Looking forward to trading the crushingly banal dystopia of British existence circa March 2019 with Tim Maughan‘s far more imaginative rendition #InfiniteDetail (out today)

Keep just enough assholes in peripheral vision as to aid in circumnavigating your own inevitable descent into assholism.

A life-sized Bob van Asperen GIF-Tattoo, fingering harpsichord keys over your rippling flesh in restrained, mathematically exquisite arcs.

@skeltoac Perhaps life-sized within the confines of a responsive framework, by way of a nifty concave/convex flesh mapping algorithm?

Half burnt out pier of coin operated “thought leader” automata silently waiting to lay 25 cent baubles of disruption on the barren ocean bed

Twitter's passive aggressive stream-hijack swipe at my being >35? Next: bingo, bifocals, and euthanasia spa resorts.

(Visions of Ballardian garden centre allegory replete with CCTV footage of class war, listless buggery, and cocaine addled lawn mowing)

Next – parabiotic boomers draining the kindertots grafted onto their thighs, like so many wailing youth-batteries: nytimes.com/2014/05/05/sci…

Manufacture a toddler: mix one pack of rabid wolves with a swirling metric vortex of LSD; encase in a rubbery gnome of lesser-demonic visage

Make a splash at any social gathering by bellowing (TWEET IT) at the end of your most memorable sentences. Consider air quotes for emphasis.

“there is no sound like it — the orectic cry of millions of partially lost souls, grown a year older, hating death”

Let’s Play The Shining pippinbarr.com/2015/04/22/let… youtube.com/watch?v=ny5fwQ…

All of the tiny, paper-thin houses murmuring heartfelt muffled playlists into the night, rain, and traffic.

Consciousness, sphincter of experience. That half numb, meat buffered, eighties echo unit response to anything crucial, visceral, vital.

TIL: using mobile.twitter.com on a laptop/desktop unlocks fugly-distraction-bullshit-free mode

Journalists: should today look remotely bright or hopeful, please enjoy this audio-visual suicide induction lozenge: youtube.com/watch?v=oeo1V-…

Your negotiations with mediocrity end in savage, naked, porcine squealing. Drinks are spilled. Shoes are thrown. Defecate abounds.

A sociologist defecates the Internet.

Text collages by J. G. Ballard, created in the late 1950s and later titled “Project for a New Novel.”

Slight nausea as autocorrect decides to capitalize the verb formerly known as trump.