Exc. Story: She Kills People, Don't She; House/Disco Mix - The Many Deaths Of Everyone; Poem - Feeling: Tales From The UniversE 71 - newsletter from the middle of tomorrow
An arcadia of imagination
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1. Kid Paradise’s Summer Beach Bar is here and has hit the guts of July like The Paradise Kid is born again a trillion times every moment
VUNDERBAR mid-JULY is here and
what else
to do
than listen
LOUD
to Kid P’s tuuuuunnnnnnnneS???
‘the many deaths of everyone’
Kid Paradise In The Mix Is Handing It Out!!!
2. It is all art, baby
fields, fields, fields, fields
3. Poem:
Feeling
the unerring feeling of something having just happened;
of happening right this moment;
and soon to happen any moment right now.
life.
if lived right.
4. Story:
She Kills People, Don’t She?
She kills people, don’t she?
By being.
The way she is.
Anti-energy. Anti-life.
Kills them off in the street.
He kept watching her as she walked by the firstfloor window of his flat above the HEALTHY GREEN greengrocer situated a third of the way along Park Lane where the bakery FRESH CRUSTS was situated to the left and the butcher CHOPPED MEAT to the right.
The woman looked like she was born to grow up and be the age she was and walk down along the village main drag every day in her old style rain mackintosh and her dated curls with a stare for anyone who passed by.
And, chat.
Like this moment as he sat with a cup of breakfast tea and the radio playing the morning classical music and the window open and she stopped at CHOPPED MEAT and took a bead on a woman with what was a labradoodle or one of those other fadlike dogs that were a common sight in the village and the woman peered in the window of FRESH CRUSTS and the woman born to be the age she was now called across.
‘I recommend the rolls, very nice.’
The woman with the labradoodle did not respond. She kept peering in the window.
‘It’s a fine bakery, I believe the best in Poynton.’
No response.
‘Though what is belief? I mean these days. Does anyone believe anything any more? Does anyone ever ask if anyone believes anything any more? As I say, what is belief?’
He drained the cup of breakfast tea and he kept watching and he kept listening.
The woman with the labradoodle turned.
‘You’re speaking to me?’
‘Who else might I be speaking to?’
The woman with the labradoodle considered this.
She said, ‘Sorry, what did you say?’
‘Well, that it’s a fine bakery.’
‘Anything else?’
‘Well, and that the bread rolls are good.’
The woman looked at her labradoodle and she looked at her inqusitior.
‘Anything else?’
‘Well, I asked what belief is? As I said I “believe” the bakery to be the best in the village.’
‘Ah.’ The woman bent and stroked the labradoodle. ‘So not “fine”?’
‘I’m sorry?’
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