For the happy man! - Collected writings DEPRESSION: Ed Atkins

side of a sperm whale – lanced open at sea, ink flooding the
surrounding seawater like a storm;
Someone elses hair gathered forensically in the
plughole;
Avoidable incident;
Everything removed from everything else;
An 8B, applied to censor;
Or to redeem;
The stuff he shat out when suffering from a suspected
superbug and/or reacting badly to the Sunitinib (sp.);
Pulped egg boxes (etc.);
A certain kind of shell, dark at first – fresh from the
water – then lighter – dried in the sun, crystals of sand sat;
Tears summoned by not blinking while playing something
shit on the computer till about five in the morning;
The first hour of developing light in the morning, early
May, London;
Smoked glass;
That last cigarette – ever, apparently – smoked and
understood standing atop a moss-covered boulder on an island
near Helsinki;
The smoke, I mean, streaming from every orifice,
solidifying into the form of a dung beetle on your delightful
ear;
Apple Mac-grey;
Tim Hecker, the bastard;
Dishwater, tomorrow;
The floor of this place;
Overcast sky on its way to another continent;
The waves, Padstow;
The head on a pint of [...], the light dimming in the
beer garden;
The engine room;
The absent legs of a quadraplegic, glimpsed on the