HOT VOM

checking yir junk

A friend writes;

‘Top tip for all you budding journalists out there is that a news smashing, gut smooshing, headline mincing story could be waiting under your virtual nose with all it’s virtual nose hair and digital snot. Check your email junk! Rake through the Viagra adds and penis extension detritus that usually fills your email wheelybin and you may find a prize winning ham that has mistakenly been thrown out by the blind and olfactory damaged robotic cleaner.’

I found this email in my junk and immediately had myself a front pager.

I am writing this mail with tears and sorrow to seek for your assistance= regards to my situation since the death of my parents, I know this letter= might come to you as a surprise because we have not met each other or see= face to face before.

My name is Ms.Kadia Saif Gaddafi, from Sirte=96 Libya,= 20 yrs old female, Religion Muslim. My father of blessed memory by name late Saif al-Arab Gaddafi was killed in= a NATO=92s air strike on the Gaddafi compound on 30 April 2011, along with= three of the former Libyan leader’s,grandchildren, Later my mother with my= two brothers was killed one early morning before the end of the Civil war= by the rebels as the result of civil war which happened in my country= Libya. For the sake of Almighty Allah I’m seek for your assistance from= Ouagadougou, Burkina-Faso where i managed to escaped through the help of= United Nation after the death of my parents, and now seeking asylum in= Refugee Camp since I arrived here in Burkina-Faso, you can find more of my= story through this,

http://www.bbc.co.uk/search/news/?q=3DSaif%20al-Arab%20Gaddafi.

Meanwhile, my reason of seeking for your advice/assistance is because of= fund and other investment my late father own, although the investment was= not by my custody, Bismilahi Rahmani Rahimi, I escape with a deposit made= on my behalf in one of the banks here in Burkina Faso as his next of kin= which amount is (Eight Million three Hundred Thousand Dollars ($8.3M).= However, i have being advised to look for a foreign partner who will stand= as my trustee to claim the fund due to my refugee status, and the Bad= recommendation of my grand Father as a result of civil war in libya, It is= my intention to compensate you with 30% or any condition of the total money= for your services and to investment in your country through your help. Please get back to me if you are able to assist me claiming these fund, so= that I will give you all the details /contact of the bank where the fund= was deposited, Honestly I want the fund to be transferred into your= account before I come over to your country to continue my= education,honestly I am really suffering since I arrived in this country,= it is too painful, but I hope with your help I will have the fund= transferred into your account to enable me come over to your country and= have a better life to live. As soon as I receive your interest to assist me, I will put things into= active immediately, in the light of the above, I shall appreciate an urgent= message indicating your ability and willingness to handle this transaction= sincerely.

Yours Faithfully Kadia Saif Gaddafi

I think you will agree that it is clearly authentic enough not to need checking over. A small piece of history right their in the electronic compost of the internet and I could have missed it!’

A review of my illness part 3-Movin on up ti SHIIIIIINNNEEE

Art limps after reality so said pince nez wearing revolutionary Leon Trotsky. So my review of my illness limps (pun intended) after the reality of the illness. After what was an interesting fever, hallucinatory like a dance on hot coals with Lionel Richie while watching thundercats, the illness began to diminish to a languid swell of ‘jist no feelin right’ accompanying this, as a verse follows a chorus, was a sadly predictable feeling of boredom and desire to leave the house, as if the house was a sharp knife wielded by a deranged member of the rock group Kiss while high on PCP and coco pops, screaming ‘I Want MA POPS’. Exhilarating. Tiny spots appear on my hands like a lost civilization looking up and seeing the stars, this was a nuanced attack by the illness quite out of left field. Hemingwayesque without the misogyny he has been so deplorably labbled as peddling. THe spots were tender to touch, a delicious aside is that they appeared on my feet also, touche. Bore set in again as I set about trying to finish some Kafka novels I had waiting around like a couple of disheveled bares hunting for berries.

The fading out of the spots was a sad and missed opportunity for a big finally and my own inclination would have been to go out with a blistery pop.

Still top marks for the intiail unpredictability of the illness must go to whatever nasty virus caused it

****

7.35

A review of my illness part 2-No sweat sweaty get

An unusual title for the sophomore release of either viral or bacterial infections on my immune system. The convulsive muscular contractions of the earlier movement are toned down with the addition of pain killers and own brand lemsips, very much like stripping back wallpaper with nothing more than a rusty scalpel to discover burned onto the wall is an image of Kurt Cobain falling down some stairs with a piano attached around his waist.  Nausea comes in quite predictable waves along with a sense of dread and boredom. This is a trite response from my immune system and wholly predictable in the circumstances. Why is it that nausea never comes in packets, or particles these days? I’m no Luddite but it seems nausea is just jumping on some sort of wave bandwagon. I digress, the one encouraging factor to this period of illness is my lack of concentration. Usually I have a general inability to concentrate for anything more than a few minutes. Right now I’m juggling and watching a film about baroque architecture and cooking some reggae reggae sauce infused burgers, I shall review these at a later date. My mind is like a gold mine in the 19th century, full of dusty, coughing men who will die young for the benefit of some fat rich banker who has three mistresses and is still miserable. Zolaesq I’m sure you will agree.

Due to the illness my concentration has diminished to mere seconds, I could be looking out of the window, reading a book, listening to music, swimming, playing charades, eating a hotdog, dancing, taping my fingers on the table, drinking coffee, planning a friends birthday party, dreaming of lost treasure, climbing on the furniture, baking bread, sniffing my washing to see if it needs to go in again, listening to the people upstairs argue. All at once.

This cacophony of ideas, like a montage in reverse allows little space for the individual to interpret the illness immediately but make them reflect later on the nature of the disease at hand. This barrage of ill health is not just an effective trick but is at the heart of modern ideas about not feeling well.

A review of my illness part 1-coming down

Ok so two nights ago I get through my pores, or skin or gub or feet something which I was not expecting. It’s one of those times as a reviewer when something out of the blue really grabs you by the balls and says hey pay attention!

Thursday night I walk home from work and there waiting for me in the place I usually reserve for sleeping is a series of horrific nightmares involving a wide variety of Universal monsters. Dracula was there, Frankensteins monster, Wolfman, you name it. It was a sterling cast of some of the greats. However elements of it I must admit left me feeling rather cold. Not only was it clearly a rehash of some old nightmare from the 50’s but I awoke drenched in sweat. This literal chill and metaphoric chill somewhat (excuse the pun) put a dampner on the situation.

The next day I was overcome by a woozy feeling as if I was involved in some sort of Kafkaeque daymare. The most obvious comparisons to this feeling are the films of Spike Jonze and a slight sense of dread. This was an unusual feeling which I at first was prone to dismiss as merely a repeat of last nights somewhat lack lustre sleep. However on repeat musing that comes with the passing of hours I began to pick out a delicate hint of bone freeze and achy back that comes with a new found progression from a previous state of well being.

This intermidiary stage, or the adigio, of the illness I found somewhat laboured with a lack of real dynamic movement between the shivering arms and legs and the spasms in my back. A fairly obvious start to any flu or cold and I have to think that my white blood cells had shown that they reaaly weren’t prepaired for a virus of this magnitude, disapointing as I had to call in sick for work.

A moderate start to this illness

Indigestion-one line review by Hamish Handyson

Veronica Falls-A house and what looks like a catapult

The 80’s had a nice range of knitwear, people wore dock martins.

A review of my morning so far

12-1.30 ish

An interesting start to Tuesday, this my second day of the week in just over 24hours. Having just posted two submitted reviews to Hot Vom. I took the interesting step of listening to some Arthur Russel on youtube. What can be said that already hasn’t been said about these actions. Light almost deft less touches of the computer keys bringing a sense of the overwhelming force of reality and an electric pulse brings on a motor neuron response that is just as heartfelt.

Listening to the music like hearing sounds produced by human beings in a state of deep concentration, some sort of Debussyesq fugue state.

1.30-6.00

Mostly sleep this. Sadly slightly less than coherent. Perhaps I could have worked more on pushing the boundaries of this tried and tested format. Lucid dreaming led rather prosaically to cycles of deep sleep with a soupcon of rapid eye movement.

6.00-6.30ish

Slightly picks up around this time. Really throwing in some new formulations to the expected sleep patter with a minimalist inspired interruption. A neighbour stopping around upstairs slamming doors causes a sudden inrush of reality, jolting my body awake like an eel creeping between my sleep crevice wriggling all over my dream hole.

My sense of confusion gives it a clear nod to Kafka.

6.30-11.00

Ahh just when some new ideas are introduced we have a mid morning lull. A return to the straight ahead populism of sleep, a poor performance this.

11.00-mid day

Wakefullness slowly creeps up like a burglar carrying a tin of spam loosely in his sweaty hand. A period of refusal and tense understatement. Glassesque tension leads to a overdrawn period of under the cover cowering and feelings of loss trepidation and cowardes that pull the rug from under you, top notch stuff this. Ending on the driving high of getting up and having a shower the morning while at times sleeping and predictable really delivered on it’s earlier promise.

7/10

***

Indigestion-one line review by Berril Bunting

That album by Arthur Russel that was called another thought

Cellos and psychadelia, enter great mysteria, as Arthur Russell was not very well known , which is a shame cause he was brill

Indigestion-one line review by Jock Seam

The moth and the mirror-Honestly, the World

Like chancing upon a dehydrated sea-side donkey and riding it through Gretna Green asking for directions to St Andrews

tumblrbot asked: WHAT IS YOUR EARLIEST HUMAN MEMORY?

Blinking into the light like a child blinking for the first time into the light of a light that had been turned on and the child blunk at it