atomic wandering

fun digital crumbs to push around. a test of course and empty congress.


(originally from phone.  this text in parenthesis and "title" added afterwards)

wink and whisper

poster-knuckle
assignment:  ohe positive
here to say that muustardth
will go well on mashed lips of refrain

charming cleavage on concrete shuns
my bituminous plane as it rises to meat
your understanding

my text sure-spread across breads
and leads giving weigh to slights and sense
in the bereft of white and breath

it is you and i.  or i and i
or i or nothing.  all a tire
rolling our way in the play of
abandoned lot.
grasses will tickle our tread
and we will rotate our perspective
making flopping sounds in the end

pilly blankets make the eyeless istch.

balanced state

i am not good at self promotion. in fact, i don’t think i do it at all. any perceived “self promotion” by anyone (or myself) is by coincidental-overlap or parallel-of-outcome. meaning that in the way i might do something may produce a self-promotion result but where the promoting was not planned.


it is not necessarily that i “believe” in the merits or inherent attraction of a thing or event and expect anything to come from that (on its own); it is that i do what i do and it then exists. it can be said that it then “goes out into the world” and the world will receive it how it will; that i represent who i am, i have my values and importances and i represent those as i do, but when all is said and done, what i do is not “aided” by what i think i perceive as “artificiality” or forced/purposed actions. i can sense (and i do not like the feeling) when i am “trying too hard” or being “artificial.” some would say “it is what has to be done in society” or something along the lines of knowing the reality of things. and i do understand what is real or required in society or human cultural environments. i "get it" and am not running away or ignoring the relative facts of human society or general existence. but, it is not in me to self-promote. i might sound hypocritical to my love of connection with other humans. because how can you connect with humans (i say “most” not “all” humans) if you do not subscribe to the game/language/method/process of general human culture(s). but i say (or think) that there must be a way for me (my dynamic presence and place in existence). and i journey to find that(or develop it, however you'd like to think about it). i do not do it solely. maybe i shortchange myself in not “going after it by the horns” but again, i react to a self-perceived kind of balance of things, of life. and i also know that when i do concentrate mostly on singular ideas, problems, etc. that i burn out after long. it is like sensory overload. think of when you are trying to smell something and you sniff too much or too long. sensory overload. and then you have to take a break. i don’t take breaks that are too long though. it is all “ongoing.” i address my questions and wonders continually. it is not something i find difficult. for who i am it is relatively automatic, but that is not to say that relax on my inherent state or attributes and let them carry me along.

i will say that, by observation, this creates a conundrum between my want to connect with people and people who would appreciate what i represent or have to share, as well as between sanity and madness.

a kind ' surrogate friend

[9:20 pm on 96.5 "the buzz" kansas city "alternative" title:  triptych 2  artist:  blockhead]

sitting here with myself, listening to some rare streaming music (though perhaps becoming more common but probably will not last - much like jewelry and me) this song came on, though when i went to go look for it in the "official" playlist it was not listed.  but, because it was on the active window playlist i was able to track the song down:




[exposition:  for some reason in relative years {actually just recent months maybe but having gathered momentum in recent years} i have found that explanation of stuff is fun, maybe necessary, maybe not.  because those who are probably reading any of this stuff will not need so much explanation, but then again - we each can't know what each other is entirely thinking]:  the title "a kind ' surrogate friend."  is written this way using my use of the apostrophe, to denote a thought-but-not-spoken word, to act as a kind of obscure pause or grammatic representation.  it can be read "a kind surrogate friend," or "a kind:  surrogate friend" or "a kind of surrogate friend" or if one was to interpret what is meant/implied then it could be read as "the song in the way it was introduced captures and represents the idea that in lieu of there being physical friends, it helps to have those attributes available/present that contribute to the environment helping to maintain mental balance; cultural balance; and personal momentum(s).


"mzox" is a way i address myself.  it is a truncation of mzococucacu which is a word that represents my human-entire.  that is, that it represents all that i am:  my experience, my intuition and wisdom, my influences (past and ongoing, indirect and direct), my continuum, my place within existence and the connections present, instinct, intellect, choices, my inclinations and tolerances as well as my overwhelms...  my dynamic present.  the word mzococucacu is a represenation of this idea for all humans.  but it is a word that also represents the state of connection of reflection and that of the individual.  thus, the word destroys(contradicts) itself and ultimately only represents mzox (me).  i would like it to be otherwise but i am not a "creator."  we each influence our own reality.  we each will find the static representations that help our individual understanding(s) and perhaps share our understanding(s) with others.

apostrophe

the princess once asked the carapaced doter proof of his once claimed prizes and curse. so for 26 nights of the tree he sheltered by, built the antler-gires by claw and clamour.

the princess enabled, she hesitated to touch the present statements that once caused such dire outcomes. but her love for the crab gave wisdom and trust to her senses.

and the sincerity of her touch befuddled the stars' malicious alignments, forever gifting them with the grace of wish and dandle upon those below.

medium pressure

i sit down and try to type out simple ideas and thoughts or conversation – but the intensity of the medium of language, of word quickly obliterates purpose and i get lost to expressive powers. exploring the diversity and textures of flowing letterform and ribbons of definition gliding and compacting into fiercely delightful gravitous forms of meaning. saturate gatherings of nonsense with innuendo and magma that melts away exposition and definition. the atomic presence of the letter, its words and presence explains everything.


in those moments of writing and composing, vying for influence and dubious control, i am quickly satisfied and overwhelmed. but i come back after a time. after a bit of conversation with the slights above brow and subtle under-nose’.

awful lot of noise for it being bedtime

too times girder on autumn concrete

truncated lot fool of thistle oblique

brushed pickle insinuates

tolerate the exacting proper

forego the rhyme for frictions tine

{also listed as "writers moonlight" on flickr:  http://www.flickr.com/photos/fouronthedown/4123570603/}

requirement by design

photography. ...is a medium. an inbetween, a vessel or vehicle that carries or represents. ultimately it is a tool. a static middleman of sorts. a costume.


i have found that even before i can remember well (the benefit of mom and relative providing hearsay accounts) i have emphasized the need to expel mental-exhaust moreso than the relative contemporaries ever my presence found. all humans exhaust their mental byproducts, expel expression, find a need to articulate the world-surround; a cause of essential and inherent function. but i have come to realize and accept that there are those humans who are overwhelmed by insatiable experience. textures fierce and overconstantly tied-in to the dynamic balance between instinct and intellect. for this, everything is tool. everything becomes art and element of thought. seams are lost.

of the many tools i have come to use, the camera, and it’s latent insinuations of time and abstract, provides a consistent portal where continuum enjoys tangible form.

e-strange

with so many seemingly open-minded people in-praise of the intellect, the weird, and odd- in photos, in comedy, with twitt exchange, or e-strange, why then is the actual-and-present front of actual reality so unforgiving - full of misunderstanding and lack of tolerance for the out-of-place, or just plain lack of a willing(or perhaps capability) to understand? is the e-on line world so much more digestible to the human mind? where, in the actual physical-present-world, are these seemingly interesting people so prevelant online? perhaps i am just missing this high-ratio* variable on the street-side.

*sarcasm of course.

for the other 50 of sils.

[as originally typed for benefit of google translation to czech]
a short time before our breaths are audible.  hidden, quietly, in the halls. we find ourselves running fast through corridors of fantastic.  we fly until we are kicked out into piles of lost laundry.

[original google translation to czech]
krátce před dechů jsou slyšet. skryté, tiše, v halách. ocitáme běží rychle přes chodbách fantastické. létáme, dokud jsme vyhodili do hromady ztracené prádla.

[google translated from czech to english]
shortly before breaths are heard. hidden quietly in the halls. we find ourselves going fast through the corridors fantastic. fly until we are thrown into a pile of lost clothes.

[interpreted back as originally written in english]
it is barely time before our breaths are sound.  hidden, quietly, in the halls.  we find ourselves running fast through corridors of fantastic.  we fly until we are kicked out into piles of lost laundry.

[original google finnish-translated responded to from 50 sils.]
i hear you tell stories and listen to my sleeping mind.  dream sounds are like crunching bones, i smell small animals from entering the forest floor.

an itch for the first snowfall of the year

favourite holiday dish: chilled hydra (canned not fresh, fresh is too bitter)

the working moment

temporary movements of texture. pushing peas across the plate. a latent tongue awaits. but no speach. nothing obvious except the tension of what comes next.

tide navigation

at times i find myself in overlap and/or parallel to the tides of the average human mind.  but i do not find myself reacting or responding to trend.  i do not sense the urge or emotional response to belong to trends, to participate in them for the sake of participation or belonging.  that i find similarity with the average person is coincidence; a temporary state of variable alignment.  i also do not find myself avoiding trends for the sake of avoidance or "being different." 

snuggy.  what an item, no?  it must be bought, no?  of course there are plenty of people who say no.  but how many of those people say no because they simply have no interest and not because they are acting out against the trend, trying to be different/original, like being contrary, etc.?

i continually react to the way people think.  is it too much to say that people do not think enough?  perhaps they think too much?  what is thinking too much or too little?

for me thinking too much can be when we focus on particulars instead of taking in the bigger picture.  we get caught up in specifics or nuances or attributes. 

thinking too little is when we do not take the time or energy to contemplate, to ask questions, to let our wonder go, to think things through to their possible conclusion or eventuality.

i am emotionally speaking right now, so my thoughts are not fully-rounded.  but in general the two ideas above about too much or little thinking tend to hold true.

i come to realize or be forced to recognize that humans are more different in their limitations of variety than i'd like to think.  it is my ideal that all humans have the same ability for thought.  i figure it is our individual culture or environment or upbringing or influences, etc.  but our biological or genetic disposition contributes to our ability of thought as well.  so i have to recognize that we do not all have the same capacity.

[a sort of related note]

i do not believe in "potential."  the word represents an infinite abstract.  perhaps the better word would be "expectation" (of others or perhaps the self). 

another fantastic

fantastic song

the knower

shadowed. a slight lisp of patience.

but gifting, spoiling- a job worth waiting for... in the bureau, in the behind.

protecting of the sensitive elements destroyed by common momentum. attention lacking, gaps filled; but not too much. or maybe so.

at a time when his charges are bewildered by their own floods, minds aswirl, intensely saturate wonder and amazement... he must not over do what he is meant to do. he cannot.

lost in a never-ended fringe of bittersweet segment, he stirs the air of discovery and imagination for all his charges. he is not discriminate. but he cannot accommodate more than he is allowed. he would like to. he would like to stir the air wildly to create whirlpools that catch the depths of all understanding. but he cannot.
few find his air. and slowly. and one-by-one. and heartbreakingly so. and with his position firmly anchored. he watches the many and all that leave his influence. most with no taking gift, and others few with frail remnants.

borough on the edge of pickles and onions

sill-sat, the boy pondered his uniqueness in the states, of mind, or was that "inkling?" in the rates of continued thoughts, his sentiment wandered back to the plating isolatic imagery painted across mediums and peripheral perceptions. static now alive; organicism victories of token layer. could he eat this paintings? maybe just a taste? wonderfully and richly concentrate didactics of isobaric presence. ' overwhelming fire-to-fire of synapse and sense.
in his ritual wake, his uniform uniquity, this boy feels his earthly return in synonym with his nodded departures.
his mind
knows that he knows that he knows that he knows. a reciprocal turban of seemingly endless exponent.
a letter in the armpit. funk on the bit, and holes in his pockets...
this boy awares his connection.
no purpose is purpose without purpose is connection. existence will hold his hand.

a fly a way to slapper his sensement to the acquilege of his chums, his fellow funktions.

the concrete zipper sows his interpretations deep into the seems of the social batting. fringe finally finding center weaves of decorate origins. the foundation was nice to meet if only briefly. indeed, the boy appreciates the smells of the entire but aunt foundation’s moth mints were not as appetizing as idealized. still a wonderland, still a roots, just not so well olfactored.



"acquilege" is a souped word using these ingredients: acquire + privilege
"concrete zipper" ~ an urban-set sidewalk.

keys on the counter

because of my adventuring earlier today(thursday morning actually), i collected a new song along the way: “happy up here” by röyskopp (from norway) off their more current album “junior.” i “know” norwegian bands. they sing to me quite often. so while this is the maybe the first time i’ve recognized/known this band they sound much like what i already know and continue to be attracted to or “hear.” itunes, i’ve been off of itunes for awhile. not that i was buying all the time but that i would definitely visit and sample more often a few years ago when i had an internet connection at home. now i seek out itunes at hotspots when i get the opportunity, especially when going after a new song or needing to buy songs on my memory-list. i bought the video to “happy up here” as well (on itunes). the prices seem to be going up. where all songs were .99 cents in the past now there are songs for 1.29. and whether or not this comes with explanation from itues/apple or not is beside the point that, originally/in the past all songs were .99 cents. where some songs were unavailable except with the album purchase and of course videos were 1.99 or more depending on if there time or syndication, etc. but they were all .99 cents. it seems the “singles” and perhaps other special releases (or singular releases) are the ones at 1.29. perhaps to exploit the fact that the newer trend/generation tends to be one of singled-out buys. where people only buy a few songs instead of whole albums. so why not exploit those songs by increasing the price? apple/itunes (or whoever) does need to stay in business after all? i mean, we as consumers would not have places to go and buy these things from if the places that sold those things could not stay in business? right? (sarcasm of course) but of course, there is always balance. a friend of mine started saying once, or putting it to this word/idea, that exploitive behaviour like described above is tantamount to, or by extension, antisocial.
i feel this too.

[a sampling of imagined thoughts of these kinds of “antisocial” persons, less the tactful, ulterior motive, ethics, moral, covers.]
“we need to get more money because we can. where can we get more money from? there is so much opportunity being lost here. success is about money/power/control. i need to feed my family/protect my own.”

responsibility is not isolated to the self. whether or not we take or acknowledge responsibility, it is an element that exists, especially in human culture(s). the connection we share as existence entities (life or nonlife including) has it’s relative responsibilities. this is, of course, an abstract element but since we perceive and are aware of this element (whether distinctly or not) then we, as humans, are influenced by it, involved in it. perhaps- depend on it.

obverse

acurrantly (“accurately” misspelled but that my rhythms and magnets definitely love the taste of; the taste of iron filing into our momentum.)

i love the allusional-poetic qualities of the similarities, in sound, of “currant” and “current” and all the meanings that can be derived from their individual uses respectfully as well as combined (especially as combined in the dynamic of word-play)

the running tissue of layers

graffiti. graffiti writing.
"writers."
for me the culture or sub-culture of graffiti is a wonderful concentrate and rich assembly of human result. action! decision. influence at it's best, cultural development and movement extreme. a worn body (new york of the late 60's early 70's) vulnerable or perhaps with rich soils or ripe atmospheres for ignition of new processes.
at any rate, the human being is highly adaptable, as are all creatures still living on this earth. this is by design, by inherent qualities, by logic itself. if they still exist then the base-organism must have been able to adapt and evolve and continue to survive theses long periods of change.

a highly adaptable being is highly capable, even going behond it's perceived or inherent ability. the "movement" of the graffiti culture-entire is, i believe, a good example of this. with humans being adaptable but also social creatures increases the exponent for ability or capability.

sometimes our own adaptability can hinder us. i feel it does me at times. but at the same time it makes us resilient. we survive because of our adaptability amoung other things.

graffiti, like all forms of expression (art) depends on its contributors, its practitioners. whatever form the practice takes shape in, the practice of a thing creates it, continues it. to our abstract states of mind this is true. of course, existentially, nothing ceases to exist; everything is in a state of change without "absolute" beginnings or ends.

the images included here are of one of my favourite graffiti-culture artists. his name was shy (rip) or shy 1. a prolific writer for his time and very adept. i've come to read much about him (what there is to read) but my memory is not fact-based but memory-based, so, in time i forget the details and facts and mainly remember the essence. and for shy it is what i would call "pickles and onions." i like to use food to capture feelings or ideas at times. and for shy the pungent flavour and subtly-delayed aromas of pickles and onions does well to capture how i receive his dynamic as a human. what you see above left is how most writers of the 70's and early 80's had to work in order to reach the entire height of the cars (subway cars/trains) when in the yards (holding/storage areas usually outdoors in fenced areas).

the previous picture at the top right is duro (in brown pants) shy (on floor too) and min (sitting on the seat with the cool red converse-looking shoes). often writers would innovate and develop techniques or methods to get their goals accomplished. whether or not they had clearly-defined goals or more spontaneous ones, their human ability to adapt and innovate bested all systems of the time. albeit there weren't that many systems in place by the new york transit authority until the late 70's and mainly in the 80's but most of the writers were teens or even preteens in some cases. not that youth amplifies accomplishment but that youth, in general, showcases "inexperience" and in ways shows the rapid development that can occur with humans and their abilities, especially when in groups or under group influences (directly or indirectly).


evolution shows itself in many things from my day-to-days, graffiti is one of these examples. the process of development or contribution, with humans, involves evolution directly. innovations replace standards and progress continues. sometimes this process can be distorted by our intellect or intense dependencies on comforts.

graffiti, like any art, can become "stale" or stagnant. this is usually a period of decline in participation by what i tend to call the "sway" of human population. the "mean" is the main and average type of human comprising the bulk of human population. the "exceptions" continue however. exceptions operate on a layer that is not entirely independent of the other layers of humanity (we are all connected) but are not as influenced or "controlled" by the intellectual or social devices that influence or control the "mean" or, to varying degrees, the "sway" layers of human population.
when the initial "honeymoon" or "rush" of the trend fades, most people will lose interest. this happens continually through time in all areas. there are, of course, motivators to continue participation but they have to be strong and obvious ones. the arts, or forms of expression do not enjoy many "motivators" outside the attraction of the initial trend. those who remain participating in a "movement" or form of expression did not need much influence or motivation to begin in the first place. for these types of humans, the form of expression speaks to them or feels right with their own momentums in the first place.

graffiti culture and the works themselves (in whatever form they take: subway trains, walls, canvas, paper, etc.) has an essence that remains saturate in my being. skateboarding culture and other sub or underground cultures have this same presence within me. it is a tasty one that is reciprocal. it gives back and then i give back and then it returns the favour.

graffiti is not something that can exist beyond where it thrives. i believe this is true with any type of culture.

i leave you with a nice photo in the yards of shy 1 getting up with some piece and quiet. the only sounds you hear in the yards is generators and odd random rustlings (sometimes your own doing) and noises.

thank you shy for your doings.

coin toss

change. token. credit.
are gray scales to those who see it that way.
not black or white, but fuzzy possibility.
endless potential
appreciation for the nuances and bonus that existence is.
but what of the alternative(s)? the other points of views?
the other layers of perception?
to varying degrees and way, there must be less choice.
less confusion, less wonder, less potential, less possibility.
most may not see that they see things this way, but ultimately the comforts of blind conformity, or conformity in general include the above as inherent content.
existence is variable, is changing, is continuum.
we create tokens to identify with, snapshots of existence. but do we create? or merely interpret? does the camera or the photographer create everything captured within the latent photographic image? tokens are reflection. bits of temporary perception or perspective. tokens are inbetweens of the continuum and the abstract state of mind. they are tools with no real distinct use save what we assign.
and credit...
interpretations applied to conforming conventions. the change of existence is traded for the token of the mind, for most this token is then applied as credit. a credit is demanded for play for these people. the game requires credit or credits. and credits are applied. they are demanded. and these people lose themselves in the absence of credit. who are they then when there is nothing to say who they are? to say that they exist? to prove that they are worth anything, to prove their success, to prove their existence?
so afraid. fear assigned? fear taught? fear impressed? is it even fear?

knowing we know.
...i believe is bonus.
i like to say that life is like sitting down to a sundae. like a banana split with a cherry on top.
no, the cherry is not bonus. neither is the sauce or sprinkles; the icecream or banana. not even the spoon or dish.
not the table or the floor either. what is bonus is that you are. “are.” that you are here, thinking. thinking about all the shapes, and movements, and actions, and states. elements of existence swirl around you from breath’s moment to next. sleeping, waking... elements- swirl.
at times i will also say “it is a fantastic time.” but what does that mean? what is fantastic? an upcoming event? did i just win the lottery or something? what’s fantastic?
the question is vague or general because it is what it needs to be to express what i mean: “existence.”
i enjoy myself. i am and happy where i am at and what i do from day to day as it is done. i am not relegating or excusing my responsibilities, i recognize and appreciate what i am; who i am. of all that contributes to who i am, my influences, my context(s), my friends, my actions, my thoughts, at the “end of the day” the result is who i am. and it’s fantastic.
some have said that this might be “telling myself what i need to hear” or justifying myself or my shortcomings.

?!

but from their perspective, their perception, that is how they see it. that is their understanding.

and i have mine, as we each do.

observations on the toes of linoleum

the tree i currently have up (has been since christmas 2007) was bought at target in november 2007. it has 2,000+ tips and 600 lights. the price printed on the label was $179.95 (but i remember getting a discount of some sort). this year, whether economically influenced or just the thoughts or misconceptions of economic “crisis/downturn,” the christmas aisles at target (and other stores) have come swiftly into place. there seems to be more of a holiday presence with the in-store hanging décor (globe ornament-esque shapes made out of heavy cardboard strips that attach at top and bottom “poles” to create the globe shape) and the themes seem to be more nostalgic this year than before. i noticed that the new “skin” of the packaging is the same flat-and-gloss striped type that has been used for years now at target. this year it is a red colour with no other colours used except for the gloss stripes (in past years some of the stripes were actual different colours and not just light-affecting varnishes). the only items i could see that were “recycled” from last year were the tree stars. they were in the black striped theme of last year and the backs still said “2008.” target is very consistent with updating year dates on their merchandise or packaging.
the artificial trees this year are not as advanced as may have been if the economic momentum had not been interrupted (though there is a slight shift to the slender tree). one of the trees this year is almost exactly the same as the one i bought in 2007. it is called something different but it is still a blue spruce variety and it looks exactly the same except for a few differences. it is 7.5’ and has attached pine cones similar in type to the ones attached to my current tree (versus a different variety of cone). it has the same angled four-legged stand and it is a hinged pre-lit variety. but the main difference is that this tree is $229 and only has 1,775 tips with 500 lights compared to $179 with over 2,000 tips and 600 lights.

it is interesting to see trends, inflation, profit gouging greed or innovation, cultural changes, attitude changes. this is observed and identified in the individuals- the consumers as well as the retail stores and manufacturers. the “climates” of human social structures are a very rich and dynamic source of existential indication.

cultural subtlety

mountain dew baja blast has been around for a few years now. but only at taco bell. i discovered about a year after trying it that it is a lime-based flavour. i have not done any research about this but i wonder if the drink is a taco bell exclusive.
as a side note because i know i have not documented this yet in any way (i think) is that i continue to like the taco bell sauce packets with the funny phrases on them. including the purple one that replaced the orange hot colour that was out about a year ago for feedthebeat.com.i suppose the packets will be discontinued eventually, probably soon. but it has been nice to have a little “flavour” like this in the popular culture mainstream.

my name and "as"

mcóx, mzocoxito, mzococucacu, gan, “kanser,” rene, and juan- these all represent who i am. my social assign or “official” name would be “juan.” but only those slave to the tradition that dictates that a name be absolute, as assigned by another (even a parent), will not understand when i say that “juan” is not “my” name. it is my father’s name. his name is “juan” as well but what i mean is that it is the name he chose to name me. my mom wanted charlie, rene, dominic, amoung others. those were “her” names. but my father ultimately chose my name and entered it into social record and absolutes when he wrote down and submitted my papers, my birth certificate. we are all relatively helpless to disobey these strong social conventions and ethics. especially since most of the general rules are actually well-enforced laws. this is a relative constant no matter where one is at in the world. we must give our children names, not temporary ones to later be solidified or chosen by the individual.
perhaps our social/physical evolution effects this behaviour of naming and assigning. it would make sense because so many people, the majority of the population, abides by this and even relishes and enjoys it. for someone of my perspective, however, it is nonsense. it makes no sense to follow without question. but not without having to question, but rather following the rhythms of the self. the rhythms include instinct and emotion, knowledge and intelligence, wisdom, context and necessity, etc. thinking through to conclusion or “eventuality,” common sense, reason, presents a “path” that serves the individual. and this is not “self centered” or “selfish” because the balanced individual acknowledges and has interaction with those around them. therefore the “path of the individual” includes the individual’s environment or context and all that is contained within. this includes other people for example.
for me, this means not necessarily following without question. for most, it seems, that following without much questioning or thought is what their rhythms are. i can only imagine the probable demise of the human species if most of the population were made up of people like myself. that is why while i feel a lot of nonsense from most people, i still understand their thinking and behaviour because they are the main group of the human species continuing our evolution and survival. in the end it is not so much nonsense is it? just a matter of perspective.
my name is whatever the individual decides. not the group. the group is made of individuals, and at some point it is up to the individual to contribute their decision or action to the group (however big the group may be). the individual may hide or be overshadowed in the group but the group is no group without the individual(s).
in this case my name is not “my” name but the individual’s name they decide to assign or label me with. “my” name(s) are my own. they will change by my own dynamic and its rhythms and movements. i will convey them in communication with other people. and this will continue despite the type of reception my names have or the way they may be used.
names are tools. they are forms to assist function and provide result. communication can be said to be the necessary result. but what kind of communication? what goals are involved, what themes, what directions... a word or idea like “communication” is very generic and broad. and that is good. it is a good word to start with. and with each human to human relationship we bond and define the nuances in meaning.

generally, if our attractions are strong enough then so too will be the bonds formed. the spectrum extremes of both bond and separation are never guaranteed, absolute, certain, static, or permanent. existence fluctuates. it is a changing form much like (and reflected/indicated by) our own organic dynamic.

me “as” [enter your label for me here]

“ganasgan.” gan as gan. ganas gan.

a familiar reflection

destruction is the before

a shadow once become

ever since and then unto

paper after under thumb

a note on my perspective

one can have a respect for something but not actually respect it

human dilemma

“i think, therefore i am... confused.”

reception of perception

where were we before the moment now? lifetimes, years, ages, months... days? hours? seconds?

did they exist? what about what will be? or is there a "will be."

most of this goes unnoticed, unquestioned in favour of our instincts and our ability to conform to our species' cultural evolutional state. we have evolved with the element of the "social group" and so our instincts are aligned with and support that state of being.

but when one thinks more than the average- is compelled to ask the unusual questions (or simply, the questions that are unanswered) then the existential (all the initial questioning here) becomes obvious and commonplace.

afterday sentiment

my corrode suffers to eat my accordion. but in the meantime - happy post-octoween!

fallen drawers

into the layers of mattress and pillte posumae we dived. mattress batting us about the knob; falling, falling. where does it stop?
the philtered light comes from around, no source discovered no matter found. but we fall to it, all abound. astounded that we can be in this falling state, amoung bedded wares and nightdream bares.

and with a swipe or two of our cottong-knit seems we land to the bottom of a fiber-mill stream.