Automatic Writing 2

A man wearing a suit jacket walks under the incandescent light, it vibrates and he shifts his eyes fast enough to notice. He is an office man, official and of that inane dignity many become envious of. He doesn’t know what he’s doing here ($$$). He leaves in a couple hours, after throwing down his suit and jacket, after spanning the long halls of his building and filling it’s toilets and urinals with his raw, dirty essence. He goes down the street and looks for something exciting.
A poster catches his eye.
“WHAT I LEARNED FROM LSD

Friday, October 6^th, at a sketchy cinema”
Under that,
“PINK FLOYD AND ALICE IN WONDERLAND

Thursday October 5^th, at a sketchy cinema”

A monopolistic entrepreneur of the psychonauts. They go at far ends to explain how they’ve received chemical enlightenment in just over 1000 doses of mixed recreational experiences. They’re probably just as dumb and pigheaded as he is.

He catches a voice somewhere, “You bashin’? I’m bashin’. Let’s Jam.” He doesn’t know what to think of it and moves on, some young afro with his whole life of guiltless fun ahead of him. Hopes he’s not a criminal.

He walks into a bar, the drinks are expensive, but it’s nearly empty and they have his favourite beer. A line from an old episode of the Simpson’s plays in his head, “What about us drunken slobs?” “You’ll be given cushy jobs!” “Monoraaaail…” It repeats 3 times before he catches a glimpse of the t.v., Sports.

He orders a drink because he can’t talk to these colourful and monotonous strangers without one.  He orders another because one wasn’t enough. It gets a man’s attention and he walks over.
“So?”
“What?”
“What’s your story?”
“Oh, I just got off work and felt a little thirsty.”
“You hear this band man? I fucking love this band. It's The Fall. I used to go to their shows in the 80s, I have all their vinyls, I was so into punk in the 80s, did you ever listen to punk?”
The man doesn’t care.
“No.”

There’s a pause and he wonders what he’s doing here. His drink is nearly done and he thinks about leaving.

“He gets another drink.”
“What? Who?”
“Oh, did I say that out loud?”

He gets another drink.

Automatic writing 1

If I spent enough time perfecting my art I would no longer be an artist, but a machine. I would collapse with the whole weary weight of exhaustion as the pinhole of the world that is my mind’s eye engulfs and spits out a gross, abstract, camera obscura image of insanity. Look here, listen. Do you want to know a secret? I don’t get it nearly as much as you do. I don’t wanna do it just about as much as you don’t. but society dictates that I have to if I want something else (food, satisfaction, women, money, respect. Do I need these things? Yeah I guess so.). Automatic spin-offs of text mean nothing. Touching this keyboard and letting out some sort of organized madness is madness itself. Flooding the whole light of felt tip yearning pages with some notes is silly. Don’t do this because you want to but only if this is the only burning plight you could ever imagine. Don’t tell me I’m wrong, but please don’t tell me I’m right. I only want to exist in my menial space as you do.

hightimes magazine

                The most important thing I’ve learned in college is that I’m going to be broke for a long time, at least heavily in debt. They prostrate my finances for an education that feels like it’s just killing me. The grown up kids they send in first year deal with it by filling their livers with alcohol (drugs), over the counter stimulants (drugs), cheap experiences (drugs), chlamydia, pot (drugs), and cortisol. The majority learn they’ll always be in debt, or if they’re lucky, that nothing really matters because someone will always be there supporting them until they’ve joined the rich oligarchy their fathers are in. Billions of Sisyphus’ pushing themselves up a mountain of debt: poverty, student loans, mortgages, private pension plans, government bailouts, bribes and islands of trash floating in the pacific because they’ll clean up after themselves much later.

                How can we ever live in the present when we live in a culture that enslaves us to a future we literally can’t afford? We live on borrowed money from the world’s ultimate powers (usurpers), or borrowed time from our own cheap, environmentally negligent greed also bestowed upon us by our masters. We managed to build the pyramids of Giza without slowly poisoning our planet and killing a third of the world’s species, why can’t people hold down jobs while doing the same today? When it’s close to too late, we’ll pay much more with our labour to forgive ourselves and fill the gap from all these artificially cheapened prices of our vices. Again, we’ll fall victim to major financial powers who are completely out of our range of influence. They’ll take our money as punishment for following them down the same hole they’ve lead us into. This is a zealous corporatocracy violently spreading itself across the world; the free market rules in a system where the only products are consumers.
                Now the neoliberal financial system consumes itself and brings political strife throughout Europe, the Middle East, America, and North Africa. In the meantime Asia, South America,  and the rest of Africa are also beginning to temporarily profit from our destructive philosophy, and the powerful ‘investing’(they buy you and your resources and your ideas) dollars of the invisible mega-rich. Once the whole world falls to prey and suffering to these financial dominions, when we are consumed with toxic debt and waste while a select few hold whatever they could ever possibly imagine, what will happen?
                Will we use our established collective technological and informational wealth to strike down, ignore these masters and control our own fate? Will we lay ignorant in the dearth of power while steeped in a world full of energy and resources?

I know I saw it
when she looked as if she's catched her existence' first
glimps of light
flickering on and off through a tree shaking in the sun,

and she

she only said 3 empty words to cover up what she was
with a polite what she should be,

"how are you"

a sad look down, her shoes are dirty and they have little holes
(her feet outdoing their slow obliteration in travels)
.

i smiled,
and not knowing how to hide what it was i am and feel in such simple elegance,

left.
(while my shadow stayed for another 3 seconds and held on to
but could not say,
"fine")