↑ Giih, J. K. Deconstructions of Popular Operas Series I: Car-Men. 2013. Bits on memory, being on nothingness.
Nervous Horse Art Gallery, Turku, Finland.
Just Because Marx Was a Materialist Doesn’t Mean That We Have to Be
Some Preliminary Notes
We’ve been going through a lot lately. We think the governemnt hates us. They’re trying to put us down by sending us nonsensical pieces of paper in the mail and raising the price of our internet, but we will not be silenced. As an evidence of our perseverance we present you this third issue of Nervous Horse.
There is much to be said about the contents of the following pages. So much that we hardly know where to begin! Therefore, in order to stop beating around the bush, we take the liberty to omit all further introductions and proceed right through the potentially prickly branches of the aforementioned bush, regardless of how painfully the said branches may scratch our naked bodies on the way in and out. Or, as the famous comedian Jacques Derrida once said, »je fais tout ce qui me semble possible ou acceptable pour échapper à ce piège». We realize that in adopting this procedure we give up on fully discussing the theme hinted at in the title of this briefer than expected preface, and for this we sincerely apologize. Readers are encouraged to contemplate the implications of the thesis on their own and send their essays to the address below for the upcoming fourth issue of the magazine.
It has become a tradition to end the beginning of Nervous Horse with a piece of verse. The following poem by A Person might not be the greatest poem ever written, but we are kind enough to publish it anyway:
There once was a nervous horse
Whose time was unencumbered by chores
Because all his time is free
He reached issue #3
Of which the quality was great, of course
A HAIKU ABOUT WINTER
THE WHOLE WORLD IS DEAD
TIME TO PUT ON MY CORPSE PAINT
SNOW IS GRIM AS FUCK
I only wish for something new.
I cannot but help the night,
it envelops me.
Like an envelope;
I am sealed
without the correct postage
and no stars can touch me
Catch the nothingness in the air as if it were a butterfly landing on your finger.
That finite moment you were separate, and now you have become everything, waiting in anticipation for the butterfly to leave
But it doesn’t
It rests its soul upon you, the everything momentous, breathing and non existent.
I Love You
Your incarnate of vibration is my desire of exchange.
Please lend me your fluids so I may experience your essence.
I drink the cup of you, insatiable indulgence....
You are my Suzy Bannion,
I won’t let you take down
This coven of witches alone.
Not this time.
The sotry of the great Icarium life stealer
Of age not known, of herritage not shown, the knowledge of his past, clouded by time. The passage of time only reveals the storys and horrific roumers of 10 upon thousends of life, lost to Icarium life stealer whos rage can be related to the damages of a ravid hurricane. Oooh the amnesia which casued by devestating rage, always keeps Icarium in ignorant bliss of his 10 upon thousend bodys he by hes own hand has slayd, an entire island so has been told, oooh the mystery of and the scare of those who know hes dreadfull past which is kept alive those who tells.
Not Signing This
A wild girl appears
Use crazy glare to make her leave
Joel’s Dragon Problem
One time there was a giant monster in the middle of a building somewhere, and this guy thought that that was a bad thing to happen, so he thought hard for a long time, trying to figure out his course of action. Then it hit him, a baseball bat to be exact, held by the hands of his cousin Wrinkle. Wrinkle hit him a few more times until he was unconscious.
The guy, uh, who I guess I’ll call Joel, woke up in a horse-drawn carriage in a serious state of disrepair. His cousin Wrinkle was in the front. He got up and jumped out on to the road. He ran and ran, making sure the carriage didn’t follow him.
Joel found himself in a city. There, he searched around to find a solution to his problem. Then he found a blacksmith’s shop, and there he bought a sword made of steel. He ran back to the building and entered it.
Inside, he saw the dragon, and he ran at it. The dragon knocked him away and destroyed his sword. Joel ran back to the city. There he found a pack of matches in a gutter. Then, he came up with his plan. So he ran back to the building and lit it on fire. The dragon burned to death.
Car is a vehicle
Broom broom it goes
out of the tunnal it shows
oooot ooooot it owls...
With all the plastic bags in circulation, why would anyone want to purchase garbage bags?
Would a manned mission to Mars be worth the assured cost of human life?
A battleaxe is neither a battle nor an axe, but you really shouldn’t talk about your wife that way.
If Ma Bell and Big Ben had a baby, what would its name be?
I don’t think the people who tried to patch up the crack in the Liberty Bell tried nearly hard enough.
All squares are rectangles but not all rectangles are squares; I feel sad for the rhombus family.
Signs that read »Slow Children At Play» cause me to look for kids who could benefit from some interval training.
If someone says »literally» in her sentence, you can expect them to literally use it wrong.
It is nice having Mondays off, but then Tuesdays suck.
But what if ducks knew
How so annoying they are
They would hate themselves
My brain hurts, auh auh
but im handling it well
its prickling under my skin, its aches, burns
no help, shit, no help
clues are none, shit what to do
but my held high is my head,
not with pride
but my strength
A HAIKU ABOUT SPORTS
SPORTS WOULD BE BETTER
IF INSTEAD OF THROWING BALLS
THEY KILL EACH OTHER
No mention of a tail of a mouse (this time around)
Jüris H. Smirnoff
I’ve got a mouse with three heads.
I want to POP them.
I’ve got a mouse with (k)no(w) heads.
He’s still more intelligent than you.
He’s a creationist you know.
That moon (of cheese)...
Yes, he made that.
The Man Who Stopped Eating
Once upon a time there was a world called fat-world. In fat-world, everybody was fat, because everybody ate a lot. But one day, a man stopped eating, and he began to lose weight.
One of his friends thought he was sick, so he brought his thin friend to the doctor. The doctor didn’t know what was happening, so he brought him to the king.
When the king saw the skinny man, he said »He has lost too much weight, he shall be slaughtered and fed to the pigs in the royal garden»! And he was.
Jüris H. Smirnoff
I must go, my head is about to
delusional I am;
Don’t fly Pan Am
Or by Flying Teapot
Go(i)ng Go(i)ng gone
Jesus F. Christ
I am sitting in an Irish themed pub(not very irishy), in Kelowna. Alone. I am, a mad wolf! But really, I am only a person. A lone person. Alone. Someone needs a lighter, someone dropped something. I am still alone. In an Irish themed pub. In Kelowna.
A HAIKU ABOUT SECULAR CHRISTMAS
FUCK YOUR SHIT MUSIC
I WILL SHOOT OUT ALL YOUR LIGHTS
MERRY CHRISTMAS, BITCH!
I, is not ‘am’ in it
I blow bubbles