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Dann Says: Beijng Rock City

Hi Beijing. How are you? Wellit looks like stuff is back to normal now, even if Afrika Bambaataa Bon Joviaren’t coming (guess which one I’m totally not upset about). During my recentEuropean travels I experienced a number of things worth talking about andamongst them was letting nature call in nature. That’s right, wood cabinswithout electricity and running water and no running water means , yep, pooingin the woods. So because I already tried to publish this once but just couldn’t let this one flush on by I present to you Dann Says: A Guide To Pooping In TheWoods.

Today is Wednesday so you can catch The BlackHipster at Salud from 9p.m or The Hot Club of Beijing at Modernista from 8pmish. So the first thing to consider when pooping the woods is finding a good spot. For example are you actually pooping in somebody’s garden? Are there bees around?Are there wolves or bears? It’s pretty hard to run away from a bear when your trousers are around your ankle and there’s a trail of excrement coming out of your bumhole. So choose wisely grasshopper. I recommend somewhere with sturdyground and out of view, behind a bush or something.

Thursday, you can catch electro disco/mashup guru Lifafa from Delhi who’s going to be kicking it at Dada for the first of two shows from 9p.m (check out an interview with the man himself tomorrow on You can get some jazz with JC Cholet’s TriInitiatives at DDC from 8p.m and Steve Blaque doing his weekly folk thing at 69Cafe from 9p.m. Once you’ve picked your choice pooping spot you need to consider what to wipe with. You want to sort this out before you pop a squat and start laying asteamer because once you’re in the act you’re hardly going to be in the position to start hunting around. Obviously first choice is toilet paper but you gotta go when you gotta go and sometimes you might not have any at hand.Next option is an item of clothing, for example the tee shirt of a band youthink is pretty terrible and wish to symbolically express your disdain for byliterally wiping your backside with their merch. However, you could run out of wearable t-shirts pretty quick. There’s using your hand, that’s a thing inparts of South Asia, but if you don’t have access to water there and then you’re going to be picking poop out from under your nails for the rest of theday and nobody will high five you ever again. EVER.

Friday, another chance to catch Lifafa, this time at DDC with Zhang Shouwang, who’s famous for being in aband with the guy from Birdstriking from 9p.m. Meanwhile early and totally‘cultured’ stuff in Sanlitun at the Bookworm with Kate Smith ,Bruce Gremo,andRob Wendt presenting “an exquisite recital of impressionist French song”and possibly a ping-pong show from 7:30p.m. And at School Bar Aussie touringdawgs Deercracks will be rockingit with The Diders and Free Sex Shop from 9p.m. So all in all your best optionis to use the environment to your advantage and pick some leaves to clean upafter yourself with. Once again it’s important you sort this out before youbegin because not all leaves are ideal for running across your back passage.God forbid you reach out for the nearest bit of greenery and take a fistful ofpoison ivy. Having a working knowledge of plants would be beneficial here butjust go with what you know. For example maple or oak leaves aren’t poisonous and have a pleasant texture. Avoid anything that looks a bit funky or diseased and be careful of leaves with spikes or barbs on their underside. That’s not going to end well.

Saturday, there will be arelease/showcase for newish label Ran Music with Soulspeak, MC Dawei,Luvplastik and J.R.G from 9p.m at DDC.At School it’s another edition of Converse Rubber Tracks, which means music for free to you, this time Birdstriking,Nakoma, SNSOS from 9p.m. If you’re not bursting to unload right there and then take the time to explore your surroundings and find that perfect spot. If you’re really attached to the idea of pooping in water you could find a stream to take a dumpin but you’d best make sure you know what’s down the way or else someone be in for a shock sailing along while they’re washing their dishes. Tree stumps can make for nice little pooping platforms: ones with holes in them could almost resemble a sit down toilet but you’d best make sure there aren’t any predators inside that might not take kindly to being shat on. Perching on top is also a good option if you’re partial to Asian squat toilets but check out how sturdy the stump is before you climb aboard or else you might find your wooden throne collapsing beneath you mid-poop because bugs have been eating it out for the past eighteen months.

Sunday, daytime check out a matineething at School with SiberiaCocklebur, Whistling Chambers, The Diagon Alley, Funky Monkey from 2p.m. Later at the same joint you can dig Da Lei Yin, The Pace of Time, BestinTeam, Lattice, and The FirstMedal from 9p.m.At DDC it’s jazz o’clock with Bosphorus DoubleTrio from 8p.m.If you’re going to be pooping in the same area over a long period of time it might be a good idea to take a shovel with you and bury your mess. Cats are pretty good about such matters and hey, cats know what’s best. Cats bury their business in order to keep their operations on the down low from potential prey, so if you’re into killing your dinner it’s good practice. It’s also a good idea because nobody likes steppingin poop, especially your own. The irony just cuts too deep. Monday, nothing, get over it. Tuesday, hip hop open mic at School from 9p.m. I double dare you. Wednesday, School again for Nite Fields, a nother Aus band getting iton with Gate To The Otherside from 9p.m.

On travels off the map you might occasionally come across something a little more structured, such aporta-loo (AKA. a silo of crap) or an outhouse. Outhouses can be pretty sketchy because it’s basically a shack over a pile of do-do. Before you commit togetting down with the brown in one of these establishments check out the structural integrity of the seat and floor or else you might find yourself plunged into a pile of festering feces. That’s medieval punishment and whileit’s pretty “metal” there’s a chance you might suffocate from the fumes. Or geta famous actor’s signature, like in Slumdog Millionaire. Man, that movie is insane.

There we have. Next week I’llbe teaching you how to make a dress for your bearded sister from leaves and twigs. Not really, I’ve no idea how you would do that and I don’t even have a sister. I’ll probably just write about how much I hate airports or something.Whatever. Happy pooping!

In the dark of the night the cat and the pig eventually had to a bandon the metal moving machine. The road was clogged and tangled with the carcasses of too many other metal hulks. They walked into the cold night, not in silence but the to the symphony of the wastes: endless white noise, formlessstatic, infinitely cracking and surrounding them. The cat led the way, her eyes amplifying what scraps of light there was beneath the unrelenting blanket of clouds above. After a long time her eyes found a single sliver of light in the far distant. They headed for it, trudging hour after hour, searching for some sanctuary.

The electric moonlight of the fluorescent tube flickered overhead, offering sparse illumination of the decaying diner. Booths flanked the long window that ran the length of the room, the glass long ago shattered to tiny pieces that littered the tables and seats, like thousands of tiny diamonds twinkling in the dark. Red leather upholstery turned black, moldy stuffing exploding out of the seams, death thrones for the skeletons that sat on them, empty eye sockets eternally fixed on the sagging, damp ceiling.

The cat and the pig sat at the counter, their weapons clearly on display as a warning to any who might cross their path. The writing brush wasneatly laid on the counter top in front of the cat, a single ember burning atits tip, a tiny plume of smoke drifting up into the air. The pig’s rake was next to him, leant against the counter. They each had a tin can filled sat onthe counter. They had brought the cans from outside, the water from a bottle the pig had brought from the moving machine. The creature on the other side of the counter didn’t seem to mind. The cat wasn’t sure if it was even aware they were there as it didn’t have any eyes.

The creature had a scrap of leather sown around its face which had holes to see out of but underneath there was only pale, putrid flesh. It said nothing because it didn’t have a mouth. Or at least it no longer had one, a collection of crude stitches being where its mouth should have been. While it had a humanoid shape it was impossible to tell if it was a he or she. On the one hand it had threateningly wide shoulders and a broad chest yet almost feminine fingers, long and delicate. Savage gashes that had been poorly stitched up across its chests might have once been breasts and a deep cut across its gut could have been an abortion or a disembowelment. The only clothing it wore was a pair of stained and soiled banana yellow under pants from which plumes of see through material flowed, almost like a tutu.

Since the moment they had entered it had not moved and gave no indiction that it might do so. The only part of it that did move were its hands and incomplete contrast to the rest of it they never stopped moving. In one hand itheld a cracked, filthy glass which it turned clockwise and counter clockwise with metronome like regularity. In the other hand it held a filthy rag that itran around the inside of the glass. The cat sat and watched as the dirt wassmeared around the glass, never removed, just shifted around. After a while the cat leapt down from her stool and slowly walked over to the long, broken window. A cold breeze blew. She could see what others could not and from this window she could see across the road, across the tangle of twisted metal and broken bones that consumed the road. She could see that out there stood some kind of monument.

On a mount of skulls from various species sat the carcass of yet not her moving machine. Something about the way it looked made the cat suspectit had never been meant to move in the first place. Paint peeled away to revealthe rusted metal underneath. In the front behind a steering wheel sat thebloated corpse of a humanoid creature, still and silent, mouth gaping, handsfused to the wheel in front of it. In its eye sockets something glowed, some force that shot out and honed straight in for her, across the road in therotting diner. Behind the bloated body was a stack of boxes, on top of which another humanoid loomed, high over the dead machine. A black tie done up tootight causing its bulbous head to bulge ever more. Only impressions where the eyes, nose and mouth should have been. Around its neck hung a box with two glass eyes set within, staring down on the broken road. Its arms were by itsside, both bent at the elbow, fists clenched, both thumbs pointing straight upat the sky. A great leader atop an iron horse surveying its subjects on the broken road, making their way to the land of the dead. The pig couldn’t see them, but she could. Not clearly, but enough, the shape of their twisted and mutated bodies dragging through the maze of twisted metal, headed straight forthe necropolis, like flies to a rotting corpse. They were close now. The electric moonlight flickered on.