26 Aug 2016

Why?!

Because!?

Fuck you! That's why.

Fuck You Cigarettes - MY BRAND, yeah, MY BRAND, yeah ALL CAPS bappety bappety bop bop
shuBAW

they're fuck you cigarettes... yeah yeah yeah yeah, fuck you cigarattes, yu yah yu yah yu yah yu
[fuck you cigarettes]
why?
fuck you that's why.... yah yi ya yo yah yi ya...

take any mind control where you can get it, see where it gets you
take on a scheme, a secret for control of the world, your world, at least your world
at least take on a dubious friend in a solipsist's hell, an imaginary friend? that'll do, that'll do nicely, in fact, that might more than do, that might be more than happy, like a dangerous mental condition

placebos for working out tension earlier catches up with me, waking fever dreams will do nicely, it'll all mesh comfortably, mash it up pra-pa-lEE! shy bow bow, fuck you cigarettes... yeah ya, this'n'that and never mind whatever's involved, detach from realities, make the warning on the pack as big as you want, cause fuck you, and yes. That'll do nicely.

Where has all the rage gone? Gone to a Rage song. The machine rages on. 2016 remix. Fuck you. I won't do what you tell me. Unless I'm in a safe space where realities can't touch me. Be proud of self-imposed mind control, where you can get it, so precious, a philosopher's stone. Get the balance right, punch up occasionally with thc and don't do coke unless offered, and mash it up properly, mash the tension to a pre-digested paste to massage the dendrites of perverted interpretations of extra layer sensory depth of feeling you don't know what to do with, altogether, especially... to minecraft renditions still not satisfactory, enterprise still too blocky, tetrafractcal valley tours but where is the gold block that makes it mean everything? the iridium vain, the main secret collect motherlode star item event - the lodestone runny currency, an i-coin slowly flanging into a bitcoin, the walmart stand, beautiful barely-legal ip infringement

horizon, let's call it - in any event...

things can change, thoughts, feelings, fuck you, cigarettes, cause, fuck you, that's why, cause - just cause, cause the internet, caused it all, caused this country going down the tubes, what tubes? the tubes, of this country, the country's going down it, and why is there more than one tube, does every state gotta have its own tube now? seems to me like, one country one tube would do the job pretty good, but tubes that big, you'd think someone woulda seen 'em, someone woulda said hey ey ey joey, hey, lookit those fuckin tubes! and where do they go?

the pacific, i guess, it all makes sense, fuck you cigarettes, we need a euphemism, we need a euphemism, WE NEED A EUPHEMISM, a resounding successful reunion of comfort and menace: a monster mashup type thing, swerving to avoid, gracefully, all these things, that you might have riffed on if you'd caught a groove in an old indulgence

take any mind control, like a mix of stabilizers, better than dread regimes from nowhere panic, flip out fables, little golden books

you've got a friend in fuck you cigs, and dreams where you get to do drugs, cause it's dreams, and a good battered psychology is good for a juicy dream, isn't it? dream material, stuff that dreams are made of, are gritty cable dramas, literally gritty cable dramas, in the case of a multi-series arc of the sopranos i wasn't aware had existed until that dream that merged with breaking bad at some point and involved a mob turf war on a Mediterranean labyrinth with wafer walls and old country decor, and other ways i could claw onto a caprice, shamelesly, then down and shamefully, and altogether in a knot of loss of love for self in that sentence.

Dirty miracles on Elysium. Bloody microchip miracles. Post-existenz coup de gras and portable.


21 Aug 2016

dwindle

a slow phase out grate off powder into
vaporous transition, to not notice
forget, eventually

remember, there used to be a sense of something to say, or was it wishing and fingertips? there was drive, but the knob broke, broke off from overuse, corroded pathways

rhombus bonus spoke to me of a time when a rolling network of color commentary bounced along side like a lively shadow in a riverside sideshow, hey folks, c'mon down

font got too small, tasks multiplied, threads became balls - at that point, snacks had to happen, a good distraction, then kindling made pages multiply, folders filled, flicked into subfolders, parent folders filled, clicked on in a riffling past inventory way, in a scheme, but never read, like those bookshelves, looking even stranger, quainter, every day, taller, space multiplied, microfilm digitized, text unreadable, taken care of, digested in a layer of rote processing below a conscious level with machine learning, consciousness isn't all it's cracked up to be anyway, not the end all and be all, merely an ends to the machine tool that's tooling this stepping stone for a bigger busier tentacle troll pickup line

forgot reasons to either moan with depression and self-pity or groan with ecstasy from ill-gotten gains from time-bounded chemical splurge schemes - when everything was thought of in those terms, could still be, one use for virtuosity, indexing disorders on a fractal that is surely in order, as near as we can figure out, trust it, go with that flow, prioritize according to a series of values the order dictates, make disorder work for you, impose bureaucracy on it, strangle to strengthen into rhythmic meter-long wiremesh segments, points, to get out of bed, because eventually, you want to

certain senses enhanced, other, lower forms shunted to margins by noise cancelling headphones - creating marginal sluces and diamond-crusted chutes, and line noise offchutes, and forks of lightning that is glittering static crackling

there was space at times - nostalgia got uglier, mirrors liquified slowly, on a slow drip













bonus rhombus