tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-247357772008-01-28T22:21:16.982ZBrother Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04053649697784530751noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24735777.post-86126240568227429002008-01-28T22:17:00.000Z2008-01-28T22:21:17.031Z

BUBBLE MEMORY in the bubble of a moment I learnt all rights are unsung as the crust of empire tots up Oh yodelling telly totty in the penetrations of space time everybody tries the rigid poser stop the darkling leaking and looping all through a Saturday night who cares about a small rodent rage when birds flop out of a white sky for the wispy devils of my old collusions with the

Brother Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04053649697784530751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24735777.post-37973647447181608962008-01-02T10:22:00.000Z2008-01-02T10:29:47.880Z

You try to factorise the time-flow, stabilise your co-ordinates; everything blurs. Being is filtered, diluted. The qualia thicken. So easy to become what you behold. You plagiarise more of your old selves. Belief systems sway around your ears like cheap scaffolding. Whoever you were needs to be reinforced by anecdotal evidence. The flop and flap of physical appendages is ludicrous, not

Brother Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04053649697784530751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24735777.post-77638574304532729522007-09-30T14:23:00.000Z2007-09-30T14:35:24.121Z

The Death Ray review has now appeared, featuring some encouraging comments e.g "From intense narration to first-person hallucination, it's a book that draws you in and leaves you gasping for air..... It's wonderfully, maddeningly inventive stuff..." The Hereford Times piece has also appeared, under the heading AUTHORS QUEST ENDS IN CANADA, giving the impression that, having been rejected by

Brother Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04053649697784530751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24735777.post-77413131061423778272007-09-05T08:47:00.000Z2007-09-05T08:49:24.613Z

A very positive review of the book is appearing shortly in Death Ray, the new UK sci-fi magazine

Brother Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04053649697784530751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24735777.post-75477077759967688642007-07-28T19:32:00.000Z2007-07-28T20:12:10.199Z

The pricing problem with Amazon UK is now resolved and the correct RRP is displayed. I haven't seen the Bookseller article yet but the local paper - Hereford Times - has promised to do a piece. More review copies are going out into the void... With the big corporates offering payola to Waterstones and massive campaigns for their product in the press, it's hard to compete. But we plug on...

Brother Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04053649697784530751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24735777.post-7414692807822811652007-07-20T16:08:00.000Z2007-07-20T16:48:54.990Z

The Qliphoth is now available in the UK. You can actually go into Waterstones and order it. The Hereford branch has been persuaded to stock a copy on the shelves and hopefully other local branches will follow suit after I have paid them a visit. Treadwells , London's wonderful esoteric bookshop, will also be stocking it. Review copies have gone out to the broadsheets and a couple of sf/fantasy

Brother Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04053649697784530751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24735777.post-21636392411114873772007-04-04T09:32:00.000Z2007-04-04T10:33:14.391Z

Setting up UK distribution for the monsterpiece will be quite a complex task, involving registering with Nielsens Book Data, checking out the wholesaling options with Gardners, setting up accounts and effectively becoming my own marketing & PR service. "Every man his own football, " said one of the old Dadaist poets - Tristan Tzara, I think - and this is particularly true in the digital era,

Brother Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04053649697784530751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24735777.post-10738306129249123452007-03-25T21:10:00.000Z2007-03-25T21:23:25.613Z

My novel The Qliphoth is now available on the Libros Libertad website. I haven't actually seen the finished book yet, only a pdf of the proofs, so it's a strangely disconnected experience. But that's typical of weblife. Meanwhile emails go out into the void and the virtual book, this spectral craft of signage, with its greenish glyph of a cover, floats off into cyberspace. It's a liberation,

Brother Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04053649697784530751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24735777.post-76583487286048258252006-12-30T21:05:00.000Z2006-12-30T21:15:15.994Z

That's the end ( or beginning) of the sequence I began and abandoned in October, The litter of my letters. There's more, more spiral-bound in old notebooks. The compost of composition. I shall return, it will keep turning up and around. Focussing now in writing a piece around Iain Sinclair's London - City of Disappearances for www. culturecourt.com and spreading the word about my

Brother Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04053649697784530751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24735777.post-1162158573165381362006-10-29T21:40:00.000Z2006-11-20T21:57:09.286Z

Let's pause, take stock at the centre-point, the fulcrum of my elegant consciousness. But there is no centre, no ghostie toasting snugly in the machine, according to Dennett and the multiple drafts theory of consciousness, where the brain just fuddles along being frantically updated by bits of itself, usually just ahead of any "conscious' decision-making process. The Archives are In a constant

Brother Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04053649697784530751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24735777.post-1161380263172042792006-10-20T21:30:00.000Z2006-11-20T21:55:40.490Z

The bland moment: all services, all surfaces are manufactured, the world's made up for me. I'm a faction, mockumenting my discursives and vocatives, my over-voices. A recent night's footage includes a greying green room with a triangulation of dormer, a pinkish bed-cover. The shadows hide crane-flies. I put a few things together with hyphens. So that was my little lebensraum. But as you age,

Brother Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04053649697784530751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24735777.post-1161115077489127722006-10-17T19:47:00.000Z2006-12-29T12:05:05.818Z

Improvise over a gap year and you grow a new person King Tubby in deep biomass nice creatures surround your sound Jubbly in our cytoplasm you and I multiply the vanities "Consciousness is my only subject" utters old Mikey, bull-moose of the labyrinth

Brother Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04053649697784530751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24735777.post-1161033223974457932006-10-16T21:00:00.000Z2006-11-20T21:53:00.296Z

Sleeping on the dangerous planet to discharge the daily toxins and ghost a new narrative Into the fuzz, dream janglings won't shut up or down in the forsaken lavatories of embarrassment but the senses are a front frontal or fractal our humint is a conjugation of weakling verbs by night desire flared once and ended in fuzzy logic the time-ship is only a time-slip

Brother Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04053649697784530751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24735777.post-1160946912847323112006-10-15T21:15:00.001Z2006-11-20T21:51:34.470Z

The rain bulletins open a wound it's sticky in the comfort zone In the desolate aisles I/we runabout foraging sizzled by brands All colours bleed and run in the soaped world Vodcasts target the dread of dreams re the decay of breath, bad follicles The subject sits sideways like an object distracted by rival cars Who is the feebled verb In the amphitheatre of coloured rhetoric I'd love

Brother Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04053649697784530751noreply@blogger.com