8/7/11

bloop bloop we gotta do something about your complacency

I WANT NOTHING TO DO WITH HAPPINESS IF IT MEANS ALL I'LL WANT TO DO THEN IS SIT AROUND IN THE SUN WITH A DUMB SLOW SMILE ON MY FACE, SURRENDERED TO THE BORED SKY OF NOTHING BUT BLUE, NO CLOUDS NO THOUGHTS BUT OF LOVELY WHITE SQUARE CAKES AND INVISIBLE LIGHT, NOTHING IN MY DEAD HEAD BUT A SPREAD LANDSCAPE EARTH JAMMED ON THE GROUND OF A HO HUM HORIZON OF DEAD GRINS SKIPPING AROUND IN NOWHERE LAND CHUCKLING CRAZY AND WEIRD IN THE SUBTLEST AND CREEPIEST WAY, FAT AND CONTENT AND TWENTY YEARS OLD THE YOUNGEST AND SADDEST GRANDFATHER WITH NOTHING TO GIVE HIS CHILDREN'S CHILDREN BUT THAT WANKED OUT BLISS SMILE (IS GRANDPA CRAZY MOMMA? WHY DOESN'T HE TALK TO ME ALL HE DOES IS STARE WITH THAT CREEPY SMILE), GIVE ME A GOD DAMN POT HOLE SO I CAN FALL AND TELL YOU A SECRET OF HOW TO DO IT WITHOUT GRACE, I'LL TELL YOU SOME TWISTED TALE ABOUT ______.

uhhhhh....do I even know what I'm talking about, or how young and foolish am I? I really want those clouds the fuck outta here.

8/2/11

one in the same

Henry Miller's Rosy Crucifixion 1

"once the artist does get a meal he immediately falls back into his own limitless world, and while he's in that world he's a king, whereas your ordinary duffer is just a filling station with nothing in between but dust and smoke. And even supposing you're not an ordinary chap, but a wealthy individual, one who can indulge his tastes, his whims, his appetites: do you suppose for one minute that a millionaire enjoys food or wine or women like a hungry artist does? To enjoy anything you have to make yourself ready to receive it; it implies a certain control, discipline, chastity, I might even say. Above all, it implies desire, and desire is something you have to nourish by living.
[…] I envy the man who has the courage to be an artist--I envy him because I know that he's infinitely richer because he spends himself, because he gives himself all the time, and not just labor or money or gifts."

8/1/11

Kerouac's wisdom

"Sin is sinking in my bones and making me older and wiser. But I'm only wiser to the wise men--my children grieve for me. Weep for me, weep for anybody, weep for the poor dumbfucks of this world--weep for the waves--weep, weep--now my eyes begin a voyage from which I am going to return resurrected and huge and silent."