History tells us that you don't have to shoot to get shot, however, we believe that you have to push hard to set certain things in motion. And indeed we see the broken machine rolling back on us, every day a bit faster, yet we don't fear a thing since we do believe in death to everyone.
1. Today I got critized for not writing enough. I first thought it was a very mean joke, but no, she seemed to mean it. And just to be clear on that matter, I will post a review on last weekend soon, I already wrote it inside of my head, which of course makes the effort of actual writing a bit pointless and boring.
2. Fun Club's expert on the history of ideas, philosophy and academic events just informed me that there is work in progress to be reviewed soon. I will keep you posted.
3. As it is raining 19,99 € Award jury members on our dry souls, if you allow me to be that "poetic", it seems more and more likely that the bombastic award ceremony we were pushing so hard is going down just as planned. I would like to thank everybody who sent a "Pro Fun Club" letter to Ms. Helluin.
4. A surprising letter was found in our still freshly painted mailbox. A person with a somewhat literary name sent us a poem. Suspicious as I am, I cannot help myself but assume that a friend of mine is trying to be nice, however, since the person asked me to stay anonymous; I cannot lay before you what seems to be a made-up name. Supposedly the artist in question wrote the poem the night she/he turned 12. The work is entitled "12", somewhat coherent I have to say, yet coherence has always played a bigger part in camouflage than in real life.
"It's time to condense
some water
inside your breath just fuck you
forever like the baby shampoo
he found in your indie magazine
that you ACCIDENTALLY forgot
at his place but if he is an invention or a less advanced lie
that grows hair in its nose
you would still be disgusted."
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