awareness

“made for each other”
“signs.” “indicators.” “absolutes.” static forms tend to have static cling. with enough of it about your presence you can barely breath through floppin’ sock or wrappin’ sweater. blankets pop your forehead when wandering thought floats by.
when in my view of humanity in the scheme of existence-entire, i am fine with a person who has a balanced perspective on their presence-entire (views, importances, internal and external image mainly for the need for reference points in communication/reality) and then plays with the forms of “signs,” “indicators” and whatnots (indulges or utilizes). but for those that regard these as absolute or rule or standard or that are wholly or mostly unawares, i cannot abide. again this regards only in my view of humanity-specific, how much i want for us – perhaps my ideal of our potential. so i don’t like when i witness unbalanced behaviour. not that i am balanced all the time, but i strive for it or perhaps try not to fuss over it all and get in the way of balance.
but i cannot deny balance, and that in my unaccepting behaviour, even in the specific facet or context of humanity-specific, i disappoint.
i wish people were not, for the most part of the species/population, so unaware; lacking in the instinct for curiosity or if not lacking then having too much resource committed to compact and comfortable conventions of concise convenience.
but i am aware of the way of being that is of me, that all things as are. as they have come to be though environment and experience and the mental dynamic that reacts and works off of the gatherings and inputs of time. i have my reactions and i will not cover those up or discourage them if they feel right, but at the same time, my tempering or balance has me reflecting and keeping observation on all that i am.

perception

for the kind of person(artist) i am, category and staticism(buying into and indulging static-based behaviours) do not work – or should i say “bode well.” there are many artists that buy into convention. they feel they must to some varying degree. the same thing that contributes to my socially-perceived failure is the same thing that keeps my dynamic balanced. “art” may produce tangible leavings, it may not. art by social-definition is more concrete than my state of being creates. art to me is me and all. latent or realized, it is the same. for most i will be too existential or serious or perhaps something more like “explaining away or justifying that he’s not famous, professional, recognized, accomplished, or having done anything but talk and ponder.”
awareness is regardless of action or product. reality and existence are no less the same. my person can be attacked but what i present is the subject at hand and not where it comes from. reference ad hominem.

thoughts on the convention of qualification

art is simple. expression immediate. tangible incarnations; complex and cumbersome.

on matters of segmental appreciation

“it is a one-sided silver-painted cardboard consequence that one foot finds the flat. a sawbuck in the back. spent in futures at the deli on the corner of nostalgia and forth. it will be a big sandwich of broken tooth.”

banks and curbs

the derogatory incarnation of the flattered stone. it is called moss and mold; not too old. moment to moment. but not quite understood. slippery and with a delicate constitution, not of its own but to those clods who find footing upon it’s moistened quips.

mid way

i reflect my own madness. a fun house of mirrors gesturing topically, amusing it seems. a maze of reflection to escape. madness swirls the tube toward the slide of grand exit. afterwards it is the bright light and cloud of the thoroughfare, of cotton candy and allowance spent. thinking, cast off for conventional comforts.
...except for me, standing there in the niche of the uneven rooms of confusion. listening to the rumble of the unbalanced stairs and rolling floors. their action is pleasing to me. their presence soothing.
i am not spun whitening bolt; it is reality- spun about the fold.

lettuce and flies

living abstract lives; most humans are unwittingly bemused by this innate attributal present. afforded the past and futures and engaged by pressured surround, most humans have barely a time for bearings. in-take of world and ground, of infinite and cloud, of toe- of breath.
that we are, is abstract; the knowing of it is abstract. “it depends” changes everything. even the smallest coin means anything; change is change, and so forth and so on any given day, any moment, perception is a screen of dimension and reality.

frustrated means

a conversation through email is much like a slowly written signature.