Wednesday 7 February 2007

WOMAN iN WHiTE.














Dear MISTER ZERO,
I am writing to you especially to tell you how grateful I am for your continuing madness. It had been quite a long time since we had seen each other or had written as we used to do. Still, it is better to be close TO dead than exist as one of the SCUM, the more so as, until one is truly entitled to be called dead by virtue of one's legal demise, it smacks of hypocrisy or at least childishness to carry on as if it were true. Childish in the manner of a young man of 14 who believes his dignity and rank in society oblige him to wear a hoody.
The hours we spent together have at least assured us that we are both still in the land of the living. When I saw you again and walked with you, I had a feeling I used to have more often than I do now, namely that life is something dark and murky which one should value, and I felt more cheerful and alive than I have been feeling for a long time, because in spite of myself my life has gradually become less murky, much less important and more a matter of indifference to me.
When one lives with others and is bound by feelings of living a LIE, then one realizes that one has a reason for hiding in a black box, that one may be utterly talent less and expendable, and is perhaps good for nothing, since we MEN OF COdE and are journeying together as compagnons de voyage. But our proper sense of self-esteem is also highly dependent upon our relationship with the Murkyworld.
And just as I would not want us to become one of the SCUM, so I would want to keep all matters of our Murkyworld within the confines of the COdE.
As I think back with gratitude to your text messages, my thoughts return to our discussions as well, of course. We have had similar ones before, many and often. Plans for SLAUGHTER and MAYHEM are generating energy - and yet, I am a little frightened by THE SCUM and THE AWFUL, not least because I have sometimes tried to be like them and have suffered for it!
How fresh my memory of that time in Saffron Walden is. You were there yourself, so you know how things were planned and discussed, argued and considered, talked over with wisdom, with the best intentions, and yet how FUTILE the result seems to be.
It was the worst time I have ever lived through. How desirable and attractive have become the difficult days, full of dARkNESs, here in North London, in these uncivilized surroundings, compared to the LIGHT that the OTHERS keep trying to make me see. I fear the STiNKFLEShEd one’s and wish sometimes that I was dead!
Such experiences are too dreadful - the harm, the sorrow, the affliction is too great - not to try on both sides to become wiser by this dearly bought experience. If we do not learn from this, what shall we learn from? To try “to reach the goal which was set before me,” as the expression was then; indeed, I no longer aspire to it, the ambition has greatly abated. Even if it looked and sounded well before, now I look at those things from another point of view gained by experience, although this opinion is not permissible.
Not permissible, NO, just as Frank the Evangelist thought it reprehensible of me to assert that the sermons of the TRONMAN are only a little more evangelical than those of a TRAMP on the street. I would rather die an unnatural death than be prepared for it by the SCUM, and I have sometimes had a lesson from a German SPYdER that was of little use to me than one in Greek.
A change for the better in my life, shouldn’t I long for that, or is there times when one has no need of betterment? I hope I do become much improved. But precisely because that is what I long for, I am afraid of remèdes pires que le mal [cures worse than the disease].
Is it wrong for someone suffering from iNSANiTY and MAdNESS to insist that a more potent remedy than barley water might be indicated, might indeed be essential, or, while finding nothing wrong with barley water as such, to question its effectiveness and potency in my particular case?
Can you blame a JOShUA kANE for remaining indifferent to a painting listed in the catalogue as RUBBISH, but having more in common with rubbish than that it has a similar subject from the white period, but without artistic merit?
And if you should conclude from these remarks that I meant to suggest your advice IS NEEDED, then you have completely understood me.
Were I really to think that my art is a pointless past time, then I should be overwhelmed by a feeling of sadness and should have to wrestle with despair.
I find it hard to bear this thought and even harder to bear the thought that so much dissention, misery and sorrow fills my void of blackness even further into the pits of madness and ANGER!
Yet when this thought sometimes depresses me beyond measure, far too deeply, then after a long time another occurs too: 'Perhaps it is only an awful, frightening dream and later i may learn to see and understand it more clearly.' Or is it real, and will it ever get better rather than worse? Many people would undoubtedly consider it foolish and superstitious to go on believing in a Murkyworld.
Walked to Nowhere the evening after I masturbated about the WOMAN IN WHITE and my desire for her knows NO bounds !! and I have drawn yet another portrait since.
Goodbye, accept a handshake in my thoughts and believe I will …
BE SEEiNG YOU


JOShUA kANE

Monday 5 February 2007

ZYdON PAbLO.



ZYdON PAbLO


It’s a great feeling, to upset people. For Zydon Pablo it was a wonderful feeling. Zydon Pablo relished upsetting people, pissing them off because; he was to his own satisfaction a rather unpleasant man. It was not in his nature to do nice things for anyone, he was never thoughtful, helpful, kind or loving. If there was one person he was more predisposed to do bad things to more than anyone else, it was Theresa. Not because she had not loved in any way that couldn’t be thought of as wrong, but because she had dared to love him at all.


The thing about unpleasant men is, that sometimes they let their guard down. Sometimes with a good and gentle woman, a woman who will take the abuse that a ‘bad man’ can dish out and pretend that they are not all bad because of the great sex they have or the nice dress they once bought them. Once in a while, a ‘bad man’ falls in love with a ‘bad woman’ and that’s when the weird shit can really happen. In a crowded hotel bar filled with plastic people wearing expensive clothes.
They met under very ordinary circumstances. She was excited because her designs had been chosen for a new fashion house and was celebrating with friends. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her bouncing breasts every single time she brushed past him. Her smile, her bright large eyes and her petite frame amazed him. She oozed a sexual awareness that tickled his mind into thoughts of abusing her and showing her the dark side of sex, knowing that she would enjoy it!


When she reappeared at the bar to order more drinks, he was imagining what it would be like to peel that little dress off her, pin her up against a wall and fuck her while she dangled a dainty little foot off the ground. With that image freeze-framed in his mind he stepped up and said, “You look like you are having a lot of fun!”
She responded with a smile that made him feel slightly ecstatic, “too right, I am celebrating a hard earned success!”


And she let out a whoop of joy that gave her glances from men all around the bar. Zydon Pablo didn’t like the idea that others might have the same ideas as he had for her, so he took a step closer and said, in a lowered voice, “I hope you don’t mind me being so forward, but would you care to celebrate with me and some champagne?”


She looked at him with an idle curiosity, “What makes you think I’m not here with someone?”
He smiled, “He’d have to be pretty stupid to let a girl like you to leave you alone to strike up a conversation with someone like me who is going and try to lure you away somewhere more intimate, to find out all about you.”
She smiled back, “why would you want to know all about me?”
He shook his head, “well, for a start, there is something about you that I find intoxicating, I suspect that there is more to you than meets the eye.”
“But, why should I leave my friends and spend time with you, I know nothing about you, for all I know, you could dangerous.”
“Which is exactly why you should come with. You know that I am different from all the others and that excites you, doesn’t it?”
She nodded, “ Yes, I do find you a little interesting. Let me go tell my girlfriends.”


When she returned, they left the bar and went to another area of the hotel, more secluded, where they could order drinks at talk in peace, “I hope you don’t think that I am going to make this easy for you.” She looked at him with mischief in her eyes.


“I wouldn’t think much of you if you did.” He looked at her, taking in her beauty, imagining her naked, on her knees sucking his cock. He thought of her tied up and gagged, a dildo in her butt hole as he fucked her juicy wet cunt with his big purple headed circumcised cock. He imagined her being choked with some rope as his cock fucked her arse and he delighted in thinking of her being gang fucked by him and 3 strangers, masked men, that he would find on the Internet. He would watch her enjoy them, he would watch her be a porn slut and he would film it for their own private use at a later date. Oh yes, this girl was going to be well and truly abused, fucked and sodomised!


They talked together for some time, eventually eating at the grill bar of the hotel and finally booking a room at the same hotel.
They fucked like wild animals and she was everything he could have hoped for, a submissive, fuck nasty, dirty talking whore, who begged him to hurt her at every given moment. He was overjoyed.


Three months later they remembered how they had met but neither remembered the exact day or time, or even the hotel, they just remembered the sex and the roles that they both responded to. He went back to doing what he enjoyed doing, which was being unpleasant to people verbally, cruelly and with the written word. His regular employment was as a Film and Theatre critic, and he was very difficult to please.
He did very well for himself and his lifestyle by being invited to the finest parties, gallery openings, film and theatre premieres, the after show parties, he would intimidate the middle classes with his acid wit and he would preen the rich with his good looks and fake charms. He avoided contact with people from his past and he built up a tidy little nest egg for himself. Sometimes he could be paid to write a favourable review, because some good words from him and a film could be a box office success, a nasty word from him and it went straight to DVD. He enjoyed his life.


For her part, Theresa turned up on his arm when he visited a nightclub, took important people to dinner or went to a premiere. She knew what he did to know the people he knew but she suspected that everything was not as it seemed, that perhaps he was hiding something. She eventually found out that Zydon Pablo was a corrupt and greedy man, who took bribes, blackmailed the rich, and dabbled in drug dealing and white slavery. He also mixed with a lot of criminals and would money launder for them.


All this was fine with her. As long as she was able to enjoy herself, be photographed with celebrities and get known in the press as a fashion designer. But, sadly, her hopes of a fashion career were dashed, when Zydon Pablo sold her ALL her work to a rival and spread rumours and lies about her, creating Chinese whispers that she stole all her ideas and designs. When she confronted him about it, he explained to her that it was out of love that he did these things, that he wanted her to himself. That she could not expect to become more famous than HIM. That there was no need for her to have a career. That he would always take care of her. AND that was something she would never forgive him for.
She had been trying to snag herself a wealthy man, even though she had sold her new clothing collection, it had been hard work and she was not sure if her next collection would be so successful, when she turned up at the hotel bar with her friends that cost her £500 in drinks, and that was the last of her cash. All things considered it had been a good investment. One of her girl friends told her that the guy who had been staring at her so intently was a well-known B list celebrity. AND that certainly caught her interest. She had no interest in cinema or theatre, but she was willing to learn. Her friends also said that the guy was all kinds of freaky in bed. Since the girl in question had fucked Theresa senseless with a dildo and her tongue it was clear that her friend liked to experiment herself, as did Theresa, and where there is fame and money to be had, Theresa would do anything to obtain it. She did not care what kind of kinkiness this man would want. Hell, she might even enjoy it.


Theresa was twenty-one when she realised that she liked girls better than boys. Although she always hoped that one-day she might meet a man with whom she might actually enjoy being with. Women she found were more hygienic, that they took the trouble to wear glorious perfume and elegant clothes and that most of her girlfriends were not averse to the odd experiment and didn’t make it seem like a little weird and against all of their religious beliefs, like most of the men she knew. It was also around the same time that she realised that men seemed to hold a lot of the power and that it didn’t ever hurt a girl to associate with a man, especially to get the things she really wanted.


Theresa stayed with Zydon Pablo long enough to confirm that he was indeed a very ‘bad man’. She had been able to tell from his eyes on the first night they met. When they had sex, his expression was one of ownership and dominion. And that attitude extended to the people she watched him abuse verbally, write about or treat at dinner parties. She had been with him for long enough to know that he wouldn’t miss any of the stuff she took with her because it wasn’t his to begin with. She let him take her in the ways he thought of as kinky and then she began taking him in the ways that really mattered. The jewellery he lavished upon her and the money he turned over as spending cash was merely the icing on the cake.


When the fraud squad came to their home and took Zydon Pablo away in cuffs Theresa was already Annabelle and 800 miles away in a town that got so dull, the men were grateful for an interesting and attractive woman to talk with and to get between the sheets with and warm up theirs beds in anticipation of their arrival from their handsomely paid city jobs. She liked dull cold towns. It made her nipples hard and that seemed to drive her girlfriends wild.
Zydon Pablo spent the first few years in prison plotting her rape and murder. What he had no way of knowing was that there had never been a Theresa in the first place so by the time he gets out of prison in seven years time her trail was so non existent that it would be three more years before he realised the truth. Annabelle was on her way to becoming Jezebel after having cleaned out the savings of the town’s wealthiest landowner. Just to prove that there were no hard feelings she left in a brown envelope for his wife, have a stack of pictures, dozens of them which her much-loved husband was being treated like a very bad boy by a woman wearing precious little other than a diamond encrusted cowboy hat and a whip.


Zydon Pablo finally realised after searching for Theresa and never finding her, that like many others before him, a ‘bad girl’ had got the better of him.


The End.



…I need the pink sugar packets all they have is the blue type blue kind of sugar packets bad, so bad for tummy I need the pink sugar packets that’s good that’s good for blue to be the evil sugar packets and that’s all they have here the bad ones versus the good ones…