the book of kat

which is more or less the scripture of the kat
part XXI
now came to pass the days when the doll was more difficult than usual and could even pass as the new shorthand for 'drug-addled vagabond.' she was feral, sharp-tongued and always on edge. no, she wasn't on edge, she was over the edge. the doll, despite what her wise lion had forewarned, had been up and out smoking foilies with the one person you're not supposed to do foilies with. she had blackened fingertips, the indelible ink of a deadbeat. she was in the mindset of a ____________ and you cannot simply turn that off like tap. beseeched by the sugary sweet breeze, she ______-ed, having been up all night, after creeping around primitive arcadian glades and all things lovely. he led her, by hand and foot, then and there, to the glasshouse from which none who enters ever returns, down the road from which there is no coming back. and she wallowed, upon hazy realization, as she was underneath a veil of disco dust, where she stood, 'i'm hurt.'
and then the parasitic breeze shook his skull and wept, 'no, you're not, i'm hurt more.' sensing the doll was deigning to bite her tongue, the greay lion of skid row stepped forth and dropped a bushel of curses upon him. 'o ill-divining breeze of the hills, who is vicious and self-loathing, keep your distance. you have angered the doll, and in turn, angered the skies. for, your treason against the doll is enough to send you to the ninth circle of hell. if you do not heed my warning and continue playing the doll as if she were a game of cards, as if she doesn't see through us all, surely you will perish.'
cool breeze, having not really thrown caution to any cautionings in the past, listened very carefully and did not look amused. this is probably because he is cancerous. what he did not understand, though, is the doll's sweethearted nature. and, finally, after enough time had passed, he joined the doll's side. as she was seated on her thrown of ______________, lion on her left, breeze on her right; the shadows spoke, whispering something along the lines of, 'do not fret, good doll, for i will look after you and call you baby.' after all, there were days and nights to be enjoyed as never before.
looking to her disciples, she purred, 'après nous, le deluge.'



*after us, the flood.

the book of kat

which is more or less the scripture of the kat
part XX
now came to pass the days when there was a great wake throughout the city - from the elite hills of primrose all the way to down an' out alley, back to skid row and all the hidden albion glades inbetween. the doll had been up all hours, looking about thirty shades of mess; walking into streetsign posts and that - she was beat. she was hanging around a lot of bad types, see. a lot of mean people, a lot of nutters. to wit, the skies cast a terrible storm, one of which having sent forth all the little cruel-tongued crabs and ill-willed snakes of which the doll, being a bird of the day, did not appreciate. sugarcakes did not deserve to be beguiled as such and commanded the up aboves to look after her and remove her from the ground thus, as she would surely be ripped wing from wing. she asked, begged and pleaded to be put back in the sky where she belonged and therefore withdrawn from those who had said, thought and acted out against her. 'now i bid you all,' she was above them now, 'lose me and find yourselves; and only when you have all denied me will i return to you.'

THIS WEKE: THE GOSPELL AKORDING TO THE DOLL

THIS WEKE: THE GOSPELL AKORDING TO THE DOLL
on okasion the up aboves pause to wonder at the trajektory of the GRATE MUSE and unrekwited OBJEKT OF FUCKERY, yours truly ms dollface the KAT.
now it is a modern spell is it not i mene ther is nevver a qiet moment for the star krost twiglet bomshel perhaps i did something teribel in a past life i do certainly hav the hair for it
this weke howefer hav surpast even KATS ushual standads of katastrofer AS YOU WIL SEE
firstley she apere around evry dark corner smoking and doing all sorts of powdery drugs going YAR BOO i like drugs LET ME LIVE wots this streetpost doing here hav i gon MENTAL?
i the doll is sorely confused as to wot events i mene i hav grate LUVS for all things fun xpecally the BROUN and abit of the WITE to wake you up in the morning times hem hem and thrice hem
howefer KLOSER XAMINASION revele the truth the wobely from late last yere is the doing of the dredful parasitik wede cool sniveling snake the breez pore me he sa stone me i sa an so it goes. he then advise m,e to play anover brefe voluntary note on the GLASS TROMBONE an tel secerets to the one purrson you shuld really think twice about teling secerets to
one hopes the dredful winjing roter got a good few bob for betraying the luverley hem hem sweeter than SUGAR hem hem grashious most hem ewer in the world in space
this bring us to the SEKOND devvelopment in the kontinueing SOPE OPERA that is kats life.
TO WIT: the pathetic breez hav been appointed to the high CORT of the skies as one of the two having kept a steady cash FLOW. if caught doing anyfing BAD they wil surely punish him thus;
'...10000000 years in the CHOKEY take him awa from her i onley wish libberal do gooders hav not robbed her of the ULTIMET SANKTION the city hav known of you for awhile nd i shuold fondley wish to see him pump his nockers and singe a song of sixpence...'
but it is all in VANE as the wimpering COOL BREEZE is being draged away the doll will howl in the tradisional maner and her eyes will meet his akross the way O DARLING DOLL KAN YOU EVER LUV A ROTTER LIKE ME they seem to say xept one eye is looking at her and the other is looking for her and she's no CHARM herself she had a small 'LIVENER' seek disco dust on the way and she is totally QATER TO THREE but he peresevers
now with a hevy HART the doll lowers her eyes and turn away...

THIS WEKE: THEY SED I HAD TO PLAY WITH THE CARDS I WAS DEALT; I SED NO NO....OH OK THEN

THIS WEKE: THEY SED I HAD TO PLAY WITH THE CARDS I WAS DEALT; I SED NO NO....OH OK THEN
sometimes the doll wonder dejektedley is she is the last person on ERTH sides the wise of lions of perspective who hav a clue wot is going on i mene everbode apere to be kompleatley off their CHUMPS these days.
TO WIT:
this weke the undergroun WORLD ov the TREES diskover that infektious paresite and lifer from the ELITE HILLS of PRIMSORE cool breeze hav babeyshabled the sweet LEMONPOP yet agane
as of LATE he has advanced and SURPRISE SURPRISE stomped all over the doll GOOD HEVENS stone me wot wos he thinking such a TERIBEL desison is an absolut FOOL eror BOO HISS he is a roter hang him the luverly sugarbird tried her hardest
thus the unfortunat breeze has kised goodby to any life on EASEY STRETE (not skid row) spending doll royelties from her preshious word. so for the ILL-STARED breze it is ure dead to me you creep i wash my hands of you cheeres and kis kis;
'...o derest darling pass me a drink i hav jus spent hours chassing DRAGONS o sunshine i am feeling at my wurst wot shold i do? o doll is ther somthing bovering you surly if ther wos anyfing i culd do to make you HAPEY it would be my plesure but first i will need a PARP or TWELVE off the leggendery GLASS TROMBONE of korse.
this is no news to anyone they are well awar of how good an NICE an grashious the doll has been i am abel to revele his PUNISHMENT will be rather DRAKONIAN as you will see chiz chiz...
"in the event that this COOL BREZE character send the GOOD DOLL to a mental BRAKEDOWN to wit the apauling flyblown toe rag CREEP mr. breez shal be entitled to the FOLOWING from the partey of the FIRST PART to wit the deliteful hem hem BEATIFUL hem hem X 100000 sensasion and monster, MS DOLLFACE:
1.) one bag fizzy candies
2.) one siley mess of poetery about oluv trees and brakin glas and that
3.) 'luverly dust' (twice the size of a pea on DOWN an OUT alley)
apart from the KOSMIK JUSTIC that shal desend upon his shoulders, ABSOLUTELY 0, nofink, squat."
the doll is sure you will agre this is KRUEL BUT FARE.

the book of kat

which is more or less the scripture of the kat
part XIX
now came the days and more recently nights, when the doll pointed up to the sky and commanded; 'there are all sorts of snakes slithering 'bout my ankles and i do not appreciate it. no good deed goes unpunished, i can dig that - but i will not be made a fool of. and if that's what this breeze,' she said, swirling the air like cotton candy with her fingertip, 'then he will surely pay until his last breath. put bank on it.'
and then, like a clap, it was all over. she opened her big, glassy, doll eyes and everything was ok. she even heard the smallest noise, which was described as being like that of 'shadows flashing' and it sounded something along the lines of; 'boo hiss - hanging is too good for him, he is a rotter - we discard him.' one day, a long long time ago, the doll knew this breeze of who the shadows, skies, winds, moons, up aboves, thunder and people spoke of. once. a long time ago.
one day she was the last person left who could possibly speak on his behalf and so she said; 'this cool breeze character you speak of is no more. believe you me, he is a creep. there are people in this world that will not hurt you, i have found, and i like to call them corpses. if he is anything now, he is a corpse to me, because he is forgotten to me and therefore no longer in a position to cause hurt unto your humble narrator, the good doll. i did call on to him once, though. i bid him to lose me and find himself; and only when he had denied me would i return unto him. i will warn you, aside from a fetching bruised ego on a sweet angel, this doll denied him. 'i will be no one's caged bird.' and then she purred, 'o, i have an ill-divining soul. i can see him clearly, below me, as one dead in the bottom of a tomb: the house of breeze, truly that is a name that holds absoultely no value with me. he hath burnt his last bridge.'
and someone, someone who she knew of, spoke of and thought often of but had never seen, stepped out of the crowd, lit a cigarette and with heavy-lidded eyes gave her a nod and a wink, saying, more or less; 'doll, sweet doll who is gracious and kind and understands many great things, i was you once. i was the lonely. why they choose to be afraid of you is beyond me. you're just a bird. what's so scary about a goddamn bird?'
and after he said that, she realized he was a charmer and let the honey flow forth. 'if only he knew how long i had waited for him - how the way he speaks could take away my storm, he'd probably call the cops and get a restraining order.' she looked at the sky and then to the shadows. 'as much as i hate myself, i hate him more. and as much as i hate my life, i hate his too - i just can't seem to teach myself to ignore him. he is that cool breeze who drives me crazy, he's the one who gives me the looks like save me and as of late; he is that one creep who, for his sake, should keep his distance until i calm down again.' and her charmer glittered and told her she was an absolute sweetheart and didn't deserve this as she was too precious. and she didn't ever have to worry about getting hurt by him anymore.

the only good doll

is a drunk doll on drugs
thief
mess
junkie
menace
charmer
artist
this is why she matters
the good doll hasn't slept for a week. she's snorting cocaine through rolled-up pages of french poetry. she thinks her shadow is a ghost. it's just another day in the life.
DUSK IS FALLING over the southen and the hazy neon lights of the penny arcades lend the esplande an out-of-season melancholy. the doll's motorcar, her on-again off-again home is parked, besieged by snakes. inside, it's like a 50s boudoir: scarlet leatherette seats trimmed with white piping, velvet curtains, a bottle of champagne on ice. in the wake of the furor following the secret spying of the doll doing drugs, drugs and more drugs; there's an edgy, paranoid atmosphere. earlier, she, her lion and her moon, the one with the bones, ordered people off and it's unclear whether anyone is welcome or not.
events unfold like a surreal film. she appears from the end of an alley, dressed in all black and stares wildly: 'goodness gracious, stone me, o look at this moon tonight it is ripe my mates, ripe indeed.' she is hallucinating. she hasn't slept for four days and nights. she eventually calms herself and acts prison-movie cool, rigid with uncertainty. the silence is horrible.
she is due to speak more words than you can shake a stick at, but the star doll is clearly off the pretty little head of hers. to boot, her 'baby' is as well and has no care in the world for anyone but himself. 'chiz, chiz,' is all the doll says. her lion is just drunk enough.
for the last few months, over the summer, the doll was one of the most talked about sweethearts in the city, mostly for reasons that have nothing to do with her writings. sweeping from the elite hills of primrose to skid row and all the way to down and out alley and back again before she'd give up, that doll would. thus, she is the 'sucrerie gâtée.' then she found a breeze who knew a thing or two about 'parps off the glass trombone' if you can dig what i'm saying. she's been arrested, caught red-handed and most recently, having finished an "exposé" on taking cocaine at an underground session in west _____________town, has been most cruely become the shorthand for 'drug-addled deadbeat'. (which, she spat, were merely 'snakes hissing.')
the doll has been demonised to the extent that people outside the hep would are surprised to learn that that 'blonde junkie dame' was a prodigy, even taken under the wing of french council to recite her poetry.
in earlier times, she talked animatedly of arcadia ('the clearing in the brambles we're trying to reach') and albion (her thougful, semi-mythical city). she came across as an intelligent and original thinker and her inspirations - rimbaud, oscar wilde, james joyce, william blake, kerouac, withnail and i - an impeccable jumble of high and low. here, too, was a talented writer, able to juxtapose rich cultural detail and almost-too-painful confessional. de nos jours de toute façon.
however, over the past few months, attitudes to kat steadily shifted. admirers have wearied of the relentless struggles, while old mates profess to missing the outgoing dreamy cupcake who'd turn up on people's doorsteps with freshly cut flowers. those days seem long gone.
she stokes up her own myth well enough. as if on cue, she picks up a battered copy of poet under saturn, marcel coulon's 1932 biography of dissolute french poet paul verlaine, tears out the frontispiece and uses it to snuffle a fat line of coke while one of the shadows in the back speaks, '...she's like the living dead spending all those pounds daily. she's like a zombie. she's self-centered and cruel-tongued. she's docile, sleeping all the time - because she's so loaded. she's paranoid, skint and difficult. and it's all his fault. she would say, 'i'm hurt' and he would say, 'no, you're not, i'm hurt more'. there really does seem to be no peace for the wicked, doesn't there?
ripping out a sheet of aluminum foil, the doll said quietly, 'i wish i were smarter. this hard shit's for the birds. you can't get comfortable and you sweat and you're boiling hot. you pour with sweat. and your nose dribbles and then all of a sudden, you get the colds. and the sweat turns to fucking ice on you. and you put a jumper on and then you're boiling hot again. and then you get cold again. like you just can't win. and you lie down and that's not comfortable. so you sit up and that's not comfortable. it just drives you insane...'
and before you know it, you're spun.

THIS WEKE: MERCURY POISENING

THIS WEKE: MERCURY POISENING
KRASH FLASH SHOVE PUSH ooer ouch xcuse me yore standing on my hed OI DOLL OVER HEAR come on spotey giv us a grin you mite be ded this time next yere FLASH POP BASH groo urgh stomp stager QUICK LADS SWEET PEACHES HAV WALLKD INTO ANOVVER STREETSIGN post stampead kruch HELOO GORGUSH MA I SEE PROOF YOU AR WHO YOU SAY YOU AR? o dere o dere i seme to hav misplaced it will some FIZZY SAUCERS bootlace make do?
yes it is the HORID SKRUM wich suroud yur humble doll who hav braved the DISCUSTING THRONG of roten pigey eyed SNAKES to repport on the CELEBBRASIONS for her royal redership stone me wot a LIFE me deres.
why do they BOTHER hem hem and thric hem.
so i klere the hubub in the famoush continental RIOT HOUSE in famous SKID ROW to witness the FEASTIVITES the kreme of the krop hovver.
i wus floting at libbertey and DISKONEKTED from the krude mater of our DALEY XISTENCE doll will find herself proan to RELFEKSION. who are we? wot are we doing? where are we goeieing and wot will we find when we get there? will there be some raspbheryy bootlace and 'sunderies' IT MAKE ONE THINK.
at wich point i feel drawn to a STRANGE WORLD WITHOUT ROOLS i beleve i hav just dyed it is verrey sad.
and would it be so teribel? to sa FARWELL To this vale of opaites day in day out no more dredfuel harasament by the rotters like no more o doll hav you stopped with the pick you ups the last time didnot do too clever no more useless chiseing no more getting the babeyshabels once over no more 3AM no more just eternel pece and QIET in the kompaney of the GRATE THINKERS?
it do apere we were BORN TO SUFFER

the book of kat

which is more or less the scripture of the kat
part XIII
now came the days when there was no peace for the wicked - which meant there was especially no peace for the neighborhoods of the elite hills of primrose, skid row and so on and so forth. there was also no peace for the doll's mind. many a night did she stay up, sometimes for no reason at all. finally, one day, she heard word that her one and only the cool breeze in the flesh was trapped in a cage and practically on display. the doll, who at times can be a straight up grouch if she's seen a little of the white or even the brown; however, at this time she was feeling exceptionally worried and so she made no haste. cool breeze was more than fulfilled when he realized which sugarpop was standing on his front porch because it was the sugarpop, the one and only. by this time, though, her feet were bare, cut and bloodied. she stopped and said, 'here i go - telling secrets to the one person you're not supposed to tell secrets to,' handing him her words over and found the nearest floor to take sleep. once she had, cool breeze began to read, "this doll has written this, having been up all night, after climbing the pyramid of the sun (la pyrimida de la sol) and at times i find myself wondering about astrology, i don't know how many you people belive in it, but i am a capricorn - the most philosophical of all the signs. but i don't buy into it, i think it's a bunch of bullshit, myself. but i will tell you this, i don't know what will happen, so i wanna have my kicks before the whole shithouse goes up in flames..." and by that time she had woken up, snatched it real quick out of his hands and cursed him beyond belief. she took it back, of course. there are sunflowerlions to think of.