update: growth and health

my higher conscious contacted me today and said to drop all legalities of the car accident; it asked, do you want to participate in gaining anything material on behalf of somebody else’s mistake; and feel greed despite your losses? do you even like the character of a lawyer? are you supposed to be involved with the law, even if the money's on you?


----

new project: describe the ingredients of different products/food (that are bad) into a book.

update: communicative error

you may be thinking about something while making art -- but it does not mean this should become the concept behind the piece -- tell a story .. experience your idea .. translate languages.

there have so many instances throughout university that i have witnessed students starting off their statement as: "well i was hanging out with my boyfriend and like, i just can't explain it, it was like, this feeling like i finally knew i loved him and like a connection was just there. so i wanted to like, show through these sheets and light through the window about how beautiful, like it really was."

or, "man i fucking hate where i grew up and i just wanted to document this shit-hole but make really cool fucking zombies in the background cause DUDE i fucking love zombies."

maybe these could be great concepts and quite possibly it is the english language that is currently being destroyed by twittering, texting goons who no longer have a thought longer than 150 characters resulting in the inability to think beyond depth and explanation and the current status-quo.

noticing routine in yankee land

my daily morning routine (minus thursdays and sundays) with my new job of working in a kitchen consists of: waking up at 5:45am, drinking two cups of coffee, guzzling a bottle of water, eating a banana, bike riding 3.5 miles to the bus stop, catching the route 5 bus, transferring to the route 3 bus and arriving at work at 8am.

on this daily excursion i have come to notice things one notices when doing the same exact task at the same exact time every day. like how when you take a shower, you tend to have some of your most brilliant thoughts that you wish you could invent a waterproof notepad and pen to write all of your genius inventions down... because you don't even have to think about showering after you've done this 8,395 times in your life (if you're twenty three and a half years old, and shower regularly)...thus allowing your mind to relax and mount into a meditative state of dreamlike consciousness.

as when i am half way to the bus stop i tell myself, "i WILL buy ear muffs tomorrow, i know i said i would last week and the week before... but today i swear i will..." i say this almost every morning to myself, even though it's been an average of 80 degree weather, for some reason, the air hitting my ears while riding 16mph gives me an ear ache which turns to a headache and last for about two hours. i am not opposed to wearing ear muffs in august. i am however disgusted buy the word 'muff" and 'ear' in the same sentence.

there are also skunks on the road that have been slaughtered by cars weeks ago and still send an unbelievable aroma 10 feet before approaching and 15 feet after passing by.. and i wonder, how long will it be before they become one with the pavement? or will someone who is supposed to pick up road kill come by to make my bike ride less predictable.. i mean, if not for the humanity of 3 tons of steel hitting an animal, please... surprise me!

on lambert's cove road there are also about a dozen people jogging in the morning...the same people... sometimes wearing the same orange gym shorts. i predict their sneakers are replaced every two weeks. i bet they're not jogging to work. most of these people have gym systems in their mansions during the winter and most likely retired at 25 because they just inherit too much damn money to have the time to work.

these are the same people who are boycotting the proposal to have wind turbines put up in the nantucket sound because (it just won't look the same! the horizon will be ruined... please, we love paying our electricity bill). i want to take the signs they have protesting on their perfectly manicured lawns and shove them up their asses with the carcass of the skunk their driver probably ran over.

i met someone on my daily bus ride. luckily he lives on a road where he can stand right outside of his home and wave the driver down... so while i approach the bus, sweating from the gallon of coffee i drank and wet from the heaping amount of fog that i ride through every morning, i sit down next to my new friend, convinced that the amount of wine i drank the night before is joining the coffee sweat breath as i chat with this cool post office man originally from new orleans, and we sit and chat about the north east, how "white" it is.. how the rich continues to buy out the middle class in all of the beautiful used to be bohemian places and that why oh why if we are so attracted to the culture in NOLA why in hell are we up here on an island that is so stuck up that even the president is vacationing here. oh yes... we revel...katrina! both he and his wife and my girlfriend lost their homes... but we all agreed that it will soon be considered 'home' again.

so it leaves me here... two weeks away from getting out of this nightmare vineyard. it's glorious vast beauty is diminished by the fact that no one wants to REALLY be your friend... unless you hate it for what it has become as well... and that yes, we may be surrounded by fabulous beaches and water... but everything is private... and did i mention that gas cost $1.15 more up here than it does anywhere else in the country.. on average... and the same goes for food. oh... and all of the towns except two are DRY towns... so this means driving a half an hour through anxiety ridden traffic of asshole new yorkers and tennis moms trying to ride a moped all for a glass of wine ---- i wish i smoked herb... god knows this island is one big crop.... vineyard my ass...

new work

beyond description there is a mine field.

primitive femmes

illustration 1/4

statement: humanity is devolving away from its delusive, vulnerable, "animalistic" past as the technological impact is thwarting the human physiology toward a machine ideally resembling a body. yet modernity is capable of resembling a positive force so long as an authentic relationship be present with these subjects of the future.

men and women, both possessing primal characteristics, are driven to places by their conscious and sub that are socially understood -- but are acknowledged [mostly] privately. and still, as inherent as instinct may be, women have become bound to the social array, repressing emotion and desire into dormancy.

through art, whether written or illustrated, the relationship between a modern woman and an animal is formed; the creation is a refined balance of sensuality and valor; anticipation and composure; solace as primitive femmes.

rebos

two days of fasting (so far) feels like eating the most amazing mushrooms.

in cu bus

dream 1: in the corner of my bedroom there were piles of tiny white stingrays. i did not notice them in the dark until they started to crawl up my legs. they turned a glowing bright white when their skin touched mine.

dream 2: i was an ariel ribbon performer in a vintage theatre.

dream 3: i took an entire bottle of valium and went to the grocery store. my father carried me out.

0 comments

always.

like the flies
feeding death.
no response.
negative
spans
of birds
wings
ride
the waves
crashing air
of
disillusioned
minds.

palisade: three months

pipe dreams of midway
segments
between starting lines
and invisible

endings.
willingly conceiving
full body,
when eyes mount

back into sockets;
they are briefly
taking a stroll,
rather plummeting

into entropy:
ruins, of bees swarming
corpses
there is something

to this wandering
honey woven hives
replacing eyes
liquidation evaporates.

pollution

light teeming from the iris; sheeny virus.

djuna barnes

thesis statement for djuna barnes paper.
-

Djuna Barnes, born into a world of male intellectuals who dominated fiction writing of the age emerged as an eclectic writer who defied conventional styles and implemented poetry, prose and autobiographical writing to create an all encompassing genre. Originating a new approach to articulation Barnes deliberately fused her talents as not only a writer but as an artist-illustrator who could visualize and explore the human psyche in revolutionary ways altering the scope of expression.

idle

serious diseases are often in need of dangerous cures.

milkly rain

octopus holds umbrella when it's raining books,
while the fish with legs swims in the street.
and
twins eat crayons for breakfast
painting milk for dinner.

fight or flight

it's the unicorns in bathing suits eating pancakes in the rain
that keep telling me to breathe

union

there is something to the acquiring; you must thrust and pull and move sideways enough to bare the intensity of longing.

through water

that irrelevant silence comforted her so that gradually the volume of her voice increased until she was conversing to the souls of dead slaves downstream.

gracile even when she's not

medicinal affair; abated pressure -- her lips on mine.
i used to like your face in my bosom; are you even inside me?

when we wear back to unclouded postures, it is the clarity on the skin
shining like a mirror she rips off.

articulate

ignoramuses, feminazis, vociferous and carmen miranda.

(one of the twelve final pieces that will be part of my senior thesis)

graduation=t-67 days

packed like sardines

sick today      body responding      to world
around      spinning head     ---     congested like traffic

we are hypnotized by your eyes

hum to the deaf ---
    machine hands:
         a language
            in passing.

we are the pixels on the screen and we feel nothing

unable to
     derive
my waking
     of decisions
to remain
     devoided
or
    rise
   above
      this
       self

lucid

who recalls the leaf that
fell onto the rock that
parallels the footprint on the
ground
   next to the
    grave of the
     woman
who caused her own
      burial
  in attempt
      to reemerge
from her mind
that she filled with
     artificial light

eulogy

the chairs are occupied
in a bar full of empty
eyes
gaze
when i walked in
strolled by
pulled a stool
to place my worn legs
dressed for business
coming from interviews
for jobs
i will get
and quit
because
faking this style
to live
is as
hard
as the
excitement
of the men
who want to hire me

a thesis

are screams
the piercing sound
of reason? lessons
for an a to

puncture me
with your school of thought and
inject your education. please

finish your lesson soon
so i can go to conclusion
(and rest my tired thoughts)
then fill your mind with empty
pages

deciding; which

scream is better than a thesis?

gravity is more

a lie unraveled, truth descends
deception falls from Eden
the depth of endless dark now bends
beyond all conscious reason

swallow all the hollow breath
engaged within the treason
discerning open-ended death
bitter, vacant season

beneath the heavens sordid wind
beckoning the darkest hour
swallowing insipid sin
thirst and then devour

dismantle all the hinges, open nigh the doors
hell ascends into the sky gravity is more.