Take all the water
in the earth's atmosphere
for instance
Remove all
Temperature instabilities
do this by havin all them oceans, clouds, rivers, puddles, dewdrops, blood, that wetness your eyelids slather on yer dry eyeballs
Slowed perfectly down
into
not a single
bit a no energy
at the absolute
zero state
and once the ocean is all frozen completely
all that energy
can be transferred via great lazer beams
to my nuts

I've been thinking about serotonin.

Serotonin is one of the monoamine neurotransmitters that are what keeps our brains functioning. This chemical is magic if anything is. Tiny tweaks in serotonin levels or any mechanism connected to it (the production of it, the re-uptake of it, etc.) are the difference between being in this universe and being in a completely different one. Suicidal depression or a blending of all senses and a loss of individual self while melting into nature and moving in more than four dimensions can be caused by changes too subtle to see without a very powerful microscope.

The state of someone's mind due to chemical influences is almost always thought of as less than. Less valid, less real, less sane, or simply completely meaningless. You might not like what you thought was delicious when stoned, you might not ever say what you would yell when drunk. There's "insanity", a state with myriad forms which could be popularly defined as "stuff in your head that's definitely not real", all of which are caused by fluctuations of a handful of neurotransmitters.

But "sanity" is caused by chemicals. Those very same chemicals, in fact, because they are consciousness. Deciding that the messages we receive from outside our head while the chemicals are in a certain balance are concrete and real and that the universe created when there's a slightly different balance is pure illusion is just a comforting assumption (except for those who get to be told their mind is gone). If one is, there's no reason the other isn't. All of our perceptions could be illusions, or all of them could be solidly real. Perhaps there is an objective source of our perceptions which we do not have the capacity to receive in an undistorted state, like the many dimensions which we cannot perceive, thus making everything perceived just as much an incomplete, hallucinatory illusion as any drug trip. Or the changes in brain chemistry are a tuning dial which allows us to move through non-spatial dimensions from point a (sanity) to point b (insanity), all the while perceiving things that are just as real, but a different universe in the same place.

An analogy I have been considering because of this speculation is our minds as radios which pick up consciousness. Consciousness can be thought of as a dimension, something through which we can travel and which we normally experience a tiny little atom of. It is all that can be perceived, God. Brains have been evolving and changing on Earth for a long time, where the improvement of a brain is measured by how much consciousness it can take in (or hold, or create, or something. It's difficult to describe what I'm talking about because there are often simply not words with the non-duality that's necessary if I'm to continue clearly discussing philosophy without making religious-like assumptions and leaps of logic). A tiny bundle of nerves which can work with a few bits of information is enough for a flatworm, and that could be pictured as the tiniest trickle of consciousness necessary to create an organism of that kind. No greater access is required for the flatworm to survive, and because those things which do not survive are not around anymore (they don't survive), something which does survive stays around, and doesn't need to be any smarter. Then there's the other animals on Earth besides humans, who can be listed from least mentally developed to most by clear additions to or expansions on the workings of their mind. Rudimentary sight, enough to know there's something moving, goes to clearly distinguishing shapes in black and white, to seeing in a full range of colors (including wavelengths that we can't see), to being able to recognize oneself in a mirror. More and more bits of information, more and more consciousness being let through, more and more neurotransmitters.

So a radio is a machine designed to be electrically stimulated by radio waves that are out of the realm of human perception and translate them into a complex set of sound waves which are perceivable by us humans. It's possible that brains work in a sort of similar fashion (keep in mind I am not just being ignorant or science denying, it is still not understood how brains "create" consciousness), like machines that are specially designed to receive consciousness, and take that information and translate it into complex sets of nerve-stimulating output, i.e. our perceptions, our entire universe.

You can rest assured you're more intelligent than a flatworm, but the amount of consciousness we are rationed is still unimaginably tiny when compared to all that could possibly be perceived (and that's just the stuff that we know is out there to be perceived. Add extra dimensions and parallel universes and, well, you go from unknowably big to unknowably huge. Either way, really). A few dimensions are funneled into a few tiny boxes, and that makes up the range of sane reality. Infrared and ultraviolet are the borders for our eyes, a scent too faint or far away escapes our nose completely, something too fine or small will have no effect on the nerves in our fingertips so we won't feel them, some things simply don't stimulate any taste buds and if there's only a molecule or two of something we won't taste it, and of course if the wavelengths of a sound wave are not within a certain size range, we won't hear it.

When someone's brain chemistry is changed enough for them to perceive things that an average person at baseline sitting right next to them wouldn't, it's just a battle of "nu-uh/uh-huh!" as to what is real. The vast majority of existence is invisible in every way to us, so why are hallucinations considered less real because not everyone can perceive them? Our limitations are what keep us alive. If our brains were always just soaking in serotonin, pain would be ignored, fear would not caution us, our body's needs would suddenly seem optional, and we'd feel no need to get anywhere, change anything, or do anything besides just play around. All of our senses would be more finely attuned than years of training could produce, and perception would flow into us through the transmission medium of neurotransmitters, which opens wider and wider simply with the addition of more of the mysterious elixir. We would die, even without serotonin poisoning. We would die so much ecstatically happier and more fulfilled than most people get in a lifetime, but still, the organism and then the species would die. The steady little flow of experience that we can access keeps us suffering, following our instincts, feeling separate from other things and beings, basically it is just enough, and on just the right channel, for our bodies to work with and use to survive.

Is this reason to believe that our tiny set of filtered and diluted perceptions are transcendental law? I don't think so, in fact I think it's a good reason to consider just the opposite, but this assumption that our perceptions are the solid measure of existence is something else our species has needed in order to be so darned fired up about following their perceptions to survival. The effects of entheogens (psychedelic drugs which induce spiritual experiences) can be seen from a very dry pharmacological perspective in which certain chemicals have effects with other chemicals and the circuitry's just changed around for a while, in such a way which often produces the delusion of a mystical, transcendental experience by stimulating the areas in the brain responsible for those feelings. This is of course a brilliantly complex school of thought, not some arrogant assumption, but there are too many things we don't know for me to think it is law, especially having had entheogenic experiences myself. Entheogens could also work by hacking our minds to pick up signals from a realm just as real, because either way we are getting a super-limited, super-censored view, and with the realm of perceivable things being very possibly infinite, whatever we perceive could be considered completely real, just a tiny fraction of reality.

The radio analogy can go a long way.

Adjust the antennae, turn the tuning knob, increase the volume, you're still tapping into the exact same invisible sea of radio waves where all possible things your radio could produce exists, even though what comes out on one frequency can be completely different from another, and there's static in between, it's all real, it's all equal, and everything you get from your radio is limited. Say you hacked your radio and made it translate every single frequency in its range into sound simultaneously. Obviously it would just produce an impossible cacophony that you couldn't pick a single word out of. All the sounds would blend together and become one, and all of the sound frequencies within the range of the speakers would probably be produced at once, and though emphasis on certain frequencies would shift around it would be obvious that there were no separations, just an all-encompassing flux. No practical purpose could be achieved, such as listening to a song or checking a storm update. You'd have to narrow down significantly the amount of information you allowed into the radio before such specific things could be achieved. However, in a truly heroic stretching of this analogy, hearing only your favorite station would be the source of your suffering, it means that you'll enjoy some songs and hate others. "Sanity" would simply be always staying on that one specific station, a wildly popular one, but only one station nonetheless. Someone that only ever tunes to the country station could call someone else tuned to the rap station "insane" if that person were to talk about how he very clearly heard T-Pain while driving to work, while the cowboy, who had been listening to his own radio at the same time, knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was Hank Williams who had been singing. When the entire range is displayed at once, though, this preconception of a fundamental separation between the different points which one could narrow down to will be broken apart when those individual waves are finally seen as the one ocean they are.

This could be pretty literally close to the mechanism on which our brains really work, and where consciousness comes from. Consciousness could be something like those invisible radio waves, but in a way we can't imagine because it's in a form which does not show up on any of our radars. Neurotransmitters could be a physical conduit which connects things which we can perceive, such as ourselves, to the ethereal energy which is the stuff of sentience. Of course it looks like there's nothing there outside our brains, and consciousness could very well be created purely by our minds in a mechanical fashion, but because you cannot see the strings does not mean the puppet is standing up on its own.

The mechanisms of most medicines which effect the human body are understood down to astonishing detail, but the industry of psychiatric medication is far more gray, despite it's massive growth in the past few decades. If you've happened to listen to some commercials for these things, you might have noticed this. "Pristiq is thought to work by effecting two neurotransmitters in the brain: serotonin and norepinephrine". It might work by doing something to the stuff that makes you happy. This shit is not understood. There's years of education worth of knowledge about what happens in the brain, but as to why, well, we're still left to philosophical rumination.

Consciousness is, what, the perception of things? Where does an entity come into that? Obviously machines can perceive, and a piece of cloth lying in the sun receives the light, is stimulated by the light, etc. What's the key difference between an occurence and the perception of an occurence? An occurence has effects, complex effects built up from a universal handful of simple quantum interactions, and perception is another product of an occurence, with the same handful of quantum interactions building up to something complex (for example, occurence = light shines. Effects = light hits cloth, light hits eyes, light interacts on quantum level with the fundamental particles of both, producing the exact same kinds of stimulation, but the stimulation flips a magnificently detailed switch in our eyes--that is, just sets off a further chain of the same simple processes--and dissipates into entropy on the cloth. Cloth never knows, we do, we are conscious, ta-dah).

This is a work in progress, and I am done for now.

It's a gesturely movement with the whole grain engraved
in a cracker runnin nutrient through a valve in the heart of hearts
when-will-ya-find-out-how-car-ha-b0-hy-hi-drates-up-in-the-hole-
into your capillary droll

that's not

Having forgotten to take my effexor for a couple of days, i began feeling rather depressed. It came as a marvel that I had been surviving so well, because wherever I laid my mind's eye I saw a broken and passionless life. I laid on my bed and cried over a feeling of grief so deep and pervasive it was inspired by anything I thought of. I was breathless at the thought of the world I built with Csilla having been dissolved without notice, the joke it made of the last two years of my life. There was nothing in my depressed mother, in my very few friends, in the empty day through which I had slept, there was nothing to live for. I saw no escape in the paths I have worn wtih use through my tiny terrarium (bedroom to computer, bedroom to kitchen, bedroom to bathroom, nowhere to nowhere). Passionless agony. Silence, aloneness, and meaning hung heavy and spiteful in the empty light, it seemed tangibly to gather up in the corners and wash over my feet when i tried to move, invisible and worthless. If I could but reach in and hold the Meaning, the Purpose, if it was anything but the invisible ether which it was, I felt I could have seen some new path, some new life, but it hung back with Silence and Aloneness and watched me.

I realized I had forgotten to take Effexor and I found the bottle and took a couple. I wrote a poem and found it easy and satisfying like it used to be, and realized this was because it was not creation from nothing, but simply a well said description of what I could see clear as day around me. I was saddened by the fact that I'd rather never write excellent poetry again than be back in the state where it was easy. All I'd have to do is not take my medication, and not take my life.

I am very, very sad.

The bit will flip like this
from zero to one or from one to zero
finding the right bit is immaterial
this sifting through of innumerable statements
will be the fold between now and now
and impossible to
uh
to uh not do that
fucking work yourself out
step into the stream of streams
be a giant fucking immense thing now
and you will see pores in your skin like lakes
brimming
forcing forward our progression through time

Today Csilla sent me an e-mail that contained this, a transcription of everything she could make out within the notebook that I wrote in for a large and chaotic portion of last year. It was a very pleasant surprise. Plenty of my writing was illegible, but she tried valiantly. The rows of eights are the actual notebook page-breaks (they were made in a word document, so when i copied and pasted they formed the hackneyed two-liners you see here), and any lines were actually drawn by me indicating I was writing the next day on the same page.

Almost all of this was written in stream-of-consciousness style, often in public, having stopped somewhere by the side of the road on my bike after riding for hours, or under a bridge tripping. It's depressed and strange and meaningful, to me.

Well, here it is.

DeComposition 

Michael Wells

Michael Wells 

Dream: Valerie trying to come over.  I was at Dougs & it confused them, they got lost.  Later, midnight, Mir, Val, & I went out in car to Cat.  I suggested just fast food & they groaned, they wanted gourmet a vegan option was seafood-esque (formed in a bridge?!) later we all (Val & sev. Randoms) were listen. to a presentation involv. Music.  Made Val uncomf. Reminded her of something.   

(woke up went back) 

Broke my glasses.  

Found on the counter a buttered toasted strawberry-w/powdered sugar sandwhich, ate a bite.  [Now i'm going to make one.]  The way I reacted to Mother saying something about balls was perceived as great acting.  We were with someone whose amputated fingers he replaced with long metal spirals that would whip about extending to great lengths he had excellent control over them.  Mother was outfitted with an experimental device projected all her thoughts as a hologram around her head in images.  By touching different places on her head like buttons one could access the menu of programs & decide what & how it displayed info all about her brain & body.  fascinating.  Noah!  I had a mystical experience with Noah 

8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888 

I was this older man who had a wife & child and in considering Noah, well, first i'll say I was shown a film which played out in my head like I was living it of a Noah who had only a very large family who he loved immensely (I felt his love like an all illuminating light in the pit of my stomach), they were on a boat, but there was no flood, only this pure land kind of landscape bathed in the light of early into a beautiful sunset, and I watched as Noah who like a Huichol shaman (he was naked) had grown very large breasts (and a hotei belly) flew ecstatically in carefree arcs, higher and higher into the sky, coming to God, who told him he must have a child with this demonlike snake thing.  Noah knew he would die in the process & only the demonchild would live & his family would fall apart w/out him so he refused, so God killed them all.  Walking out of the theater, “I” was just a camera watching third person this middle aged trim, well-dressed black man (he was a professor at the college “we” were at) saying it was well done but bullshit.  The minister who made it heard him (also a dignified black man) and calmly proposed to him some sort of spiritual challenge that eventually lead him to a mystical experience.   

8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888 

Later I snuck into Pascal & studied Bill Cosby for several hours unnoticed 

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888 

whats tryin so hard

I can't remember

I'm a gonna swing this rope 

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888 

I WANT TO KILL SOMEBODY

Ye yeah let's murder someones 

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888 

SYLVIA'S GLASSES LEFT IN YOUR CAR

NIGGAH. 

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888 

There's somewhere in the water where light ends

life finds underneath its quiet out here.  This

stone is almost chalk I can scrape it off

w/ my nails

there's a tunnel, but it just doesn't seem like it's

not inhabited by trolls

There's a big illegal section over here 

8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888 
 

Things are all bright & clear,

it seems after muscles squeeze there's an influx

      I

            am left then

      with a sort of

            blankness

      With shadows

            shadows lay so

                  softly

                  surrounded

                  by gleaming sunlight

                  softening the edges 

I think one of the mothers

of the children infecting

      this playground

is drinking bourbon, maybe,

      in a nestea bottle 

crow just walked over the

      woodchips

            ITS URGENT! 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

The mothers are

conversing

undoubtedly

about their potential

MILF status.  I can tell

you right now not

everyone's gonna

make it. 
 
 

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888 

there's

A little kid

on the

      stegosaurs

whistling better than I can

by far 

possible names

      PROTOBEARD 

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888 

NEEDING

MOOSE

for: food,

shelter,

basis of North Western

Native American civilization. 

JESUS CHRIST 

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888 

why last night was an exploration indeed.  I think I was on an empty stomach and chugging them [?idncrcaged?] level of dxm as opposed to dxo the day is now warm from the afterglow.  Actually its seems that the Doug's place is better suited for tripping by far.  Wat better for Shamanic tripping I remember dancing in ecstasy at Hunter's house.  And at like 2:00 am I stepped out of Daol place to go to the “circle” where I sat at the base of a big tree with my staff I closed my eyes and was perfectly still for a very long time it seemed during which I sought out the spirit of the tree.  It was amazing, and I almost experienced astral proj. 

I had a nosebleed last night haha. 

Thankfully there's a shitload of vidoes.

Strobe light especially interesting 

8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888 

Looks like I'm

            kind of addicted to DXM

      Not sure what

            to do about that... 

h

   a

     h

       a.

      I'm kind of excited about

            my stalker.

      Perhaps it means i'm defeated

      the isolation is if people come

      to me through their cage.   

            If we're sure they've

got the right person 

8888888 [most of this page is rather illegible, i put in my best guesses]8888888888888888888888888 

work very hard to afford the most cutting edge cage.  Top of the line bubble of anutent 

ancet optical freedom  [doodle of a suit labeled “strong” and “strong suit”] 

third hundreth eye

has. Looks like a phallic symbol would stop cars in their tracks I think i'm

that guy just walked out. Security things beeping.  He stopped and looked back, but nothing happened.

Are you a free man, ken? 

Yeah, neither am I

they won't accept this chicken scratch

work

maybe I should accept my vision as

hallucination and refer to DXM as my

anti-psychotic “medication” and when my

pupils start constricting I'd say “withdraws are

fucking in I suppose peripheral vision

is not my strong suit. 

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

I experienced the joy of creation earlier

  for the first time in months.  Real spontaneous

  flowing creation.  I also had the rare opportunity

  to purchase weed last night. 

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

There's people walking over the stones. A couple, they're laughing.  I just want to know if this stalker is beautiful.  I guess it's a longshot.  Why would someone beautiful need to hide themselves in the shadows of insane obsession?

It's funny that I'm excited.  Excited to have someone pop through the stretched cellophane and

                                                      reach me

                                                            for no

                                                            reason. 

            The

            silence

            is is 

88888888 

Today a today has been rather strange tripping unwisely led to total confusion I had (have) no fucking Idea what the damn cell membranes are all about, & math was like a marathon 

I feel kinda stupid for having tripped so much DXM lately.  DPH is what I'm tackling next 

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888 

I'm sitting waiting to be beated at the diner Spirale.  Man this place is always packed with hot chicks.  [Three little doodles] & deliosneess. 

      I'm drinking Yerba Mate.  This place is excellent to the max.  There's not really anything not awesome about this place,  I rode the boat bike here, my happiness is secure.  No more DXM for a while for Jiminy Christmass' sake! 

Though I think DPH is coming up this weekend, with Hunter & Reid keeping me in check I feel a great clarity its just the like I expunge conflicts in my head out through my pores, and if I now choose I could just sit in a mostly unresponsive perception 

I kind of want to sharpen my pencil but where should I do it?  This is the most pressing question on my mind now, and I don't really care at all about it. 

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888 

Charlie's here and he came over to say hi.  He's so cool.  There's a beautiful girls sitting in a table near my booth.  I'm sitting in a back corner and when I look out diagonally I see her back.  She's got a light robin's egg blue top on, slightly reddish blond hair tied in one big braid, pale soft skin... I hate it I miss Csilla 

MMM pickle san'ich w/ potato salad tasty and now gonna refil and head out 

later I went to 1919.  It was closed, so I got two big slabs of cardboard and wrote a story on it that went as follows:

      I MADE AN OFFERING OF WINE to THE GODS SO THEY FIGURED THEY HAD BETTER HAVE A PARTY.  THEY HELD IT WHEN YOU WERE GONE.  QUETZALQATIL GOT SO WASTED HE FORGOT HOW TO SPELL HIS NAME.  ODIN KEPT ASKING EVERYBODY IF THEY HAD ANY WEED, BUT WE HAD ALL RUN DRY, SO HE TOOK 30 BENADRYL.  I TOLD HIM IT WAS A BAD IDEA, DPH IS A POWERFUL DELIRIANT, BUT HE JUST BABBLED A SOMETHING ABOUT AVOIDING POLITICIANS.  HE SPENT THE REST OF THE NIGHT CRAWLING AROUND ON HIS HANDS AND KNEES EXPOUNDING A RATHER BITTER PHILOSOPHY CONCERNING THE SPIDERS THAT WERE STEALING HIS CHILDHOOD.   

ALTERNATE AZTEC GOD NAMES:

      PRETZELPOTHOLE

      “BETS-ALL”BOTTLE 

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888 

You ever watched TV?  I swear if there weren't any cords i'd think it was delerium I think I don't think I can sustain these shotgun imagery wounds without a ground up sense of what else is possible, subsisting only on second hand experience and 

I'd be lying if I said this swamp of algae, litter and what looks like black water was unremarkable 

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

I sup 

[nearly completely illegible, but this is my best guess:]

When n those's together chat w z cshall write how the wind wakes up The world doesn't stop until you stop. 

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

So basically yesterday Dad bought me a new 

Dad bought me a new bike 

So I poured POURED chemicals on my brain I'm scared I 

don't know how much damage I've done done to my brain cells with all this DXM 

[repeated anagram DXM] looking for an insignia representing DXM? 

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

lot of Delsym that day.  I didn't come fully down until at least 30 hours after my initial dose.  I was feeling sick, sick with it.  Now I'm at Walgreens again.  Have I gone too far?  I fear maybe I have.  I feel I might eventually lose what little control I have over it.  What am I doing here again?  I shoplift when I'm bored.  What What am I going to find in there that will make me happy?  Something pocket sized?  Something that severs my ties to this bored world?  I'm just sitting in the path of the wind I don't think it has a reason for doing this.  There's a mother with a kid.  Who's she talking to?  I just want something to dilate my pupils 

8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Where the light lands it rubs raw like Sandpaper so it feels everything like salt on a wound and screams it out

Never really understood before the twilight

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

It's freaking 4:20 am.  I take a restoril & a trazedone last night (no quail)> just to see What would happen.  I woke up about an hour ago, with all memory past the point at which I dosed pretty much cleanly wiped away.  Now I've taken one seroquel so I can return to sleepy time.  My stalker's name is Connor From Fronn.  Apparently.  I'm gonna go eat some stolen Reese's p.b. Cups and let my imagination wander.  Holding a lantern. 

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Now on this side of the river you can tell me what you think of me because there's two trails side by side I can see someone's hand as they cross the bridge.  From way down below I see that one had used to steady them selves along that crazy fall down world where everything is we vying for the opportunity to end your little cache of self-movement.  Knock it off like a little nothing with machines big big machines everything and damn I can we can walk on water too I guess we just assumod assumed we weren't supposed to get our shoes wet and besides, I found green glass, too,

shards of 40's

Farther along this path there are birds that make everything seem moot.  The trains are tight here I wonder if they think me homeless.  I hope because this is the world I want to shudder in 

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Sarah.  Was it Sarah [name removed]?  I know her last name was grimes because it's kind of a memorable last name, especially after [name removed] talked about how it fit her (he found her rather unattractive, in fact somewhat [obvious allusion to name removed]) googolplex.  There's lots of good looking rich folks around here

especially coming out of Starbucks 

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

I'm at the trinity trails sitting at one of the three benches overlooking a berd in the river.  There's a homeless man in the bench next to mine he hasn't said a word.  Speaking of a word, he's reading various texts with a Christian bent such as The Bible & something written by Billy Graham.  There's a colored cork wine bottle cork laying on the grass just in front of us.  I came here with the intent of offering him food & drink, but it's akward to breach the topic if he doesn't start by asking me for change.  I hope he has food and drink 

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

[3 pgs torn out and missing] 

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

I'm at my special spot again.  I made another small fire.  That homeless guy is back, in the exact same spot.  This place is incredible. I thing think I might name it

I named it “Who am I?” after the rudimentary sign I made.  I don't think there's anything to say about that

why am I creating fires? I do not know.

Next day I'm under the bridge feelin kinda shitty

 

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Just came back from a motorcycle ride everything I experience is laden with poetry all the light that shines through w[illegible] to

 

I [illegible] dammitt

 

it's just that everything is beautiful!

 

I see it I see it and I can repeat it, whisper it in awe because it's all here to be filtered through & saved & [fever? Lever?] and everything can be done purely because it is fun.  This is not pouring more butter on your chicken this is raising your arms like you're flying.

 

Well, I'm pretty tingly.  I hate them

 

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

what is this, a nightmare?  I know it more too closely for it to be a nightmare.  It's so damn bright in here.  “in here” I ge guess I assume that “out there” is different.  Am I someone with incredible fawlties?  Ha.  I think that as I hear that music I also hear my thoughts.  They exist in I a part

 

I've been waiting all day fto for this

 

write my head here

 

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

It seems like at one point, the bright clarity that is perceived on DXM, that is, the literal brightness when your pupils dilate, seemed to continue, like my pupils never constricted afterwards.  It seriously does feel like there's more light in the sky now, everything out here in the sunlight is almost glittering and it's amazingly beautiful.

 

The universe is not entirely deterministic apparently.  That's a bit unfortunate, I think.

 

I'm under another bridge (DBSB, PM) different bridge, same bridge, pretty much.  I'm eating Rembrarnt cheese with Triscuits, superfood, bread, Gatorade, water, all stolen.  Oh wait, bread was bought. 

 

It's a Dutch masterpiece, Gouda quite matuer apparently.  “Extra Aged” seriously god damned tastely.  World Champion 2004 cheese contest (est. 1957).

 

Everybody goes over this damn bridge not under it.  I want to see somebody [dad?dead?dud?] consider themselves

 

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

To my right someone (probably Miranda ..) wrote “Miranda

                                                            y

                                                              Lorna”

 

Lorna doo[ing?m,?] in the correct ment joining of espresso-speak politics my bike has a home now among the Starbuckers.

 

Some middle-eastern men are sitting around a table near me and conversing in a beautiful non-sensical language.  I wonder if they know they're talking nonsense.  The birds

                                                              THE BIRDS ARE SCREAM

(ing)

      I would call this genie genre “Sex Addict” because of the two girls that just walked into Joe's Pizza & Pasta.  Not because of prurient on my part but because they were talking about it.  I distictly heard one of them say “sex addict” is it seemed

 

8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

as if the other was explaining Nymphomania to the first. 

 

Both were lost.

I'm writing at the bank of the Trinity river, having just had a filling breakfast of 2 honeybuns, Triscuits, craisins, and four different cheeses.  All stolen, of course.  I'm in plain view of the 3 benches at the corner to my left across the river, and there are 3 people sitting there, they've been watching me, I think, for I am an unusual sight.  I am barefoot, tie-dyed, had a picnic and washed my hair in the river.  One of them was sitting there when I first came.  She's in a pink something suit.  Time to ride. 

 

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

writing very carefully with my sprained (?) hand.  I'm at Starbucks buyin drinking an iced espresso.  People always stare at me.  I wonder if the guy with no shoes on is awesome.  Probably, the espresso is great.  It's kind of like dro.  I can feel the difference almost immediately between single hits/sips. Milfs in here.  My doctor was young and attractive.  It was ironic. 

 

Damn it.  I hope time heals all weird penis problems too. 

 

THE ESPRESSO'S RICH. 

Should I drink it all hot

 

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Chronologically now those [these?] pages are oft order.  Ow my w[rk?]t.  Dream....classroom where as soon as teacher left we'd turn into orgy.  She'd come back, we'd dress & return to work.  She undressed. 

 

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

If time doesn't soak through I don't know what will.  I keep finding myself in this silly Starbucks.  I wonder what the first Starbucks was like.  I guess people liked it. 

 

I got Pinot Noir and a corkscrew yeah it reminds me of Family Guy but the espresso is good and i've got stuff in my head. 

      I went to Wcho AmI[?] before remembering I needed a corkscrew I also got Kronic ( la[ving?] for “2 onics”) gloves.  I dreamt last night about looking at biking gear. 

This is a good life.  I could do this for a good long time.  The endophins make me alive, and keep me sane. I performed [as?]dutions at the river.  Remember my funky penis problem f[ureru?] self?  Yeah, so do I.  It hurts to write with this cast on. 

 

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

I'm sitting outside Starbucks very drunk.  Nuh.  Just tipsy.  I want to throw bead for the bird, I keep drinking espresso.  Those plush sleep are [transeemdential?]

 

<--- Perfect little nothing

<--- perfect little Ice Crystal.

<---perfect little drop of water

 

Transeendemtnal   Why are timey looking at me

More Wine?

 

                  Yeah

 

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

sitting on a couch some freak left at the corner of the street.  Light beige floral design.

 

God damnit what's up with Yandall & his super-[load?loud?lodd?] early-morning Westerust[?]!

 

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

817

      550

817...

SCURY

DOG

 

I met the drifter Scurvy Dog yesterday

 

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

I feel abandoned.

I have just enough alcohol in me to feel a little dirtier, a little worse, a little more [lsopse?gross?hose?] and stupid and lost and weak and darkened by this empty place of cigarette butts

 

8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

I lost my notebook several days ago when I played tag with officer Romano or was it Romero?  Bald.  Young.

 

8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Empty enough page

 

writing with Derwent graphic pencil 8B

                                     very soft velvety dark

 

I like to look at the beautiful women around me.  I enjoy it, but I don't get it. 

 

                  Too little to, I guess

 

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

we're on the bus

trippin' on election day

bush movin into

                 highland park

 
 

Yeah, looks like i'm coming down.  Thank god.  It was mo

more like coming up.  Surfacing.  God, I've gotten so fucking tired of DXM why do I continue to do it?

      CAN YOU REMEMBER

            the last time you had a positive experience on this shit?

 

The chemical harshness just stimulates illness I think

 

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Just got out of Tom Thumb able to buy a loaf of bread for the next week of food I finally

            got Csilla's package.

817...

            I almost cried outside the post office.  I think I've gotten better at stopping myself I kind of hate that.  W

The cashier counted it all of it out in my change.  I said she was a saint for doing so and she said, “It's alright.  I been struggling for a long time.  I wanted to steal.  I'm hungry.  Brings me down to feel it all day.  I begin to see the world as the place that will not feed me, nor the billions so much hungrier.  Tom Thumb employees keep passing me.  I wonder if they're waiting to see me removing stolen shit.  So many milfs.

 

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Waiting at the bus stop.  25 crosstown.  It's 5:30 pm and i'm trying to get to the acoustic jam at the Unity tonight at 7:30.  It wouldn't take 2 hours if I just rode my bike, but i'm trying to get as close as I can to Unity using just rout 25, and I could easily get lost.

 

I guess I'm okay.  The potatoes have finally subsided.

 

Outside Sonic

            relationship troubled brother behind me.  On his cell phone talking to it seems significant other.  95% bad, since she be running around.  5% good with all the “I love you” stuff

 

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Sunday.  Driving home listening to Van Morrison w/ dad from Danny's.  He drank a couple of glasses of wine.  I keep thinking about that girl with the Valerie body.  It seems like she lives with multiple levels of thought-realities, considering & observing as she goes... her posture, her expression.  I don't know why.  All girls/women that have the build and the look of Valerie imediately seem...  like they'd be someone I'd fall in love with.

When is this?  Looking for stencil

 

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

listen officer you can eat my piss or you can drink my piss, either way you have to make a[n] [d?ol?]torama out of the experience

 

Why is this in public?

 

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

I'm on the 25 crosstown.

It's about 6pm.  I don't know what I'm doing,

but I'm doing it. 

Csilla finally talked to mother.  I don't know how well it worked for my favor.  This bus is [mahvrevered?] with charming[?] akrity and I hear orange pants.

 

If this line is any indication, only the politics of loneliness count in here.  If nobody steals my bike i'll never get to meet someone I can choose not to call the police on in public.  Ha.  Not a single one of these lamps give a shit about me another impersonal luxury that that exemplifies the ability of something to help without having to care at all for anyone. 

 

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

steal, run, shiver scream, go hungry, feel fear, know death, destroy perceptions

 

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

I don't know what I'm doing.  Is it art?  Ha.  no.  I just feel sick.  A ball of lead in my stomach.  I wish I could create something.  The gelatinous fog of nutmeg afterglow (I ate 4 tbs. of it yesterday)  keeps the ink all tied up and scared it's taken ten minutes to write this far.

 

I see so many worlds everywhere I wish I could speak to everyone I pass, not just the ones that don't look afraid of me. 

 

Piss.

 

Everything amazes me.

 

I

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

with this in my hand

this is a piece of shit

I can't even work mojo with this

that wasn't enjoyable at all

in fact

f u c k     e m

 

8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

almost a full blown milf just stopped here at the Hulen Mall bus stop.  I'm waiting [walking?] hoping to find soon the same bus I lost my pass on.  Damnit.  There's nothing looking to us.  Ever-one lookin at us wish somebody was poking a cigar

 

one take[fake?face?] over the line Sweet Jesus

wonder where my stencil gonna start

makin sense

 

I keep coming to places with the intention to do something immediately then start writing because it's something I feel comfortable doing while people watch.

 

Watch I cannot light these things

 

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

It's still man to man if you count johnny scurv-wang

 

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

EXTRACTING PURE EXPERIENCE PROM'DA LF

 

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

why is it illegal to make

 

“public” spaces are either blank or co

The original statement made by this sentence was false so i replaced it with this. Any of you fuckers want to listen instead? I've got aaarrt in my soul, it comes out in little doodles I don't finish and poems that I don't read twice because they aren't any good but the ink-covered page makes me feel better. I ride my bike like there is something chasing me and when I stop my knees hurt and I am covered in sweat and people look at me and my open mouth and heaving lungs with everything around me bright and I am Elsewhere. I am a piece of shit.

IT'S A PARLOR TRICK
CHARLATAN

I painted on china today, I went to a class with my mother and her friend from the mental hospital, Pat, and we sat in a nice little studio with four other old ladies one of whom was the teacher, and we painted on china. We mixed our paint from powder pigment and mineral oil and she taught us the very basics, showed us how to use all our tools that we bought for the class and such. This took a few hours. We then drew the base layer for a peach and a leaf on china plates, which she will now fire in her kiln and next week we'll be working on the second layer.

I excelled at the peach, if I do say so myself, and it was entertaining. The other ladies were regulars and were all working on much more complex pieces of their own design. They were surprisingly boisterous and funny, one kept saying "shit" under her breath when she'd mess up one of her grapes.

Pat is legally blind, she has tunnel vision.

Out riding my bike I met some homeless people that I hung out with for a bit, they asked me if I had any weed, and I told them "sorry", but I gave 'em a couple bucks. Turned out the lady was pregnant, I thought it was eerie.

Can't do it. Can't prove my validity with art. What is this? I'm just talking about shit. I will copy down a page from my new notebook.

SHIT

Not gonna fill a whole page
not gonna do a lot of things i guess
i don't want to capitalize "i"
i rarely feel it deserves capitalization, it's emphasized enough
i talk about it like it's goin outta style
well i like the blank page i like the productive and filled page more,
don't often see i
so i try to make it out squint and see shapes form, shit like that
but it's h  a  r  d

hear cars honkin that's the church bell we all follow to worship
hear wind gettin pushed around by rolling metal carrying perception of all things
a brain and heart, i guess behind tinted windows that evoulved like dead melanin so that people could move without going anywhere
let's not talk about that how bout this silly handwriting can you read it?
see how it shakes and acts unsure and tries to gather up precious flowing blak ink and meaning it talks like me it's better than that lined, spaced and pretty shit

hello, i am depressed [i wrote this very carefully]<---- shit
i'm so fucking depressed [that was in my normal handwriting]<---- honesty

i think yeah it is it's the next day atrocious i have atrocious handwriting Csilla teased me saying that
what should i do with the remaining space? i feel like i could kill somebody with it or something Da Vinci could make some brilliant sketch of futurist leanings
the house across from me has this kid in it a few years older than me i played with him a few times back when that's what i did with others he looks like everybody else he let in his cute girlfriend who looks like everybody else a few minutes ago and he left the front door open but the plastic screen door closed and you can't see in it just reflects the yard i wonder if he meant it as an insult i've never seen anybody sitting on those nice benches on their porch though they've got throw pillows
i want to make shirts supporting gay rights with something clever

i'm wondering if i should get a sponsor, AA you know. it's just i'm not sure i deserve one. Well, fuck, or something like that i am not that addicted, but i smoke weed every now and then and there's nothing really beneficial about it but there's nothing beneficial about eating pudding and i don't feel like putting an embargo on either one, does that mean that i need to? hell or hell
or what, then? What's my alternative to the flat out gung-ho and being sponsored and all that? I know i could be fine doing what i'm doing and not refusing weed every now and then but i'm not doing anything or going anywhere. would quitting make me immediately productive? No, because it's not amotivational syndrome, i just don't know what to do

This is a parlor trik never been to see any parlor tricks but i don't think i've lost anything so tired shit it's the seroquel if i'm not mistaken and i'm not in this case
i keep going through the eloquent and thorough destruction of sick hateful homophobia and i always wonder if it would be rude. Rude to all the actually gay people who don't want to be a "cause" or a "side" just people

Mother got out of the hospital today after 18 days in the psych ward. She's still all messed up, weird feeling and full of the detritus knocked loose by shock shock shock and new weird meds with class-action lawsuits taken against them (so there's some faceless group with an opinion). lost sentence structure you bet, trazodone and seroquel got me bent downward pipe staring at the ground remembering heat at stretching elbow why would somebody put a metal pipe sticking straight up out of the ground or better yet why would somebody bend it. tomorrow will be the celebration of somebody's AA birthday there will be food and fun.

I wonder what my last chance's gonna be in a future without photons traveling backwards in time all cause i wouldn't watch em if i could oh lord the decision's all trumped up and grand our anthill sure is a sight to see from us ants target market somebody's hittin the mark hitting hitting whou thought like a trajectory factory gonna push a little nugget of metal a little too hard so it's going to push through you upset push out the way outta the way blood and networks fail die all this text looks beautiful to me i won't keep up with the what is it like mesh of well nothing special but my brain turns on to it like stories that equal lives no talking out their ass cry in front of drunks YES

That was the first full page. It's a large sketchbook, actually, that I try and fill the pages of.

On the next I drew many lines, and i began to write in between them. Here is what is there so far:

IT'S NOT ABSTRACT ART IT REALLY IS JUST A MESS remember

the theoretical model of this apartment is false indeed is this realm had one forgotten

i have plenty to say i am a real human being and i have many words to prove it

if i can really reach in and caulk these gaps i can rest in it ink

not a line in place
my mood will be effected by this intuited grasp of where the lines should be i don't think i'm good at placing them

d r i v e l

I WANT TO BE LOVED OVER POETRY I SO DEARLY WANT TO THINK SOMEONE COULD FALL IN LOVE WITH ME OVER MY "ART" AGAIN BUT IT FEELS LOST LIKE I'M AN "ARTISTIC PERSON" NOT AN ARTIST

i sincerely hope this will be looked at
it will never be looked at, michael not by anyone but you

am i praying or something

NO CHRONOLOGICAL SAFETY HERE THIS DOESN'T WORK SOMETIMES IT DOES

Don't dredge up any feelings of aristocracy the poverty's a part of you the poverty is a part of you I found a skull today and a leg a predator was smart enough to tear off a leg without reserve it was a deer's leg i carried it down and was touched without feeling (thorns) it became what the dog stared at, and then the people i suppose they envisioned contagion on such a bright day i set it down with resilient hoof pointing upwards i felt great respect for it without ceremony its fur was coming off in patches the skull is still with me and it is bleached and quiet. I sought, or, well i just spoke Yeshua it was Yeshua

I here is entropy increasing i am building the universe the one verse of perfect speech

i can't clean myself or keep myself i feel lost

Little Kitty's purring in my lap.
listening to the birds tweeting outside,
and sometimes watching my hands moving above her as I type.
She is very happy to see us back, as is Celine.
I wonder.

this is just a mess

or:

the gap between god's finger and adam's

is indeed unbreachable

and unbreakable