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the dada magazine about nothing

N A D A


Two chickens walk into a poem written in cow shit on fence posts, endlessly dreaming of that new big cock in the pen that i hold in my hand.


In the room sits a television set, next to it on the couch sits a viewer Dream Factory Test 04 Viewing List: Pirates of the Carribean: The Curse of the Black Pearl Transformers: Dark of the Moon The Patriot

Total Runtime 7:42:00 Notes viewer is asleep within minutes couldn't get passed the the opening scene in Pirates. In Elizabeth Swan's dream her father and the Brit officer that looks like nicholas cage don't age in her waking life. Orlando bloom’s character does. Viewer mumbles gibberish viewer scruntches a little, mumbles some more. Johnny depp just stole a ship, one of the many. Jack sparrow you did it again. He's such a memorable guy, "Captain Jack Sparrow" Viewer says " no man you forget about it" then licks lips Shia labeouf was awarded the congressional medal of honer for fearing no man, also his girlfriend has legs of a bunny, In that scene she ascends the stairs, her energy hops left to right slowly slowing down, each cut in step. Viewer drools a little viewer tilts head to left viewer begins snoring Optimus Prime is giving his closing statements on what has just transpired. The CG animation has Optimus moving back to his 3d model's default pose. Viewer continues snoring Mel gibson gives his speech, one of many, "i will not fight" viewer stops snoring viewer tilts head to the right viewer drools a little Mel gibson goes ape-shit and kills a brit, one of many Viewer viewer viewer viewer

tosses to the right spreads arms apart stretches legs out scratches groin area

Heath ledger dies viewer says "one of many"

End Notes while no real evidence of anything was present today, we shall continue our research on the subject.

"thank you so much for participating in our research project," "oh no, it was my pleasure" "here's your check" "hell yeah, just in time for the weekend" "it is friday morning, might as well go cash it and beat the afternoon rush" "sounds like a plan" "alright, thanks again, enjoy your weekend" "I always do"


Peering, no rather leering out a watering hole window. It’s three-thirty in the afternoon and I’m on my sixth drink. I’ve also only been awake for three and a half hours. A very pretty girl shimmies, no, slinks down the sidewalk and glances in. Yes that’s right, I’m an alcoholic but you’re addicted to being pretty. And you can only stay pretty so long. What kind of withdrawals will you be in when you’re forty? Will your foundation no longer stay on from the sweats? Will you be unable to apply your mascara without poking out your pretty blue eyes ‘cuz of the shakes? Myself, on the other hand, I can keep this up until the day die, however long that may be.


After some time the wiry man (who by this time I had deduced to be Lyle) started hollering: “Alright bitchez circle up we’re about to get started!” The room formed up immediately. It had this sort of religious excitement that made me think of a church group on ecstasy, “Alright we’re gonna have some fucking fun tonight! I’m Lyle: I’m gonna push you as far as you can go, then push you a little bit more. There is nothing that the human body can’t do and you are going to learn this fact firsthand tonight. Who would have thought that this guy” he holds up a 4 inch long sharking hook “could be used for fun huh!?

The first people to get pierced were two guys that had come to the house at the same time as I had. One had suspended a number of times before, while the other was about to go in for the first time. Wrench started on one. Sat him down backwards in a chair. They each started with a cheek spear, Wrench talking very gently then plunging the spear (perhaps 8 inches long) through one cheek then the other. Each man winced but then, when they got over the pain, had these looks on their faces like dancing Pentecostals. I had asked Laura earlier about ‘why’ she did it,

Okay a few rules: no smoking or drinking in here, if you wanna do it step outside, just right out there; if you are being loud and someone asks you to leave then leave; also if you start to feel nauseous or the room starts swimming just start yelling: we’ll come help you out. “Does anyone know CPR?” no one raised their hands “Okay then if someone passes out everyone just get out of the way, okay? Also no stepping over this line.” he points at a rafter that divides off a third of the room “Unless you are piercing or being pierced don’t step over this line. Also if you don’t have gloves on don’t touch someone with a piercing. We got cheek spears, sea kings, got some 4 gauge needles you can put through your cheek and some play piercing equipment. We also got the bed of nails…open that guy up someone. Alright let’s go around the circle and say our names and what our intentions are.” Every single person in the circle, without exception, was wearing black. It felt like I was inside of a joke, like someone was trying to make fun of Seattle culture but here I was, experiencing it. About a third of the people had suspended before, half were there to watch or support a friend, and maybe three people had never suspended and were interested in a first time. After everyone introduced themselves Lyle ordered a group hug then started washing his hands.

“I do it to get high. I don’t like the pain, I’ve never liked pain, but once you get past it you are super high and it feels great.” The men kept the spears in for a few minutes then Wrench removed them and they began washing their backs with antiseptic. Wrench and Lyle attached very fine points to the fishing hooks he had shown us earlier. The build up to the suspension piercings was fairly long and every one of us behind ‘the line’ was trying to watch the expressions of the two as the hooks went in. They gave a pained squint, little more, as it happened. As soon as the two men had finished getting pierced a very large woman got two hooks put in her back.


Once the hooks were sunk and the two men had acclimated to them (one, the veteran suspender, was sort of jigging around the room) Lyle attached a rope to each hook, then the ropes to a large metal ring. The men stood a few feet apart with their backs to each other and began to lean away so as to pull the hooks outward. Laura mentioned she had pulled like this for two and a half hours at a previous event. The woman was a first timer and seemed to have a bit of a tough time ‘enjoying’ the hooks. In spite of her appearance (manufactured for peak shock value) she seemed very self-conscious, or uncomfortable. She had brought two friends who doted on her constantly, stroking her face and cooing at her even when she did not seem to be in much pain. Even for the others this unusual intimacy: having one person devote all their attention to you during the piercing, constantly asking during the suspension ‘how they were doing’, the tactile comfort and pseudo-medical process all seemed to be significant attractors to the process. Lyle hooked the woman up to the ring with the two men but she could hardly pull without getting upset.


After pulling for twenty minutes or so the two men who were pierced around the same time decided to ‘go up’. They were unhooked from the ring and attached to the pulley system. Wrench started to pull them up slowly, asking each how he was doing as the skin began to stretch though they stayed earthbound. After a few minutes Lyle approached one (the veteran) grabbed his hand for a second then put all his weight onto the rope, quickly lifting him into the air. There was something unsettling about seeing this guy hanging there, appearing (with the hooks out of view) to float, and with this goofy smile on his face. It took some time for the image to click; for me to realize that I was actually watching what would be considered torture in any other milieu. The newbie took to hanging in no time and let Lyle push and swing him around. After a few minutes though the veteran had become distressed and had Wrench lower him back to earth. Lyle was talking shit the whole time the veteran descended. The newbie stayed up for something like 30 or 45 minutes. At one point Lyle grabbed onto his swinging legs and lifted himself off the ground, the extra 160 pounds not causing the newbie any visible distress. After they came down the piercers pressed the air out from under their piercings, cleaned them once more then covered the wounds in gauze held on with duct tape. The men immediately went outside to smoke cigarettes.


As the night progressed Wrench and Lyle gave a few play piercings and another cheek spear. Laura got pierced with three hooks just above the knee and one in each elbow. It took a long time for her to go up and she was in a lot of pain. When she finally was up she only stayed suspended for a minute or two at a time. As she came down one time she sort of moaned, “I’m so high right now” to the ceiling. The skin around her elbows had stretched out an enormous amount, probably an inch away from the bone. I found it ironic that two of the most vocal, excited people that night (Laura and the veteran earlier) had suspended for very short amounts of time. During the night Lyle constantly seemed anxious to keep piercing people and it was hard to tell whether he wanted the night to progress or just enjoyed piercing. At one point, with no one ‘in the chair’ he took out a sharpened metal spike literally the size and shape of a chopstick. “Who wants this fucker in their mouth? Huh who wants me to poke ‘em with this guy?” he walked around but no one was willing to take the spear “Come on bitchez…”. He sounded a little forlorn and retreated to the piercing area as we watched a pull for a minute. Lyle then came back with the spike in his mouth. He was obviously in a lot of pain but seemed to enjoy shocking us. He only left it in for a few minutes and, once he pulled it out stood with gauze against his face like a kid with a tooth ache. After watching Laura go up I felt like I had had enough. One prerequisite for piercing is that one may not be drunk while suspended, partially not to numb the experience and partially because of the anticoagulant effect of alcohol which, at best, would make a mess. I had been drinking since before I got to the house so I was immediately disqualified for a suspension.

though, after watching the expressions of these people as they hung there, I must say I was attracted by the act. I decided then that if the opportunity to hang from hooks in my back presented itself again (which it very well may not) I’d take it. For such a fringe activity, what some might describe as extreme or dangerous, it was amazing how low-key, how ‘church group’ the whole thing seemed: the gentle support given at every turn, the sense of community, the quiet proselytization and pressing for donations. It’s a strange thing, the pursuit of pain in order to induce pleasure. Laura made sure to make a distinction between masochism-that is, inducing pain for the sake of painand the suspensions done that night. I never asked the other suspenders why they got pierced but I heard a number of comparisons to sex: the intensity, a ‘psychic exhaustion’. After they had suspended the two guys that had come in at the same time as me, earlier speaking non-stop and practically bouncing around the room had spent the rest of the night mostly watching, silent. And at one point, while she was suspended, between breaths and groans, Laura and I met eyes for a second. The look on her face, I can say without any exaggeration, was unlike anything I have seen in a grown adult: one of absolute vulnerability, one of total peace.


The rain flows like that piss you have been waiting to take since last night Dry blood hanging from fresh wounds I almost forgot which is mine Oh well.you don't have AID's do you? Thinking about threats sent to girls I couldn't love or that i thought couldn't love me Words not meant not so easily forgotten I Know regret is weakness and we have all heard that the guilty have no pride But Still I can't help feeling like I made a big mistake


These half lives tumble towards zero with no rationale for their division except to spread themselves thinly over an ostrich laying an egg in a donkey's mouth. And each sucessive seperation grasps its parent with a tender hand as they are both less for the effort every permutation is worth less than the last as they onwardly diminish the total value yet are never quite free.


I get home from a long trip and find V and M living at my house. I vaguely recall telling V to house sit for me while I was gone but am surprised to walk in on them in their pajamas, eating popcorn and throwing it at each other. She tells me she got lonely in the house by herself so M has been keeping her company. He smiles widely and throws a piece of popcorn at me. We watch their favorite show on TV and they make jokes. She laughs a lot at almost everything he says. I fail to grasp the appeal of the show. M is in the bathroom and V is making a meal in the kitchen when she asks me what’s wrong. I see my neighbors in their yard through the window and wave to them as I reply. She turns to me. M walks in and asks what we are having for dinner. Later, M and I play a game on the computer. A text box appears on the screen showing a correspondence between M and V. M quickly clicks out of the text box. All I see is the phrase “what are we going to tell him?”

*

I am lying in a bed, and I do not know whose bed it is. There is a girl next to me, and I am terrified because I cannot remember who she is. I sit in the darkness trying to find something I recognize in this room but nothing looks familiar. I pick up my cell phone and think of calling V. I feel I have things to say to her - apologies, or explanations. It's late and it seems inappropriate but I find myself dialing her number. We speak briefly, and the conversation goes poorly. I say bitter things and hang up. I realize that the girl in bed next to me is X, and she has woken up during my phone call. She turns to me and asks if I had called V. I say yes. We start kissing and then dry humping. She has a big tattoo on her right side, which looks like some sort of aquatic flower. I suck on one of her tits and she tells me to rub the other one while I do it. I try putting my dick inside of her and she pushes me off, pulling a condom out from her bedside drawer. I sink into the blankets away from her and she keeps saying, "This is so dumb, you're so dumb," and I keep saying, "I know, I know...." *

It’s a Friday night, and I am at an “animal”themed party. I am dressed as a walrus. V is there, across the room, laughing with some friends, with zebra face paint and dressed in striped clothes. Suddenly M bursts through the back door of the house, shirtless, riding a horse, his face blank but handsome. The room goes silent. I see the look on V’s face as she stares at him. The horse turns to me, disinterested, just feet from my face. I shrug and walk away.


calluses on his dick. 40 blasting and daddys testicles up in an almost careless fashion. He had a chiseled chin and a is uncircumcised penis.

Our man and his lady sat down on a random bed and started making out. He could feel his cock starting to swell and he knew her cunt must have been dripping like a faucet. He had one hand up her shirt as one fondled her denim covered ass. Minutes passed and he decided to unbutton her shorts but she pushed his hands away saying something along the lines of wanting to wait awhile. He smiled and offered to go and get her another drink. She accepted,smiled and as he left the room crawled into a more relaxed position on the bed thinking about her dreamy new man. There was a knock on the door and in came her lover with pool cue in hand and two of his friends trailing behind.

He walked inside the house on his lonesome a bit drunk but not sloppy.Heading towards the bathroom he spotted the holy fucking grail.There on the sofa sat the most beautiful piece of meat he had seen all night. Hell,all week even. A young blonde beauty who couldn't have been much more than seventeen sipping down the jungle juice that was so popular in those days.She held his cock captive in a tube top and daisy dukes cut low. He shook up his pimp juice and decided to go talk to her. What was said is pretty pointless as she was surely slurring. He invited her upstairs. 

He looked at the bitch next to him, Yeh she was decent enough. Shoulder length brown hair (naturally he preferred blondes) spray tanned skin and tits the size of cannonballs. She wasn't the type of bitch that you would take to dinner but was definitely good enough for a drunken fuck. Yeh,he would go to town on that ass tonight but first to the pisser.

It was the friday after school had let out for summer. He made his rounds around frat row and and was now settled in a plastic lawn chair over looking a beer soaked ping pong table. He had a bitch’s bikini clad tit in one hand and a pool cue in the other. His friends,connects and future colleagues guzzling their weight in light beer and pointless conversation. Hoots, Hollers,and muffled pleading all ignored. He looked upon this glorious scene and laughed. Reigning king on his throne of rape.

He was the type of guy that got so much pussy he had You know the ones who drive around town with the top hanging from the rear view. Light brown hair gelled Soulless blue eyes hidden behind aviator sunglasses. stomach made out of stone;a bank account larger than


To be captured, removed from life under the red ocean sky ( which is what the night is, an ocean upside down). Scratched glass beats to the rhythm of life even in the void- (fate)- ( but only when your searching). “ Last night I dreamed I was with my mom, I was eight and we were at a ferris wheel and it was one of the only times we ever did something fun, just us two, and she told me everything. Do you get it baby? Everything, the cracks finally filled up with cement. I woke up crying and begging for my daughter ( whom I have never seen)- Syria- my ghost child- all that shit. Baby?” The search for any lost poet will lead ( through its own twists and turns, under whelming – go nowhere-stories like a frayed tapestry speckled in green- and years of dull silence)to prison or the mental asylum, or both. Hard to admit, I know, but true. Taylor died before I was three and I never met her except through shades- black/gray sometimes pink and splotches of canary yellow. She grew from her brother on walls that spread through the aged corridors of the city- like a canvas touching the tips of Lake city and Othello. William began painting his dead twin sisters portrait when he was twelve, aging her with himself, year in and year out, with each wall she grew older, but also, more and more beautiful. You could say Taylor was my first love. Nobody really knew William, but he was a legend, and that’s a god-damn fact. I didn't have much too live for and I suppose that was what initially propelled me to look for him ( under every portrait he wrote ( 'sorry sis, I'll do better next time), I guess you could say that I wanted to know what he felt sorry for, but really just to glimpse William was enough to send me aimless ( read: free). Every-bodies shit gets buffed and that’s something you just have to contend with when writing graffiti, but sometimes universal rules are bludgeons ( or feel so) and besides I felt like I followed death like a tractor beam. A cop ( new recruit, short cropped hair, clean cut, blue eyes) patiently painted over Taylor's beautiful eyes ( that really was too much!) and so I did what any lovestruck kid would do- I spit- with all the torn up guts and sleepless nights and turned up noses- right on his shit face. In the holding cell I noticed William Taylor had been there too and at that point, I knew I wasn't going die, or go insane ( everything else was up up in the air, of course!), a great wave of laughter shook my entire body. For the first time in a long while I felt like jumping with joy. I always try and tell the truth ( my mother told me it was best) and so when the intake officer asked if I planned on killing myself I faintly gestured ( I wasn't in cuffs), smiled and said ' only if its by your night stick sir'. In the psych ward red lights from the old mental asylum on Beacon Hill dragged the city through its hazel dream, I noticed markings by my comrades in misfortune. 'essay-single- subject- lit(....) time- kind- n.' Poets in prison I thought, scratching with my fork ( fifteen minute intervals) below ' Queens and Kings woe betide us' I know I know I know I know ( Pause, piss, listen to screams beatings, laughter craning like a vapor, the heavy breathing of jerking off) ' But what a life'later ( in toilet paper, an appendix) ' Like a fucking Roman'.


= = -


The young blonde laughs. “there’s beauty just the same: everything that goes without saying at first things I don’t want to mention now. And everything that’s human. i love sitting here, in this pub, listening to the painters that come here. When they get worked up over their art, over things unrelated to money or fame or careers - over, say, a colour, then I’m happy.


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yadirF no elpoeP

Š 2013 draoB lairotidE adaN devreseR sthgiR llA

11# 2SN

Nada2 11 People on Friday  

300 million people waiting for the weekend

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