Hey Rager, I’m saying that. What? No you aren’t. Icebergs. You don’t know until you hit ‘em. I can’t believe it. It’s upside down? What is? The sun. But it’s never upside down, it’s always the right way up. Sure. It’s burns. Hairs. Triple. Trifle. Desert. What is a good feeling anyway? What if good was bad and bad was good. Well, ain’t that a statement. Mona Lisa must have thought the same things, her smile says it all - all’s well with the world. Not. A dividing range. Overflowing. Purity. White as a dove. The rain burns through the atmosphere. Why do we call it rain. What makes it rain? Why four letters? Why did it feel right to name it that? Why does anything feel right? Well I guess it comes from our ridiculous ability to pretend. Is there anybody who doesn’t pretend. Let me pray for them! Have you ever prayed? Who’s even listening! Maybe it’s God but is he external or a greater version of ourselves. Speaking of which, have you seen the. End quote. Turns out the brain is actually a set of precise algorithms that allow us to simulate the world around us in a way that mimics reality and distorts it at the same time. Funny, huh?
Metaphorically speaking, I have no idea where I’m going with this but it’s one of those moments, you know? Those moments where everything makes sense and you realise the world is about to explode and your mind is the centre of consciousness and really you have it all figured out. God Willing! They used to make books about this type of stuff. Today everything is so mislead. We’re all machines! I miss the days before my own existence. What a joke! Maybe it’s a lack of responsibility. Optimism grows in the gutter of the bandwagon. Where’s the chocolate? Turns out they destroyed a whole forest for a few moments of fleeting pleasure! It happens. Have you ever seen a Chinese man hang upside down while a bunch of kids balance on their heads? I have because I can imagine. Can you? You see what is the difference between imagination and reality? One feels real and one doesn’t and one feels good and one feels great but that great feeling isn’t real. Strange. Give me a gun, i’ll shoot it out of the sky! We build, we live, we love, we label and we die. Wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t for the label part. Ha ha ha.
I’m looking around the room for some sort of idea to latch onto, then I realise that’s rediculous and that I just spelt ridiculous wrong. Wow. But really what matters and what I’m trying to say is that the energy does not come from outside but inside. There’s a world exploding in your mind, you only need to learn how to unlock it. And to do that people need to be avoided. They bring the politics, the territorial attitude to your mind. They attach you then your mind screams for repentance and you realise it’s all over before it began. That’s if you don’t make any changes. Like Mrs. Peggy. Killed by her own complacence. It’s alright though, she had kids and placed the whole damn cycle back onto them. They’re alive and well. Burning clogs in a warehouse. Nuts.
Steve’s my idol. And my idol is the source of my sin. What is sin? Is it universal or indoctrination? The force of the world driven by evolution. We don’t matter but we matter the most. Spindles. Abandonment. Time. Dance. Love. Lust. Those feelings that give a spin to the life we life. What does it all mean anyway? Why should one feeling mean something and another shouldn’t? Where’s the love for melancholy? I suppose it’s a teenagers best friend, that and the art of the deal. What would you say to that? You see painting a picture in one’s mind leads to a world unexplored. That is the beauty. Brain waves flashing and a video posted online only expands the human ability to know. The human population are a particular type of brainwave in God’s brain. Ain’t that somethin’.
Well I think the real outcome is special, special in the sense that we can ask the question, what happens if we spend a life in our daydreams? That’s where the real magic is. Playing eye spy with Mary Poppins in the gutter. What is it with gutters? It’s word that evokes hope, in the most cynical sense possible. I keep thinking about Mrs Peggy and how although she was so unaware it got her everything she needed. The aware look down on the ignorant but the aware, in all their righteousness are the ones you should feel true pity for. Music. Plays games with the soul, teaching it the ways of the world. Well then what differs sound from music? Even the sounds you hear when no ‘music’ is playing. We fall apart as we come together and politicians argue over a tension that can never be solved. But it’s not a problem - so why argue? Lots of questions, little answers. Look people in the eye, it’s one of the only signs of humanity we have. Otherwise we just struggle for that which is free, you know?
The aim of growing old is to grow young because the first time you didn’t actually decide. Streams and rivers. Never the same but staying consistent or at least in appearance. How are you is probably the most mundane question to beg humanity. Why does it matter how we are? We aren’t cogs. Tick tock tick tock. Nothing in life is free or everything in life is free depending on how you look at it. Double wrist tattoos make a man queasy. Especially with a wobbly line.
Got gone, get well. Watch out love it’s something you did ten years ago. crazy go - eat a candle full of fire. Meaning a wire. Meaning what. Say good. Say bad. Falling out of timbad. Look out kid. You got it all you need to do is chill. Time calls. Waiting on the moment to strike. Sitting down eating well lollypop stick on the sidewalk standing tall. Rule number one is make sure you don’t fall. 20 dollars, 16 pound, butchers meat on the ground. Why does something seem more true if it rhymes? Why does the world seem better if the sky is blue. Evolution I guess. Or maybe it’s a theory that answers only half the story. That’s if magic exists. What do you think?
Printing things out of thin air and our emotions are still king. We still have the same emotions as before Christ, that’s nuts. What an opportunity. Suppose that explains the success of alcohol and drugs and all those kinds of things. They make you feel something when the world can’t. Better to feel rotten than feel fake love. Turns out I’m one of the only ones who believe that but also one of the only ones who seem aware of the big black void inside all of us. It causes us to act desperately think about the short term anyway this is way too coherent and enough about me.Rabbits sitting. Achilles heel. I wonder if Aristotle would consider a jump in a park while eating rotten fish. Sure don’t make them like that anymore. Or they do but the environment stops that from happening? What from happening? Hollistic wisdom. Wisdom. I guess falling through the sky in a latex suit while filming yourself for instagram is trying but you don’t get it I’m a spaceman, an astronaut sent from the ether to correct this all. Actually I’m not, but if I believe it and you do to then it’s likely that I will be. At least if I get my story straight.
No expectations because expectations make the swarm swell and the bees pass out from too much pollen. Even though there isn’t too much. Don’t forget they’re only human - most of them anyway although I have my suspicions that a lot of them could be robots. Seen nothing that would convince me otherwise. I saw a boy once, I think he had schizophrenia but he kept laughing whilst he called out an intruder. There was more soul in his laugh than I’ve seen mustered up in an arena filled with career men. I did mind but now I regret it. Or I would reconsider but when you’re stuck on a bus and you have no choice things tend to be irritating and it takes a special type of mind to go beyond. Expectations.
The grim reaper took a shotgun to himself and now we’re left to die all by ourselves. Would have been nice to have an enemy. Thinking. Feeling. Two different realities and I want to live in both but then I’m only half a man. Unless I compartmentalise myself into two beings that have a physical connection. Hurray. Single spacing. Bullets. Print. Plants. The incremental nature of nature. It starts with a seed and through objective feeding of certain resources grows autonomously. No force. GravityDoesNotWorkHard. Wisdom to know. Self actualisation does not lie in self but in other and it takes self to realise that. All you have to do is choose. It might not make sense but nothing in this blank makes sense. It’s all irrational. Trust humans to try rationalise that which is bat shit crazy! I heard we can live on jupiter providing we live 53km over the surface. That would be some kind of life. I wonder if when we get there if we will actually understand ourselves and the human condition. Not if we keep looking for it through what. Why is the real question and that can’t be answered in any empirical way. I’m not supposed to but sometimes I delete sentences I write in this sprawl because I feel some sort of guilt into putting things into a box. Really though, I need to feel nothing of the like because my plants are sagging and reality is calling.
Conversation is a funny thing as only when something is externalised does it begin to crumble. Perfection only exists isolated in the mind of the individual. That can be a cockroach for all I care. Frequencies. Once spoke to a boy without saying a word. Once made a girl feel deeply without a touch. It’s strange how certain intimacies makes one feel more alone. You never know when something is going to come back. You input it then seven hundred and thirty three years later it comes right back out. Only more refined and slightly corrupt. And the case of art, not as good as the original. Speaking of original, there is no greater art than, well. A forceful memoir of that which we hope will live beyond a moment. Sunshine. Tranquility. Peace. Affection. Fulfilled. Desire. Progress. Warmth. Unfiltered self expression and two minds crossing without an ounce of intention. Magic. They say a picture speaks a thousand words but intersecting souls speak and overcome a lifetime of desire. Desire builds. It’s a contract. Nothing good came out of a contract. At least in heavenly terms. Did contracts come from desire or did desire come from contracts? You know, the mental ones you make in your head. The rules and regulations and the patterns of the world that you try to tell yourself to make it more predictable. The conscious mind knows nothing. The unconscious knows an ounce more. It makes the difference though. It’s funny, we have these bodies, these faces, these minds and situations. Yet we all take great pride in that which we did not build and that which we were freely given.
Information in the world. Is a byte a virtual equivalent of a grain of sand? Probably much less. We go by appearances. We can’t perceive much. There’s world world out there of wavelengths and frequencies we don’t even know about. ninety nine percent of a world anyway. Madness is in the mob and sanity is in the solemn. Heaven and hell are states of mind. Or states of soul. Souls are a transfiguration of energy. Most stories go untold. The moon is only bright because it reflects the light of the sun. And slight light from other sources, but primarily the sun. It is easier to follow than to lead. Tell that to my dog. The prize is in the walk! Delicious. Better not to know rather to know with the wrong answer. Better not to have than to have the wrong thing. Sometimes more feels like you're going somewhere.
Why don't we feel fulfilled by our dreams (the ones when we sleep). Lived realities are no different. Maybe we wake up another layer after this is all over and the things we experienced here fall apart in the same way.
there’s not much happening here
we’re dying to get the job done
but the wind is blowing against us
we’ve tried it at 6am and we’ve tried at midnight
it seems the only thing that works
is when our lives are in danger
i know you see the potential just like we do
otherwise you wouldn’t have gotten back
the sea is really the only place to be for people like us
so get yourself out of that awkward ditch
and desire one thing with all your heart
then the universe will listen
anyway i need to go the music is on and i’ve made a promise
but don’t underestimate …
Life in the Belly of the Communion Under an alley way lies the terrain of Singapore. A forbidden staircase and a big red bus. It’s a place of humanly affair and self importance - the fuel of success. Beyond the station a high profile company has a bunch of employees who role in the mud. Everyone wants to role in the mud although but it's strange because they know it only makes you dirty. By the canal the maiden’s perfect blonde hair blows and the two rooftops kiss. Children run through the water and we follow where the children go.
Her sweet smile runs a bliss. The meadow a proud mother. Mystery runs through the blood. Coffee can’t wait and the shop owner predicts as he is predictable. Sixteen years. A white cloth, a bouquet of flowers and a journey into the unknown. The thoughts float and sink only when they are not given air. The golden ticket has been given for today - a finer grain than what we have today.
Fragility strikes the fragile. Control exercised through money. Exponential functions should not be underestimated. Keep stock. Overcompensation is a form of redundancy and redundancy is a fight against the fragile. Careers are for 20th century cogs. How would you like to be the average of all that surrounds you? To see the colour that destroys the planet? To listen to primitive man masked by his shirt and tie? See a dream crumble before your eyes? To return to childhood through the pureness of friendship? To give without expectation? To have freedom but be caged? To rely on the world to give you sunshine? To return to the past through music and transport into the future through reading? To start as easy as you finish and still learn everything you needed? To drink a pint out of politeness? To be in the wrong class? To save a presentation instead of the world? To love without even understanding how? To be chased and be chasing? To be given everything you could ever ask for?
Turns out in all that time I didn’t find anything but a man on a throne guarding nothing but ruins. An idea of purity that turned rotten as I held it in my hands.
Finding Gold in the Andes (with a friend called Andres)
Career means progression and the path to gold is unclear. Soft beats Hard. Not in sex but in skills. Soft means to deal with uncertainty. Greater risk. This greater risk returns greater reward. Where have you been Mr Brown Eyes? Climbing on a steep cliff. I look to my right and I see people! Difference is that my trajectory is much greater. What do you reckon? Maybe it’s deceit. Candy floss blue meets candy floss pink and for a moment the world becomes all kinds of love. Affection rules the earth but affection is fleeting. A fickle child of the wind. Why did they choose to coat powder on that one? Ain’t complaining but what do you know? I shot her. Guillotine. Less than actually. Beyond the surface the lack of comfort from this choice actually leads me to great notions. Humans are very good at picking that up without even realising. They ain’t mean they just focused! Nasty on the pitch and gentle off the pitch. When are you on the pitch? What does the pitch look like? Perception, humans seem to rely too much on what they can see. The difference between prophets and men. Extraordinary people see past their sight and that’s where I met Andres on the Andes.
And when we were there we could see the beautiful landscape intercepted by only the deep bleux Ocean (you see as it’s not quite blue and we’re not advanced enough to give names to colours that are not absolute but alas) with the crowded swimming pool. If only they knew. The world is awaiting and it’s not found in humanly affairs.
Dreaming in blue. Love & the Apophatic. Words. Words. Words. They limit our imagination and ultimately or future. Great conversation can not be synchronous. He talks to her without manner, she asks about her dress. It’s special. That secret attraction, physically it’s nothing but under the skin it’s everything.
Desire and destiny’s child
The mystery of the blood, itching for the transcendental, A recurrence of youth. The aim of life is to become young because the first time you didn’t decide. Have you ever wondered about how a river flows with no one there to hear it? The city rises as you learn how to read and it falls as you begin to make love. there’s a world beyond our comprehension; A result of desire, it’s best light brought through a belief in destiny.
The trash that empties itself (and steals your intellectual property)
Focus. Progress. Reality. People. Use. Seasons. Motions. Hidden secrets. Winning against the odds. You push and it moves away from you. You are pushed and you move away from it. Minimum work and maximum force. I tried to create a space and the trash stole my intellectual property and emptied itself. Bastard!
Peace will rainbow and wait for the guards as Johnny sits on the deck, looking for a particular tone of skin. The button becomes a target of a menial affair and an icicle falls penetrating space and time. The volatility moves back and forth and turbulence becomes a sign of positivity for those who have nothing to lose and options in which they have all to gain.
Sandy realised after 50 years that he had an allergy to structured work and all he needed to go was go on a walk. To go on a walk. That’s really all he had to do.
Heart shaped tattoo, a record number of photographs highlighting a fragile human condition, one that relies on validation and climbing an invisible ladder that was created by someone else. One day they will realise.
Jumping salmon crosses the bridge with a pulse, able to move as freely as the movement in and elbow. It’s colours radiate and the body of water below it only adds to the excitement. A mystical world, creatures evolved in a certain way somehow have a physical attraction to one another but that exact thing could be replicated with a different set of physical conditions, and it is! Golden tickets into Neverland don’t come from beating bodies.
Mr. Orwell lives in a pretty beautiful house. That blue badge really keeps him going but despite all warnings, Wendy decided to read a novel by a somewhat comprehensive and locally known author. What she didn’t realise is that balance is not a virtue in itself but only when achieved through the balance of two extremes. While she read her novel and didn’t have a clue what was actually happening, her horse eat her breakfast and stole her newspaper. It’s probably a good thing he can’t read lies.
Down the road there’s a wizard with his Goofy Friends. Not the one you are thinking about but the ones on the farm. Speaking of which, the observer’s face was eaten by a pig. He was passive about the whole thing.
And what about the trees? Not all the leaves can receive light. Some are left to darkness. Then what is their job? To try. They still die, very much like those with light and they can still reach the source through that process. But they must struggle more in this life and the answer is unclear. All I know is that now the winners only have to lose & the wheel is still in spin.
The purpose of knowledge
Announced, the new Electronic Messiah will rise as he is chosen. Forgotten as he dies. If you think the news is fake you should read history. Prophets don’t engage in humanly affairs and they definitely don’t tweet.
Did you know the best tools don’t actually exist? So don’t let your eyes fool you.
Building on the foundations of something that’s lost. Peace & tranquility stored in the visuals of the waving banner. A lonely young man roams the streets of New America, hoping for a conversation. Having nothing to lose, he is becoming anti fragile and it his duty to carry his state past comfort into the riches of this world and the next one. With all stripped away the only reward is that which is not seen. Rooftop lovers gone into the ether. Lava burns.
Perspective & Peace of mind. The deeper you go, the more perspective is lost. Stay tall. Nature is bottom up. Composed of centres. Growing Radially. Incremental improvements. It carries and then it deposits. All in her process. Evolution is the most beautiful force in the universe.
We are all trapped with the same natural limitations, give or take a little. Free will doesn’t exist, neither is everything planned but a tension between the determined and the free.Knowledge won’t save you but it will give you something to do.
The function of the function (it sits on the sleeping sponge)
I’m looking for a dog that will sell my bath, clip my cigarette and collect my commission. A bird that will add to my building, discover my simplification and automate my email. A church that will think of my gun, check out my hacking and return me the tuition. A prisoner that will eclipse my swat. Who will smash the sitter, Eat the tube and dive into the expression. A father who will stage the comprehension, shift the thrift and push the origin. A leader who will ship the propaganda, eat the fruit and pay the lonely. A ginger who will eat the curd, interview my dog and commission my collection. A baby who will cough a rainbow, walk on the moon and collapse at the sound of a boot. A joker who will play the jack, sit on a throne and call out the wack.
Ain’t it like the silent to play noise in minds of the pilots, to float in the realms of the highest, to work with the air and regard the fair as an empty promise to be slept with.
The people talk and their actions meant for plenty, affection of one and indifference from many. Maybe they’ll win and maybe they’ll choose, to play the game and get paid for their dues. They’ll sit on the box and hug the devil, as he gives feeling and pretends they are special. What they say will sift through the net and arrive at the mind who will shortly forget. The child will hold long to that which is strong, to the one whom feeds it a mission and prevents fission. The fisherman will wait, the smartest of the crew. Taxi drivers, immigrants and the flaneur’ too.
The man will ask if can live true, beat out nature and conquer the fool. The positive come in the cockpits of planes, flying in the mind with a hint of insane. The balls graffiti, the wall is kicked. Loved by the bastard who wanted a hit. Electrons pick the slit to fit, emotions rise a moment of writ. The silence ends, the universe roars. Wholeness for all except the one keeping score. Intervention, good intention. The joker laughs at iatrogenic invention.
The woman decided to live like a drool, she once thought it crazy until she turned into a ghoul. Slowly and surely it began with a hit, a feeling desired and nothing else fit. A program of evolution, she fell to the floor. The baby was born then her husband abhor. One child died but two came anyway, in the eyes of the world what was left was plenty.
The poor boy and his ecstasy
Delirious motions bring a foggy haze. Green purge whiskers the bilateral philosophy of the asymptote. Almost there but not quite. It moves as you get closer. Always an offset away - it’s simply the way it has been programmed! Wrapper sticker maker car side pit dinner. Tarantula walks downside up, horses bend into the sand and the window does not actually differentiate itself from the wall.
Shallow well, ribbon cadillac. Abbey rails, sofa stills & paper dreams. Fossilised by the transcendental mind. Stout fading into singularity, double coned crusade. Places alone, perfect standing. Nights in the green and off goes the face into the fuck.
People are neutrons, the consciousness of God. We are one organ and we constitute the mind, the soul and therefore the body. Parts of people deal in bliss, others is misery. Some remember and some look to the future. Some produce and some consume. Some create memory and some record it. Some pass on information (most if you include reproduction) and others claim it. Universal laws are the fundamentals of the conscious whole. Just like a mind can venture to different parts. Conflict is wasted energy but a necessity for progress. It’s a never ending flux where no one part has any real importance. It’s not binary. Only the whole can be realised through the actualisation of the individual parts.
The parable of the sidewalk
Canals closed over through increased levels of radioactive super waves and the clouds blow over to reveal a beautiful baby. Metronome is the 16th wonder. It shows us that there is order without design, wholeness without invention. Stop trying and maybe the wind will blow you to places you once couldn’t comprehend. Light like air, flexible like water, steady as rock.
Get pumped. Purple shirts transmit ape like wonder over a bunch of deep sea cables. Hyperbole optimism is the only way to get through this junk. Speaking of junk have you seen the mad hatter and his peppered pretence? Shut up Gregory. You’re just like the others. Relativity. The whole is whole because of a hole in the ground and the trees keep blowing in the wind and they just won’t stop digging. They just won’t stop digging!
Impossiblility walking, time is falling. Walls breaking and people changing. Set in pace by a game unturned and a tone of mystery delivered and left forgotten. Meaning radiates out of the whole and leaves the rest to dry, slowly and without realisation. Courage and guts fill the room and speak over the silent. Without consent, gamification bites and leaves its objects to the theory of itself. The state never left alone but boy did it sure feel like it.
Well the first thing that happens is you lose your identity and become on with the world - they call it the soul of the world. It’s interesting because you have no conscious thought yet you are so much more productive. Don’t think though, don’t even question it. It’s dangerous to do that. The best thing to do is actually to focus on the little part of your brain that is giving you that seamless feeling that you haven’t experienced in a while then you’ll go to all types of places.
the network is blocked up from all the anger
and the quiet enjoy the moment
where the sun eats the sea and the plants rejoice
moving at a different pace than the rest of us
you know sometimes i wonder
does god see us as we see our pets
with love but a condescending gaze
in both our naivety and ignorance
the sky is forgiving but gravity is not
and although it’s beauty is there to behold
we have no choice but to see it
or be anything different than what we are
and you know its disappointing when people
try to pretend they have it figured out
because maybe if they didn’t
we could figure it out together
anyway i just sent this email to tell you
its really the things that make us feel good
that we should be careful of
but not avoided
your love john
Monkey cages and cross dimensional bridges
Along the canal a monkey sized cage (bigger than one would think), was dwarfed by a bridge that could transport you into another dimension. Great. Then I was approached by a man with a sheet over his whole body. ‘Please the pickled piper and the pickled piper will knock your teeth out.’ and his part girl sat valiantly on the wall dreaming about how masculine her mascara made him look. The pickled piper is a metaphor for people in case you didn’t get past the cryptic message.
Speaking of other dimensions, it’s a shame that intimacy no longer has a place outside of romance. Also, a sweet girl began selling her emotions over the internet and it made everyone cry. I watched from afar (as I always do) and wondered what provided the meaning in endurance. Anyway, it’s not a bad thing that we grow fonder of that close to us.
i was thinking about things the other day
and i remembered what you told me
that the greatest evolution a man could take
is in pursuit of the spirit
i’ve been trying to figure
what the point is of being one of the crowd
is it protection or desire
i’ve asked around where only the wind howls
perhaps its the first
then i would suggest that you give up the charade
and if it’s the latter
i would say you need to dream a little more
sometimes the music needs to stop so you can connect
with the world and itself
where the sun shines on the vines of the olives
and the weeds too
and i know you are writing
about the feelings of being saved
but that came with your birth
not your ticket to heaven
from your greek friend