survival fragile tense dependent upon so many things...

so long the golden days, days that we never even asked for, we are pleased with shiny metal found in the gutter, reflecting sun beneath layer of trash sediment,...

feelings are beautiful weaknesses, my anger becomes greatest when they are exploited...

so much tho i must teach myself of not learning these emotions, even of outrage at suffering, because simple quiet action is all that matters... there are times of release, and they are prepared for, but this is already over, and we already reminiscent of being there...

this is ours...the breathing of the pursed frantic then smoothing lips - the wonder children of all this atomic expansion - and i simply don't care...it's just day to day, but not, but not so urgent and racing toward death, not that anymore so much, thank goodness, and i still don't know anything, but it seems i have a tender living with my most fantastical dreams as my life, so despite the everything unbearable sometimes, there is something larger...even if it is a black hole in my mind, that can devour any linear occurrance and metaphysicize it into the speck before time... there is somthing larger, tho i struggle to retain its addicting gloss to my everyday...and what i may deem the ultimate is nothing more than a small accomplishment of carving another notch into the calender of stretched ahead forever days,...and nights of the torturous dragging silence...

materialism ... what of it?

if only we could afford a fantastic bio.diesal tour van with a solar panel and some wind generators or two...

the implicit / explicit guilt of living in the 'first world'... the luxury of

yikes...

preparing to embark...scavaging

searching for answers, but it's simply time to build new shelves...

accumulation, even of knowledge, leads only to the same place any of us can go...

but then not...

i can say there are a few books specifically that have conclusively altered my ways, like the jungle, for example...swiftly became a vegetarian following the reading of that in high school...

i am heady from the cough syrup, i should not have had so much....

what fun an altered state though, when one is as sober as a monk....

waiting for the moment to pass...now this one

speaking of ingmar bergman films that make me mirror face that thing i hate in myself about humanity and all, from the picture about the artist, who goes mad on the island, when he can't sleep because of terrors and he lights a match and looks, and they watch for the minute hand to drag itself over the whole dial....it seems like that long, only it keeps going....it never ends, it simply never just shuts off....and rests....

the virigin spring...

inevitably, in order to receive any violence from a movie or performance, instead of becoming deeply disturbed by it, somehow my mind folds the entirety into a single plane, a single being which then has come together in this art form to enact itself fully. therefore the scenes that i am witnessing are not actual violence but symbolic, as with all art, and one might suppose there is nothing but art....

somehow the calm comes...

it has been painful today, but i survived. that is all one has to be able to say at the end.

i had almost forgotten...

it's been some time since i was sick, and it's really wearing down. tonight there's a show that i'm going to watch between the virgin spring and dazed half-dreams...if i can get out of bed later...

still in the haze of it...

i have been quite ill the last few days, culminating in a temperature far above normal, and then breaking along with the bag of ice on my burning forehead into torrents of frozen water waking me from the most strange delusion of dreaming and mercifully i can breathe again in my own heat, not broiling, but merely the energy for subsitence and the smooth internalized functioning...

there must be more order to this endeavor or it will surely disappoint

:::::::::::: art deadlines :::::::::::::::::::

fire petals in the sky (bavab bavab album) june 3 ? or later? at least by tour...
tour june 23-july 8
salient lockup mid august 2006
spiralbound october 2006

rehearsal / wishing i had more silver spraypaint...

less than a month away...

today is practice / recording session... everything is working so well but my mind is foul and smeared with tension...the severe exhaustion hasn't worn off yet...i feel like i'm swimming too far from the shore,...like it's out of sight a long time ago, and now getting dark...

between world vagrant

it's early in the morning. it has been all night for me. thus i phoenix again and want something completely new. want it so much as to combust, spontaneous and frantic in waning dark...

the iris and the lotus on the table pant, i know they are glad it's past dawn now...

delirium is in me, possession akin to madness, yet so benign, mild, nothing compared to true lunatic, just strangely lost around the edges, blurred and slow moving with wearisome thoughts...

i tire of these trappings, complications of technology, sloggy, lost memory, a temptation comes to murder... but what good would that do...

there is never enough time, either that or my lifespan is precarious, improperly used, poorly divided into parts and disciplines, yet untamed, the willful child, unruly, unable to curb wild emotional bursts and screaming grabs the clock with rash hands smashes it down demanding some sparse joy in something from this gaping mouth world....who answers with devouring silence...