The guy eats vulnerability like a military mission. You had to hand it to him. But with one of those “As Seen On TV” reachy sticks with a gripper you squeeze enough times to get your fist strength back. Sh, don’t tell em it’s a workout. Hand it to em like a nuclear hot potato. Good evening, ye self-absorbed, clenched megalomaniac. Got talent? Sure, sure you do, but it sucks all of the energy mustered out of the room, charges a toll, and wields a lazy privilege based on popularity—I never agreed to it. A delusional mod blink. Someone should stick it to Warhol and counter but anything fabber would be, what, a theme park animatron restaurant. 3D projection on a plate of ads and entertaining stories. Wait, tell me now how myths relate to greater human interest over 300 channels of protagonists yelling drama drama drama makes the world turn. Tell me your story next and make it good. And hey, bonerfide poet, how’s this for en jamb ment On my shopping list of prose, I noted to note the function of imagery in a poem, which is to produce imagery from a poem. That’ll be $50. ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> Next we’ll learn what art is by studying society, superheroes, net worth, pedigreed, the golden bough of breakdown, negative capability, and negative urgency. Movements don’t get old, apparently. That or postmodernism was the last great lazy law of least energy. Dark matter masters conclusion, and don’t forget to touch on rhyme & movement. ><> — ><>– ><> — ><> — ><>– ><> –><> There’s a difference between hitting the same buttons every day and daily learning new buttons. ><> — ><>– ><> — ><> — ><>– ><> –><> –><> Are we still investigating answers of contrastedly/ dark secrets smiled through Eisenhower era depression. Probably/ no big deal nowadays. My bank teller has blue hair and a tattoo of a symbol that means there must be something more to all of this/ Will counterculture deal with consumerism at last? Does it know what to counter/ or not to repeat ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> — ><>– ><> — ><> — ><> Rude people throw around the word “honesty” way too much. We can handle social media IF we don’t go online enough to rewire our brains for scrolling. Can you handle that, brain? Brain? Are you there? ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> Hashtag hashbrown ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> If someone is not helping you grow as an artist, you might want to rethink that lame relationship. .><> — ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> Do you ever feel like you’re still that one sperm fighting with all its heart to get to your egg? ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> — ><>– ><> The dogs got into the studio. The one place they’re not to be. Bluebeards. I’m talking about dogs now so we can all relax. Motion detection on one of the security cameras reveals the most interesting dog in the world wistfully watching the front door. ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> — ><>– ><> — ><> Some think After-Death Plan is the name of a metal band which is totally unfair because the fatalistic romantics had the good names before metal ever even came along with its louder tantrum. ><> — ><>– ><> — ><> — ><>– ><> — ><> — ><>– ><> Closest I’ve read of people reaching the source without spirits or psychedelics is with lucid dreaming. Harlow’s monkey, attachment styles, transference: forget about it. I’m the victim here. ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> Holds a mirror up to society. Society: checks hair, takes a selfie. ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> What you think is weight loss is just elasticity leaving your clothing. To stop time, hold your body in a plank position. ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> — ><> I never bought anything unless I had the cash but my credit score did not acknowledge that wisdom, not until I went into debt with a mortgage. Stupid system. Please laugh at how crazy you are being. Do break predictive text. I am completely unaffected by circumstance. ><> — ><> — ><> That last part isn’t true I am affected.
I was told I have a sharp and unforgiving memory on 2/1/21 at 2:36pm. How do you respond to that? Must have been there were things that needed forgiven, but I lacked information. I loved them; we visited maybe monthly and exchanged meaningful birthday gifts for years. I sent messages every few weeks to brighten the day, pop in as if to say, our friendship means a lot to me.
I stopped reaching out after asking why was met with a parent-child type of scolding that had nothing to do with me or what a bad tiddler I must be. Once I stopped instigating contact, contact stopped; that’d become my tenure and I decided to…take a hint? Uncertainty can lead to compulsion and the answer of not thinking about it is just a jab at weak intellect, usually by someone who definitely has not solved how to keep unresolved intelligence from the subconscious.
Du Champ called eye candy art that didn’t engage the mind “retinal.” I dig it. That relationship became pretty retinal. It took the time to reveal me then junked me for emergent popularity. Feeling disrespected by someone you think you’re close to is upsetting. I felt like that dog that gets tricked into chasing an imaginary throw, except the ball was stupidity and the problem was that I didn’t chase it. I felt abnormal, like I could not conceal my analysis to the point where it wouldn’t be suspect. Suffering for existence in the wrong crowd needed identified and rectified. But I learned from the loss that I belong where I can let my mind flow without leaking concern into making others comfortable by staying quiet on the playground. And by honing this practice, unhampered, I decide the connotation of the word incisive. My tone might even soften in this freedom into choosing the word insightful.
Where can the spectrally skybound go if the artists, musicians, and poets need the plainspoken; if they need a prescribed normalcy blanketing the arena. It feels like an exclusion that comes from slippery dreams; dreams not lost but slipping, wherein former dreamers frame the optimist as naive. While the non-optimistic spectrally skybound quickly go nose down when other artists engage in lazy bonding with herders of feelgood art that keeps all at an average level of consciousness. Feelgood goes for the pain and chaos seekers as well—it is not enough to act out primal frustrations for a different emotional bump. Both stylistic choices contain what in the species allows for an average. And here are the extra words to clarify what lazy bonding means: when people use negativity, disguised even as concern, to show others how another is to be treated in a postured hierarchy. It is blackball showmanship without connection and a counterfeit bond of happiness. It takes no responsibility for the energy it creates and the distance of the subject exploring the situation when their entrance is illumined by gaslight.
Don’t overthink it.
The answer to not overthink it, takes a similar amount of responsibility for figuring out nothing. And certainly not figuring out the causes of depression, nature’s gift for resolve that comes in forms of rumination—rumination that does not lay waste in blame or scapegoating. Nor does resolution lie in any kind of fight song, no matter how good that makes one feel for a moment before drowning solution.
I say to you, artists: If they’re dumbed down, you’re dumbed down; bring your brain cells inside this winter for a nice book.
I say to you, thinkers: If you’re dumbing it down for people then you’re selling yourself, not being yourself.
I say to you, lovers: Children of emotional neglect usually have insecure attachment styles and do well in relationships with secure attachment styles. Also, they have to be careful not to lean on others in regards to their trauma as they are more susceptible to transference because of their unmet needs.
I say to you, visionaries: Chase the ecstatic; just don’t do it through influencers.
I say to you, divinity: Lordy lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot get jiggy with.
You do you and there will be applause; not thunderous live-in-front-of-a-studio-audience applause, but claps like sporadic thunder as mistle gives way to torrents of rain. If you want the droves to sleep or leave you be, talk about the government auctioning off white space and whittling away our spectrum. They’ll hear those words and think it’s perhaps conspiracy and run from the burden of thinking. Bank on it. Obtain a line of credit from said bank that lets you pay back $3.00 a day for whatever will make you good enough at 24% interest–maybe just a little tuck so some walking unibrow can grace ye with an inappropriate comment on physical worth, check the teeth for probabilities. Status elevated by what it owns and offers. Enjoy those possessions, death is still coming, until thinkers solve the body.