Nervous Horse 1/2019

There Will Be Change That Not One Can Comprehend

This moment in time is unlike any other — insofar as any other moment in time is unlike any other as well. We are sitting in a room. It is New Year’s Eve. We are running out of urine-flavoured beer, the stores are closed, and regardless of how many deep breaths we take in a futile attempt to unclog our rightmost nostril there simply is no door that would open into another realm.

Strange conincidences materialized this year. As soon as we had irrevocably denounced the society, we became, at least for the time being, somewhat of an active agent in it — no longer a stallion, not quite a sheep, but, perhaps, as one at one with the lingo might say, a mole. We are also glad to announce that in the same blink of an eye we wholly unconvered the widespread conspiracy against us that we had alluded to in an earlier issue. The perpetrators have been identified and appropriately dealt with by the means of sinister black magick. As for causal things particularly related to the journal, while the book has finally been completed and received with praise, the American branch of the official Nervous Horse merchandise store has, for reasons unknown to us, silently disappeared into the ether. Was it because of tax evasion? Perhaps. Or could it be that the iconic image of the horse, grand and strong in its nervousness, was somehow against the sissy ass community standards of today? We do not know. We may only assume that it is only a matter of time when the European counterpart will be gone as well, and there’s nothing we can do about it. The circumstances being what they are, we are strongly inclined to propose everyone to obtain the items they desire sooner rather than later. We make no money off the sales but it greatly warms our hearts to know that, even in these darkest of times, there may be someone somewhere adorning their body with a Nervous Horse flavoured T-shirt or sipping their morning coffee from a Nervous Horse flavoured mug.

To the general reader this may not have been immediately apparent, but Nervous Horse has been dying for a while. The initial triannual publication frequency has declined to one meagre issue a year, and even this modest rate would not have been possible without the handful of steadfast contributors that throughout the years dedicated their creative energies to breathing life into this gasping equine body. We think it is time to give them a well-deserved rest. As for ourselves, let’s face it: we have grown old and soft. Sometimes we try to make a joke and it doesn’t come out the way we want it to, but in reality we would rather not further provoke any group of people that is known to be easily provoked. Such groups include but are not limited to Jews, Saracens, pagans, atheists, feminists, postmodernists, intersectionalists, socialists, anarchists and other global terrorist organizations. There was a time when we would gladly »let them have it», so to speak, at every instance of an opportunity. Now, as we approach the autumn of our age, we no longer find the motivation for such incessant jabs. Even our once insatiable urge to rant madly about interdimensional shapeshifting pedophiles and in general »tell it like it is» is beginning to show signs of withering away. It was an enjoyable or worthwhile experience even though it was impermanent.

This is not an obituary. There will be no reminiscing of our past glorious deeds, if any, nor lamenting of our vast array of obvious shortcomings. Let us instead direct the reader’s attention to the immediate future as we now see it unfolding. A menacing cloud of indeterminacy is hanging over our head. 1720, 1820 and 1920 had massive plague outbreaks. Has medicine gone too far? One thing is for certain: As one door closes, another may or may not open. This is the final issue of Nervous Horse and verily the end of Nervous Horse as we know it. We are leaving behind a void that cannot be filled. The task of attempting to do so is left as an exercise to the reader.

The Last Fury of the Discarded Flesh

Dogon von Sirius

A thought for you to consider:

impossibility is superficial

doesn’t sound like an empirical statement

but for those who wield tremendous power

it is hard to be patient sometimes.

You should have seen how we penetrated the smoke screen

by rigorous methods

how we walked on train tracks

with rubber shoes

we were literally higher than the god who had created us.

Anyone outside of this realm

should be confined in a mental ward.

Ted Lee

FOR SALE:

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- 1 picture (Polaroid) of an illiterate orator

ASKING PRICE:

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- 1000 words (preferably not minced)

- all languages accepted as long as payment is made in full using only one of them (I'm not a polyglot)

Entry Level Sex Doll Buying Guide

U. N. Ture

How do you genetically modify a dream? You concentrate on what is pure and good and ignore the rest. The best way to live is to lay around and do nothing. Have no problem with all the wicked souls fading away into dust. Bid farewell, or don’t. Adopt your own symbolism. Water is fluid yet it tends towards stillness. Six liters in three hours will kill you. It’s all a bit confusing. May we all become more and more aware of the strange and miraculous wonders to come, and may all those who place curses on this calculator have a lovely and peaceful day.

Aginor

Bondage girl Deliver a son for me

Break the space to the sea

Mondagy is the now spelling of vommity

oOooaooH prodigy is the new singing

Getting Hard

Georges Cunningham

Marvelous introduction

Excitement about the pumps

Ian can’t play the piano

Splendor highways

On take 9 before we started

The shipment is sentient

Humidors

The Lingering Finger

Aginor

My Finger is in pain

So i put it in the sun for Lingering

The soul is touched by fiering dispatchment

When i rest it will become turned knto forign apointment.

The gang of three is sitting in the foaje

After being lost in the castles endless stairs and halls.

They just gave up, would not support the castles serving right and just sat there and talked.

An Extended Scene From the Third Act of an Unreleased Play by Margot Thactachi

Margot Thactachi

Operator: Hello, Sir?

Sir: Yes?

Operator: You have a call from a Mrs. Williams. Will you except the charges?

Sir: Uh… sure ill except them.

Mrs.: Hello, Winston.

Sir: Hello, Assface.

Mrs.: How can you sit there and call me that?

(An atomic bomb detonates)

Operator: I seem to have lost the connection between Winston Williams and Assface Willams.

Knee Deep In Horse Corpses

Obum Mobut

The click of woodblocks

The snap of twigs

Hiding razor blades

In the figs

Badgers

Aginor

Badgers are a nemesis to most nervous horse

Most Badgers are eager and brave, which does not mark any characteristics of a nervous horse.

They like to gnaw at hoves and lower anchels

Which terrefies the shizzle out of horses, nervous and brave.

On most cases be aware of badgers or the badger will mawl you like candy.

If badger is your spirit animal we kindly ask (or demand) you to respdet the nervous horse.

Badgers are mostly cute but can bite like a badger

This Statue Is Called Emptiness

E. S. Fluke

Finally conveived

finally getting relevant

eyes cast forward in morbid optimism

burning for comfort beyond eternal

but not quite bright enough.

Now deprived of longevity

on an expedition soon obsolete

somehow still breathing

and effortlessly collapsing

into a shadow of oneself.

Aginor

You may think I know everything about you But I know I'm not a diaper For once, I sing a song After all, nothing is for you.

Everything we have is not convinced, because no one knows you. For those of you who know Viktor Tuur me we tread wall

All we know is not all about you because you are running and near and near. If there is something we buy a chef, we will never be satisfied

All My Real Friends and Enemies I Meet Are in the Wilderness Grinding

N. Ether

I am a very logical person. The reptilians are not my family. I am not required to have mercy on the parasites. Their idiocy doesn’t justify their wickedness. Why are their faces so fucked up? This must be destiny. They think they have it all figured out. They will suffer the full punishment. I haven’t got a foot fetish but imagine the smell of a boot stamping on their vision of the future forever. They may try to keep notes but you know how it is. There is a threshold. Shit is going to get real ahead. Calling me an incel won’t bring daddy back. Try a different weapon. Tetragrammaton cannot beat Tetris.

A ThousEnd and One Lice

Aginor

By the End of One Lies

Rest of One ThousEnd and One Lice

Tommorow of a Striding Head

Will Become Eaten Upp

By A ThousEnd Bloodthirsty Mice.

Cannibalism-Induced Psychosis

V. J. Estray

I didn’t mean to do it. I was fine until yesterday. Very soft and fluffy. What? Maybe that’s the coincidence. You never know how it’s going to come out. Sometimes it’s a yes, sometimes it’s a no. That sounds like a pretty insane thing to state. Right? I didn’t actually like it. Oh well. At least I’m a hundred percent here and my mind is not somewhere else. Maybe I’ll get to seventy-five one day. Maybe even twenty-five. What? What’s so cool about being chained to a wall in a basement? What’s so cool about being? What? Sometimes you just can’t help it. Sometimes we’re no longer human. Sometimes. Oh well. We’re all programmed to act differently.

To the Girl with Pretty Hands Part III

J. K. Giih

You laughed when I bet on the horses

with little to no knowledge of the intricacies of harness racing

but look who’s tentatively expressionless now.

The statistics, as I assumed, have occasionally

been on my side.

I read an excerpt of your latest stuff online for free without paying for it

and it looks like you’re no longer postmodern?

I am happy for you

and wish you much luck

in your newfound efforts in identifying

the darker of the two categories of suns.