When it's ‘ok’ from both sides…

 it reminds me of those cartoons where you put your foot out there + you get flattened by traffic.

i don’t watch the news at night. Because strangers faces will taint my nighttime dreams. i will dream a wall of confusion. + already i awake not knowing if my dreams were partial films i have seen recently, or in fact, where dreams. Sometime it all seems like the 42nd dimension.

If only it had some deeper meaning. Sometimes a dream is something so obvious it becomes embarrassing.

My realization upon waking this morning is that i EVER loose my mind, i want an unknowing bliss to transfer  w/ it’s absence + so to not to realize i’ve lost it —  because waking + knowing you have lost your mind is very frightening.

Life is such an add on…. my greatest relationships have been w/ other artists. Working. Collaborating. That’s always been my true quite profound excitement. 

Off-book sometimes means that i unknowingly forget to drag the playbook along. It’s then that i’m really listening to another + find it easier to give back + communicate in a bona fide way … not planning + composing an answer before i know what is needed.

We are older we need to permit ourselves to be off-book. We have worked at this life + have the last 40+ years of push behind us - if we allow ourselves, yes, we know what to say in the next 5 minutes. As to any craft any, it took 40 years + another 5 minutes to complete. + that’s my pep talk to you + myself. 

-above+ below practicing the back-to-basics



 What are we suppose to steal? 
+ what to give freely.

Such a nice Costa Rican memory. Thumbing for rides, + the kindness of being picked up. He-hawing + pitching along the road in the back of old trucks w/ the work men. Paying them back by impressing quick pencil portraits. Caricatures nearly. Parlor tricks really.

Dissociative fugue - imbued w/ inspiration. i remain an unreliable narrator.

Paying in cryptomnesia arrears. W/ me, cryptomnesia wins most of the time. But i may have figured that before now. + i have probably said it before now. + even before that.

Many have said in many different ways that repeating something over + over again, + expecting different results is a sign of madness.

i’m looking for the poetry in that…

Where DOES this shit come from?

don't mind rocking the boat. Don't mind constant change + unexpected spinning backward + love nothing more than to adapt. i know i’m dizzy just now. Tattoo reminder that we’re all in this human condition thingy together. Some things we really +honestly cannot take personally.

no pressure…

Last week i was in miami till tomorrow. 
Squirreling around. 

But, you know, i live in a dream world.



A crop rotation of odd thoughts; 

Logos + logic involved.

i unpack the strings to start the engine.

Blues leaning over to wag.

The creative thrust of a head turner + briar rose. The iconic ending of all endings.

How shall I defend the wax fortress of my love? An undiscerning gaze took in all that is simple and inconceivable and I understood life had slipped from my grasp. -from the film / the color of pomegranates

i remember the warm fuzzy of tea at an outdoor cafe in autumn, steaming into the air + mingling w/ cloud-like breaths from bodies rushing by.

Reaching for + not noticing the slip back. 

The anguish of slowing down to a stop.

Stupefied at love taking a back seat to the overwhelming work at hand.

The innocence of  playing records + falling in love in an afternoon — seeing it happen.

i wont say blind, but it’s devastatingly romantic. It’s dark + tormented w/ the furor of passion, the despair of an unattainable idealism. 

yes i’m a romanic; kill me now.

Reminded of Yeats + Spiritus Mundi. 

The collective memories of the universe of all time.

Tapping into spiritus mundi for the first time ever. 

While in kindergarten.

Rest on that.