there is no philosophy in war

it's become a lips caress and i am but a stress ball

if anything, the muse owns my art and me.

it's like dao. who said? capitalism, psyche does not bend or twitch Truth. it's a baby tooth among maulers of serene anarchism.

insert here. another paradigm for the metaparadigm--the creative. ever notice how no one ever signs on the left side.

why worry about painting your name all big in the corner of "your" painting? the world was your inspiration. owning art is like owning exhales

fuck the bells and whistles if you can't hear the ring of my throat

no, i'm not saying that they're evil
i'm saying how do you know they know?

it's not the problem of evil
it's the epistemology of the arrogant

hobnoberies are for door knobs

but what was he was REALLY saying?

cultural econobots. in other words, enlightenment thinkers that only thought within the bounds of what their particular cultural economy would afford them, and that's all that they would afford us in many cases. but i suppose that's all we can do. or is it just sometimes? do we Supervise when we find our heads are above the clouds, (rather then getting rickshawed around the busy, wet ant hill streets in the same old entractioning, already-struck-through-your-bones society) but the question is, in the transfiguring affects of looking down, can we somehow tear our heads up and out to cross the skyline of drenched white otherwise. enlightenment yes. going back to the grass, ground, and earth to live beyond always but admittedly sometimes only sometimes; always trying. i suppose all we can do is try to look out. i mean, (hitting, coming from being in the face of all of this, all the syllables with the down stroke of down notes) Really Look Out.

the mystery of art history is oh

and if only you could catch the wind of the muscle in my face

is it pouring there? because it's beautiful! it's firing! it's lighting! it's divine:)

ardent serendipity

let it pour,
let it rain,
let it drench the earth with what can't be named!

let it pour

whatever happened to the trench coat mafia? did we forget about them? did we lose them in our hearts somewhere?

didn't they speak in tongues, or was it german?

yes... read into it... let the unintended creativity muse through your mind

but not better

that's better :)

a steady hand is impossible. we must move. and i love it. this involuntary toolage as the world arts

a steady hand is impossible. we must move. and i love it. this involuntary toolage as the worlds art

wow it's raining hard. i have a slip and slide outside my window. how beautiful

i will move it and shake it all over your rump roast

the brushes will never come off mr. scissorhands

i turned from the ally onto the street. it was almost as if there was culture.
i could feel it in the people walking around me. i could almost smell it. the pollution. it was almost as if there was no wal-mart just outside the city zoning. it felt good to hold my maye's photos. fuck wal-mart 1hr. photo.

to go to our true destination

appreciating art for what it really is, a search? maybe. a finding? not sure.

will i write of this day?

you may not realize that it's not about the advancement of the self so much right now as it is about watching, appreciating, the advancement of others. what a beautiful art that we compose together.

the mars volta was playing on the sterio. i got up to get the photos that i'd taken to get developed yesterday. (instead of a day earlier).

i was sitting in my room, on my bed, alone when it hit me. god may not exist. for the first time in my life, i was truly scared.

mr. narrator, tell me a tale

i've touched you everywhere, there

my biomom

it's not sunning and raining, it's just raining and it's really beautiful:)

i drink a lot lately

what's your sign baby?

everything you know will some day die - saves the day

everything you know will some day die - saves the day

if only it could sun and rain more often. what a beautiful sound and site:)

profile photo. no worries. everything's okay.

life is a'changin'. thanks guys for some good times.

we look young in these photos. i must've aged inside.

our day

i just feel like i'm supposed to say, those are some nice lines you have there :)

una paradoja

this may not be quite sincere

puedes ver mi poder?

has visto mi poder?

can you see my power

funny how one's tastes change even with the lack of one's own change

crazy psychiatrists

art is life redefined

wine photo: libby, jamie, and i bought a butt load of wine for CHEAP at a rummage sale! pretty sweet a?
the hippy looking folks: yup, you pegged it. that's what they are; and they're at a meeting. mmm

my weekend in madison with some good friends

poop-e-doopy. she's putting the hand condom on

i bated the likes of lions on the brim of the collision of the weight of worlds

the code of honor between humans has been broken

i suppose by now she's entirely given up on followin' through with what she said, either that or she's got one'a them great excuses
"who would've thought, it figures"
thank you band I can't remember

happy birthday. are you home?

and so it's done

what happens when someone doesn't understand a damn word you say? move on. find yourself better.

self righteous to save everything but your soul

something that i'm not sure i'll ever have enough breath to title

the first grouping of words and the first line of the next grouping are, for lack of a better word, androgenous to some extent. the rest is more some of what i've seen.


plane tickets're purchased
life is decided
and i'm off to meet new friends
new lovers
new lifes ahead

i gotta feed this hunger for something new
though i know i can't forget the way i was left by you
as if forgotten, unwritten, nothing force fed to the fires
betrayed, rapped, abandoned, left to become so tired
i can't decipher if i'm tired
or if i've finally learned my lesson
from a lier that can't pretend
from a philosophy gone unread, unseen, and unsaid

and in all of this i'm breathless
tired since you left
months ago when you befriended giving up on a friend
the most painful question is if you ever loved The "lover" you left

this is only perspective
but what else are we left with
when we're left abandoned

making real love, however happenstancery and synchronic it maybe, can be a romantic expression of the primal, sacred moment of creation. it can also be a synchronic moment of true, natural returning to the hold that hides, but in that moment is glimpsed at, rather, owns the seer as no less than whole-held epiphany in the brightest light of the whole world, integrity.

hopefully i'll see this again one day.

transfiguration of a senseless being (finished)

this sliver pallet of air holds it in the 2-3 dimensional, own most essential
metaphysical bending of a picture
a mirror bending literature
a figure, salivation at both ends
hungry for what's never been
the regal single tear of after sense
but this dripping bold of "black"
cast on canvass backs of life before just that
transfigures metaphysics of seeing-site as self divine
moved by massive suicide of momentary life
held in the press of being--necessity
and the cupped hand of what can't

tear the flesh, off the man,
in hopes for, sense perception,

come myself to the oracle's pitch.
but then, i'm told that this i've already found

absurd, indeterminate explosion

Hi:)

mud cups are meant for the breaking

so we were just quiet and working
so i said 'so what do you think of june 2006?'
and he said 'oh, it's alright so far'
'what do you think?'
and i said 'i think it will be really great'
and he asked why
and i didn't really want to get into it with him that i just feel happy right now and i feel like i will stay that way for a while
but i also meant my response
which was 'because there's only one'
5:20 PM
thanks
can you elaborate on that last part
there's only one june 2006
we don't get another shot
ahh
look at my blog
- rainer maria

:)to publish to publish or to say i publish myself, but i do it right

namaste