Tuesday, May 19, 2009


it is present to me that i have no one culture. i have no one style. in this variable i am much like “pi” in that i have no perceivable or apparent pattern but i have a presence and familiar elements. my style is all styles. my style is no style, no form, no specific way or static lay. It is not intention but evention*.

*eventual invention or creation based on the gathered medium (experience, continuing influence, context[situation and setting], etc.)

i am highly attracted to star trek. like skateboarding or writing(graffiti) the culture and dynamic of these cultures, and of most(if not all) cultures in existence(current, lost, latent, or otherwise), is connected with me. we are all part of a whole. thus all connected ultimately. in this place of awareness, all is or becomes familiar. some things find more relevance or similarity to what you have experienced in life. the feeling of comfort and other instincts draws you and bonds you to those things.
i appreciate and enjoy the specific or extreme behaviours for culture as in trekkies, or otaku, fans, etc. but much like facial hair, i cannot force it for myself. i can indulge through laziness (not shaving) or taking advantage of opportunities arising along existing momentums, or experimentation dabbling here and there, but ultimately who i am reveals that i am incapable of belonging to singular forms of culture or purpose – for long.
i can appreciate the love of cosplay or fantasy but for me it is one tool, one form of existence-entire – a way of capturing life and the wholeness that continually overwhelms my awareness.

unraveling nitsch

kitsch, notch, nits, snitch, itch – from the online resource word suggestion in the email/word connection i have enabled through the email entry i am typing all of this into.

it is interesting how “pi” exists. how, in a word that feels right or balanced, other words in similarity or rhythm further explain or capture, in exponent, the prime word or phrase/idea. “pi,” because a circle exists in theory even before we “invented”/discovered it. it has always been there. or, it was a latent reality. and “pi” comes from the manufactured or artificial arrangement of a circles circumference and diameter. an eventuality in observation and curiosity. one thing leads to another if relative balance exists and questions are answered in relative forms all the while creating new questions and new answers. ultimately the existence of “pi” is revealed as the layers are worn away.
the same idea of “pi” can be applied to all things. since, even “pi” is “of nature” or “natural”; having been discovered by beings of nature (humans). “pi” is an example of another product of nature. another article or attribute of nature. nature’s “experiment” or it’s latent potential becoming realized: eventuality or conclusion (abstracts of human understanding of existence – because static forms are immediately abstract in their existence. time and change create not end to end but overlapping – so there is seemingly never a static moment. “seemingly” because it is probable if not certain that humans do not have a great perspective of existence-entire. thus caveats like “seemingly” or “relative” are utilized to help represent the cloud of potential and latent elements such as the circle or “pi.”
since we are all part of a whole, relationships are continual. continuum. no end or beginning. connected in ways, indirectly, directly. layered influences.

nitsch is fluorescent lights, it is bodega and deli, and cold cases with stainless steel tops. a scale and makeshift wooden shelves with layered and peeling paint. it is old and continually; it is present and new. glass jars with contents. backlit with culture and comfort. nitsch is the secret notches and divots known to the backs, shadow is envious.
collected dust is a dirt. it is memory. dirty and rich experience. textures high-lit by the present segment. the moment of awareness. the layered and overlapping stumble of perception. epiphany in the closet tangle of christmas ribbons and champagne garland. the treasures revealed in the receding topical; the current sea of possibility. algorhythmic eventualities hone the structure, embrace the foundation.
nitsch is that felt and sparkle in the eye, the corduroy brain in the velvet carcass. stitched and darned it’s days of recognition. the stuffing is tight in its perfection. and loose and torn. it was handmade and tired.
i find the uneven and irregular, the odd and dissimilar, attractive. my gravitations have been relatively and continuously consistent. my whole live (an average of) has been this. damaged is as good as undamaged. old and new – the same. it is to the element of preference that decides. preference, a state created by the gathered experience and continued influences. a box of random collected items that eventually find rhythm and create new forms that enhance existing potential.
i live a life of difference. this is an awareness and not an assignment.
this difference is sensitive and the questions and curiosities it provides for are heavily knotted and twisted. loops of yarn telling and asking of until unraveled. there is a demand, i fall behind the quota, the necessity, the intuitive-urge.
i walk until i float through this realm. a temporary stay. the alley of forward action and notice. there are puddles there and haphazard hoses of gardens and intention. it is not neglect, it is byproduct. it is of the whole, this enriched place.
i am flirting with the environment of foundation. we kiss and create the flow of hidden theory. but we are teased with a touch we cannot have. no embrace because we are nothing in this place. we can only accept our state. an endless awareness, always falling, never landing. continuous and moving.

the nitsch is my love, it is my know. my gatherings. it is clumps of rhythmic experience who have found one another. propelled by genetic beginnings, alignments, and activated by the movement of the mental dynamic. influence and experience are it’s food.

nitsch is the bandaid on the dumpster, it is the lichen on the grave, it is the grass patch on the sidewalk, it is the peeling of skin and paint. nitsch is the darkly scented gaze of gabi. the spiced feeling of her yesterday. it is the see-thru of knowing, the back of potential – it cannot be seen except with reflection. mirrors are needed – glass or friend. seemingly common but not too common. ultimately delicate and rare. nitsch is freckled, it is this beautiful indication, this current that can be seen but not defined permanently. it reminds those who are aware of it of the nature of nature. a reciprocal reflection, examples abound in everywhere. letting us know the lesson is ourself. we are our own medium to mold. our own teacher. our own student.
nitsch is dust in the depression. not easily cleansed or collected. because it is not seen by normal or convention. it is protected from the average of process. but it is there. and can be seen and easily retrieved by those who are already there.


a season of eyes
bright that floats above
brow in the kitchen

constructs the flavour

of chaos and chance

wooden furniture

of aged cure


cool air refreshing renews

change and fleeting dew

spin the cycle until it ends

flying down the aisle

out of control and with delight

left as is within the night

the key is to embrace

a reminder and a future

of what you is you


[a repost here from 7 the 11 2008]

"expression is rendered emotion"

the ambit of armpit

[a repost here from 7 the 2 2008]

the mixture of 90º heat, chops of optical saltings, metro-chasm formations, and smears of possibility,
sizzles grissly-side-down meat into juicy salivatious statements. this sort of "cooking" tires me out, especially being that i'm not so much in shape for where the recipe takes me. see that pile of sad tires floundering on the corner over there with their no-tread foreheads? that's me after a cook. i should prepare more. but i've not acquired the foundation to do well at that on my own. i do what i can, mostly i react to what i feel. i live emotion not fact(knowledge?). i may not always feed my body the balanced meal it needs but i feed my intuition a balanced food consisting of ideas from any side that come into my influence. either outside influence or inside influence. "outside" meaning environmental or chance or another person, etc. and "inside" meaning my own devision, or awareness, or effort.
"feed" is a misleading word since i am not actively doing anything, i only follow inherent feelings and my collected intuition(experience).

suspending myself into just living, basic-level existence without so much purpose and intention, finds me a discarded box of slot-car track with enough parts to make a circle. the set has a sticker on it that reads 10 cents. the feeling of "it might not work" is not something that quite registers to me, stops me. and i have no flinch to germ or image. sometimes i leave the findings, sometimes not. no reason, no plan, only the rhyme calls the flow of the "piece," the piece of time i'm in. a piece that has no real end or beginning except for what we assign. and i get that slot-set home and clear out a spot which, in my usual environments (ultimately/eventually), is quite a disaster. i test the plug, assemble the lot, find my old slot-fiero and put it in place. i have that click in my teeth of anticipation; the air grows thick, the iris closes-in. i'm in a hazy vignette. a doll in a dollhouse room. everything is in miniature. a flea takes a seat next to me, sighs of my pause, and takes the switch from me. the circuit closes.

it is a matter of orbit: things that can be seen, a nondecayable circular path.
my eyes, cradled in orbit, connect me, deliver the endless bits and crumbs and platters and oceans and chonks of space and time and process and matter to me. too much- to me. it is overwhelming; a bit. tie it down. look away. batten down something.
but eventually and always, i am covered in sheets. flying with sheets. connected with sheets.

exponential process. mindless. mindfull. but dissipating, changing. the process is organic. and what i experience flows as it should. balance there.

at least there.


[a repost here from 6 the 30 2008]

paper cup and plimsoll straw
where little bits of rissole fall

it catches my mind like clod-fish in poorly woven nets.
battered and basted with flavours i cannot resist.

the smell turns and runs
but i am iron...
it is magnet.

a roach; survived, countless ages
smashed mid-step by vacillation
along the chew of old worn pages
connect the dots of constellation

what to grab? what to let?
no time!

no time.

endless in the diamond cage.
wanderlust gone, it is and that is it.

always is.

apparent reason is to collect, to reject.
but in my parallel i conject, i reflect.
i propose, but no wedded bliss,
there will be nothing missed.

ever-changing and dynamic
the wear is constant and absolute.

it will be here and then not...

the waste basket on the corner.

(a cigarette butt.)

a conversation with concrete

[a repost here from 6 the 30 2008]

corrugated box
downtown clocks
fire and jelly
wrist and ankle

the wind is still and the oil has a chance to carry on nasal conversation.
it is not uncommon for nearby decay to join the fray.
two boxes of takeout chinese sit on an abandoned louver.
purple pungencies exchange on the daily wave of oxidation.
heat and action pull off the shoes to go dancing in little wax boxes of purpose.
they'll have their fun while they can, before the bitters come to wipe clean the nonsense.
(latent chopsticks lay nearby)

clouded-sue says i'm nonsense; shakes her head at my prose and ponders. it is a sublevel manhole bursting with false gaseous notion. noxious-not. only my clothes say it so. only those fibers give away my brittleness. to the world, nothing- false; to myself, everything- and course.
the left-over programs leave mouse droppings but no mice. cheese no longer works.
a trap in the blind? do i move from this lieu? which way do i turn to wind?

sidewalk is steady. a solid underfoot. a crack here or there. paths of connection.
a return to that simple ground refreshes, balances the hue;
revitalizes and renews a moldy retreat. moving air, even if not fresh, moves to action than to fault.
the riposte catches the quick and carried-away but balance skids across
that action like rocks on hopscotch.did you miss it?

Friday, May 15, 2009

reflection on a core-level artistic context comfortality

i forget the time but it was perhaps early high school years. i had run into the likes of richard estes and the super realistic movement as well as sandy skoglund and other sculptural forms/installations like that. this time in my life also dug into the bag of previous experiences with my dad or at his house (with his art books) and in the exhibits i had seen as a kid in elementary school or with my dad (they, also having similar qualities to my high school discoveries). i was taken back to this time in high school with the george segal exhibit at the nelson-atkins i went to today. i know his work but it’s different to see his kind of work in person something i hadn't had for this expressioner up until now.

instant continual

you are the medium of expression.

know to

all is tool
all is machine
all is grow
all is dead

i am brush
i am medium

the gathering

in the staple
in the form
and delicate

question of question

i am captivated by the human
its culture
from the type of staple in the spine
to the dynamic-proper of a city-entire

all is breath

and exhale


you are the medium of expression

in the seconds of bad luck

infinite we travel
one second from then
a slide rule defines
our peripheral
parallel we escape


i want her to want
my naked image
but i will refuse it
because i have no reflection

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

the oddity of missing

i do not smoke and rarely drink but i like the vessels and cultures surrounding those items. but when i go to pick some up i not only feel it an adventure, i am also dissapointed to find that the ones i like, of all that are and remain unchanged, are no longer made or have changed drastically. example. i love the chesterfield cigarette pack but it has changed from the nice script style of yesteryear. you can still find a package similar to the old style in the filterless variety.kools are no longer in the cool package of white with green. now it is mostly green with flash and fade. the cigarettes, at least, still have the iconic kool logo near the filter.michelob lager(bottle) started as a really nice teardrop design during a time(60's) when design was still good (in my opinion). the bottle has changed some over the years but it has fallen to the quick and recognizable forms that the standard beer drinker cares about (which is little - they just want drinky). that is not to say that some do not appreciate aesthetics, association, etc. but for the most part that is not what i observe these days.coors (can) again (1960's) had the cool 3-4 tan and 1/4 silver design. but that has been gone for some time. however, recently the tan can came back but without the silver constrast.since i do not care about the product inside i notice more the design of the packaging and vessel. not to mention that first-off aesthetic and rhythm catch my attention intensley. i love liquor and smoke shops because of the colours and textures and context and arrangement of shape and tone. all the transclucent and opaqueries as well as the reflective glass of case and bottle and see thru lights. the smell and sounds are another element altogether that overwhelms. the same goes for adult-oriented merchandise entertainment businesses and on a similar note - grocery stores.but dang if the smoke and drink industries are clod-knobs at utilizing design. i do have to thank the vice industries for maintaining tangible forms: drink industry still uses glass prevelantly (though plastic is used as well), smoke is elaborate in it's packaging(though they have to be to protect the freshness of the smokes). the adult industry does crank out lots of old tangible and familiar forms of product but they are a fickle sort and because their relative product can transcend physical limitations (like how beer has to be packaged - it cannot exist as electronic downloadable files or games) they are more likely to forego the tangible paper magazine or classic-made metal products (well except for those that require metal in their production). i am being vague because of where i am typing this from but i know your imagination can devise more specific examples.so i don't know. i wanted to find a cool bottle or can. the coors can was ok, but i love bottles. i love metalic gold labels or things gaudy kitschy like that.

Saturday, May 9, 2009


currently i am writing a lot. everyday, about things whatever. i can look to my “records” of entries into my various recorded areas (post-it note collections, moleskin pocketbooks, shell emails, etc. and there are definitely lapses in relative routine where days or months will go by with no rendering of thought, at least in written form. i find ways to extract the expressive exhaust that continually builds in my mind. whether that is through capturing imagery on photographic media or enacting more visceral mediums to commit the abstract glob in my head onto tangible supports of concrete, paper, canvas, glass, etc.
but the written expression,
it is valuable and a good addition to the extraction of expression if not the primary means. what happens to the constipated person of expression?
i think that depends on their strengths and weaknesses – their overall dynamic, attributes, and state; including all the external influences on their being.


i look out window. i am just looking. no intent. no dream or wish. no plan. just look. but at times other layers of thought sneak a peek all the while. and i wonder what they are looking at, or perhaps for. i am human, so, like those things that match my beings rhythms. am i to shun anything that is ever a comfort? do i always look for the test or the challenge? balance is a good. not the middle road, or the in between; balance is not necessarily an “average.” balance is a back and forth, balance can be a little bit of whatevers, balance is not easy to know, but it is easy to feel.
looking out i see what i am, looking in i see who i am.
when i turn away from the window i face a chasm. it is spew and warm mayonnaise broken on a brooklyn sidewalk. this place wears. even nickels are rubbed to nonsense. but get this, this place of scarp and treachery, this erosion of change and sense, ripping the seams from my pocket, this place is comfort(to most). to most it is destination and salvation. to most it fills the pocket with guarantee. even to myself it guarantees. even to me it is a comfort. i have “responsibilities,” yes, all the social assigns such as bills by mandatory utilities required by contracts, taxes and duties, even child support (which is mandated by a male-hate-oriented structure whether or not any one person actually hates men/fathers is questionable – but it is in the reputation of males in america and of the real “deadbeat dads” that perpetuates the existing system). and it is in the satisfying of these “responsibilities” that is the comfort. is this system “busy work” for the social order? is it conditioning for societal benefit? it is simply a result created by all the influences and contributions in existence; some necessary, some fair, others irrational and greedy.


today i believe i had an ant in my hair while driving to work. i wonder if it is gone. perhaps i have ant remains rattling in my roots.

Thursday, May 7, 2009

help is good. can't do it alone, but...

i welcome help but not control, shepherding, or insinuation. if i blurt out an emotional (probably frustrated-tone) "i don't need your help"(of which i do not think i have ever said in context) then it will be because one of the mentioned elements exists.

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

dazzled by power moves

what does technique have to do with expression?

but many people who practice art or dictate it's borders are very concerned about technique. thus many believe technique to be a requirement for art to be "valid." that means they are ultimately saying that "expression is valid by the use or mastering of technique." perhaps they are not saying "solely valid" but any idea having to do with validity of expression is absurd to me.

perhaps my version or idea of "expression" is different than the accepted medium of artists/expressioners.

technique is a means to an end. the "end" is the work or rendering of the abstract into tangible forms (tangible including sound, sight, touch, taste, etc.).
an artist or person of expression (of whatever art that is - music, food, visual, writing, etc.) does what they can to capture what comes naturally to them. through this capturing of what they feel, they are also representing who they are, their experiences, their gathering as a being. and this all is transmitted along with the expressive core.

conventions can enable expression, they can also destroy it.

conventions are created like all human inventions/creations: by necessity. an evolutional path of enablement.

rules, laws, conventions, forms, standards, traditions, all these kinds of things are temporary segments.

this, my idea of art (expression) is not so marketable, thus it cannot be popular. thus i am just another apparent loony out there in the world. conventions and rules and techniques have to be followed to be valid in human culture, schools, standards, etc.

but human culture itself is organic, always changing. not static. not set in stone. even the hardest material on earth will change in time.
our nature is one of change and dynamic and collective influence.
it is those who seek power or comfort and who have fear or doubts or who lack confidence that do what they can to keep things the way they are. to not ask questions or experiement, to be resistant to their own nature: the nature of change.

i'm not talking about anarchy, i'm talking about an acceptance or openness to possiblity.

it seems that most people (artists included) are receptive to or gravitate towards those who show a prowess in technical or skilled ability(or the aspect in of itself) rather than the connection made with the soul, the understanding gathered, the interpretations made.

for the person of expression art is instant. it is everything.
the need to make a living, or to contain insanity, to enable understanding or connection - these are some of the reasons why the expression becomes tangible through the artists means(i.e. hands, tools, etc.).

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

the hate burrito

when i "hate" something, not just say it, but really feel or think the word "hate," it is not hatred it is an intense dissapointment or reaction to the dissapointment. and perhaps it is also some irrational attachment of ideas.


i react to anyone who holds false representations. i think this is true whether or not i realize (or know from experience) that the individual, group, or idea is aware of the false state or not. when i speak i am aware(intuitively and not academically) of the possible perceptions and receptions of the words and syntax i use. i am aware that i am not the best at grammar or in delivery. but i like the way i sound, and i like the ambiguity and obscurity that my style utilizes and provides for. and when i say “i like” i mean that it is what i respond to or am attracted to – in no way do i sense/believe/feel that my “liking” for something has been assigned or control. the feeling is created by everything that i am and am influenced by (currently or collectively).
so when someone presents something that my sensibilities and awareness pick up on as “lacking full or honest representation” i will react negatively. this is a statement of what i have observed about myself. i do not choose to react negatively nor can i change that feeling. i can however search and discover new perspectives or awareness that changes my point of view and resultant reactions.
feelings (which are driven by instinct) or reactions come from gathered experiences written into the mind. experiences can mix and combine which leads to the conclusions and summing-up that we do. being open to, or in being accepting helps to temper this tendency. what we feel and what we act on are separate elements that, for the modern and social human, should be considered.
our mixed experiences can form abstract types of people in our minds that we then react to. so when we start to sense the attributes of those mental depictions(abstract people types) we find ourselves feeling certain ways related to those depictions we’ve created. experience and memory are great tools for us. but they can also get out of hand if we don’t keep an open mind to possibility.
we will feel and react the way we do; ultimately we need not (or feel the need to) apologize for this, we do apologize based on our own importances and values.

i do not like false perceptions created by misleading representations. it is not that i want or require “full disclosure” at all times (“what do you have to hide” and all of that) it is that i feel there is a lot of information or context left out when people communicate achievements of any kind, situations, experience, etc.

but what do i expect? do i expect a court reporter to pop up for my benefit? i have to realize the way of people. that we are all different. i know better, but i do fall down.

reflections from the funhouse

the very specifically worded question: "who is the most familiar human on the planet?"

came about one day after some gathered thoughts and observations needed some attention. point of view, perspective, wonder, question, curiosity, discovery - these things made the above question come together. i did not construct it except in the nurtured alteration of certain familiar or associative words that seemed to want more obsurity than what my knees jerked into place.

the question was "exhaust" and not an elaborate design. however, the question does provide self-reflection, something that i cherish and hope for people. providing a kind of mirror of where the mind is at.for me, the question above came about because of gathered thoughts having reinforced something i cannot help be aware of: that i am the most familiar human on the planet. to whom? to myself of course. it was and is the first thing that comes to mind when the question is asked. each of us have different answers to this question, none of which are incorrect or even necessary. since we are all so varied and separate we each hold our own answers and reality. and as living beings we are continual thus our answers become the steps for new questions.

the question remains relevant to each of us on an individual level.

we each decide what is.

when nonsense overwhelms (or “when i'm irritated/pist off.”)

for the artist please disregard this for the most part, this writing is mainly for those who are not “aware.”(and for my own exhaust. it is my nature that cannot embrace and accept the need to explain this stuff to those that are not going to be that well receptive of it anyway, but it is my current nature, and perhaps i should not indulge this, but for the most part i do accept. for some reason, right now, i am compelled, past my own state, to have to explain all of this and otherwise, be so negative.) art is not just canvas or other familiar grounds or supports, it is not limited to those forms. art is anything an artist creates. innovative forms or the work of “genius” are simply “new” forms or means that a larger governing body(this can be a group of people or an influential individual) becomes aware of and shares with others. the “artist”(or the aware individual/person with the vision/sight) has in them what is already speaking. it already has been speaking. the ability to articulate and resultantly-communicate this vision or particular interpretation depends on many things. i "should not have to"(better word and phrasing is "wish i didn't have to" but i'm emotional right now) say this but i will given the audience this is written for(though the chance this audience has of receiving this is very low 1. because of their inherent nature and 2. because i’m not disseminating this to their relative outlets of understanding or awareness): “things” like context, environment, culture, guardians, and experiences. for some artists this is easier since their particular awareness is stronger at birth (their inherent level is, by whatever elements, more intense) for others it is more difficult. and i imagine a gradated level of this “artist” element in all humans. you have the most intense levels outward towards the “fringe” and you have the least amount of these levels towards the core. the core of what?.. the core of our species. the core is by nature, more stable, thus it has high resistance to change and a low tolerance for movement. it also benefits from relative higher protection than the adjacent outward layers. the core is more dense with relative higher pressure present than the adjacent outward layers. it is also my idea that our individual “types” are not necessarily born in or to the layers that we ultimately arrive at. so an artist born in the core will hopefully, eventually be pushed outward to the outer layers they are more in synch with. perhaps the artist will be crushed in the core however, this happens; it also occurs that the artist born in the core remains stuck in the core from too much pressure. likewise there are people of the core that are born in the outer layers. depending on the their inherent level of awareness they will either be influenced by the outer layer and remain or they will find more familiar ground towards the core.

at times something in me wears down or gives way to the prevalent nonsense fussings of most everyone around me. not that i am without nonsense fussing or habits or vice, but that my kind has no place with the common types; the prevalent types. i have little or no outlet, whereas most others do have. not “seem to” have but actually have outlets. of course ultimately it is i who am the “problem” because i am the one “out of the norm” either because of my sudden change in apparent mood or in the deeper inherent continual state of who i am. that i find few rhythms or sense with most people, conventions, and the singular and static forms expected and pushed around the social table.

i am self-effacing and modest, but i am also aware. too much aware (it seems). and am maddened by this awareness. so should i be “tactful” and arrange my words to not be so direct for the benefit of comfort for those that do not see what i see?(maybe so i can be more “likeable” or so people will be more likened to receive what i have to share? this idea is nonsense to me however.) if i see no clothes then there are no clothes – to me of course. but what else am i supposed to see? if everyone else believes that there are clothes when there are none, that is nonsense to me. so “too bad” if i hurt: feelings or whatever else(my own or anyone's), it is not my nonsense that set up feelings to be hurt, whatevers to be disappointed. it is the lack of want to understand and to accept or embrace that ultimately does that. not me*. i do not expect or demand change in anyway. i am not asking for people to agree with me or “see things my way.” i do not care if i am understood or not. i care about connection. and connection does bring with it, understanding but “being understood” or known is not my goal or intention. those are happy byproducts if anything. elements that contribute to the dynamic of connection.

*though obviously, being aware of what one contributes to and the possible result/outcomes, ultimately i am responsible. however, ownership is an abstract and that has to be gauged on one's own importances, values, definement of reality/universe, self preservation and sanity, etc.

to start(or is that repeat/reiterate), i need no credit. i don’t need “my” self or ideas to be understood. i do not feel for those things. however, what i want is understanding. and the distinction may be confusing. i want common sense, thinking, understanding, awareness, acceptance, wonder in people. i want those things for people, for humanity. it might be an unrealistic ideal though. but it is what i feel for.
perhaps i want others to be enabled with the ability to see what i see. likewise, i like being able to see what others see, but this is not reciprocated by most. most do not feel for this. (“see” – meaning awareness). who i am is inconsequential. i do not need to be recognized for vision or awareness or idea. i just want a relative goodness to be out there for my kind – humans. perhaps what i perceive to be “goodness” is not so. well, it is obviously “not so” due to the way of humans-entire. meaning, on average, humans are continually producing the result that they are capable of. past results are what “history” is made from, and current results are apparent and obvious. future results? that would be governed by evolution.

i want there to be perspective out there.
i want there to be perspective for my species.
i want there to be perspective out there for people.

perspective might mean “understanding”; that all persons have the ability to transcend their own contexts even those of the extremes of prisoner or slave. but is this asking too much? a far-fetched ideal created from too much abstract indulgence.

anyway, i am driven mad with all the nonsense around me. usually i can endure, but i want to not have to endure but rather embrace and accept this. to know the state of things and not be driven so mad by what i already know or expect through experience. things change even amoung relative temporary standards and present permanences(meaning things change, but speaking in terms of a current human “lifetime” some things change so slow that the change will not occur soon enough in its entirety or in relative noticeability to be observed within a single individual’s lifetime).

point lost

yesterday i fell on my butt. fell down. fell. fell.

was almost insane. loosing gravity of thought. floating away to somewhere.

maybe i'll be back today. i have to be back. not on my back.

Saturday, May 2, 2009

another question in the funhouse (with reflection)

what happens when an “artist” looks in their mirror?

they "see"

question in the funhouse

who is the most familiar human on the planet?

the dastard

i am a cancer
that should be
stamped out.

can they
catch me

in time

a reminder

anything is nothing; and nothing is possible.

see what we see

knowledge does not create sensitivity for me. it enhances understanding, enables awareness. just because i realize the differences does not now give me the “right” or make me a “whole new person” or someone that is now more sensitive because i realize it. that is as trivial and nonsense to me as are impulsive trends. do i now see clothes that were not there before? naked is naked.

credit and perception

i see something special in the cracks of street markings. i didn’t lay down the paint that ultimately gave product for the cracks to exist within. if i do lay down my own medium to nurture the dynamic that cracks develop from then does this make me any more “owner” or “credit taker” of this? it seems to me, from examples like what was just mentioned, that it is the person who can “see” that is “owner” or “creator” or “credit taker”(this is considering that this distinction is needed – which i have observed is a prevalent necessity by the mean mass of humanity) that person, that “gathering” with the vision, with the perspective, the way in which they interpret-entire (created by all they represent) is the significant element to abstract expression, otherwise known as “art” or “artist” but what i only hear as “expressioner(ist)”(but “expressionist” confuses representation since i am not talking about any kind of “movement”).

to argue or test the above observation i have to look to other contexts of awareness and resulting expressions. in the above there is more a “finessing” or “orchestration” or “suggesting” that is being practiced by the visioned-expressioner. it is not a more direct application or construction by the means of the individual, rather it is utilizing knowledge and reliance on indirect or outside processes to create. there is usually a selection process along the way to “feel out” the resulting products that connect most. but ultimately there is high reliance on the production of an outside or indirect element.

in ways this says (and supports theories i have discovered) that “art” or anything created is “owned” by everyone. we are all connected. and if anything, if recognition and credit are need-taken, then it is the individual(s) that can see the function, the beauty, ultimately those who “connect” with the “product”(whether physical or mental) that ultimately are “owner.” [and please excuse these words of ownership and credit, i do not use them lightly but they are the best words i have to communicate this* thinkings]

anything i(or anyone) create (or paint), is also owned by others who create their own connections from those works of my relative origin. the need to own or be recognized by static devices (mental/physical) seems anti-beneficial** to human culture, maybe even humanity. with “connection” as our relative purpose all else seems to flourish and thrive. we are our selfs. we do best by our own balance and dynamic. we then share that through connections and we our nourished.
we each see things through different gatherings of interpretive dynamic. we each produce our own interpretations continually, whether recognizable or not, direct or not ways. and for those that feel the immensity in all things (not by education or being able to recognize it – but by innate continuum, it having always been and continuing to be there), their actual being is the “art” or expressive dynamic that is ultimately “of value,” and not the static forms*** indicating this “vision,” this immensity. i have come to question even posterity or “historical record” as a benefit. but again, history is a type of tool. it can be utilized in balance or not. so the collection and documentation, display, and attention given to “static forms” is simply itself. whether it is a benefit or not depends on many things.
galleries and museums and many tools like the bowl seem relatively good, but i see so often the unbalanced use of these tools by the mean-mass of humanity. whether or not i consider a thing “good” means nothing (in the context of collective reality) when the majority says or believes otherwise. the mean-mass turns galleries into stale halls and museums into jack-in-the boxes. they also turn the bowl into a weapon lobbed or a vessel of fooded-escape. they bloat by these means and they do well for it.
since there is no definition to reality but what we are aware for ourselves, there is no fault here; no right or wrong. it simply is the coexistence of realities.

where i do not inherently feel the need to claim or own works that inadvertently are created by the eventuality of my dynamic, most others in the mean do; and do so fiercely. being aware, observing, and recognizing this my dynamic utilizes knowledge and experience, along with instinct, to mix a blend of survival in this, otherwise, weird scenario or context. i enjoy the use of the word “weird” but it is not so weird, it is more like nonsense(“making no sense” and not a rash detractor or dismissive response) or irrelevance to me. sometimes i say “i came with the innate skill at chess, but the game most are playing is the game they are good at: life” it is tawdry but it captures the essence of what i sense. i find myself with lackluster skill at the rules they retain, but otherwise i would sign my expiration. so the mix i blend keeps me alive, relatively sane, not in a bubble (that does not sustain), functionally – well, relatively functional, and i am able to thrive within this dissonant dynamic of realities(mine and all else).

*sic. i like this usage more than the word “these”
**detrimental would be my second choice, but anti-beneficial feels better here.
***results or products of expression “art”
[notes like the above, do i have to explain myself? no. and there is no purpose to this, it is me responding to me. my body articulating(action-speech or otherwise) what is conjured in my brain’s dynamic.]

Friday, May 1, 2009


the taste leads us through the unfamiliar bramble
torn and split we frustrate our wonder
shadow leans on our shoulder to scratch our roots