Glamporium, Owlstain, FZ
Nolan E. Deal | Minxburgh : Random Library | 2006.
“Dr. Templeton Blope, of the University of the Outer Hebrides, who belonged to that British school, arisen in the wake of the Michelson-Morley Experiment, of belief in some secret Agency in Nature which was conspiring to prevent all measurement of the Earth’s velocity through the Æther” (131–132). “‘What cannot be resolved inside the psyche,’ put in the Expedition [alien]ist, Otto Ghloix, ‘must enter the outside world and become physically, objectively «real». Por ejemplo, one who cannot come to terms with the, one must say sinister unknowability of Light, projects an Æther, real in every way, except for its being detectable’” (132–133).
Ouida Willoughby Johnson | Por Malo Lado Nº 23 | Autumn 2003.
“Want a thrill? / Your thumb for an onion, / Top totally wank or wack / But for a sort of joint // Of skin, / A skirt-flap for hunting johns — / Blanc, marron, safran, mort. / And now for that plush crimson plunging. // Small plump immigrant, / This Fukari’s waxing your quim. / Your crinkly cock’s-comb / Rug rolls and parts // To display your throbbing bright clitoral knot. / I won’t chomp too hard on it, though, / Pulling my pink fist, / Gritting my punchy jaw. // This party rocks! / Out of a gap, a void, a hollow hub, a slash / A million moonmad warriors run, / Turncoats all. // Gay, or not gay? you ask. / Ohhhh my / Womaninity — I’m not illin’, / I’m just tanking up on pills and rum and vodka and cognac and crack and crystal crank and shit to kill // This thin / Panting parchy rutty goatish sort of joy and pain. / It’s Sappho’s turn, now, / You garlickmunching bint — // This stain on my / Saffron skirt, / Baby, / Flows soooo strong and dark and now that // I’m balling you, / My cardiovulval pulp / Confronts its own small / Mill of aphasia — // Oh my, how you can hump! / Skullshot slut, / Thirsty dirty thigh girl, / Thumb snatch stunt stump.”
D. I. Swopes | In prog. n’importe où | n.d.
Larry Lath | London : Lost | 1926.
In the third act of ludict “socio-physiological play,” Aunt Smaragdina, fearing a raid by the forces of moral and social control, slinks off stage, allowing IB, as Saian, to show off her barmaid’s skills, as well as orally mouth such choice snippets of text as, but not limited to, “Pisco Souw? Caju Amigo? Woyal Awwival? Cactus Jack? Widow’s Cowl? Towo Wojo? Mai Tai? My Faiw Lady? Daiquiwi? But alas, I simply don’t know from bat guano about any of this Mawgarita or Mawtini thang. How ’bout bouwbon? Stwaight? Wocks?”
D. I. Swopes | Owlstain SCAT | 16 July 2003.
In addition to eating out IB, the aforesaid author also lunched por una semana with several other nonerands of imssoc, including a humble mouthful who have chosen not to repeat the experiment, putting down his or her impressions in our rubrique hebdomadaire, “What’s Cooking in Owlstain?”
D. I. Swopes | Journal of Yazdehan Studies Nº 4 | 1999.
“Careless and uncaring, crass, craven, fractious, intractable, ungraceful and ungracious even when prancing solo in front of her cunningly crafted Hawaii sex-mirror, sarcastic, arcane, acrimonious, sacrosanct, narcissistic and autarchically absent-minded, uninventive, and inconsistent to a degree that would belabor Mnemosyne herself, reality is a farcically gendered bitch prone to the most protracted bouts of menstrual cramp who tends to plagiarize herself, and not in the good way. This, in a nutshell, is the cardinal thesis, the overarching crux, of my Case Against Reality (CAR). But she’s not content merely to plagiarize her own idiosyncratic simulacra — no, she extracts her sarcoid bric-a-brac from the nacreous intracranial hobgoblins, the incarnate ambulacral imaginings of the live beings incarcerated in the dyscrastic prison of this, her abnormally plump pleroma. This farctate mix — air, wires, wax, rime, risible nothings — of larcenous gimcrackery she’ll then, in a process known as the Consolidation of Antiphenomenal Cæsuræ with the Carlock of Cant and Alliterative Repetition (CACCCAR, or CAR for short), scramble, splice, and cobble, rescramble, resplice, and recobble, into the sacrificial scarecrows and macaronic scaramouches formicating her anfractuous scarious macroscopic epicarp” (Abstract).
Ouida Willoughby Johnson | Journal of Sociophysiology 16(7) | July 2009.
“Any position claiming that not just a solitary but in fact a plurality of Ouidas spun this ludict from pith to pulp and back again is not totally wrong. I wish to thank my multivocal support group, my companions in fondling our ubiquitous womaninity, my curious collaborators in plumbing myth’s marrow and stroking that quaking, occasionally quailing, skin of taboo to a panting point just shy of culmination’s abyss: Atoca I, Gasa A, Hopi F, Inuhka B, Maryam R, and Mona C — from Coast to Mountain, Fukari girls all, in play or pathos, in agony or actor’s duty, in comfort or compulsion” (n. 40).
A Tara T Dirty™ | On location at Rancho Convivia, FZ | Winter–Spring 2009–2010.
Starring AI, GA, GG, IB, MR, and OWJ, the latter having tragically disparue pendant a break in the shooting.