Posted

They would not let me capitalize after crashing the party.
I didn’t know I was a party-crasher. After all, why would I crash
an all-white party? To crash the party and supply novel
party-favors. Wait, I am not supposed to be here?…In art, the rules are
different. Perhaps b/c this object is esteemed unlike other
values. The more valuable, the more exclusionary; both supply
and demand. If the fore-bearers of an art-form were to
exist in some space, perhaps meta-physical in nature….
Let me explain. I am trying to capitalize (make money) on a
borrowed form of art. That is to say, my art forms are not original.
They belong to a history of art forms. Art is historical period. One
cannot break free from the idea of Art and therefore one is subject
to history. Sometimes however certain endeavors are blurred out
of the process. In any case, if some aesthetic is involved then the
subject-object matter – take for example computer programming -
can be construed as an art form. Aesthetic obviously indicates a
disposition towards Beauty. But when the form is well-documented, such as oil-painting, then the values and judgements are full of
baggage. To get on point, think about a Porsche. New models
are still designed, but many would argue the classic/ideal form
has already been canonized. If this ideal was representative of
true beauty then an invention of similar forms would be scrutinized
against those precursors. Then why do these inventors take such
risks? Logically, it makes sense to continue the ideal. Hmm…do
we believe the ideal satisfies both sides – artist and audience? Of
course Art is only that and other factors contribute to the audience’s
taste. Can we ditch the ideal and move towards a more sustainable
society? It’s too late. Gold is gold. My brain is tonic. Art is fart.
Sticks and stones. Apart the days. Progression. Movie syndrome.
The four corners of the earth. Answers are like flowers. They die.
If I promote greatness in art-making that is like failing the drug-test.
If I conflate truth-making with attention-grabbing, I am robbed!
Dignity suffers. I can’t see the truth b/c it requires concentration.
I am busy with capital B. Capital B is ingrained. But Beauty
is multi-dimensional. They say there is beauty in the hideous.
I bet if you found this beauty the hideous is transformed or succumb.
Think a black hole. I can’t guarantee this. But if the directive is
managed with good intention and good faith (skeptical at best)
the endeavor would at least be interesting enough.

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Posted

But before I begin, fuck fuck fuck fuck…
this is not the way today
i am not a wowy….wow
maybe i need my brain scanned

Start of BS

A modern artist is like a box of chocolates. Unfortunately, I seem to not be in a box of this sort, bu rather packaged into a bag of homogeneous, historical, unpopular Twizzlers. Perhaps due to my lack of formal art education or whatever, I never thought I needed to find a niche. My education is from reading text, visiting museums and galleries. Painting as art is sensual of course. I suppose I need to change my conventional approach, but I was expecting to do that after I got my break. I never got a break. Fate I guess.

What does becoming dispassionate have to do with living in hell? I don’t know. I can guess it is a method out, but I am unsure. I suppose it rings true, but is it serendipitous? The way out alternatively, is through hard American work; back-breaking, painkiller-taking hard work. The third option would be to play ignorant; continue taking my time, aloof attitude and wishy-washy way. I am not in hell. Things are moving forward in time for the sake of some unknown, unexplored future undertaking; the way I more or less currently think about my existence. The problem is not in the definition, but in the true experience. One is not certain of hell, unbeknownst. It carefully creeps in and leaves one bewildered. True knowledge of hell would precipitate change. True knowledge requires self-awareness. But there’s a double-edged sword. To become aware like that, puts one in a rather helpless state. Such horrid conditions would result in panic and anxiety unless the tools to quickly find passage out are available. There is mechanism of self-protection. Overwhelming realizations hardly occur. Usually a more subtle hint is given, at the expense of the individual not catching on. But still, words are not meaningful unless they resonate at the core. Thus one needs to increase self-realization slowly – to avoid self-annihilation – to determine this validity of such a hypothesis.

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Posted

Every advantage in the past is judged in the light of the final issue.
-Demosthenes

My body itself is in despair. Thus the mind follows.
With such a high expectation and overwhelmed by desires, burning, burning, burning.
Those who are in a position to gain satisfaction often and
those who are failing to obtain. My therapist said, ‘you can
only do one thing at a tie.’ This is so true.

When reaching out to others seems like a big work, then
it’s better to pretend with the lord. That’s not much better,
unless you are willing to imagine. One’s personal history
dictates this possibility.

I don’t have the energy (patience) to make sense.

My brain is rotting from the schizo-like turmoil. The
psycho-babble jargon;
Ultimately it’s just an energy thing.
And corrupted organs, eyes, liver, etc.

In my underwear going nowhere.
Too many texting buddies.
This is the new normal.
Agony is dumb, but I am more dumb.

Author

Posted

I can’t do much. I can type the alphabet.
I can read about neurotransmitters. I can’t draw.
I can read about the different pathways. None of this.
My neck hurts and I screwed my fairly balanced dosha.
Now screwed up kapha. Now I have to take ashwagandha
to reduce the mucus built up in my brain. I don’t need this.
My father is the pill box, not me. What about these days?
So much chaos. The show must go on. Broken roads,
angry people, broken necks, no time for losers. Well, if
less is more than why is there so much more? Maybe b/c
if you make less more, then you always have more? Maybe
it’s time to get rid of less and just stick with more. Now you have
less right? More is less. I win! Let the good times roll!
If every heart was made of stone and pleasure wasn’t a boon,
I would conduct the gaps to fill themselves in with the same stuff
that makes memories worth making.

Author

Posted

An interesting idea that good times are not winning
“can’t find any answers in the good times we had..”
the good times huh? maybe winning leads to good times.
MAYBE AMERICANS ARE OBSESSED WITH….
How I learned nothing from my mistakes?
That is oui, and etre.
To be or not to be.
I swear if I ever binge again…
Inflammation of the liver is called something like cirrhosis.
I am a fooool, a waste of a bundle of energy.
I might be the worst writer in the whole world.
The whole internet world. I’ve never read much of a
bad writer like me on the internet. That life.
What is the point? The girls are even on parole.
The skunk doesn’t smell for me. I am an idiot!

dosha, i know not what i do
given the chance
i sleep in the hour ring the fish upon the shelf
sushi today! yummy…mediocre and meh
i don’t type more now in this mode .

Author