a bullshit process

wake at 8
wake at 1
a day off, with open space
work needs to be done.

face the clock by forgetting about it.
set yourself up in the space that allows you to forget about the space.

how to work towards what needs to be said?
realize first that you always have something that needs to be said. If not for the sake of others (those close to you) than for the sake of yourself.
Do not be afraid of your own stupidity.
like a dog. dogs don't give a shit. they exist madly, happily, stupidly. give back like royal servants. live in the moments. rejoice with every communion as if it has never happened and will never happen again. Precious.

how long has it been since you last expressed in such honesty? this will determine how you now say what needs to be said. if too long to remember the last time it was, journal in the most private way. reach down to the inner depths. you are not open. time without reflection closes you up, lets you forget about your world. you are a shadow lingering in the world forgotten by itself. float on, disappear without a trace, join the traffic crawling along the lines of oblivion. nothing.
(art, writing, expressing, is at first not about beauty, but rather, about honesty, connections, community, relief, therapy. As therapy, there is no need for adornment, no such idea as cliche, but only ways in which to understand the truth, the heart of what is being said)
What is truly unique is not how you have learned to play with your artform. what is unique is the YOU simply. The angle at which you look at and take from the blood of life, source of all creation. Find yourself and find your medium. You have not been under the sun before you. You are no cherub or seraphim or devil creature. You are mankind. Human. Human walks, runs, sings, bleeds, dies, rejoices, weeps. The purgatory status of being. your struggle will define you. embrace it and remember that all around you there is light, even in the darkest cavern you can change your lens. retake your mind. Become the god, dog, god dog.

day to day I am bothered by a loss of friendship. feel an odd betrayal and realizing that the only grudge I have in all my years has been towards Stasia.
have recently
grudge has morphed memory into this sense of betrayal. Wonder has fed it. It grows behemoth unspoken of, unchecked it flourishes. a weed grown multiplied in an untended backyard. I haven't closed the door, it's black vines creep in through the screens, to the kitchen and the living room. No ceiling built up upon it the winds bring in unknown seeds.

(tired of writing now. coffee nausea. distracted by internet tabs. the coffee shop opens up again, I know where I am. Eliot bay bookstore. friends, acquaintances. Seattle. forget it all. write through bullshit. talk, unload like a dump machine after rounds, after hours. reach the clean slate of having vomited, shitted out the monotonous blather of intake. find the bottom golden platform from which you stand. resist the ADD urge. Do not resist. do not. donut)

I am moody as the ocean. if I am too free I sway and turn and say nothing altogether. direction ceases. Perhaps not a total waste of time. You can always look back on the mess of diarrhetic (diary) writing with sober eyes and ears, pick from it like a crow and build up your monolith.

From a flat tempur pedic bed ridden with sex and lethargy, I set the stage for nothing. I enjoy myself, fall into sleep deep enough to not remember anything. to process something then bury it in snore. We fuck we smile momentarily. We grow closer, know each other physically, laugh and make farting jokes. It becomes a simple excuse for something else I can't render mentally. Happiness, perhaps. bliss without reason, simple and undeserving. Donut be too hard on yourself. life is already hard on you. give it a break, you know. we embrace all of ourselves. If born in sin and contempt then breathe easy. we are animals. we are gods. we are the link and ladder between heaven and hell.

Life should be a balance of ups and downs, but is never really in tune with itself. things are udders of bullshit. everything a bad pun, but still a little funny viewed from somewhere.
My friend and I (both 27 years of age) bought separate ant farms and released them upon each other at the pinnacle of their development. They unleashed "hell" upon one another without a known reason besides the fact that they were released upon one another. What they had each believed was their own since birth was threatened. The war of a thousand ants with lint and splinters was hilarious. Then after thirty minutes of this we grew bored and distracted by the television. A Seinfeld episode about the Soup Nazi. The ants ended their affair in some fashion or another, then all died out the next day for we had forgotten to put them back up in their farms.

You will go crazy in the near future. don't be afraid. hold onto what you can. live continually, as if death was no option. For all you know, it was never your option anyway.

Realize you may say things you entirely disagree with. you are working towards something. you are swimming in a sea, but it is easy enough to link arms with all the bodies next to you. the buoyancy of a thousand million billion breathing men and women is untold. perhaps we could have taken to the skies years ago had we known or embraced the idea of holding hands.


must be expansive
must give time
make time
must take a walk