Friday, February 26, 2016

fiction tends to illuminate truth

lay flowers at the feet of your muse.

tell yourself how you feel about love.

stand up straight, do your art.

Thursday, February 25, 2016

fucking, an elaboration, or, dribble into hopelessness don't even bother reading this unless you're in a really godly place

no one will ever know what you mean and what does that mean and why does anything have to mean anything? living is for the living. what is so fucking difficult about finding a sexy faithful intelligent cool partner? too weird too rigid too selfish too married too christian too scared too stiff too self conscious too scientific too boring too head in the sand.

shut it down or keep going. i keep trying. keep on moving. that's my fucking family motto. science vs. faith. the ecosystem is fucked. basically, we're all fucked. rent is fucked. the banks are fuckers, racist haters are fuckers. trump is a fucker and every fucking stupid fuck who votes for him. work is ridiculous. 

strategies and boundaries and lines - the universal symbol for do not pass.

the only human i care about losing about knowing about being known by is lying in my bed uneasily resting and i'm uninspired.

how to stay tits up in this world.

how to even believe what you say to yourself. marianne williamson is pretty fucking sure of herself.

you are right where you need to be. you don't need to try so hard. just be a nice fucking person most of the time, clean the body regularly and try not to take more than you need, and pack your trash.

you are the creator of your reality. shit happens and you deal with it. i don't know if we attract the shit that happens. even the dog in family guy and bill maher made fun of manifestation today as harmful self help propaganda.

is it weakness to call the dreamlife your permanent home?

it's for me only. this. i'd rather be having fun.

i'd rather be in love. making art. laughing, so you know it's time to yoga the fuck out of this.








Tuesday, February 23, 2016

heard on the street

creative people don't live here anymore really

#badastrologyforcreepin lol

but the sky! the blossoms! springtime. 

... letter to the once lover
once lover, i don't want to be creepin. but i was curious. nostalgic. y no puedo dice todo en espanol. i didn't mean to be in visible mode. you said so many things about us, i don't need to memorialize it but it is a famous love story. and i still love you. i know it wasn't going to work, and you had more to lose than i had, you only had to cut off a toe or two to keep your body. i am still patti smith wing, i am free. it is beautiful. 
everything s still beautiful.
my friends didn't like you. you may not have liked my friends. but that didn't matter. when i looked in your eyes, at your hands, when i dreamed about you in little shorts looking irresistable and gay, when i asked if could lick you, that was pure innocence. i trusted you. hence, the art, the double fuck you, the stickers, i made stickers. dark dark dark day dreaming, oh if you knew what it meant to me. down with OPP. thinking thong. your laugh. and those occasional times when you were rooted in earth, clear, knowing. 

purple rain. i wish you well.

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