HOW TO UNDRESS FOR YOUR MAN

found this
it's by don mcgregor and billy graham

after about a year of not cleaning
wherever you live
a room starts to develop that stale bread texture
that smell or taste
and you live with it
or you seek it out and disinfect it
like some old gangrenous limb that threatens to fall off

you dissassemble the room
you've been habitating
and under a pile of socks,
a couch,
in an old suitcase that's never been closed
there's some papers
that you'd wrote on a year ago

the words look like these ones
the words sound like these ones
the words feel like these ones

and it smells of stale bread

you pick it up, bite into it,
to make sure
and you find that smell in your mouth
that texture.

and you sit with that
for a day or two

because you know you're not done
but you're too tired now
to finish

and now that the smell is out
in the open
exposed and a hundred times stronger
with your memories

you move the little briefcase,
you find a new place for it
where you think you won't smell it again.

and these pages, you've found hanging around this year
you place with in the briefcase too.

forget about it, with a couch, some socks,
and a stick of incense.

it's so much better this way.

i write a lot about
failed artists and writers

and my favourite books
have despondant anti-heros
who live life truly;
as real life is lived -
with great imperfections

and all their goals incomplete
or with great compromises,

and just to make you know it's real
the editors line the books with biographies
of the stories inventor

graduated from
ph d. in
married to
also wrote

a life that's pure, fulfilled
and free of any error,
or noble ones
or ones that were beyond their control

while inside
these little forwards
and biographies

lies something dark and horrible
that you know happens
even sometimes to you

and this character
wants to write a book
but can't
and has to deal with
the strange opportunities
and failures
life permits
because it's real.

(you know it's because
they've been so righteously selfish
in a way you can't be;
where you write about others
and not yourself;
and you keep your life
and that life you want to show
seperately;
and you wonder why you can't be
that selfish
and work on your life;
and not give your life
to the characters in a story
while leaving yourself behind)

21

birthdays make sense.
we celebrate death
as life, a moment
measured in cakes.

drunk and smoking too much

Artist's Statement:

my doctor says i should quit but he says the worst part is it's scaring me to death.

i do it to deal with the stress of it.

Craig and Sarah looking away from me

Pygmalion watching Galatea leave.

Artist's Statement:

i think what i'm trying to say here is i have such a big fucking crush on everything imaginable,

everything that can't ever be physically reached.

‎(a woman is [a metaphor for] an idea)

""If Xenophon of Ithaca is gonna spend 120 hours a week netting fish in a floating wooden coffin, Xenophon is gonna pretend that coffin has tits goddammit!"~Origin of ship gender tradition, ~2000 BCE."

Talking to children about sex

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")

He's back in the meat truck again.
The kids are trading hickeys
like baseball cards

I'm in a field
picking and chewing the seeds
from a sunflower's womb.

Wondering:
when are you back
when will I be next
and when the hell
are we
going to grow
up?

Dec. 6th, re: Nov. 28th

One year of delirious madness
cursing the name of woman kind
loving, forgiving, using and being used.
I found myself staring
at the shadow of last year's
broken ideals.
The same colours of shame and regret
but seeping in from other people.

I laugh it off like a word
repeated excessively.
It loses definition,
a gross bodilly function
and the simplest joke.

Finger, finger, finger, finger, finger,
finger, finger, finger, finger, finger,
finger, finger, finger,
finger, finger,
finger,
finger, finger, finger, finger, finger, finger, finger,
finger, finger, finger, finger, finger, finger, finger,
finger, finger, finger, finger, finger, finger, finger,
finger, finger, finger, finger, finger,
finger, finger.

I HOPE THIS LOOKS GOOD.