Lovelitter

... a beautiful act to litter? From the start its the wrong thing to do, apparently. A mess for others to clean. A luxurious act, no? Relieving oneself of the responsibility of an object. It's somebody else's problem now. Buying, purchasing. The purchaser is cleaning the object away, putting it elsewhere. Safely so. And stealing? The promiscuous act, must occupy a corner within this zone? To clean to remove the object, the thief is queen. And the idea thief, slippery? In Skyrim the act of thievery is personified by the character crouching,  knees bent low, hiding face, delicate and agile. In Assassins Creed clinking coins, metal-on-metal, jutting in the pocket, a nudge in the small of a pedestrians back and they’re at a loss. But then who steals rubbish? The unwanted thus discarded. The magpie, the scavenger, the opportunist, the idiot. To rid oneself of an undesired object, a bowel movement, get rid of the slimy packaging in your hand and slide onto the next moment of consumption. I drift, thinking about what it would look like if I were presented with all the objects that were once mine: etc, etc, etc, etc. A vulgar image. A piggy life. Littering may just be an object passing through me, for my stomach to filter and profit the best minerals. Transfer. Something endearing about a crushed carton that looks new sitting on the floor waiting to be swept up? The pavement it's stage, the audience in flux. I've noticed a particular cigarette packet design. A glaucoma veils an eye, watching out, a miniature lighthouse warning of the dangers of smoking, it is removed from its body, separated, cut. Printed on a box that is then left on the street to surveil, watch. It is the active litter, that lives, that has a body, that acts back at you. A pedestrian mirador. Branding lives on after the product has expired, advertising still, without damaging the corporate reputations, I dare mention the brand of the notorious red can, it’s said to be dorment in darkest corners of the ocean. The carcass continues to work for the machine, zombified. Out the car window, packaging flies seventy-one-miles-per-hour then rests in a zone too dangerous for humans to collect, it absorbs the vibrations loyally, the cars putter along until they too become litter. Footwells act as nets for the unwanted, convenient to use whilst driving as items can be disposed of quickly without pulling over. A dashboard, landing site for workers discarded lunch packaging, catalogues, papers, receipts, empty bottles, tools, dirt, waste. A shelf for the unwanted that presents itself to the curious pedestrians walking past. There's litter in pockets, deconstructed litter in the cleaned pockets of freshly washed clothes. Litter doesn't answer back it is ambivalent. Content with staining surfaces, spilling, oozing.

September begins

 It's 10 PM on a southern rail train. I've just received an email from a theorist saying his seven-month course in Lisbon will cost £5000. A cyber security course I also recently researched cost £3500. My open return train ticket cost £20.05. Are the courses going to take me somewhere? I know the train will. "Not one for heels really" - a passenger in front via video to her lover, through a mouthful of crisps. I need to wash my bag and socks. And change the battery in my laptop. And apply for an exhibition. "That's me". It's raining heavily outside and today was the first day I'd felt cold whilst walking to get a takeaway. The English summer has raced away. Still three weeks left. Officially. "You've got one". The lower back throbs a little. I need a bath. I watched Anthony Bourdains Roadrunner last night never paid any attention to him before. All seems a bit old hat to me. Still. It was enjoyable. Today's celebrities seem humble in comparison. Cheaper. Theres less luxury despite there being more(?). Maybe it seems like his stardom offered him more value. I'm glad to sleep at home tonight as a series of  Mori's Bed, studio floor, Toms bed, Chloes Sofa, Nicks Coach, Judes bed, Pikes bed has been a good run but confusing. I suppose you need some regularity, some structure.  

Markt

Change clanking. 
Bags russel. Plastic exteriors. Fruits placed next to the plastic kin. 
Exchanges occur, back and forth changing hands. 

Swift maneuvers and calls to the crowd.

Money is made, lost, departed with. 

Wasps. Chatter. Thanks.

Packed away for next time.

Into boxes into vans.

Into the pockets next to plans.

Some are making money some are losing it.

The bell rings next to the babies cry.

Yes

Its more crowded in that area. 

Forgotten relics.

Unravelling overlocks.

Unsold clothes are discarded left Sodden when left out.

Once someones in somebodies life now outside of it.

At the moment of tyranicalsanctions.

At the moment of transitio.

At the moment of transitio.

                             insitio

Transaction denied. Defiled. Declined.

So they said

The second open call.
Sorry its all in Russian.
Its a student project. There no money.
And they all wanted to play my trash symphony.
I congratulate you in this risk taking moment.
For going through this transformation.
I have this huge environmental ready made.
Self critical. Wheres the problematic.
The plan. Lets come back to the plan.
I'll send you some films.
The week after that you'll come to me with your solution.
You must have a solution.
Maybe we can see what your looking at by the reflection of your glasses.

Back teeth

I just looked at my dog.
Does it even know anything.
I wonder what she is thinking about.
Nothing I suppose.

Dogs don't think.
I wonder if they pray.
I've never seen a dog put there paws together or lean forward onto their knees.
What would they need to pray for anyway.
More walks.
A bigger bowl.
They don't have the capability to have ideas.

I saw a different dog, the other dog, eating from their owners hand.
How degrading.
Or stimulating for some perhaps...
It was a blood hound.
It looked past it like most blood hounds do.
Too much skin.
Too much skin for their little body to carry.

I think if I were to get another pet it would be an eagle.
Maybe they could be vegetarian and they could go pick up garlic for me.
Not wild garlic just from the shop you know.