GX Jupitter-Larsen is a writer & artist, based in Hollywood, California. He's been active in a number of underground art scenes since the late 1970s including punk rock, mail art, cassette culture, the noise music scene, and zine culture. During the 1990s he was the sound designer Mark Pauline's Survival Research Laboratories. There are three published novels written by Jupitter-Larsen. Raw Red and The Condor was published by Blood Print Press in 1992. Sometimes Never was published in 2009 by Crossing Chaos, and Adventure on The High Seas was published this year by Enigmatic Ink. A book of French translations of his essays and short fiction, entitled Saccages has been published by the Lausanne Underground Film & Music Festival and Rip on/off. Vincent Barras, who translated John Cage's Silence into French, wrote one of the book's introductions.
Excerpt from Adventure On The High Seas
Nude and drenched in saliva, she was sliding down the esophagus head first. The blood was rushing to her head. Wave after wave of involuntary peristalsis pushed her towards the stomach. She had been swallowed whole, and with all her panic, wasn’t able to think of anything else.
It didn’t matter that her eyes had been glued shut by all the drool, there was only a damp darkness which, like the inner wall of the esophagus, wrapped tightly around her body. All she could feel were wet rubbery slaps against her skin. She could barely breath. The heart pounding in her ears wasn’t her own.
Suddenly she sensed warmth. She was approaching the stomach. Before she could fully comprehend what was happening, the surrounding muscles, which had clutched her so firmly till now, started to relax. Then, without a sound, she had been spewed into the belly. Plop; then fizz. She splashed into the hollow organ of acids and enzymes.
She still couldn’t really move that much, and the stench was overwhelming. Right away, she started to feel a sharp bite at her legs and buttocks. It was like sitting crunched-over in a bound sack half filled with corrosive slush. The digestive juices were kissing away her flesh, burning away at her muscle tissue. Digestion had begun. It was stinging! It was painful! She wanted to scream, but could only choke on the fumes. She couldn’t make a peep. Between the anguish and her suffocation, she knew her body was being tenderly liquefied.
Before she finally lost consciousness, random impressions pass by her mind: the pussy-willows she used to collect as a small child; her first kiss as an adolescent; oxygen.
Her body had been converted into a soft paste, a dough-like pulp. As she moved passed the duodenum and was received into the small intestine, she was further dissolved by the juices from the pancreas and liver. After all of the nutrients from her body had been absorbed through the intestinal walls, the undigested parts of her were propelled into the colon. There she remained, until she was expelled by a bowel movement.
Life had been too exciting to be fair. Her anatomy had been a meal for some creature from the countryside. The eye sockets of her skull gazed upwards.
What wasn’t then eaten by dung-beetles for food, was subsequently absorbed into the ground for nutrients. Even the dirt was hungry. Heavens to Betsy! On Venus the soggy sun sets in the east, but the sapphire sky that was above us was hemorrhaging with bliss. Formidable disasters, drawn to a few smouldering remnants, were anxiously chewing cud in a gesture of exasperated difficulties. Immediately forestalled, the rust advanced alone the distance between two floods. Measured steps revoked and replaced any impending surprise. The standstill hurried off, toppled closely by silent crumbling underfoot. Vacuum sowed confusion. Ooopsy daisy! Lavish rot from a variety of overlapping and complementary flourishing decays.