steve de vos



In the morning I hung around playing pinball with the thin man in the corner of the cafe on the Upper Street market. We drank a few bottles of beer and a few cups of cappuccino, we watched some salesmen come into the cafe from the design centre show of neckwear. One of them was showing around his wares, which consisted of a dozen silk ropes, some calico wedges with feathers woven into the coarse cloth and a couple of ties with super conducting cloth knitted into the weave.

The thin man asked to be shown some of a particular type and quality. Whilst he searched delicately in his bag for these different types of tie, we heard a demonstration taking place outside. They were demanding the conscription of all those who were for vice and anarchy and were about to take hold of the reins of power. A man seated on a horse rode into the cafe and ordered a ham baguette, mustard and mayonnaise oozed out from the corners of his lips which proceeded to devour everything they could. Growing alarmed by the sounds of unrest we could hear in the street we left the cafe and walked down through the street. Happy, the thin man grabbed my arm and dragged me off towards the market canopies. I looked at him and became alarmed by the smell of ozone caused by the sparks emerging from his metallic joints – he froze suddenly and spun away bouncing off lampposts, walls, cars and doorways disappeared down the street into a doorway not to be seen again.


Steve, modesty

Steve, on a society of consumption

Introduction to the Hypertext Novel

Back to Outwork 1

Steve de Vos - London 02/14/98