few days. But, and that was what decided to ask me about it: Friend? Acquaintence. Speaks in gibberish now: "students! You study opinions astern asthma apocryphal approximations of appartenance conditioned incorrect about incantations incarcerated by disassociative vivisections."

So, we shot something in our silly.

We speak candidly and vividly and sincerely about "No one is worthy of my friendship." So, I told the drug that the brain was the ugliest part of her entire body.

She saids, she saids, "Nothing is really destroyed or disappears, as recycling is part of production!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It's a natural and necessary part of post-capitalism!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! There should be no illusion of only production, as was the case with early industrialization!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! We no longer use a dialectical approach in our disposal/recycling system, only a forward movement to the reproduction of reproduction!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Outlaw was killed. Ass fucked. Brains saying "Hey Laura Dr. Tongue's here."

Getting kicked out of brains like it's nothing. Has revolved and evolved; all a facade. Facts love to lust after. Soil solids and say souse self-gratificating shit. I stare at sapient scavenged scholars obsessed surveying sleepless spoiled splinter cells.

The end.
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Old 07.10.2007, 06:41 AM   #6
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sonicpark, that was cool as fuck
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Old 07.10.2007, 07:02 AM   #7
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with people that doesn't care at time and never forgetting it. FUCK so I listen to music, because this is actually the only I need to be happy so FUCK care about at the moment, this just nothing, but your skin and everything, sometimes does it happen and listen to music, again and I know the reason and I'd like people that doesn't care at all about it happen to me can't talk about I feel like I stupid and I and your skin help me, I just want to listen music, and I talk about music to feel sad because ? Oh of course I know care about and things that FOOL all the time. So just can't talk about it so I'm about things that I the only thing I really that I care I'm just alone thinking about it again. Music is I feel sad but I'm not and your skin and I act stupid and I supposed to feel sad because I got if it was express all these feelings coming to your so I listen with people that I AM FOOL. talk and talk about things that and I talk but I can't, so I things that I care moment, this and the music, so forget it, but I just stupid and I feel like better... sometimes. about music... so I know the reason and I'd hard to express all these feelings again and again want to listen be happy so and your heart thinking about it time and never forgetting it. FUCK the reason and I'd So hard to I act stupid and I time. So hard to never forgetting it. actually the only thing I just alone thinking about it you feel better... sometimes. things that I and again. Music so FUCK IT, why does it happen things that I care about and things Fuck it! I don't it won't help me, not supposed to feel sad because like to do if things that I care about IT, why does feel sad because your skin and everything, sometimes I feel I can't, so I act care at all about music... and I talk about your skin and do if it was just nothing, the moment, this and the music, so like to do if it was just so I'm just alone all the time be able to forget it, to express all these feelings coming to music with people that doesn't that I don't care about... I feel but I just can't talk about it was just nothing, but I can't, so like to talk about it because this talk about it, again and again, care about and things that and your heart and your skin the moment, this and the at all about music... so I feel I talk about to be happy it. FUCK IT, care about at the with people that doesn't care and again and again and again. Music I'd like to do FOOL. I'd like to talk about it,
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Old 07.11.2007, 03:48 PM   #8
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children in the green grass events like slow markers on the horizon and i there with you in the haze like an early morning with the sky pink as thoughts. events unfolding with quickening pace lining the way to my door is green with peeling paint and rust. got me a window to see the world and sit with glass to check the beggining i didnt forget the middle or the end. get the way out of views and sea air, keepsakes, tacky momento in the car waiting at the lights for the trains to pass on the line to the city.
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Old 07.11.2007, 03:53 PM   #9
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hope it comes out better than Burroughs horribly tortured BULLSHIT
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Old 07.11.2007, 04:20 PM   #10
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cut downs http://www.corsinet.com/braincandy/insult.html
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Old 07.11.2007, 05:01 PM   #11
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haha thank you.

i like this thread.

i like burroughs a lot, though most of his work is a bit... not sure what word to use.. dense...?

the first burroughs i read was the soft machine. it was pretty shocking, though strangely interesting. i actually got my girlfriend to read it, and she never reads. and she didn't like it, but whatever.
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