The Fleece Sleeps | episode 9 | The Sacred Man of Jazon
I said what I had to say. I did what I had to do. I don't owe anybody anything. Just the taste is busting my balls.
Jazon
I said what I had to say. I did what I had to do. I don't owe anybody anything. Just the taste is busting my balls.
Single images / Multiple images / Sober images / Dirty images / I dream of audible images on vast, taut skins that would resonate with their senses
I had a cat, a dog, a wife, a husband, a spider and yes / I lived in the hair / My ejaculations were irrevocable.
I came back from the land of the people / Centaur of the revolution / I rode all the way around on my own back / Sometimes it's all right
Sports, nothing but sports without a state of mind and no sex with women at this time because the manly friendship, too, is falling apart...
...but what's the connection between two genuflections? Between two blowjobs? Between two genu-fella xions? Have we ever had intercourse?
Artists really do make up a breed of misery that I loathe. Worse still, the art lover: the idiot ends up in a pure state...
Man-woman, bestial child, woman-child... the palette of identities emerges through the animality and mythologies of our species.
Making one's existence more "important" to oneself by just a few milliliters of an outrageously dissolved solution of self-knowledge.
A livable world. In the experiment, I am my own guinea pig. You are free to choose a similar place. All are possible.