FOOD, CLOTHING, AND SHELTER. POST-HUMAN ECONOMICS!

working for worlds. working for needs, not wants. thank you, god, for this much needed change of scenery.




third world everyone. fifth world everything. if you had only seen us when we were in our prime of time, you would have known everything you needed to know to move on into a greater state of consciousness. if you are conscious of the world you can be conscious of yourself, but if and only if this is the case, can it be so.











SELF-LIBERATION!


LIBERATION OF SELF!












post communication. post steel towers of post soy bean fields of post central arkansas of post what you knew but have now moved on on from. i don't need that shit anymore. i am a self-made man! moving on at a rate of speed too fast to clock with any technological device meant to clock the speed of moving objects! FIVE-OH-ONE TO NINE-OH-ONE. this is all subject to change, but it depends on your desire to do such a thing.




you done left me here, waiting at the bottom of the stairs with my eyes closed. i done just broke my phone in half. quite lieterally! i did it with my own two hands, on my own porch! i threw the remnants in the yard, upon my own free-will. i got free-will like you ain't never seen! i am my own significant human, with my own significant other from the past who is still residing in my brain. who is still arguing with me on my phone at 3 a.m. yesterday. but however, no longer exists in reality. as of ten minutes ago/ i destroyed her! nothing exists if it is not here, now, and currently available. i will get a new phone on monday. i have the time, and the money.

she told me that i don't know what it's like to be free. that i don't know who i am. that i can't leave where i am, even though i should because i have so much potential that i'm 'ignoring'. she said that i shouldn't have abandoned her, and her me.

it's just too fucking late. isn't it? i think it is.

the number will change.

you won't ever make me your slave again. i am not to be enslaved. i've seen too many historical examples that have guided me in a direction, different from such heresy. to make the same mistake would be to make myself the poster-child of ignorance.

what about the freedom sisters? what about the dead lecturer? i worked on both of those exhibitions. i am the educator, and the working-class. read the commercial appeal, if you need proof.

i don't know what this means, but i'm trying, and i'm steadily gaining a true understanding. underestimating the potential of yourself and your significant other would be the gravest of mistakes. the ones you couldn't make in the time you have left here.

this city is not big enough to house you, so get the fuck out.

monster of monsters! don't you know what you can feel? don't you know what it's like to see clearly?

can't you see well enough to judge? what is your sense of knowledge based on, brother?

sorry if that was sexist. i never mean to be sexist. i just want, and need what i refer to. did you gain am understanding? do you get my drift?

rachael. renee. greenwood? my 'self' and my 'other'?









THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN 'IS' AND 'OUGHT'. CLASSICAL LINGUISTICS, NOT POSTMODERNISM. DO YOU GET IT YET? SHOULD I SCREAM LOUDER?





i'll try again later.





i love you.

MORNING GLORY! TIDAL WAVES OF CIVIL DISOBEDIANCE/FORGOTTEN YOUTH

today, the sky speaks of a disposition to which you cannot relate. fog in the morning, clearing at noon to welcome the funeral precessions honoring the dawn and dusk of next year's ambition. torrential downpours are not to be marked on your calendar. you already forgot your umbrella.

ways and means. means to an end. this is only the beginning of an extensive social history that will inevitably be forgotten, once someone better comes along and writes it down. this is what is best for us both. we were never right for each other, anyway. we got all caught up. 

this is a game called 'self deception.'  this is a humanity you were born with, and must get rid of. this is what started the wars. this is the same projectile that no matter how much your favorite 19th century philosopher tells you to dodge, keeps hitting you in the face and knocking you back down. down to what is essential. you were born to be this way, and it is your obligation to not go down again without a fight. saying 'this is just the way i am' is not acceptable. to learn anything new, you must first unlearn everything else. 

duty called today, and didn't leave a message. not even a call-back number. typical. 

sonnets, and monologues are what you will be remembered for. the dialogues were good, but they didn't have the same articulation, rampant fervor, emotional distance, nausea, or mysterious ability to make the listener weep uncontrollably as your previous work. go back into your studio, writer's closet, or forty-five story office building and try again.. 

the industrial revolution jumped the gun, woke the baby, called us stupid, forgot our names, left and never came back, and then didn't even bother to write. 4:00 is coming up fast behind us, and all we can do is let it pass and hope we don't make eye contact or show weakness. the weakness implied by our differences. you can try and take off the mask, but you can't rewrite the history. you can't retell the stories your grandmother told you when you were still young enough to not know any better. it's time to grow up, reconcile cultural difference, and forget all of that money we were gonna make off of free labor and abundant sugarcane. if we accept that 'no man is an island', we'll just have to get back up and start harvesting on our own. 

language imposed through the barrel of a gun. history taken away by imperial armies of the old world, who were looking for love in all the wrong places. oh, nevermind! there has been a change of plans. you can go now! sorry for bothering you. continue on about your business. what is your name again? take care. it was good seeing you.

can we start over?

you mean to tell me a man can't sit in his own hotel, casually eating his breakfast in his underwear when there's not a soul around for miles to see? why the hell not?

respect is contingent, but not necessary. we can both reap and sow the benefits of frugality together, once we get over how we look, and the fact that no matter how close we stand to one another we will still occupy two different bodies. the space between us compliments our wardrobes, put the moves on each others girlfriends, wakes us up when one of us is late for work, and drops the dependancy we've developed on one another whenever the cellular phone of opportunity happens to ring. 

this is neither here nor there. 

'

 

OH, MY DEVOTION!

(experimentation with free-association)

i am not devoted to anything, except my others, and myself, and everything around me. my brothers, my friends, their uncles, their dogs, and their dog's cages. the outside world has everything to do with me but i have no idea what it looks like. i am only interested in my irrelevant interests, my insides, and my potential corporations for withstanding the slavery that my governing, godly forces derive from the willpower of ancient sages who died seven years ago, and counting.

counting teeth, counting will. i will go to sleep only when it is appropriate and easily available. i will not longer put up a fight with my residual psychology that is in no way, shape or form anchored to the reality of what's outside my bedroom door. 

a pack of rabid wolves chasing you down the crowded streets of tokyo. this is a symbol for your anxiety. oh, prosperous anxiety! just like breaking glass bottles over the sensitive, flat head of iconic religious personalities. televangelists climbing mountains not for the sake of beauty, but for the sake of destroying everything kept deep within in the snow-covered caves of brilliant, benevolent, sweet sweet righteousness. 

you are the perfected version of the perfect version of my favorite, gleaming celebrity identity-fracturing politician. you are poverty and strife, and everything i still need to learn about everything i've never learned before. what are you looking at, stranger? i'm not even talking to you! you are obscene, but you look so healthy! you are much like walking up a never-ending flight of stairs only to find that you forgot what you came here for in the first place. 

i want nothing more, nothing other, than to connect to the peope around me. i want to help you. i want to wake up and see that you're still the same person i know and love so well. 

E                     N                        F                          J

this is my my new high score. my new cipher for my new world order. i start outward, and move inward, much like abraham lincoln or oprah winfrey.

MY FLOW IS AS COLD AS FEBRUARY.

one hundred, thousand, trilion

don't talk about me dawg (know you dont like me cause yo bitch most likely does)

don't you know i got keyed by the three and when i chirp shorty chirp back? 

fresh out the jet. 

i fast as lightning, bro. better use your nikes, bro.

the surefire pathways to success

according to yoruban societies, these three occupations/skills are the only ones that if mastered, can give you a desirable social status.

1) a good fighter

2) a successful yam farmer

3) an artist

new skin

What the fuck is an iambic pentameter, anyway?

my friend told me i was funny. i told them i was funny looking. they agreed. i try to keep things in balance. i keep the world in a harmonious and beautiful state of homeostasis. biology was never my fortay. chemistry was what i was good at. 

another girl once told me that 'i could have been a genius, if i had an axe to grind.' i broke up with her shortly after. what a bitch.

but enough about girls.

hark! the herald, angels sing. glory to the newborn king.

the lord is my shepherd i shall not want. 

the power of christ compels you!

fucking judas.

we must talk in every telephone, be eaten off the web.

we must rip out all the epilogues in the books that we have read.

and in the ear of every anarchist who sleeps but doesn't dream, we must sing, we must sing, we must sing!

post rigamortus. encounters of the spooky kind.

where is god's name is kate bush when you need her? 1980 has come and gone, roland barthes is dead, i am screaming in my brain so loud at all times that i can't go to sleep at night. i will write it on every wall in the city to honor your name. to avenge the death of your father. to bring dignity to all of mankind. to all of god's children. 

i have been a ghost for too long. a ghost with two faces. a ghost with two eyebrows.

people who are poor always see ghosts. 

of course i do! i'm married to one. 

keep climbing. the summit is up there somewhere. what, are you blind?

feeling cold wind on my skin. it's like i'm peeling layers of skin from an onion. i always use my teeth. my teeth will never fall out.

it's gross outside. i don't want to put layers on. 

cardiovascular and iron lung. i will punch you with my fists.

have you ever been drunk and tried looking in a mirror? it's like it's another person. it always freaks my shit out. every god damn time. jaques lacan explains this as the mirror stage. the self as the other. human beings are the only animals capable of recognizing the image in a mirror as their own. my cat doesn't understand. bambi didn't understand.

 i need another person to be my mirror. i'm in need. how do you get to the salvation army? how do you travel through your bedroom walls? yes, the yellow ones that were cast from plaster.

it's been raining. i'm been making money like the way it likes to rain. 

my body is a temple. my image is a stage. oh my sweet disposition! what compels me to go? 

black magic. i have a friend who practices witchcraft. i also have a friend who is married to nine locusts. this is technically not polygamy since locusts are only bugs and not human being like you and i.

i am a river, and my body is wild and free while my mind remains logical. i move in and around the dirt, filling whatever crevices needs to be filled and then moving on to the next empty riverbed. i make canyons. i destroy civilizations. i am a home for many schools of fish with tiny, razor sharp teeth for nibbling at your toes. you will need a boat in order to navigate my thoughts.

 you will be more comfortable, however, on a yacht. a yacht with many loose women and and a never-ending supply of champagne. a band of prostitutes is a constitution of prostitutes who may or may not be related to one another.

this is the new year. i am channeling my negative energy into more productive activities. advice given to me by my best friend. best friends and worst enemies. a man who will sit on your porch and talk to you about all of your problems. all of your residual mental illnesses. many demons, many fathers. i am stubborn as a mule. i am looking someone equally stubborn to keep me in line. i do not mean to offend you. i love you more than life itself.

my gangster is hereditary, i am a living revolutionary.

don't you know i got keys to my keys, and when i chirp shorty chirp back?

i

know

all 

about

that,

POST DEBUT

i have been chasing my tail for twenty one years. i think i've finally caught it.

this is a warning: my words will never break into reality. i cannot do things that are impossible. this will be a collection of fragments,  or statements that could function as questions or answers. 

you are my reader, and i am your author. i think we will be good friends.

these words depend on your subjectivity, vision, and understanding of punctuation marks.

pluralism lives here. 

when, where, why, and how

you left me here, waiting at the bottom of the stairs with my eyes closed. 

my eyes are always open, but i can't see your face. 

i can't see the forest, or the fortress. i still know you're there.

chicago is waiting. i will go north once i buy a new pair of gloves. 

now is the time for all swans, cranes, pigeons, and woodpeckers go home. now is the time to roost. 

have you called your mother? she's still waiting. 

my jokes are recursive. my thoughts are global. my mind is on another continent. my money is counterfeit.

americans know nothing of geography.

americans know nothing of photography. photography knows americans.

the family of man. the great family of man. english, french, german, portuguese.

there is no psychic unity. there is no mankind. we are not all the same, as we are not all of the same condition. humanism fails here. 

four corners. four cardinals. four space ships, four time slips. 

four ghosts, four apostles. four quarters, four bibles.

chapter two:

my father was a fortress.

my mother was a martyr.

my sister is a shotgun.

my brother is your boyfriend.

my bedroom is not a hotel.

DEBUT

beware of cryptic, postmodern bullshit. this is what i'm all about.

i need a place to keep my collection. a collection of rare gems, specimens, and encyclopedias. i will keep them here. you can borrow them any time you like.

for the first time, i will be telling stories. you don't even have to ask.

follow me into the dark, take your shoes off, and throw them in the lake.