Monster Television Commercial: Stork

here is a commercial i gravitate towards. someone told me once that i see in "storybook," that the way i explain things is like it is being read from old books of children's fable and rhyme. that stuck with me, because i found that i "see" in dramatic frames. that is that my imagination seems to be continually insinuated in my sight of what seems to be the "real" world. light is grander, textures wonderfully drawing me through the wiles of optic impression, sounds tymbic soft and the notes of tasted air and whorl.

expressive moments like this video are reassurances i am not dreaming, a pat on the back by someone saying you're not alone - we're all mad here.

embarrassed reuben

the sexes confuse me. why they fight so much. fuss so much. grouping together to group against another. ultimately they seem to just want comforts – to sooth the perceived pains as real or fictional as they might be. perhaps to escape? perhaps to forget. humans are social. i believe in evolution and that we have evolved an instinctual response to grouping together. perhaps we all have varying degrees of this instinctual sensation.


the “race” is no less fussed, neither are the “classes.” our beautiful balance confused in favour of the variable caste.

Embrace Life - always wear your seat belt

a timeless piece for me.

the eyeless everything

i am not the demented ornament sought.  ' neither strange enough, peculiar enough, valuable enough, subtle enough, accessible enough.  i see and cannot stop the ask; perspective is my peripheral curse.  the verbed song in my occulatim occursari.
whose song am i?  my own curse; my own cure.  a cause explaining itself to the hundred white.  but the eyeless needs no explanation.  a timeless second surpassing the articulations of the invented.  still, i am dipped in the gray satellite; a float between the shouting black and white polarities.  defined and deafening.  strange and compelling.  familiar and repulsive.
i glide there but never fall.  not enough gravity to make an impact, not enough momentum to fly away.

magic's in peripheral

the sit is so close to an endless reach; seemingly, perceivably.  the half-inch underwater might be five leagues of a shoe ~ half-size too small.
i might be reaching to a scraped sky long left of cloud and slight.  a vacation of the void that used to be my pal, my medium.  and with little left to crutch and chew i am my own myth amoung the wandering question.  discovery imminent; knowledge an abstract zanfona playing a piper's song.  weared my textures go?  lost in the lint trap?
but all along i am the everything blanket shouldering the flying boy.