Cyber Scripting

If you’d let me. If you’d be so kind. If you’d allow me to crawl outof this box of dead Youtube celebrities.To climb over the hanged Soundcloud miscreants. The twitter bird islying at the bottom of the cage in a mine. Oh, it went by in an Insta.…

This Fight Won’t Fight Itself

Sometimes they’re all scrambling to the top of the mountain when really what was at the bottom is way more interesting. I looked up the mountain path to see almost two dozen humans climbing in the same vein upward to the top. Like ants in line going where…

Defecating Gurus

Last night in my dream I went to a very open cabin in the middle of the city to a woman who was my chiropractor. She was a voluptuous large-bodied white woman with long straight blonde hair. It looked like her name was Caroline. Her home or office was…
The Artist D

Authenticity Gone Missing

The problem is a lack of authenticity. But has there ever been any authenticity in the first place? Has there been anything new since the postmodernists? New age is old age. Since the new guard became the old guard. We have surpassed the neo-postmodernists and they didn’t even…
The Artist D

Self Mythology

I never really expected that I would get to be myself all of the time, every day. That goes along with my gender too. I think as a child I decided that I fully disagreed with everything my family told me I was. Since we were in total…
The Artist D

To Sleep Perchance to Live

To have all the experiences that daily Waking Life restricts us from. To travel to places we cannot afford and that the society will not allow us. To love people we will never get the chance to love because they do not love us. To rekindle friendships with…
The Artist D

I Have a Reservation

Never be afraid to live your life alone. I swear to you that this may be one of the meanings of life. We emerge from the primordial goo all stuck together as a ball of molecules. We shape into humans. Alone as alone can be in this cosmic…
The Artist D

The Damnable Hum

And I hear the sounds of silence. That which is not silent at all. The rustle of the trees, dry and crisp in true Summer. The birds and creatures making little noises. But no hum. No damnable city-like hum. Only the sound of the truth. I’ve been driving…
The Artist D

Quentin Crisp and I in a Bunker

Last night I had a dream I was sharing an underground bunker with Quentin Crisp and a war was raging above us by two female armies. One faction was a Nazi-like army of women and the other was an Amazonian type. We were in the underground bunker which…
The Artist D

Pulling Mother Earth’s Hair

I stayed in bed for hours pondering all of the things we ponder. None of it seems to get any clearer. Not with age or experience. It doesn’t clear up with sobriety. I can’t say that meditation does the trick. It certainly all does something, but it hasn’t…