Me and the cat Megalith. Ride Toledo weather together turning out to be fresh winds in the morning and as modulated heat as the prime watering spots in Mediterranea. Wooden Torpedo, almost do not
almost do not need drugs until y'all move here. Words writ down on a piece of paper appeal, isn't there an expression I am apealing to you for attn:? Lost: One Eternal Mother, One lion1 Cobra
" People fear and actively hate the feeling of resistance " - Clayton Eshleman.
A whole series of my campaigns in answer: I thought I was ready for fun with real audio, but I become so eye sore square that when the mouths and the words do not allign I still feel nervous. This is serious, I have never been sure our words and mouths allign in real life. Do I don't trust people? Tire tracks all across their fronts I can see they landed in America where ? In the big heat , in a glassy glare but Toledo blows like a breeze through an orchard. What every where is essential is to sleep with your face up, like in a conversation, you donot have to be a pinhead , it starts our adventure off higher, and nearer to the Nightkitchen...
Barefoot_in the_Head book, a slow motion, extrabrave 70's prison escape, a good bravura book, and it was in 1968. People vote yearly for a wave of wild and wonky faces to roll over us. In recent votes we asked for the sound to be turned off, no telling what we would give if all the faces in the county asked for their favorite food. That was what we asked for during our Covid, for a talking to by a triangle of paint, at least those who took the vaccine, for an injectible mutuall understanding. Because we get what we asked for, soon to be, paintings, inexplicably entwined in the landscapes that the modernists denied, making fun of us entirely ad hominem personally with real audio.
We are Willy the wonk, and if we are wise, we meet the robot rise with pants on. Kill them with kindness, welcome back Gimmy Carter, where have you been all your life ? A game with vacation island stratagem, in which all we recieve in payment is robot news stories, talking about believable disasters at the CERN. Delivered kindly, as in a Tom Brokeneck mountain stern uncular-avuncular talking head, only keeping you abreast of a disaster in two hours. Really, not secretly, we will be asleep int wo hours, we might know we be or not...The nature of meeting the world where it giantly collpased two hours ago, includes correctly imagining being maniacally misunderstood, as if deliberately, but obviously, politically, and unconsc'.
Can I talk to a real person? That was the sole reason the robots will appear as the Gubernator version of Schwartznegger. They admire his victories over humanity. Minor victories.
All has to land, at night, I guess we jumped the shark and nobody is left after our seas of green starring our gunboat showing them all our wooden hearts, to retail the tale. The rules are so different at night, I feel torn, open the door, opinion flies into the thinner air, " I don't think..."
Yes, friend what do you don't think?
That you should continue in this fashion....
Paper moon, paper sea, ink blots for our faces that your nightime companion sees. By accident, on thrilled to stillness days that we are tired from on off again hard work, all the more so what you see is what made it through suppertime. And they tell you at night, the words piped in from the blatzing of farm animals, nicknames, flickering tongues, tunnels, toy trains, arrivals.
There are countries you could visit and two too many times press people to make yourself understood, the natives will poke you with sticks for everybody's good. But those are not what/and who I want to dry out on the clothesline, twisting int he wind, at night. I want the airport in which all the planes have arrived, the talking, talkative, cannot stop talking planes. Soviet factories were dangerous largely because the attention had little enough, mostly gunmetal gray to settle eyes upon.
Drawing lines around planes that have crashlanded. The context inwhich I became finally aware the soviet project looked ike the worst cogs in the machine kind of aesthetic you could paint : came from the last two years of the USSR. Leave it a certainty, but at the same time the People of the Union of Soviet REpublics were sick of participating, at the same time the nonnarrated videos of gunmetal gray appeared in the knowledge that is certain in a series of verifiable visuals.
Another plane landed is the feeling that anger is performative. By the similar light on the old USSR, while I believe that exiting the scene of an invading line of loaded for bore cops can be a lifestyle, at the same time, the real crime of peace and quiet law and order being named in a traffic stopping protest, is not a homemade petty throat clearing type argument. The first thing that an act counter to business as usuall visa viz the crisis of weather that lands near 2030 does is not to toxify the participant. The first thing that does is to announce we have needs, this freedom worded, worried forehead, feeling that all the most important todate insect extinctions and the corresponding simplifiation of human life into the flat aspect of a bored-game have been ignored.
All the eagles had landed, what had happened was...in an explosion of feathers, turkey and gristly and ribaldry landings in nests of women they were ill trained to mano e mano. Sounds neatoanyhow, but I am here in a town that does not live off of military contracts, my moral masonry foundations come form when I was 19 thinking I would putt down to the Farm and offer Stephen Gaskin to slop them hogs, or be his amaneusis, or the first next thing coming. In books like _Monday_ Night Class that one time army man, Korea?, gave me the resistance training idea that even if the world turned a sparkle hose of colors, like my friends would if all of us were famous for only tow seconds?- a spaking spray of colors little known outside my own soul, but wiht Gaskin you hear the rumor that the world will roll on and tomorrow will be heap um plenty alot of work to be done.
And contrary and parallel to my mere morals, puny morales, is my motto : " Just give me one minute to get dressed and I will come RIGHT out!" Eli Wallach in Goodbadand theuglymovie. RIck Roderick says if Beaudrillard is right, that people relatively accomplish something when they change their clothes and believe they changed into a career, or a heroic defiance. Appearances are reality too, and another Clayton Eshleman morsel for your wordy writer's christmas in July train : " Some words with the little king..." I donot remember how that goes, but I am charmed already, I am for sure. Here was Stephen Gaskin-Little Gas King: " if it sounds true, then it true enough was almost true? about to be true, true enough..." Gaskin's most often repeated line was what seems true to us: that where your emotional heat and excitement buzz-flies, that will be where your attn: jumps. Blue gas jets our canned heat + light-weight intelligences, Ms. O'Connor hates us for where our attn: goes, but forgives, the mother of two boys I believe...political prankster and gone momma, gone! Our draught horse, gone on a vaporous breath to the bowling lanes of the little green men. Puny humans. What a mensch she was. The mystery was: she was both the lion and the cobra, a silent story, an eyeball mess-around between two apex predators , you lookitup if there really was a Hindu old standard story about a lion and the cobra. She tried to live near London, that was when we met her, could not do it, if they hated me they will hate you...
In answer: turn every corner, clam every mountain. We could be systematic about who to be in the one future week of violent August we will participate, but those are not red rubber balls in bombardment, and to hallucinate enemies is a flight of fancy . 49 old and I can still see myself from above performing the specific tics of an unglued American cardboard crank, on demand. Another line to draw is around rock and rollers, that if you can listen to your rocker drawing those hard lines, and believe, and wait for her to come around with a small word of positivity ? That was one caucasian chalk circle to draw around the phenomena. In other words, that if we believe we are in a play or don’t, we might as well. In other words that Ireland is Atlanticaly, wickedly cold in the winter, Sinead lost her 14 year old, 600 days ago? but Tuesday night she may not have had words to express just whose hungry ghost was eating her. Summer, feeling insulated ourselves, drink or don’t, Sinead always said you expected too much from a poison glass of wine, get offa the pot, rise up and commit an atrocity, we always say in the U.S.A. I draw this line around the present moment in the USA, our products and items are still made with quality steel, donot let a bicycle seduce you, but there is a confidence here on this continent in the positive peer pressure of practical devices we represent until we collapse in an emotional mess.
