the thing

He had been staring at that idiot dog for a couple of hours, its genitals and socials right in front of him. The whole thing stank as folly from a refugee squad. Fed up with that vacuum cleaner in his head. Couldn’t remember Rock Hill. Had been there. It had a dog and it had grandchildren, the dog familiar with names such as Ron and/or Leopold. Some said Rudi. Swift a character. Different from Barky. He felt it had something, to be that dog. Scotty, Barky, or whatever name it went. Whatever it was, he couldn’t resist the urge to make it happen. What did she want from him anyway. I’ve always been that dog, Daisy. As old and stupid as that dog too. Barky. Some said Rudi. Are you aware of that, honey? The wife often spent days on the coastside, near San Diego. Took the vacuum cleaner with her. Why exactly. No use for a vacuum cleaner around there. Barky used to have a lot of hair. Much too hairy, Harry, she joked. What you want from me. You say Herb is hairy and he ain’t. He’s much too old for that. Daisy Daisy Daisy. Herb touched his penis with the screen of a cell-phone, then back to socials, making it sort of a vacuum cleaner experience, haw haw haw. Reached for one of the bottles. Couldn’t reach it. From the very beginning all the booz had to be right there, on that stupid table. He couldn’t figure out why it wasn’t. Exactly as it had been with Daisy, from the very beginning. Of course she knew. Couldn’t pretend she didn’t. Of course. Sure. She knew. Give her one of those doggish grins, Barky. Rudi. Whatever urge it is, go, go for it. Done it on the carpet! Barky done it again! Done it on the carpet! Met her face on his socials and said, This feels very comfortable, he said, adding some soft smile. He made a somehow vacant gesture and reached for the bottle, found it empty. For a second or seven he stared at the bottle. Tried to get to his feet. Then found the thing. Next to the dresser it was. Now watch me climb that window, he thought. He kneeled next to the precious thing, redirected his cell-phone, took a picture, as Daisy had done with fairly any of her dishes. And ate it. No allowance to forget whodunit. The whole damn house made for it. And so he did, his feet firmly rooted upside down.



For more than eight hours he had been sitting in front of that stupid dog, his penis left-, his socials right-hand. The corpse hadn’t made a single sound. Apart from the smell not much of anything else could be noticed.

The vacuum in which he sat had first reached to Rock Hill, it had touched Beatty Park, where only a few days earlier a dog had been killed. Rudi. Leopold. Or Barky. Or whatever other character it may have been. Sure enough Leopold, Scotty or Barky, had been a dog soon after his longing to become one.

He's always been that dog, Daisy, you know about that. Daisy had been living near San Diego for a couple of years. Took the vacuum cleaner with her. Never came back. So Herb told her,
He’s always been that dog, Daisy.

He touched the screen of his cell-phone and reached for one the bottles on a table nearby, couldn’t reach the half emptied thing. Exactly how it first had felt with Daisy.

He saw Daisy knew something, and she wouldn't tell it even if they knocked on the frontdoor and asked her for it. Rudi had done it on the carpet, as he had done so often before, Rudi had done it on the carpet, and Daisy knew about that.

Herb sat looking at his socials with just some few inches more of a doggish, sardonic smile. Rock Hill.
The vacuum cleaner in his head had reached as far as Rock Hill, ten miles south, but, then, gradually, it may have lost that vibrance to be out there.

Soon enough the complete house had been filled with it. The smell it had.

No more talk on Rudi, please.

Herb made a large gesture, tried to reach the bottle. He finally got it. For a second or seven he stared at the bottle. Empty it was. Rudi, goddammit.

After that he again stared at the black hole in front of him. He tried to get up. Something like a pair of stockings lay on the floor. It lay next to the dresser. Couldn’t remember what use a pair of white stockings could have had. He expected rain to ring at the window. The whole goddamn house had to be cleaned and he knew he wasn't able to do it. Sat down again. Stared at the ceiling.



The idiot had more than just your slim posture, or penis, Barky, he had your socials, your background, your bankaccount, and a vacuum cleaner inside your head. Anything stolen won’t rot and it doesn’t stink. His whereabouts have Rock Hill and Beatty Park, sweat nice little daisies, and the dogs are good. Oldschool. Leonid von Barky, Boxtrot.

Rudi had different shapes. Always into something. The classic issues. Daisy sent to San Diego for a couple of years. Did you hear that? Daisy, did you hear that? All of it nicely put together with a string and fabrics. Didn’t see much of anything. Rudi is a case, I said. The case, Herb joked. And such a great dog. When he brought me that bottle. Such a great dog. But it was bit of a challenge for us, was it. Such a great dog. Drank half of the bottle. Daisy, you listen. Such a great dog. Bullfighter, eh Rudi, bullfighter, that’s something too, bullfighter. I didn’t buy that bottle, Daisy, to have only half of it in front of me. Make it two pieces and a half.
 I knew the thing she knew. She didn’t. There’s no cure for that. Rudi, such a great dog.

Quite hairy too. Eh, Rudi.

Don’t care too much about that socials, Rudi. Meet sarcasm with a doggish grin. Thirty seven, remember. The material. A million sod of copies. My opinion. Lost. History. Herb tea. No more guilty as dog when he bought his case. Half a minute of sewing and all of it finished, a bouquet of thousands of empty pages. Hey, Rudi, damn fool, This dark brown juice, what kind of thing is it, guess. Don’t drink all of it. And what’s the hat for, I ask. And imagine what Rudi says, I knew I never had to see that thing. he says. It only had influence on what never was.

mailart expo cafe contraire

Café Contraire, Baudelostraat 3.
SP-van, mailart, Red Series. Nog tot 31 augustus 2026.

x

30 x 30 x 50

conversations

boven : kevin vergult
onder : nava as

boven . onder : spencer bogaert
belgacomgebouw, brutalistische architectuur uit 1976, staat bekend als het lelijkste en was meer dan waarschijnlijk een van de mooiste en meest interessante architecturale constructies in de Gentse binnenstad, gefilmd 1 dag voor het afgebroken werd

boven : kevin vergult

onder : filthybrunette93

x

Z. t. (2026)

x

krr krr krr ik ga de laatste geven krr krr krr
krr krr krr ik ga de laatste geven krr krr krr
krr krr krr ik ga de laatste geven krr krr krr
krr krr krr ik ga de laatste geven krr krr krr
krr krr krr ik ga de laatste geven krr krr krr
krr krr krr ik ga de laatste geven krr krr krr
krr krr krr ik ga de laatste geven krr krr krr
krr krr krr ik ga de laatste geven krr krr krr
krr krr krr ik ga de laatste geven krr krr krr
krr krr krr ik ga de laatste geven krr krr krr
krr krr krr ik ga de laatste geven krr krr krr
krr krr krr ik ga de laatste geven krr krr krr
krr krr krr ik ga de laatste geven krr krr krr
krr krr krr ik ga de laatste geven krr krr krr

after

After you left the table for a considerable length of time.
Actually, she never came back.
You hit the table with a fierce blow of her head. Bizar
Bizar. She never mentioned any such incident.
Most of the landscape had been thrown away. After that
But they built another one, fairly identical to Wednesday forehead.
Yeah. But only after her name had been spelled Wex or something.
That disgusting habit of looking up your cell phone every few seconds.
Oh, sorry, sorry.
After that once more, for a considerable length of time.

27.5

A book that does only one thing, one thing at a time. Sheila Heti. Alphabetical Diaries, page 9.

Een schoorsteen. Een smartphone. Kaarters. Een hond. Het dakvenster. Een avondhemel. Een regenpijp. Een stem. De plankenvloer. Een struik met witte bloemen.
Het tafelkleed.

Ik open Perec, Espèces d'espaces van Georges Perec, bladzijde 99, ik ben op bladzijde 99 aanbeland, en lees het volgende, assis dans un café, ou marchant dans la rue, un carnet et un stylo à la main, je m'efforce de décrire les maisons, les magasins, les gens que je rencontre, les affiches, et, d'une manière générale, tous les détails qui attirent mon regard. Een smartphone.
Neus, een neus, een neus.

Het avondlicht. Witte bloemen. Een regenpijp.

Muur, een muur. Vogel. De muurbeklimming. Het bierglas. Een gebeurtenis. Hond. Zonnebril. Duif. Dak. Er valt iets op het dak, een duif. De hond kruipt overeind en gaat zich lekker luizig zitten krabben.
Het ronde brilletje van de papa van Rumi maakt deel uit van het assortiment, waar voorts ook twee worsten en een samosa deel van uitmaken. Een schreeuw. De toenaderingspogingen van een stadsduif. Geen materie om een roman aan op te hangen. Firaz neemt het zebrapad. Het Poolse huis staat in de steigers. Het autootje van Cirque circulaire. Ook koeien zijn katholiek opgevoed.

26.5

Blootsvoets over het voetpad stappen. Een scooter schiet voorbij.
Long before looking smart was invented.

Een jonge, slanke, niet zo grote zwarte vrouw, wit topje, gefriseerd kapsel, tot de kuiten hangende, ruige jeansrok, smartphone. Zo over het zebrapad van A naar B evoluerend, zonder met wat anders dan het beeldscherm van de smartphone bezig te zijn.
Long before the evolution from A to B had been invented.

Omdat hij nu eenmaal niet luistert Zegt het twee huizen verwijderd op het zich daar bevindende terras zittende, luidruchtige meisje. Naar onze woorden Zegt ze. Naakte armen

indigoblauwe avondhemel
en een in de touwen hangende maan

Long before the Duux Whisper Flex 2 had been created.

Zou het luidruchtige meisje ook een luidruchtig gezicht hebben? Hebt ge al een dag in uw leven meegemaakt Roept ze. Dat ge . . . Maar Anna zei

En dan blijk jij weer gelijk te hebben met jouw neem-me-zoals-ik-ben. Is wat Anna zei. Brieven aan Anna, Robert Musil, bladzijde 9.

het perfecte decor voor een tongkus Maan schuift over de dakpannen van het Poolse huis.

De pwiet, raffelt het luidruchtige meisje, die de jury's regelt, die is tot volgende week op congé. uitroepteken

Achter het gordijn zou zich om te beginnen een stoel kunnen bevinden,

En die piwi moet dus fucking net nu op congé Roept ze.

en iemand die op die stoel plaatsnam.

Een kliederbocht over het kruispunt maken, remmen, afstappen, fiets parkeren, fiets op slot zetten, en dan traag over het voetpad onder de met Magritte geïnjecteerde sierperelaar naar het meest dichtbije terras stappen.
Een pilsje. Om af te koelen.

en ik kon me niet voorstellen Roept ze dat ik met zo iemand te maken zou hebben. En opeens zaten we
samen in de klas
samen in de klas
samen in de klas

Karmozijnrode rozen in dikke, geurloze trossen. Op het eerste van het Poolse huis een raam open. Het witte, semi-transparante gordijn houdt de muggen tegen. Je ligt op bed in die kamer, in dat gele licht waar Edison een patent op nam. Misschien lig je suf naar het plafond te kijken. Je masturbeert of vlooit door een smartphone. Wat ongeveer op hetzelfde neerkomt. Buiten het geroezemoes van honderd stemmen. Vlak bij van muggen die de kamer binnendringen. En hier je mooiste droom,

Long before a first artifice had been created.

x

before radio was invented

Before radio was invented,
Before horses were invented,
Before inches were invented,
Before the morning rain had rushed uphill,
Before South America was invented,
Before shoes and marketplaces had been created,
Before North Pole expeditions were invented,
Before eternity had been built,
Before women were invented,
Before color was invented,
Before glasses were invented,
Before killing with an axe was invented,
Before scaffolds were invented,
Before somewhere else had been conceived,
Before deadlines had been conceived,
Before dialectics of enlightment had been conceived,
Before you were invented,
Before your haircut was created,
Before sexual intercourse was invented,
Before burning books had been invented,
Before clothing was invented,
Before looking for traces had been invented,
Before rain was invented,
Before dices were invented,
Before your first night together was created,
Before anything else was invented,
Long before you became known as dinosaur,
Before you bought your first aftershave,
Is this your first poem, Sir?
Long before you spoke your final words

x

 

x

x

O vlakke, stille zee, rivier genoemd.
Waarachter zich nog meer O vlakke, stille zee uitstrekt, bos genoemd.
En kijk maar uit,
Zich daarachter uitstrekkend, vaak over het hoofd gezien, een hut,
Waar ik aan tafel zit,
tafel waarin je desgewenst
O vlakke, stille zee, zonder dat ik ingrijp, verdrinken kan.