We try and fail to grasp infinity, which is all thanks to these oversized brains of ours. We must realize infinity is but a single thought floating about in a sea of many crashing about in your skull. We exist in a finite space in a finite time and the science of this state pulls our strings. Our priority is not to live, rather, it is our priority not do die. Our body, acutely aware of this, feels pain persistently and all over. Gravity has a powerful push. Machines prolonging their existence, we are. There is meaning to be found in this, that is, there is emotion to be felt. Smiles to give and grab, the arts, laughter, affirmation. These make the universe live for a short time. But what mustn't be denied is that nature is spinning us like a twister. The continuous wars stinging your mind and burning down your neighbors house as the clouds rain fish and toads shall follow you from the maternity ward to the grave. This can be wonderful.
To transcend the science of the earth, we must at times nail ourselves to it. We must occasionally feel our bodies defending themselves fervently against the evermore fervent elements tickling you with feathers of cactus prickles. We must sometimes force ourselves to accept our mortality. We must every once in a while curl into ourselves. If we affirm ourselves in the remorseless, finite nature of our microscopic and gargantuan existences, the universe breaths much easier.
The harsh noise wall. Completely unchanging, completely cranked, completely spectral, completely unforgiving explosions of dark, crunching static. It's perfect! All other sounds are completely canceled out as you sit there, making patterns out of the painful, lightspeed sound crushing you into complete external void. Your mind, temporarily completely alone in the universe, begins hearing sounds in the noise that aren't exactly there. It's almost like making your own compositions under the incessant torture of whoever built the wall in service. Wall noise creates purity and isolation, it makes the world as solipsistic as your toddler years, and it nails you to the painful earth. While you're nailed to this painful earth, you can either smile and let the universe breath, or frown and let the universe sink in melancholy quicksand. I prefer the first one. Don't renounce the pain, receive the pain!
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Monday, January 17, 2011
The Malignant Mollusk Milieu (Automatic)
Hiding under guarded silk, moist as a hephalump under the horizon, was a puddering, powder sea salt shaker. Shivering with a million splendors under the Viennese moon of Hawlslamity, he spoke of kings, queens, and washing machines. Stolen towers ate no flowers of a bedridden spout. Movement in the cataclysm will sure to grow your snout! Here here! Said he, in C. Bashful hound hounds and their breakable industries of parking lot meters! Why have thee deceived me, the austere, conspirator mouse?
The evil gladly share their spines.
They scratch themselves with porcupines!
The turquoise grub, his hat, his shovel
The mangy sprites! On The double!
Wholesome activity in the malignant mollusk milieu. chatter and flattery. Matter and hattery. Murder and battery! All and more growing from your navel.
Snip snap go their claws.
This and that clack their jaws.
Who is to say and who is to blame? A monger of steam on the corner down the way, pushing his place of business with his might and more towards my angler fish home. A badger and his clergyman are in cahoots in the sporadic mystery tame game. Feathers and quills. Memory gils. Mahogany brave! Mahogany brave! Concave mosquitos, concave mosquitoes, a manic coffin full of rain.
What do you see when you ascend to the pipers palace in the earth's forgotten crust? A small note? What says it?
Alas! The malignant mollusk milieu
has faded to nihil, didn't you know?
There shall be no laughter, there shall be no screams
The shore of the sea is deprived of it's dreams.
Fine with you! The story's over anyway. Return to your antics.
The evil gladly share their spines.
They scratch themselves with porcupines!
The turquoise grub, his hat, his shovel
The mangy sprites! On The double!
Wholesome activity in the malignant mollusk milieu. chatter and flattery. Matter and hattery. Murder and battery! All and more growing from your navel.
Snip snap go their claws.
This and that clack their jaws.
Who is to say and who is to blame? A monger of steam on the corner down the way, pushing his place of business with his might and more towards my angler fish home. A badger and his clergyman are in cahoots in the sporadic mystery tame game. Feathers and quills. Memory gils. Mahogany brave! Mahogany brave! Concave mosquitos, concave mosquitoes, a manic coffin full of rain.
What do you see when you ascend to the pipers palace in the earth's forgotten crust? A small note? What says it?
Alas! The malignant mollusk milieu
has faded to nihil, didn't you know?
There shall be no laughter, there shall be no screams
The shore of the sea is deprived of it's dreams.
Fine with you! The story's over anyway. Return to your antics.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
May The Skull & The Moon Spin Thee Like A Top (Automatic Writing)
How strong, how weak, how many? Even if the days are old, that doesn’t rule out infancy in their realm. Quite the contrary! Days… falling like waterfalls eroding the nearby, mossy stones that mother goose herself couldn’t stand to listen to. Yes, mother goose. Nothing but stories of blowing mist and tropical bird shit falling from the skies wiggled into her cochlea, making it shrivel and recite the poetry of somatic oblivion. This oblivion was the ether from which we emerged and as the strawberries come to full blossom underneath the flaming floorboards of your most repressed evenings, we massage and lick the mud-bathing lizards hiding in the moonlit, climaxing woods inhabiting your small intestine. As the shit flows, the colorful and idiomatic party that was this friendliness gets, if you don’t mind my saying so, quite pooped. HA!
There is a huge flash of light and as your eyes adjust, you find that you are elsewhere. No more lizard licking for you! Oh, how dull. It is that one backyard you remember from your distant childhood. You only saw it once or twice in your twilight days, when your teeth chattered, gossiped, and gambled profusely. There is a tree giving forth berries and leaves exploding with colors never before seen. How fast it grows! A toy train speeds all around the branches and all seems lovely, but that tree wasn’t there when you first saw this yard. Has it been that long? Tick tock goes the clock.
One… two… three… four. Who might that be? Whose voice was that? You’re the one who heard it so don’t ask me. You felt it bounce and breath in your polished and grinning skull. Look out! Pumpkins circle you with forks and knives in hand. They sing like kings of a gold encrusted swamp and the flames behind their carved faces grow faces of their own. They snicker and shout like a teakettle spout! Snickering, snockering, snuckering, Hey! When do the jelly’s start stinging their pray. Five… six… seven…
The sun of another living world above you, the moons of mars inside you, all was well. The paint tasted wonderful too. In the Cineplex, the sticky fingered praying mantises convened, vaporized, and blood let with the rowdiness of a bubble filled bathtub flying down the white rapids within moose veins. The vaudeville themed harpsichord in the corner is jammed by dead, dusty possums and the film was out of focus. A claw emerges. A claw emerges from the dark corners of this dusty, flickering theater. It has come to choose, by flip of shiny dime, who to take to the bowling alley of the restless chicken’s second favorite nightmare. All flee for the exits, but one remains. The quiet one, the sneaky one. The claws dig in! Out comes her beating heart. She dies holding her favorite rabbit. Sniff sniff sniff sniff. The gods gaze in awe! Sweet Jesus! So says one of the Gods.
There shant, by prophecy foreseen in the cobwebs of green lightening above thee, be a heart like this ever again. Her death was not in vain! Seahorses melt into a vast, primordial form within it’s beating core. Too euphoric to remain a solid I suppose! They float about, all becoming one in a bubbling ooze of smiles and spectral spirals. In your birthday suit and your bouquet of snake mouthed gardenias in grasp, you spin down these spirals. Where now? Far below you, you’re in freefall by the way, is a town. It’s too stuck on the earthquake ridden surface of earth to get much done. When you reach this town, they won’t be able to scrape you off of the sidewalk. What to do??
8… 9… 10!
There’s that voice again! A trillion winged maggots arise from beyond the horizon. They smelled the melting, fungal cheese burning infinitely many holes in your amphibious pockets and they fell in love! That cheese is yours! The town below you crumples, as if it were a doodle on scrap paper. The abstract, sharp cornered ball floating in the void of nothingness folds into origami. It looks kind of like you! Dolphins dressed up as witches start flying out of your ears and every pore of your being explodes with yellow seaweed as you fall towards your opening mouth of paper and ink. You gobble yourself up!! Damn, you were the best thing you ever tasted! Next to hockey…
You are not of this universe. There is nothing in the cradle but more cradles. Rockabye baby… What? Really? No! You look under this universe and all like it to prove these words wrong. Luckily, they’re neatly stacked one above the other like pages of the novels nailed shut as they spin around the twisters of peaceful blood. Below this stack you find a lavishly dressed ostrich sleeping upon a hammock made of harmonious honey. He floats around in a huge, bioluminescent abyss, surrounded by slowly melting ice sculptures of grand kings grasping their feces, holding it high and mighty so the heavens might see. The ostrich, he snores like the pack-leading bison in the dry tundra, he does! Orange mucus bubbles come flying fervently from your nose. Where do they go? They play it by ear. After some exploration of this sleeping, flightless bird of high ornamentation, they choose to set up camp under its toenails. Coffins filled with tear-ridden telescopes and lovemaking scorpions orbit their campsite furiously! FURIOUSLY I SAY! Snowmen grow spontaneously from the gopher holes around their white-hot campfire, laughing maniacally as they ripple like the acorn trees in the duck pond behind the copious heat waves. Shit! The mucus bubbles, in their beautifully intimate, womb-like tent, they smother one another with piss soaked rags stolen from Santa’s throat and stir up quite a ruckus. You feel your skin and are overcome by blissful Goosebumps.
Another flash of light overcomes you! You’re home! The sunroof opens and you find that above you there stands a glacier the size of Pluto, melting quickly into your living quarters as seventeen drunk Latvians explore it’s icy surface in the nude. The nude I say! The stinky, rainbow colored earthworms who happily crawl in spirals on the springs in your mattress predicted this whole fiasco once. Sometimes they whispered it to you while you slept, changing the course of your dreams. Meanwhile, the feathers magnetically pressed against your sleeping, blanketed thighs slowly took flight and with their gentle tickle, turned the sea mines of the astral plane above you into loving canine eyes and vials of glowing dragon ejaculate.
The large bumblebees dressed as policemen come bursting out of your delirious belly and tickle your nose threateningly with their polished stingers. How rude of them to be meddling about while you drift in slumber! To hide yourself from the strong arm of the law, you hop with haste into the clitoris of the nearest frolicking cocoon. What do you find? Darkness! Eleven… Twelve… Thirteen… Fourteen… Fifteen… Again you hear that voice! Who might that be?! So says you to the quiet, breathing black. Where could you possibly be? How can you possibly see? You vomit blindingly bright fireflies, so as to light your new world. Their light does away with the deceitful darkness. Would you like to know what they have revealed? Look up.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
School
School is traumatic. When I think about school, I am a pessimist in all realms of existence. The oceans go from salt-water to gasoline. There are no trees in the forests, only large matchsticks. Art becomes a way to waste time, not give it meaning. The words of others sound like junkyard dogs trying to rip out each-other's trachea. I fear my family. I envy my friends. All seems futile as I convince myself that i'm paralyzed in motion... when i'm worrying myself with school. It's always the white elephant in every room I enter. It makes every bite of food feel like gluttony. Every dollar earned feel like greed. Every moment of introspection feel like sloth. When it comes to school, I was programmed wrong and even if I tried to right it, I'd hate myself for it. School turns our abstract minds into the stench seeking antennae of the carpenter ant. It makes us anonymous. It makes us nothing. When we die, we shall be in equilibrium with marbles. Why the fuck would I ever want to be anywhere close to marbles before than? Answer that question, school. I love to learn, but if this learning is in association with school, learning feels like i'm hanging from my bedroom sealing trying to paint my neighbors wall with a five inch paintbrush. I'm an optimist until those who are in charge of me give me the casual reminder "chris, you gotta get some schoolwork done". It is literally the only thing in my life that tortures me anymore. It's the final obstacle. I don't know how to overcome it and although partly wise, the words "Just get it over with" aren't going to change anything.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
The Euphoric Human Junkyard
I was readjusting to human skin that morning. Much time had been spent in the body of the earthworm. I Wiggled through mud, hiding from the blind moles and their salivating lips and the robotic eskimos with their spears above the surface of the polar earth. The barrier of time had blown away and in my two hours of sleep I took my fill of months. Stuck at the north pole, shivering in moving fear, I was in paradise. A man who inhabits only my dreams and perhaps a single, forgotten memory approached me. He stroked my hair with his warm hand and told me this. Dishdawash, you must suffer tomorrow. You must make yourself feel rotten and pointless. You are to laugh at the face of this despondency, for in doing so, you'll finally understand the true nature of the negative. My eyes opened and revealed to me again the dream of the waking world. Thus dawns the journey that would spin me faster than any planet could ever dream to orbit.
Sights for sore eyes polished my teeth, making them shine like mirrors, reflecting your smiles. First Nemo, then Calypso Bizaar, then Dave, then Reanna. The motor vehicle picked up speed as it went quickly down the veins of society, vibrating my gizzards and making me feel quite odd. Around us were many stationary, green fireworks (There are always many to be found in California) and within us there was an ever increasing bond between us being wrapped and tangled in explosive accordion solos. The channeled music of many excited, vehement minds played. Dave let his vocal chords shiver like guitar strings and the rest joined in when they could as the air thinned and refined outside. Thank Gamab for the sea! Kaleidoscopes and thick apple cores were my business for a short time as I began effortlessly liquifying the third planet from the sun. This very planet roams around in my head, along with the sights of myself and others. If we so please we can be anything. Be it a solid, a liquid, or gas. I felt loved and loving. Than, things began to get fishy.
My arm was the swimming hole of a blindingly white mouse. It pops up out of the water, gives an adorable little squeak, and hides in my liquid humorous again. I felt the little bastard under my skin. This is not a breeding ground for pests, I thought. It traveled to the shore that was the back of my neck and embraced the waves of my hair. This will not do! Dave gave it a firm squishing, sending it on it's way to death. A Sigh of confused relief came over me. My life was changing before my eyes. Here we are, at the euphoric human junkyard.
The news was sung that Sir Paranoia, dressed in lavish, robotic apparel, would merge his ardent aura with our hybrid of vibes. I was excited for Calypso Bizaar, for it had been a long while since she last snip snap photographed the other side of the crimson sky, and I wanted to be with her every step of the way, adjusting that aperture for a good, crisp, sharp image. I took an invisible coin from behind her ear, and before her closed eyes I tossed it into the sky. There it would stick and become our sun, illuminating the world from thereon out.
Some krazy krauts with their soul stealer quickly burst into our lives, as if from right under us, and interviewed Calypso on a few 21st century topics. They disappeared as mysteriously as they arrived and we couldn't help but giggle. Your face now flies across the Atlantic! A smiling man and his music emitter emerged, as if from out of a technicolor heep of jolly ash, and began to sing his ditty. His upper teeth were tremendous! He controllably convulsed about with his roller bladed walkers, his eyes locked on Calypso, muttering lyrics of a highly... muttered nature. We gazed at this spectacle for a short while and then vamoosed. Reanna and Dave went about their own devices for a short time whilst we others and our hodge-podge of goods found refuge on the spinning, popping, growing grass. Suddenly, dream logic began to prevail yet again over my bamboozled noggin. Well guys, am I asleep and in my memory? So says I to the excited, female table (who by the by formed a profound camaraderie with a local, red billed gull). No Dishy, you're awake! So says the table to I. I have been fooled before, so to be certain, I tried to take off in flight, to no avail. Oh...!! HA! So says I to a gee-tar strumming Nemo. She and her poised, relaxed, essential presence that day.
A stoned fellow, with his nearly closed eyes filtered further by his hat, sat with us and cryptically mumbled of he and his uncle's notoriety in the satanic and wiccan community. He suckled on our orange and went on his way. We comfortably thought "What the flying fuck was he about?".
We put our feet in motion on the surface of this spinning, useless rock we arrogantly call "Earth" as my mind begins going from a liquid to a gas. This is a good time for an absurdly puerile comedy routine from a just-over-hefty, sweaty, un-showered man. His routine was slowed by his fidgety hand motions as he picked up the props that seal the deal on his bubblegum gang level puns that somehow tickled our fancies a great deal, perhaps because we wanted to support his antics if nothing else. He told stories of death and hyperbolized tears. Ha! No seriously, he was funny. Too bad we didn't have much change for him. The falling actions of his marvelous play was accompanied by the Saren, who was shrouded in legend and mystery that day. With him he brought his perplexing but exciting trains of thought, which would baffle the lot of us as he always does. I mean that in the best possible way.
After staring at the walls of the bathroom exterior going "Holy jumping shit!", we began to walk along on the beach. I was in a paradise far superior to my earthworm escapades, for this paradise was shared by the smiling faces and minds of those who put meaning in my life. The sun reflecting on the surface of the sea stunned me and for the first time in a loooong time, the vertigo of the shore didn't kick in. Looking at the sand I walked upon happier than i've ever walked before, I gazed in awe at the footprints. A memento of past experiences. What we're their stories? Maybe somebody will see my steps before they are done away with by destructive time and wonder something similar. To the right of me were my chums and well-wishers speaking well of my words and ideas. In turn, life felt more fruitful than ever. We sat and stared at the subtle, crashing waves, together in eternity. I wanted to burst into tears but I thought of an even greater act of confident self abasement. I saw Reanna remove her shoes and I felt a hot, blue flame light under my ass. My shoes, valuable pocket materials, and shirt flew off faster than you can kill a dead mermaid and, with my eyes locked on Saren, I threw myself into the shallow waters, as if baptizing myself. I felt the water fill and hollow out the deep crevices of my nose as the pasty sand enveloped my ears and open, agitated eyes. The current quickly started sucking me back and I let it do so! My back scraped against the rough treasures half buried in the beautiful muck. I ran as quickly as I could back to my friends. I conquered my fear of the vast ocean and all of it's mysteries.
I enveloped my skin in sand, oh the sand!! I was freezing in the cold winds as I made myself filthy while I basked in my drenched pants and undies. My love for the others present made my back hurt, but Dave decided to "form the earth" upon it with sand, ridding it of this ache and replacing it with tingling sensations all through my gutty-wuts. Nirvana, eat your heart out. I had reached Moz deeper than I ever had before. So much deeper, actually, that I had to write of it on my arm. We were considering writing "It can be" on my bare chest but through circumstances I can't quite recall, it didn't happen.
Dave sang his magnum opus and a few other powerful tunes as his hands blurred and twitched all about his faithful, vibrating strings. i told a story to Saren in the sand of shattering centipedes digging under a wall, vanishing, and then sneaking up behind him, attempting and failing to knock him to the floor. I'm a proud weakling. Calypso, Sir Paranoia, and I took a lengthy amount of time figuring out how to transport our things to the rocks, but we decided instead to take shifts on traveling over there. Dave, in his tickly glee, began running along side a fellow embracer of the many suns of this dying, gorgeous world of ours and I had never been happier for him. We cheered Dave on as the fellow's friends (Where was he from again Dave?) cheered him on. I felt like I knew the people twenty feet to our left for years, even though I saw them for about six or seven seconds. That's living.
Calypso and I walked upon the rocks, gazing at the dead jellyfish and urchins and exploring, with our eyes, the crashing walls of white, bubbly water. Mist occasionally overcame us as we laughed at a single little duck being abrasively thrown about in the waves. Gosh that thing was having it rough, but it seemed rather benign about the whole thing so we didn't lose sleep over it. We concluded that birds own the realm of dreams, for they inhabit the waters, the land, and the skies. I told her a few things about the nature of our bodies, lightening, and the importance of feeling life, because when we die, we won't be able to feel a thing. She gave me a hug and thanked me. I wanted to cry again. I never felt more connected and accomplished in my life. I don't think you guys realize how happy you make me when you say i'm changing your lives. No... happier than that.
Suddenly, out of the welcomed blue, Dave began chasing after me. I ran and screamed in fear as he began catching up to me. He fell to the floor and utterly failed!! I am victorious! Gosh, that was fun. I then taught Reanna, Sir, and Calypso how to pass out, making them laugh. Reanna kept tickling me by saying that the things I say should all be written down. Oh how flattered I was! Suddenly, I began to feel incredibly flushed. The cold became a bit much and I had greater difficulty enjoying things. The test that the man of my dreams wished upon me was beginning.
We started walking around in the shops, exchanging jokes, ideas, and good cheer. I began feeling truly sick and I desired greatly to pull blankets over me and sleep. Very quickly though, I started to laugh at the face of this despondency, for I was truly beginning to understand the true nature of the negative. It can be positive! I wanted to throw myself a parade. My life was changed from this shitty feeling, for the stench of it turned to the beautiful smell of all the flowers of all the planets of all the galaxies. I was still in Moz. Calypso kept expressing concern about me and I kept assuring her that I was, infact, in a greater bliss than I was when I was feeling well earlier. I had accomplished what I had wanted to for my whole life. Thank you, the man of my dreams.
During our shopping, I noticed that the sun was setting. It was pink and shining a light on the clouds overhead, making them look like a beautiful, painted landscape. One of the stand-owners stood completely still as he gazed upon the awesome sight of the earth spinning into the night. I stared at the descending giver of all that I know and felt the most genuine beauty I've ever felt. When it sunk behind the watery horizon, the others went into a gypsy/buddhist shop of some sort. I stood outside and finally allowed myself to cry my eyes out. That sight was the greatest experience of my waking and dreaming life, which is saying so much.
In the new-found night, we found a fellow named Neil. He welcomed our gang with open arms and introduced us to some of his friends. We felt so involved with them. For the first time, I felt totally and unquestionably accepted by all the strangers around me. So many hugs were given. So many songs were sung. So many smiles were stimulated. Paradise in the euphoric human junkyard, we shall return to you again. The rest of our journey together that day was spent laughing, nostalgically recalling, discussing ideas, and laughing some more. Back in La Crescenta we were surrounded again by people who chose to move slow, so as to not over-excite themselves. We lit Vons, not the dull, fluorescent lights over-head. The rest of our lives is beginning my friends. Let us squish the Gods with our fingers. Let us boil the oceans with our grins. Let us melt the kingdoms with our blood. Let us grow the forests with our aura. Let us explode stars with our gaze. Let us.. let us.. let us!!
Sights for sore eyes polished my teeth, making them shine like mirrors, reflecting your smiles. First Nemo, then Calypso Bizaar, then Dave, then Reanna. The motor vehicle picked up speed as it went quickly down the veins of society, vibrating my gizzards and making me feel quite odd. Around us were many stationary, green fireworks (There are always many to be found in California) and within us there was an ever increasing bond between us being wrapped and tangled in explosive accordion solos. The channeled music of many excited, vehement minds played. Dave let his vocal chords shiver like guitar strings and the rest joined in when they could as the air thinned and refined outside. Thank Gamab for the sea! Kaleidoscopes and thick apple cores were my business for a short time as I began effortlessly liquifying the third planet from the sun. This very planet roams around in my head, along with the sights of myself and others. If we so please we can be anything. Be it a solid, a liquid, or gas. I felt loved and loving. Than, things began to get fishy.
My arm was the swimming hole of a blindingly white mouse. It pops up out of the water, gives an adorable little squeak, and hides in my liquid humorous again. I felt the little bastard under my skin. This is not a breeding ground for pests, I thought. It traveled to the shore that was the back of my neck and embraced the waves of my hair. This will not do! Dave gave it a firm squishing, sending it on it's way to death. A Sigh of confused relief came over me. My life was changing before my eyes. Here we are, at the euphoric human junkyard.
The news was sung that Sir Paranoia, dressed in lavish, robotic apparel, would merge his ardent aura with our hybrid of vibes. I was excited for Calypso Bizaar, for it had been a long while since she last snip snap photographed the other side of the crimson sky, and I wanted to be with her every step of the way, adjusting that aperture for a good, crisp, sharp image. I took an invisible coin from behind her ear, and before her closed eyes I tossed it into the sky. There it would stick and become our sun, illuminating the world from thereon out.
Some krazy krauts with their soul stealer quickly burst into our lives, as if from right under us, and interviewed Calypso on a few 21st century topics. They disappeared as mysteriously as they arrived and we couldn't help but giggle. Your face now flies across the Atlantic! A smiling man and his music emitter emerged, as if from out of a technicolor heep of jolly ash, and began to sing his ditty. His upper teeth were tremendous! He controllably convulsed about with his roller bladed walkers, his eyes locked on Calypso, muttering lyrics of a highly... muttered nature. We gazed at this spectacle for a short while and then vamoosed. Reanna and Dave went about their own devices for a short time whilst we others and our hodge-podge of goods found refuge on the spinning, popping, growing grass. Suddenly, dream logic began to prevail yet again over my bamboozled noggin. Well guys, am I asleep and in my memory? So says I to the excited, female table (who by the by formed a profound camaraderie with a local, red billed gull). No Dishy, you're awake! So says the table to I. I have been fooled before, so to be certain, I tried to take off in flight, to no avail. Oh...!! HA! So says I to a gee-tar strumming Nemo. She and her poised, relaxed, essential presence that day.
A stoned fellow, with his nearly closed eyes filtered further by his hat, sat with us and cryptically mumbled of he and his uncle's notoriety in the satanic and wiccan community. He suckled on our orange and went on his way. We comfortably thought "What the flying fuck was he about?".
We put our feet in motion on the surface of this spinning, useless rock we arrogantly call "Earth" as my mind begins going from a liquid to a gas. This is a good time for an absurdly puerile comedy routine from a just-over-hefty, sweaty, un-showered man. His routine was slowed by his fidgety hand motions as he picked up the props that seal the deal on his bubblegum gang level puns that somehow tickled our fancies a great deal, perhaps because we wanted to support his antics if nothing else. He told stories of death and hyperbolized tears. Ha! No seriously, he was funny. Too bad we didn't have much change for him. The falling actions of his marvelous play was accompanied by the Saren, who was shrouded in legend and mystery that day. With him he brought his perplexing but exciting trains of thought, which would baffle the lot of us as he always does. I mean that in the best possible way.
After staring at the walls of the bathroom exterior going "Holy jumping shit!", we began to walk along on the beach. I was in a paradise far superior to my earthworm escapades, for this paradise was shared by the smiling faces and minds of those who put meaning in my life. The sun reflecting on the surface of the sea stunned me and for the first time in a loooong time, the vertigo of the shore didn't kick in. Looking at the sand I walked upon happier than i've ever walked before, I gazed in awe at the footprints. A memento of past experiences. What we're their stories? Maybe somebody will see my steps before they are done away with by destructive time and wonder something similar. To the right of me were my chums and well-wishers speaking well of my words and ideas. In turn, life felt more fruitful than ever. We sat and stared at the subtle, crashing waves, together in eternity. I wanted to burst into tears but I thought of an even greater act of confident self abasement. I saw Reanna remove her shoes and I felt a hot, blue flame light under my ass. My shoes, valuable pocket materials, and shirt flew off faster than you can kill a dead mermaid and, with my eyes locked on Saren, I threw myself into the shallow waters, as if baptizing myself. I felt the water fill and hollow out the deep crevices of my nose as the pasty sand enveloped my ears and open, agitated eyes. The current quickly started sucking me back and I let it do so! My back scraped against the rough treasures half buried in the beautiful muck. I ran as quickly as I could back to my friends. I conquered my fear of the vast ocean and all of it's mysteries.
I enveloped my skin in sand, oh the sand!! I was freezing in the cold winds as I made myself filthy while I basked in my drenched pants and undies. My love for the others present made my back hurt, but Dave decided to "form the earth" upon it with sand, ridding it of this ache and replacing it with tingling sensations all through my gutty-wuts. Nirvana, eat your heart out. I had reached Moz deeper than I ever had before. So much deeper, actually, that I had to write of it on my arm. We were considering writing "It can be" on my bare chest but through circumstances I can't quite recall, it didn't happen.
Dave sang his magnum opus and a few other powerful tunes as his hands blurred and twitched all about his faithful, vibrating strings. i told a story to Saren in the sand of shattering centipedes digging under a wall, vanishing, and then sneaking up behind him, attempting and failing to knock him to the floor. I'm a proud weakling. Calypso, Sir Paranoia, and I took a lengthy amount of time figuring out how to transport our things to the rocks, but we decided instead to take shifts on traveling over there. Dave, in his tickly glee, began running along side a fellow embracer of the many suns of this dying, gorgeous world of ours and I had never been happier for him. We cheered Dave on as the fellow's friends (Where was he from again Dave?) cheered him on. I felt like I knew the people twenty feet to our left for years, even though I saw them for about six or seven seconds. That's living.
Calypso and I walked upon the rocks, gazing at the dead jellyfish and urchins and exploring, with our eyes, the crashing walls of white, bubbly water. Mist occasionally overcame us as we laughed at a single little duck being abrasively thrown about in the waves. Gosh that thing was having it rough, but it seemed rather benign about the whole thing so we didn't lose sleep over it. We concluded that birds own the realm of dreams, for they inhabit the waters, the land, and the skies. I told her a few things about the nature of our bodies, lightening, and the importance of feeling life, because when we die, we won't be able to feel a thing. She gave me a hug and thanked me. I wanted to cry again. I never felt more connected and accomplished in my life. I don't think you guys realize how happy you make me when you say i'm changing your lives. No... happier than that.
Suddenly, out of the welcomed blue, Dave began chasing after me. I ran and screamed in fear as he began catching up to me. He fell to the floor and utterly failed!! I am victorious! Gosh, that was fun. I then taught Reanna, Sir, and Calypso how to pass out, making them laugh. Reanna kept tickling me by saying that the things I say should all be written down. Oh how flattered I was! Suddenly, I began to feel incredibly flushed. The cold became a bit much and I had greater difficulty enjoying things. The test that the man of my dreams wished upon me was beginning.
We started walking around in the shops, exchanging jokes, ideas, and good cheer. I began feeling truly sick and I desired greatly to pull blankets over me and sleep. Very quickly though, I started to laugh at the face of this despondency, for I was truly beginning to understand the true nature of the negative. It can be positive! I wanted to throw myself a parade. My life was changed from this shitty feeling, for the stench of it turned to the beautiful smell of all the flowers of all the planets of all the galaxies. I was still in Moz. Calypso kept expressing concern about me and I kept assuring her that I was, infact, in a greater bliss than I was when I was feeling well earlier. I had accomplished what I had wanted to for my whole life. Thank you, the man of my dreams.
During our shopping, I noticed that the sun was setting. It was pink and shining a light on the clouds overhead, making them look like a beautiful, painted landscape. One of the stand-owners stood completely still as he gazed upon the awesome sight of the earth spinning into the night. I stared at the descending giver of all that I know and felt the most genuine beauty I've ever felt. When it sunk behind the watery horizon, the others went into a gypsy/buddhist shop of some sort. I stood outside and finally allowed myself to cry my eyes out. That sight was the greatest experience of my waking and dreaming life, which is saying so much.
In the new-found night, we found a fellow named Neil. He welcomed our gang with open arms and introduced us to some of his friends. We felt so involved with them. For the first time, I felt totally and unquestionably accepted by all the strangers around me. So many hugs were given. So many songs were sung. So many smiles were stimulated. Paradise in the euphoric human junkyard, we shall return to you again. The rest of our journey together that day was spent laughing, nostalgically recalling, discussing ideas, and laughing some more. Back in La Crescenta we were surrounded again by people who chose to move slow, so as to not over-excite themselves. We lit Vons, not the dull, fluorescent lights over-head. The rest of our lives is beginning my friends. Let us squish the Gods with our fingers. Let us boil the oceans with our grins. Let us melt the kingdoms with our blood. Let us grow the forests with our aura. Let us explode stars with our gaze. Let us.. let us.. let us!!
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Comfortably Confused
In near unison, in some crowded "Ralphs?" somewhere, we began to blur our vision. For you it was absolutely disgusting, but the futile mission to find peacocks was too strong in our hearts! We drove about and sang a few tunes, found some empty dumpsters, and then forgot how things worked. As Dave excavated the ruins from another time from the flowing waters, the liquid time, I basked in your compliments whilst desiring the overhead clouds to fit in my pockets, a memento of this triumphant day if you will! I took a mental picture with my mind and in my mind that picture shall stay!
To the sounds of Nurse With Wound and Patti Smith, I tried to think of the best way to reciprocate and I recalled something you wrote that moved me as greatly as that which I made that you claimed to be moved by and told you how I felt about it. Then another futile journey began
The shore stares at the white, transparent steam arising from the falling waters on this flat earth of ours. The many eyes emerging from the sand grieve at this sight because this realm holds no science. These are the visions behind Mandie's closed eyes as her bed rolls along like a rolly-polly through the desert of the cats vision, as he sits there comfortably on the couch.
With water flowing just ahead of us behind the solid wall of darkness, and crackling branches of damp enveloping us, we tried to associate our disassociated minds. We tried to connect visions when we were, hopefully comfortably, completely in ourselves. We ruffled through your things, wondering where it is we managed to find ourselves. We giggled and sat in alienated silence in short bursts. We tried to write the "greatest story ever written", but I was stretching into a lemur and you were, well, of another sphere. We raised the white flag and found something better to do! We sat at the yellow place, possibly being watched. I showed you a duck and oh how you were estranged! Then, the sound of traffic and movement became our environment as we happily drifted away. There we sat, melting the clocks of our universes and indulging in our perception, our ever so disoriented perception. I was at peace and I hope you were too. Than we found again our close friends and explored the world from above. We gazed upon the absurdity of our species. The light that shines and grows like mold from the dark effected us greatly and you hence-forth, lost your phone. You silly, silly thing!!!! I was as happy as a clam.
Throughout my life, words have followed me like the plague and poisoned my air, suffocating the acoustics of the sky by replacing it with society and it's paranoia. I gasp for air by listening, and in listening, I have learned to listen. All things vibrate, even the things that don't, and we hear all things, even that which sits in complete silence. Indulging in this has become my life, and I desire greatly to share this heard space with another, so thanks for sitting there with me, wiggling and shivering and transporting yourself to wherever you wished. I hope it didn't bore you. I'm a contradiction. I feel at peace but at the same time I'm a complete and utter mess. While this messiness is my peace, it also isn't. What you said of me and my work puts the spine back into my back so thank you for that.
Gazing upon the cosmos in motion, because we have no choice but to do so, is much more fun with you around. All of you, actually. That was a fun day. Let us explode stars with our gaze.
To the sounds of Nurse With Wound and Patti Smith, I tried to think of the best way to reciprocate and I recalled something you wrote that moved me as greatly as that which I made that you claimed to be moved by and told you how I felt about it. Then another futile journey began
The shore stares at the white, transparent steam arising from the falling waters on this flat earth of ours. The many eyes emerging from the sand grieve at this sight because this realm holds no science. These are the visions behind Mandie's closed eyes as her bed rolls along like a rolly-polly through the desert of the cats vision, as he sits there comfortably on the couch.
With water flowing just ahead of us behind the solid wall of darkness, and crackling branches of damp enveloping us, we tried to associate our disassociated minds. We tried to connect visions when we were, hopefully comfortably, completely in ourselves. We ruffled through your things, wondering where it is we managed to find ourselves. We giggled and sat in alienated silence in short bursts. We tried to write the "greatest story ever written", but I was stretching into a lemur and you were, well, of another sphere. We raised the white flag and found something better to do! We sat at the yellow place, possibly being watched. I showed you a duck and oh how you were estranged! Then, the sound of traffic and movement became our environment as we happily drifted away. There we sat, melting the clocks of our universes and indulging in our perception, our ever so disoriented perception. I was at peace and I hope you were too. Than we found again our close friends and explored the world from above. We gazed upon the absurdity of our species. The light that shines and grows like mold from the dark effected us greatly and you hence-forth, lost your phone. You silly, silly thing!!!! I was as happy as a clam.
Throughout my life, words have followed me like the plague and poisoned my air, suffocating the acoustics of the sky by replacing it with society and it's paranoia. I gasp for air by listening, and in listening, I have learned to listen. All things vibrate, even the things that don't, and we hear all things, even that which sits in complete silence. Indulging in this has become my life, and I desire greatly to share this heard space with another, so thanks for sitting there with me, wiggling and shivering and transporting yourself to wherever you wished. I hope it didn't bore you. I'm a contradiction. I feel at peace but at the same time I'm a complete and utter mess. While this messiness is my peace, it also isn't. What you said of me and my work puts the spine back into my back so thank you for that.
Gazing upon the cosmos in motion, because we have no choice but to do so, is much more fun with you around. All of you, actually. That was a fun day. Let us explode stars with our gaze.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Anamorphosis
Life is and isn't anamorphosis. For those not in the know, this is a visual phenomenon involving a deliberately deformed image that can be made to reappear in its true shape when viewed in an unusual way (for instance, obliquely, or through a distorting mirror). All shapes are true, and all shapes are deformed. A distorting mirror does not distort, but rather, it brings an image into another reality. All things are of this reality.
The skull you see, that is the true shape of it. It can't be made more true, not through anamorphosis, not by an act of God. It is what it is.
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