Electric Thought

Dr. Death and the Adventures of the Thanatron

I am currently reading an article about Jack Kevorkian aka. Dr. Death for a class called Studies in Rhetoric at UBC. As I love quotations, and like to share them with my faithful electric thinkers and blog-aficianados, I have, here, documented a few Kevorkian specialities. (Dr Death know how to serve them up). But first, some information about Jack Kevorkian: Kevorkian is known for his passion for PAS: Physician assisted suicide. In 1989, Kevorkian read an article in which a panel of medical ethicists agreed that it was acceptable to help terminal patients commit suicide. Jach then gathered up materials from yard sales and flea markets in order to construct a machine, the Thanatron (cool name), which allowed patients to quickly and peacefully end their lives. Here we go:
"Kevorkian's first publication discussed transformations in the fondus oculi during death, and was based upon a woman whose eyes he open to photograph as she died." When questioned about the academic merit of such an exercise, Kevorkian simply responded that he "found it interesting." Ok, I can't inlude anymore: this is way too disturbing. The shit they teach in school these days.

I give it all I give it all I give it all
and then it's gone
so long.

Flutters, shuffles of greed: a good hit or speed of the morning, to get you going where you want to go; to do what you want today, again. And sin. Electronically conceived, indeed. Oh a shout out to all my enemies lurking in the shadows, to all my secrets lost in translation, to all my offenses commited in conversation, to all grievances against my old friends and the cops inside my head. shoot em', shoot em' dead, shoot em' dead son, shoot em' dead.
Support the artist, not the flood. Hurricane have nicer names than children. How come mom do hurricanes have nicer than children. Hurricanes have nicer names than children.
Oh come on. this is retarded syntax.
pay your taxes, pay your taxes, pay your taxes to Paul Martin and your dad. Are not you glad that our liberated government is looking out for all our concerns in this socialist paradise. A Bulgarian education is a roll of the dice -- so I learned at nine tonight.
Experience turns like a wheel. Achilles had two heels. And one mother named Thetis.
Projects: dessiminate the advertisements of erectile dysfunction in a Freudian context; make love to the world like a promise; wear fashion like a victim is a suspect; put on your contacts; expand:
we're getting experimental like ee cummings after a couple beers; let's say cheers and thank those modernists madmen and their mother for yawning and spawning:
Thanks Jimmy Joyce and mother
Thanks Tom Eliot and his Father
Thank you Virginia Woolf and your manic depression
Thank you Ezra Pound for being a freaky fascist
Thank you Benito Mussolini for your aesthetic priniciples
these souls did wierd things before it was kool. when it was still eccentric to hold up your middle finger in the wind.
i feel that way all the time; it feels sublime; and music hit me so hard like some postdated house climax; like the tempo speeding up, speeding up -- slow, slow.
Roger 10-4. Roger 10-4.
Goodbye help hellos holler hunchback on heaven
Evacuate the call!
Never made the cut
Never made the smut
into something transcendant like a place
nowhere, good nowhere, good nowhere
god somewhere
god is a monster
trangression is inevitably linked to trust
oh lord: this is a sad song
oh elton, why do sad songs say so much?
fucking listening people: open and close, open and close (I sympathize with the staff)
do the math
i do the math in the bath at the end of the day
i gots hell to pay
why do I open and close
closed.

I have to keep on writing for a bit longer because the creative juices are flowing like a prostitute's panties on a first date. Here it goes: I am alive today, but not everyday is an alive day; indeed, I have had many dead dog tired days in my dark and dour existence. Like an existentialist philospher (take Camus or Sartre for starts) who has done too much acid -- my mind goes placid like a solar eclipse, indeed.
But don't take this as the only read of what I do or don't do on my dayliest of bases. Conversely, I can carve a carvern cracking the cavernous cuts to my skull. I mull, I mull. Then I figure her out -- my secondary goddess to the stars. Oh bad god, she was there all along, all along -- but I was too blind to see. Are we all so blind to the periphery

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Upcoming articles: "My Yoga Instructor is a Nazi," and "The Next President of the USA," and "A New Reading of Contemporary Metaphysics". So stay tuned my friendliest and dearest strumpets and cakes. (Reader: Do you want me to separate my poetry into a different blog? Let me know.)
Anywhere,
Shalom and Praise Allah!

I am so empty, so empty, so empty
like the other side of the coin
like tantric sex and whipped cream performed on the dream team
don't get silly with poetics -- life is hectic enough without the logical train running off
the tracks:
put it back

Oh lordy, lordy
jesus never saved my life, i did
but it took awhile to develop a style that the masses could appreciate
-- that fickle bunch
acceptance is the proleteriat's lunch

metaphysical bullshit -- where did you go?
my mind moves fast and slow
a turtle and a hare making love, on the moon
don't sweat, I'll conclude this soon

shampoo. shampoo and darkness glue
I eat it all for lunch
the trancendant sandwhich crunch of bacon and lettuce
bodily pleasures
my appetite is done like dinner

and i don't mean a word
how obtuse
good love is the proof
good love is the proof
good love is the proof
good love is the proof
the rest is inductive

Good god, Good god
after years of uphill struggle
a blip
an opening on the map of evening lust
the potential for trust
Good god, Good god
easy love is a bust in the dusk

This Urinal called Youth

So: this is a cloud. But please be determined; but please be determined. Up with the yes; down with the paycheck; give the finger to the souveneir. Loss of self follows a loss of syntax; the brave man knows tolerance; the poor man only joy. Transcend in a shift: the divorce of heaven from hell; give yourself a lift: give in to lust, give up, give out.
Go on bold pilgrim -- television chops are not monotonous. Radical godhead grooves in mysterious machinations: adults lick adults -- stay young. Seretonin narrative is a diehard pinprick. the medication they prescribe can be told in lullabies. Rock young child. Rock young child. Your mother has left for London -- she's not coming home.
Alone, alone in a prosaical frost.
Robert mocks; He do the voices of cops
Cost: a corpse
of course, of course: you know your direction
human rights, human rights; but what do you want, honey?
you can't be funny with that frown on your face
disgrace, human waste, the eroding ozone
a forgotten poem
letting go in a storm
an erect cadaver
computer maverick
consequential eclipse
dogmatic hit
a statiscal blip
a spike in acid journeys made by intelligent adolescent navigating the rainforest of the soul
behold!: this is a step
oh no!: i have repeated my aggression against the minority posture
hold on to chariots searching for truth
high above Olympos, this urinal called youth