As old as tomorrow… With untold floors of FRESH exciting MERCHANDISE, exquisite fixturing, a large, easy-to-use PARKADE OF THE DAMNED and a fine staff of ATTENTIVE SALES ENTITIES… It’s OLD MALL! This volume presents the results of parallel surrealist expeditions to “old malls” in two North American cities. Undertaken in early 2020, these “gothic” experiences foreshadowed the closure of commercial zones throughout the world by a matter of weeks. Specials include:
The Mysterious and Somnolent “ZOPI” The Skeleton in the Green Hat The Ghost Hunters in the Bathroom The Death Shroud Puppet Play “Good Stuff” The Street of the Unisex Image
JA, SH, PP, L, – messing around on video chat during our mandated misanthropy. Each of us chose and drew a corner simultaneously and then scanned it. Lake then combined them into a chimera-corpse. Maybe it’s a group portrait or a forgotten narrative of a meeting that could never happen.
One of the things introduced in our Object Beautician zine was the concept of “anaerobic poetry”. The theory is that withholding the breath while scouring the surrealist voice for interesting offerings might prompt a special urgency or dynamic to whatever short poem could be rattled off in that state.
Our friend M Forshage in Stockholm recently gave it a try, the results of which results we share below.
1 Seven spells of sausage rhymes Automatically and intestine-wise As if barking up a rare willow One without the right kind of lianas and bare twigs
2 The insolent popstar and his crew of battle squirrels aimlessly through the milky void
3 Synchronise sadly the breadcrumbs of inevitability housing the future of death and other joys
4 Acclimatise the entire sorority Make it migrate elsewhere With several new songs And whimpering flagpoles And a dead rodent
5 Whenever a sad cat opens his trolley and the bad nostrils get their appetite satisfied our hands will keep shaking to salute the onslaught of birdrings
6 An intimate source of powerful negotiations is the dead strollers negating the countdown
7 Likewise, never asked you to perform this particular sample, odd as it is
8 My crossbow at the mercy of a thunderstorm and a bowl of sugar ne/
9 Defenestrate the essential countdown and make every consonant swallowed count as a feast of swift nests
10 Excentric into secrecy the white foam of secrecy exclusive formed by the moon and its differences all its differences
Words from indigenous youth and women marching for Wet’suwet’en, addressed to the heavily armed “lethal overwatch” deployed to monitor them. Last year’s Joint Statement with Inner Island remains painfully up-to-date with current events. I have within the last few weeks personally witnessed astounding bravery and living poetry in the defiance of indigenous youth fighting back for their existence.
Tonight I was searching a video streaming site for something totally different when the giallo film The Perfume of the Lady in Black by Francesco Barilli came up in my results. Having just seen this recommendation from fellow surrealist DC online, I took the opportunity to watch it. One striking coincidence occurred. The film has a scene which features a music box containing a ballerina figurine, presented to the main character, Silvia, by an Alice-like incarnation of her childhood self. Silvia recognizes the figurine as one from her childhood because of its missing arm. The thing is… I had seen and photographed this exact ballerina figure in Ottawa. It was EXACTLY the same as one I had taken a photo of a while back while browsing a junk store. How exact? Not only the same make—the same arm is missing.