Saturday, 26 October 2013


Hello? I have been having some time off. I have been concentrating more on my addiction to booze and killing my brain. Writing is hard when you feel like 100 pounds of shit. I have nothing to say any more. The times between being hungover, being at work and being drunk again are a very narrow window with which to write anything. nothing. Issue 10 of Lucida Console will be out by the end of the year. Live free cunts.

Supernatural Big Hitters
By Slater Wilcox

Fuck that shitty TV show “SUPERNATURAL”, to me supernatural means DEMONS flying into your bedroom at midnight to TOUCH YOU UP and make you scream for MORE. To me, supernatural means sitting in a graveyard until a HELLHOUND humps your FACE and shoots ectoplasmic dog spunk out your EYEBALLS. To me, supernatural means becoming so fed up with real life that only make believe can take your mind off of the ambivalence you feel towards mankind. People can find out just about anything with the touch of a few buttons, the world is being narrowed down and condensed. However, sometimes…weird thoughts come creeping into your mind when you’re all by yourself in the middle of a dark forest with no motherfuckin’ 3G. You start to panic. “What if The X Files was right all along?! Is The Truth out here?! I fuckin’ hope not!” You close your eyes but your thoughts are much darker than the night could ever be. Screaming Skulls, Egyptian Curses, the beady eye of a Crow, Death cults, Psychic Visions of Doom…Is that a common elder tree you’re leaning against, trying to get your breath back? The same common elder that Judas hanged himself on? The same common elder associated with devil worship and witchcraft? God’s sake don’t burn it for warmth – Satan will appear! Is that a man pouding his way towards you through the murkiness? Or is it a hallucination? Bite the bullet, baby, this shit’s all in your mind. Mystery is cool. Sometimes the World is too real for me, at least back in the day we had Satan to blame, nowadays we all know that it’s human beings that are completely fucked. So leave your skepticism and scientific rationale at the door, here’s my all time favourite supernatural bullshittery: X files up your ASS.

Black Mass
A magical ceremony, an inversion or parody of the Catholic Mass for the purpose of making fun of God and worshipping the Devil; a rite that was said to involve human sacrifice as well as blasphemy and obscenity of horrific proportions. You won’t be eating bread and drinking wine at this fucked up Eucharist; instead how about a cum-covered wafer washed down with a skullful of virgin’s piss? Sounds fun? Then stick around for the roasted flesh canapés and frenzied buggery orgy. Like after dinner games, do you like fucking After Eights? Then try reading the Bible backwards with a mouthful of burnt baby mixed with the priest’s poo. Feeling a little woozy, too much partying? Pussy.
Dance of Death
An allegorical attitude to the final crisis in human life – Death as a grotesque skeleton leading all men and women to the inevitable grave, a theme popular in Medieval art. Death is having the best dance party and you’re all invited – even the dickheads and racists. Tough shit if you don’t wanna go to Death’s party – you’re all coming along whether you like dancing or not, and tomorrow, for once, we won’t be hungover – we’ll be dead.
Crowley, Aleister
Magician, occult practitioner, author and poet, mountaineer, drug addict, ambisexual athlete, and devout POOMAN. A guy after my own heart – the guy was obsessed with shit. At his Abbey of Thelema on Sicily he set up a place to practice his love of pooh, thinly disguised as a centre for occultist study. While there, he and his followers got up to all sorts of rotten business, here’s little extract from his biography recounting a normal evening in the abbey: “She called his bluff and demanded the ‘Eucharist’ – that Crowley should eat her excrement which lay on the consecrated plate on the altar. Crowley finally obeyed: “My mouth burned, my throat choked, my belly retched, my blood fled wither who knows and my skin sweated. She stood above me hideous in contempt…” All this, in a word, I am a coward and a liar.” Later in the chapter you learn that Crowley and his High Priestess have a child on the Island and call it “Poupee”.

I have decided to name my niece and nephew Ashtaroth and Baphomet. My neice, Ashtaroth is the great nature Goddess of love and fruitfulness, also the “most impure and revolting being that can be imagined”. My nephew Baphomet AKA pooh boy, is the source and creator of evil; the satanic billy goat – he likes to wipe his ditry pooh bum on sofas. Truly demonic. Demons don’t exist but humans do.

Deja Vu
I feel like I’ve been living the same life for 28 years now. Shit upon shit upon shit upon shit. Déjà vu’s aren’t “out of the ordinary” it’s just the way life is – a snake made of turds eating itself endlessly. Where does it begin? Where does it end? Who cares – it’s all made of shit.

Bram Stoker’s Dracula was THE SHIT. I remember I kept having nightmares after reading it and I’d quite often waking up screaming in the night. It got inside my psyche and made my brain squirm like a toad all night long. I truly believe it to be a powerful book. I liked the Francis Ford Copolla film version of the book when that girl puked about 20 pints of blood into a man’s face but it was slightly over the top and disgusting. Other than that they’re pretty goofy. They remind me of cats because they’re self centered and don’t give a shit about anything and I think they are vain poo-poo heads. Don’t suck my blood,suck my dick. However, Buffy the Vampire Slayer entertained me through those bleak teen years and kept my mind off suicide. I appreciate vampires for that, thanks suckers.

From Wikipedia: A nymph in Greek mythology and in Latin mythology is a minor female nature deity babe typically associated with a particular location or landform, they are double barreled fuck shotguns ready to blow your face off with pump-action sexiness. There are 5 different types of nymphs, Celestial Nymphs (far-out space nymphs), Water Nymphs (splashy splashy cum guzzlers), Land Nymphs, Plant Nymphs and Underworld Nymphs and I’d fuck ‘em all. Different from goddesses, nymphs are generally regarded as divine spirits who animate nature by giving it an uncontrollable hard on, and are usually depicted as beautiful, young nubile maidens who love to dance and sing and threaten men with nunchucks. They are believed to dwell in mountains and groves, by springs and rivers, and also in trees and in valleys and cool grottoes where they are almost always totally nude and have excellently trimmed bushes. Definitely an old world myth made up by some randy Greek but I still hold out hope that one day, one glorious day in the dreamy future, I’ll meet a nymph and It’ll be magNYMPHicent. Ha!

Face it, humans will try to fuck you until you die, so if they try to fuck you after you die, who gives a fuck?


Now, I don’t know much about urology other than that it’s a sick and sordid black art practiced by perverted professors of piss-drinking. Not really sure what goes on in the urology wings of hospitals but I am willing to hazard a guess as to what it’s all about – trying to predict the future by studying a person’s piss. Piss divination if you will.

1 comment:

  1. Thanks Slater, now my satanic ring is burning in anticipation of Lucida Console issue 10