Het gat is gemaakt

Working on text, vocals, lists, losts, lasting intentions, internalizing neuspeak. The association straight outta compton. Word of the day: DIETERTROUBELEYN, screamed in tongues with sweaty foreheads. Martin Maloney was there, the older one. Kinosaal 1.

Trefpunt alle registers

All good here. Plan to hose Petrol parking to ice skate melted, our heating's on nonstop blasphemy, shifted shape of time, saw a plant spoken to (A & B). A different kind of order. Brain One, Baldessari. The Great Learning. Word of the day: TREFWOORDENREGISTER, hummed in canon with eyes closed. If this, then that.

I want to smoke this gallery

Lights are on, shadows small, tactics chosen. Bobby Prins is lying on the table. John Duncan stroking privats with chicory. Shocking!? The owls are not what they see. John, Merce, Jack, mannen uit één stuk. Word Of The Day: BROODDOOS, yelled after kicking it. Joe Potts & Donald What's The Madder? Ik hou van bruin, ik hou van wit. Ik hou van brood waar vis op zit. The saucage, a problematic product. Week Two at Scheldapers.

The pleasure principle

Flood's here, ship almost off. The fantastic yard of the mouth or love without sound? Blast. The Word Or The Gaze: amusementsvrienden unite. Wa spreken wav? We spreken niks af.

De jagershoed van omen Tim & Eric

Categorizing the rascals. Inhabit the words. Positively neanderthal. Change gender. Inject it with helium! The sound is the beat, the sign of the times. Spell it out before you play it. Losing definition! A footnote. Spaces are lurking in the margins. Stamp stamp, stomach full of cheese! Our road is paved with wood.

You can't be outside peaking in

Anecdote conferences, "real words" rumble past whispering. Walking with a steady rhythm, stretching syllables, automatic writing, it's a good place. Whatever happens should happen. Polio. Gladjakker. Surplus. Boullies. Sloman Neptun. Doffig. Kopkaars. Poepsmoesjes. Knapzak. De misverstand van zaken: karig met commentaar. Week two at Scheld'apen almost ending, on to three!

Red rules

A cuppa, good way to start Week Three at Scheldapen, last resort. Kill 'em with kindness. Salt, sugar, lost eggs, won bread. "Hier gibt's eigentlich nix für dich. Hier herrscht Roth." Und die Minuten fliegen weg. Wieder ne Minute. Word Of The Day: PRÉTEXTE, secretly written on that paper on the right in the corner there on top of all the others, while everyone else was watching the wet smokebomb outside. See us tomorrow.

Pet eat feet

Undercrossed the waterwall, visited the leftovers. Men and women pushed it, petite feet, femine steps. "Sounds like a lady when he walks into the room." Word of the day: BLOEDVETER, announced, barked, contested, denied, exclaimed, feared, grinned, howled, insinuated, judged, kept, listed, mumbled, narrated, ordered, pointed out, quoted, repeated, sobbed, thought, uttered, vowed, whistled, xeroxed, yawned and zoned. On more than one side.

We Spraken Niks, Of?

Document continued, prétexte/errata, went to Paris, came back. Stay at Scheldapen ain't over till it's over. Inspiring times with Ültra and Pol. You will hear from us, then. "Affectionately, Marcel."

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