don’t choke

things are fast and rushing frequently enough that a breath caught and soon let out makes only a momentary stop when any premature flex of muscles while inhaling will cause a choke and then it will be coughing and wide eyed slow

some alliteration in here

left now longing after looming likelihoods have transpired or not and so what was wished for has been bitten into like a bite seen or has swallowed air deceived such that shortly after is a great sense of satisfaction or otherwise disappointment but it mattering little either way truthfully for the next bite, whether real or perceived, will appear soon after and drive a stomach that seems always to be empty to carry on looking longing leaning forward

oh no, never to be thought of again

suppose you do come through with what it is that you say you do but then leaving me with it done but what is that four fridays ago leaning off holding my hand out waiting what no longer waned out of mind’s front and center finally slipping beneath and slinking off never to be thought again

more SOC not sure when or where from

almost like an expectation normally would show you what you’ve already conjured up some down swimming where what i really need to do in this dog fin situation is to open up a little and let each word have more possibility rather than letting the limits tighten and each subsequent predicate so closely on the prior there it is the sounds of the words dictating what comes next rather than the meaning but nope there i just switched back again to the meaning and still now but let’s see here if a dear so long as touched what wasn’t much mostly after long nights nevered along such that a never verb were so definitely permanent it needed and action to continue conveying its meaning

drunk 5am

a little drunk off of it in the bed at night or morning in between hour at 5am taking this opportunity with the normal connection of my brain to body to reality slightly distorted as drinking will do so laying here writing some and seeing what will come out that wouldn’t normally

pill bottle in the night light

going to the light

to the beam under the shade

brining what needs to be seen

like the page of a book

or a pill bottle label

in the middle of the night

rather than flipping the switch

and blasting the whole room

like a grenade

for a bullet’s job

a pill bottle in this case

so i can see the label

and cure a hangover

in the middle of the night

and make sure i don’t poison myself

with the wrong bottle

on the street corner at lunchtime

i can really drive like this on after what eludes me in complacent hours passed almost not noticing and sometimes just because i’m enjoy myself and not so hungry or otherwise needing to survive as i am when it is right there in front of my nose

sitting on the couch after one cup of coffee and no food around 10:30am on Saturday (08/24/2019)

feeling it better now to just talk into my phone as I was trying to edit and place things carefully and work that I had already written but up so high I haven’t had coffee and not eaten that I’m more in the mood to speak and create new things rather than shift around all things like I can try the freestyle or the stream of Koch this out loud more easily in this mood where the rug runs along the floorboards and tell up the legs of the bookshelf along the walls and tile horizontal where the top of the shelf supports a television that looks like a frame against the white wall and realizing constantly that when I start to do this stream of conscious it is first things I see that I start to say so learning my pattern for performance and would becoming self-conscious inevitably hearing my voice and thinking about that but trying to raise higher from the self-consciousness and just put out what is there what I am sensing coming closer to describing just what I am being in the moment with headphones in my ears trying also not to really hear my voiceBut just let the phone hear it and write it down so that it is more natural

let’s try to get a run along going here with my eyes closed and pulling more from just the dark nothing is in my mind rather than what I am seeing where a word rides I can almost see them typed out reappearing one by water replacing the next one not even thinking of these words really just saying what happens in my mind and that being more like preposition conjunctions because there are no nouns and verbs when your eyes are close and there’s nothing to put together other than maybe pronouns but not pronounce more like add verbs like such an ass and more this ad is this and fastness just the way things are rather the things themselves his wifeMy mind is blank except for when I pull out from the depth which is really probably just a memory or else something primordial that were born with

eyes closed or you get it in the darkness but even now seeing the slight differentiation and shades of darkness behind my eyelid some parts more misty white if you look closely and not even abstract shapes or a granularity that almost looks like sand white gradient specs in the blackness similar to the sound you hear is silence your mind still trying to pull something out of nothing and when I open my eyes to look at my phone to make sure it’s a recording of clothes that again the lights that I Saul like the light from my screen on my phone at the light for my laptop or the light from the salt lamp all become scar is in the back of my eyelidsThat it first resemble what I saw before closing my eyes but then less and less the ice can remember as the lights fade and I can only assume my pupils dilate again trying to hold onto the light but less and less coming in from the darkness now

really thanks so much now my God lifted up and out all along just really mumbling almost into my phone really barely even being able to pull the definition of the word out knowing that I want to keep making a sound but he really almost wanted to be just noise and wondering what the phone is picking you up if I were to just mumble or hum (edited, was “harm”) like but somehow as those words get out and the sound of creative self in my stomach before they can reach the phones microphone my lips and teeth and tongue curve just enough to make them into words that I somehow remember I believe that I’m still talking because this comes from somewhere that I don’t know not really even talking to someone are trying to make sense of it but it really just flowing are coming out somewhere there is a primal force in my

wanting (edited) to talk more about this concept where my energy for creating starts in my stomach or maybe below my stomach maybe in my sexual organs and drives up and in that driving up through my abdomen through my torso starts to define starts to become something at least more than the force but say that in my sexual organs it is only one one for us and then in my abdomen baby becomes defined into one of five or six things and then when reaching my trachea maybe one of 100 things and only in my mouth where my brain also seems to influence it doesn’t define into one of 1 million things or I don’t know how many words I know but somehow before it gets out and into a word and reaches the phone defines itself all most of its own accord into words and normally we are rationalizing and choosing logically and meaningfully what those words are they get out based on what we see or hear or what would be appropriate but now while trying to return to what I would maybe do as an intelligent baby or what I would do if I had absolutely no self-consciousness really the words are just polled at random but they don’t sound random because they put themselves in together and do a string of sentence so maybe there is some order in as I even try to think now really just forgetting that what I want to do is just put it out and let it go and let it be and I’ll

that is the thing I think that these words really come from somewhere else that it is only when we look out and try to find out ahead of time what is appropriate that these words actually become so tied down specific in the common words are used most often that people understand people understanding being the predication of what we want to use when we are alone and the words are closer to the guttural force that drives up for my sexual organs then the words can really be anything and left to just flow and not even having gotten there completely yet do you still these words just make sense but closer I think to the way it is that a baby just makes noises or mumbles because that’s what comes up naturally from their core and they have a largeAnd they haven’t you learned yet how to make words that sound appropriate to others

these meditations were interesting to me at first to capture just while I straight up consciousness as Dan is removing as many barriers as possible from what goes on in the mind to the words that would actually come out to get close to the fighting what goes on in the mind and I don’t think this is the only medium of art to do this words I mean definitely could hand somebody a paintbrush and have them just paint what they feel but still than having to have eyes open and dip the brush into a specific paint maybe music I think is actually even closer than words because then you can just make sounds and harm more yell or go high or low or pause or go sideways based on how you feel but the words and give it a little more definition so that you can go hi like motivated excited exuberant left it exuberant left it where is with the hi Noise there is only really the one Hein Noise where his words give it more definition but now there is the second part of this meditation or experience or experiment I mean where I am having this concept of an energy that comes up almost that reminds me of what I learned in Catholic school about the word big divine or holy something about the wordBeing divine are holy the word really is one it starts as a unified universal thing there is a word the capital W word and that starts in your midsection and your sexual organs I think in your creative area and then is defined as it comes up through organs that have to sort calories and especially in the trachea and mouth and teeth that developed to speak so humans can relate to one another by then the word become so defiant and needing to fit into a physical world that is differentiated but it comes from a universal world that is all one primordial that is why the word is W

and maybe recording this mindless meditation instead of putting through speech to text so that the pauses and the sound of my voice can be captured but also thinking then that it is only this out it is more like music that they only have the recording and there is something about putting these words down to definition where they are written and seen in the world real world that makes it more than just the sense of your own but also the sense of sight so that you can see the words and thinking that that transition is very very important but curious about the media by which those words are written because my hand cannot write fast enough these words that I’m thinking it is only the microphone I can pick up and transferred a text that captures it fast enough though not clearly enough but that is also upReally my fault because sometimes I mumble the words or say something that even I don’t understand so sometimes the technology understand me even better than I understand myself by completing my sentences

Not knowing how much longer I can go like this quite hungry now and not having eaten since early last night costly feeling that my art is best when close to my aunt getting more and more hungry and more and more delirious and wanted to keep going wanted to resist the urge to eat I just keep recording answer my phone until I wonder if I could almost go even farther and farther and if they would actually be a medical issue Shirley is only been hours since I’ve eaten but whatIf I were to go days since eating what then can I create what kind of thoughts would come to my mind what I even be able to speak that is an experiment I want to try creating art without eating

A little more nonsense now just from the urge add a little more but pretty empty it being weird how it is like a cup or anything else that feels of where I pour out of myself there’s only so much there I don’t know where it comes from whether there is like a battery where I have to wait to charge up and fill up and just by living my normal life and maybe sleeping stuff is added it to me and when it comes time for me to put out are I pour it all out and try to get it out and get it out at some point it is empty right now if you are there is nothing more to say but still wanting to say having the energy having to drive but none of the content of the actual matter like a fire or the potential for a fire but no locks no matchSo it is for art in particular the artist that only so much art can be created you cannot read the whole world you cannot see the world from all the different possible perspectives you are human only your small physical body and can only participate in your slice of that time and space I cannot expect more and so settling down into making out with the time and space you have in being satisfied with that

I got really going out can’t even focus on editing trying to think about the world will think of something but having no concept of all of the world will think anymore haven’t gotten left it off so much into my own head of my own space or wherever I’m at that when I look back at the larger piece or a book that I’ve tried to write and figure out if I should delete or keep a section of how I should edit it I can’t have any of these thoughts because I have no concept of the objective no concept of the objective to which many subject themselves so trying to average those objectives to come up with an objective answer that is what will be popular and that is my main goal would giving something to the world but not knowing that now being so drill down it’s my own subjective where it is that my art comes from which is a great irony of art that what you are bringing to the objective or the universal is truly a deep deep subjective that is only only for itself but there is some part of us objective another subject of that is that enjoy seeing one other than itself so the greatest start is between two I love our relationship a sexual act between one and the other a very very deep subjective meeting another very very deep subjective or perhaps it is a long subjective inside of a deep subjective one coming into the other that is the sexual act the ultimate creative act of one going deep into another one extending in one receiving One extending it one receiving the longer in the deeper the better and are you not so much just the space of the length and the depth but also the time being able to hold it away in that moment of ecstasy and so going as deep as you can for as long as you can and the other receiving all the link that they can draw the tide and they can both holding together and experiencing what it is for one only one to experience another it anything more than that one tried to experience to or what I’m trying to experience many or Maddy trying to understand one or any other creative union other than one and one is a perversion and even wine and wine being different than one alone experiencing itself so that I am now wondering if there is a way to many to experience each other if we all can participate in the same union and I think that is what it is to have a child for that sexual union do you give birth to something that is actually one of the long is gone so deep for long enough that the two literally become one create a third that is themselves but is it self not separate at all it is not the left off from one of the right half of the other it is one completely and so what would it be for everyone billions to write dissipate in a sexual act that would give birth to one and returned to GodMaybe that is it the whole story of life that God and some divine act obliterated the capital 01 and to Manny and it is our destiny buy some creative sexual divine asked to return to the one that we all were originally

Breathing and dBrief focusing feeling humble now I can’t fall and I guess I didn’t now have fallen back and try to scrape myself together and restart it matter how much you make there’s always more to make and you almost forget what you made before even when you are proud you forget those moments I could become not proud it all soon there after like you’ve never made anything in your life

I am going after everything driven primarily by an interesting curiosity and it all right now so eager to open or walk into a new place or hear a new sound or touch a new thing just wanting the senses to come in wanting for the world as it is shown to me through senses but other times I want to close my eyes and shut it all out right now I just go from one thing to the next and I was completing their completely forgetting the thing before and thinking now that there is so much that you never run out of things you can go on go on go on go on go even for a whole life opening new doorsHearing new sound seeing new things meeting new people feeling new feelings learning new things you’ll never run out in this way it is good we are small and limited that we can only do so much at once and be in so many places at one time is it allows her to be diversity and newness in our experiences such that by restricting the abilities of man you have multiplied his possibilities

do you want to get it all done at once and can’t barely wait for space to catch up almost exploding with all the desire in one moment that a body cannot contain in a second and to yell out or a great display of strength breaking something is the only way to express my needing to take all that energy that would blast like a grenade in all directions and channel that in between deep canyon walls that I lower the river to rush and define to a point or like a pressurized tank with only one opening and that opening is where your heart comes from but the walls of the tank must hold strong must keep the yard in and condensed so that when it comes out it is defined so the real charge for an artistIs not to keep art coming out of the opening but rather to keep it closed in everywhere else

Sometimes being more reserved and hiding it only showing some one now releasing an open the doors wide-open and letting it all be seen even my own work I think all should (edited, was “she”) get out

most creative

i’m most creative when i wake up early in the morning around 6am and have one cup of coffee and don’t eat anything and just see how long i can go before i get light headed from not eating because once i eat the creativity stops

too tired

i want to have sex with her all the time, but i don’t always want to have sex. i feel my love for her well up and i want to express it physically, but i am tired.

untitled

my severe survival instinct in this safe and plentiful modern world only had art to grab onto

coat hook

coat hook

being my favorite thing

in the apartment

whereas before

i would throw my coat

wherever

on the back of the couch

over the lamp

on the floor

on the stool, bed

back of the chair

wherever

but now

there is a place

beepy mute oven

the oven beeped twice

when’s it’s normally

only supposed to

beep once

so i walked from

the living room

under the arched doorway

into the kitchen

and looked at it

the oven i mean

and it looked back at me

and said nothing

waiting for baby

Upstairs in the apartment waiting for baby I hear the door slam and my heart jumps I hope it’s not like last night when I did the same waiting for baby sitting on the couch at one point I wanted so much to see her that I resolved to jump right up when I heard her key turn in the lock and felt all that love for her sitting at the edge of the couch cushion especially around 8:30 because that is when she said she would be home and was waiting especially for a heart full of love around that time and playing it out in my head how she would have her bag and maybe be stressed from work or happy from a good day but either way would run up to her with a big smile and lift her off the ground with a hug and kiss her face and neck and arms so much that she would giggle like she does and forget her day and just be happy to be home and be together with me and playing it out so clearly like this made me want more and more to hear her key turn in the lock and listening for the front door and even pulling the trap to the side to watch the bus stop not knowing if she would take a car but when 8:45 came and then 9:00 and 9:30 that love that welled up all at once began to dissipate and I could only sit on the edge of the couch for so long and had to get cleaned up myself and go to bed to wake up for work the next morning so I got ready and did my nightly meditation and read a few pages out of my book and turned off the lamp next to the bed and laid down so when I finally heard the key turn in the lock I was half asleep and raised my head to give baby a smile and was happy to see her very happy but not nearly as happy and filled with love as I was earlier sitting on the edge of the couch

sunrise pedestrians

one person

steps off of the sidewalk

and the rest of the morning

pedestrian crowd, follows suit

without looking up at the light

when the sun blasts and blasts

in the early morning rising

so you wonder how

can it be so bright already

so much your sleepy eyes

can’t stay open looking at it

untitled

often all it takes

is to slow down for a second

and wait for what comes

when everything else stops

trying to do

what i did before

to get the same effect

but it’s different now

staring at the art gallery wall in the apartment on august 11 at 2:53pm

clearly everything is seen right now without much to distract just being allowed to be and having my eyes work and not so much noise that the few noises are heard clearly and loud and heavy eaten just enough and enough time passed since a small salad lunch that I’m not running to my next meal but also not passing out from hunger and so greatly satisfied all over and curious about what I am sensing is the perfect formula to just be talking into my phone and having it makes sense and also taking time to pause and let it play out what I am sensing and in this case mostly thinking just staring really at the art gallery wall the baby and I put up in the apartment but not really seeing the art mostly just eyes glazed over seeing the words in my mind and seeing isn’t the right sense but thinking is really the right verb which to me has been interesting lately as I have thought in most cases art is a matter of sensing but from my writing it is largely a matter of thinking which at times like these with isaac lost over has nothing to do with sensingYet thought is mostly nonsensical without senses that at one point informed the very structure and language of thought

baby sniffling car going by outside fridge whirring another car going by and skateboard wheels and a heavier vroom like a diesel truck or maybe a sports car and starting to listen closer to the car noises and being able to hear the difference between just wheels rolling and when the engine is revving

tripping mushrooms in golden gate park on august 10

everyone looks the same like the same person

wanting my trip to be the trip and so not write just to stay here and be with moment …

being in this moment everything melted together so that I can barely feel my feet touch the ground in the sense of my stats as well as my fingertips skipping the phone as I talk to it or less potent or not even there so that whatever drives me my mind on my soul is more the focus just driving and no focus on the appendages that result from the driving just the soul moving through and seeing people inspiring a face to smile but it’s really the Saul doing all of this in the body just listens to the commands of the soul and so now it should be the commands of the soul and more clear the commands of the soul and my clear waiting on my friends thinking it’s funny that I’m talking to my phone off away from them and they’re waiting to walk back to the party so I should really go with them now baby looking so cute tying up her hair and all these people around so many people here in the music in the distance and the fog rolling in over the trees in Golden Gate Park really looking amazing not knowing whether it’s just the nature on its own or whether it’s me tripping do you need to go back now but still looking at my friends laughing and having so much fun just being together making it so happy the baby my new girl is talking to John and Krys my old friends and they getting along so long everything is good right now we need to start writing to be more in the moment and not really being the crux of this having to stop writing or having to stop being I mean not being able to be in the moment while riding and having to step away in order to talk to myself so people don’t look at me weird

Picked a good part of the forest wondering what thoughts I have a worth writing and what sites should be wet just pass so meeting in the middle by writing everything later but having this theory that it’s all good

Feeling good and great directions like for the trip now fully in it past the turbulence of the come up so just soaring and even taking more needing really just focus and be at it does pass just talking because I’m trying to write

Realizing so much more and more that it’s the self-consciousness that affects the art even just now talking to John realize the conversation we were having his art it self and so not necessarily the consciousness of the self the gist of art be created a fax with whatever not oh my god this

feeling the fear of experiencing it while not writing and then it’s gone and I wasn’t recording and I can’t get back that exact feeling that led to what could’ve been written and even now even now my phone is having difficulty recording what I’m saying with all the people on their voices around so the moment is harder and harder to capture which makes me wonder about moments that must be captured presently yet or out of reach of art forms that can’t be capturing in that moment feeling the same fear of forgetting or missing out in general but specifically applied to the art that would’ve been created in that moment and really wanting to survive and get down to it to have life be created and recorded and not lost or forgotten being the driving force of life and the driving force of art in the drive

So overwhelmed with it all feeling what is all here always but unable to live like this with so much overwhelming just becoming exhausted all the sensory inputs and empathy for others and looking at someone in the face and not knowing them but feel exact with the feeling

The same feeling I feel for something written down and then lost as I feel for life lost in life really just being time but time needing something to pass in order to be itself so life big time and space

I forget who is who falling behind in the crowd with my group it’s in the back of one head and it being a difference the back of another the trip so that everyone is the same

Looking at people and being there and not wanting to interrupt that with being myself

So much going on if I’m to be the one I’ve learned you can’t write it all at once you just can’t write it all at once it takes time life has to play out overtime even if you feel it all at once you can’t write it all once at least not with words you by feeling that one moment so much do you want to explode in that moment obliterates with Human and you but you just can’t write it on the moment

And being with the moment thinking that I want to be here but what about myself I came before that I want to keep being before or not thanks so much and see you baby far away laughing and really realizing now that I stepped out of the moment and seeing all these people that know that I’m tripping look like the same people I see your face and looks like a face from my past but really all the faces are the same and I feel more connected and more caring and more easily able to find excuses for the fault of others just like I find excuses for my own faults

front man

even one person

propped up

isn’t the one

with so many

to support him

the same many

who in idle hours

taking short breaks

from supporting

wish to be

the one

they support

crosswalk

the yellow rectangles

painted proportionately

across the street

between the parts

of either sidewalk

where the curb

slopes down slightly

to meet the street

for pedestrians

to step off safely

and cross

dead quiet night in the city

in the dead quiet

of the night

i feel so awake

and out of place

while everything else

is so dead

and there’s nothing

not even

the neighbors

to talk

or the cars outside

to go by

hands

my hands

often hold

the reminder

that we are real

as i stare at

my open palm

and fingers

stretched wide

turning my hand

over in the light

exclaiming silently

at space

in general

to even exist

and more specifically

as something

i can see

and even more

as something

i am part of

and can affect

with a body

to which

these hands belong

ketchup packet

even passersby

stepping on packets

not noticing

a ketchup packet

SPLAT!

on the sidewalk

someone must’ve

stepped on

making art

all the time

here i do know

i know here

what there is

and can expect

what comes next

after changes

and subtle shifts

in expectations

only when

what has happened

previously

continues to recur

untitled

consumer radio silence bouts between on and off priceless interactions soon after met with pressure

dark and light shapes blinking my eyes blotching abstract art over reality

the night seems nice to me tonight waking up at 1:45am whereas sometimes it seems scary

ocean air

i don’t get out

near the water

enough

where i can

breathe easy

in the open

ocean air

outside

of the buildings

standing in the wind

standing

with my back

to the wind

pant legs

flapping

leaning back

just a little

hands

in my pockets

sound

wooshing by

my ears

waiting

to warm up

between gusts

motivated by death

i am motivated most

by the fact

that all at once

it could all be over

and whatever i did

moments before

would be

the last thing

the idea is there

all people

have this energy

and it goes

somewhere

into self-destruction

sometimes

or outward

looking at others

always

or inward

but the point

is that

the energy

is there

being spent

always

like a train

that cannot

be stopped

by standing

in front of it

but can be

steered

by curving

the rail

meeeee

i feel light

like i left

my bracelet

and rings

at home

or maybe

forgot

my jacket

less

to weigh

me down

but that’s

not it

inside

more energy

maybe

circular chase

always trying

to advance

and move forward

with no time

to settle down

and pay attention

to what now

is quite wonderful

and in

a circular

way

is that which

you chase after

all the time

right here

fair

so

wanting not

more

than your share

but wanting

at least

what

you came for

return to base

everything rendered

into this form

at one point

or another

needing a base

to return to

after such varied

newness

and shape shifting

needing now

to return again

texting

wanting

immediately

for the three dots

on the bubble

to pop up

needing

the conversation

to continue

as if

in person

—this being

our only

substitute

art all at once

art

being all

and needing

to press on

into

after

overwhelmed

with

the rush

coming on

all at once

seeing

exclaiming

wanting it all

to stay

this way

knowing

it won’t

so trying

to stay focused

while it does

coming home early from work at 4:30pm on a Tuesday (08/06/19)

like this laying on my back and having it all pour out especially after days dark interspersed with tread wondering if this is it in the yard has gone like I always do fearing I have nothing to offer and will be me anymore or maybe just afraid of being worthless and unproductive and untalented really not mattering what identity Woodcalm for all identities being the same and melting into one another but really just the primal need coming through and this being what is requiring of the ego a certain consistent and persistent success whereas otherwise just to wake up and be even completely different wouldn’t matter just as the rest of the world does anyway and especially less apprehensive to become another and melt apathetically completely into the interest of anything else even unmotivated even for Survival even dying maybe and being all right with it because not coming from an ego needing so badly to live

goodness like a drug it comes to be so unexpectedly today just from having left work a little early and paying so much attention on the bus into the buildings on the walk to the bus especially and now back in the apartment laying on my back on the rug and looking at everything the off-white ceiling and the leaves outside the window blowing lightly all of it just as it is any day that I get home but on this day just a little earlier it all opens up and gives back to me the art and ability I so selfishly miss and fear to never have again when it’s gone so reflecting now while I have it on why it is that I miss it so much when I don’t interesting especially is the thought that it will never come back and believing so strongly that this is true even though for the last little while now so many times back-and-forth I thought this and it certainly does come back but I suppose the fear is Stuart still real that one time it won’t and then what will I be nothing maybe different maybe something else maybe I will be all right with that too I have been mostly all right with what I have become and suppose that I have become different things but really now thinking that this one is it and that I only have so much time and so many chances before I lose my mind or disintegrate or grow old or get killed suddenly so I want to rush all I had at once and really wish I could if I knew what it would take I think I might have the will to do it but just being in a body and mind that can’t I’m kept private and so have been taught patients as a result but still Hoping greedily for more time so that the limited mind and body I do have wind spread out can achieve what I otherwise would all at once

clearly everything is seen right now without much to distract just being allowed to be and having my eyes work and not so much noise that the few noises are heard clearly and loud and heavy eaten just enough and enough time passed since a small salad lunch that I’m not running to my next meal but also not passing out from hunger and so greatly satisfied all over and curious about what I am sensing is the perfect formula to just be talking into my phone and having it makes sense and also taking time to pause and let it play out what I am sensing and in this case mostly thinking just staring really at the art gallery wall the baby and I put up in the apartment but not really seeing the art mostly just eyes glazed over seeing the words in my mind and seeing isn’t the right sense but thinking is really the right verb which to me has been interesting lately as I have thought in most cases art is a matter of sensing but from my writing it is largely a matter of thinking which at times like these with isaac lost over has nothing to do with sensingYet thought is mostly nonsensical without senses that at one point informed the very structure and language of thought

let’s see if I can give you an example here of what it is two cents in the sea thought looking now up at the off-white drapes crumpled and connected buy black been screwed into the window cell and glass window surrounded by gray metal frame where just be on the glass is a branch of leaves that are about 6 inches wide and five or 6 inches tall blowing on their branch and occasionally pressing up against the glass window see that was site that I was sensing now if I switch to hearing I hear my own voice and close my eyes to make this easier hearing car is outside and a rustling that is rather pleasant that I cannot tell whether it is the cars or the leaves Rushleigh against each other blowing in the wind now a release of wind that sounds like brakes on the bus and the room of the electric engine in the door of the apartment building shutting heavy downstairs and now the bus taking off from the stop and hearing the chime on the phone that tells me my voice is stopped being recorded so opening my eyes and seeing again and switching to that sense thinking now of smell and taste which I have said before really aren’t strong senses artistically certainly taste is with the Colaneri arts and eating but just laying here with nothing to taste or eat my taste buds are mostly useless and tasting dry saliva nothingness in my mouth and my smell especially sensing less if I could just drive it it would be nothing this as well maybe clean I would describe it or like fabric or like air and feeling are yes I should’ve said feeling before taste and smell because it can be quite strong abstract I describe it like it often makes abstract painting make more sense to me whereas undefined things are seen with the round and rough sketches but nothing clear as you would see with site feeling now my hand my left pinky and ring finger against my abdomen and the palm and some against my lower ribs and my left foot on top of my right shin and my behind pressed against the rug slightly sore from laying in the same position for a little while and my elbow against the leg of our living room table and the fingers of my right hand holding my phone in front of my face in the back of my head also Preston gets the rug is similar to my behind and really quite a lot if I were to focus over a grade about a time I want my body is feeling just my body itself I imagineThis being sent as art

ver if you were to say my art leads to nonsense usually when I get a rush and have a lot to put down but then still the motivation stays well there’s nothing left and so results in me saying whatever comes to mind even though it doesn’t make sense and really just wanting the black great against the sky to keep going so the art doesn’t run out without much content referring back to what I said earlier about a body and mind only be able to do so much in a limited time but Pricing I’m not the last talking faster running almost out of breath and wanting the light to show like it does on the ceiling shadows really just waiting for baby to get home laying on the floor alone and all my poems out of me feeling better actually having gotten something down and leaving a legacy if in this moment I were to die which is a large part of what drives me I think to leave something if I die to make something while I’m here and preferring to leave this motivation is not so clear as to let them drive me and be human and normal without having to discover and explain everything because then as I have beforeJust getting a headache and then losing the motivation and that not being good for anyone

like a little space behind the mirror leaned up against the wall in the corner behind the radiator or dust bunnies collect and protected not so open these small spaces make me wonder of cloistered worlds where cat paws with scratch and food falling off the dinner table will get lost and marks on the wall unseen won’t get patched or painted over and light won’t shine as often if long enough turning to paint a different color

staying with an idea long enough or moving on to match our attention spans wondering what length is right between gravity and well explained so if it in the beholder that will read brilliance into one wordAnd otherwise is in patient won’t sit long enough to get anything out of it anyway and all around all story short and long playing out just depending on who is there to read them

The need to create constantly pressing on me but needing to relax and remember that what will happen well and creation happens always just by living a story is told in just by seeing a painting is painted and just by hearing music is made so all the time the heart is there and the only variable is not whether I create it but whether I am open to seeing and hearing it

wanting baby to come home so badly just sitting here talking to myself not realizing how much I miss her until now being able to hug her and talk to her and just hear her breathing or working or rolling over in bed and looking up to see her watching her live her not life as she normally does and being so interested in it and her being interested in mine and making comments and asking me things

So much art really all around just a matter of capturing it and sometimes having to decide between capturing it and just enjoying it

not knowing what was at stake

days

when i should

have stayed

and did

in fact

but wondering

frightfully

if i hadn’t

and quit

up and left

and couldn’t

have ended up

here

where

i like it so

and would have

certainly

pressed on

had i known

but could have

just as easily

not

not knowing

what

was at stake

abstract face

looking at

what was

a mirror image

of myself

that now

looking too long

has become

un-

identified

and broken into

constituent

crooked teeth

and an un-

recognizable

smile

power line frame

lines of power

across the sky

that would be

perfect borders

for buildings

only that

depending

on which corner

of the street

you stand on

looking up

at the lines

that most often

cut right through

love city work

laying

in the apartment

on the floor

during an odd

off hour

having left

work early

and waiting

for baby

to come home

stressed out leaves

green leaves

outside

the window

showing signs

of stress

blowing

on branches

flexing

in the wind

not

so calm

as it is

inside

watching

backward bus

sitting backward

on the bus

is quite odd

moving

with your back

to the progress

having to turn

to see the signs

for your stop

snake bus

looking back

on the bus

watching the inside

bend

like a snake

as the wheels

crawl

over hills

and the passengers

rise up

and down

in their seats

like kelp

on wave crests

commuting

commuting

all hours

moving

to get somewhere

maybe

just making time

seem not so spent

still

and stretching out

by step

or wheels turning

often with others

never going to

exactly

the same place

everyone

everyone

in south park

on their phones

walking

in circles

with one hand

in a pocket

and the other

holding

the phone

to one ear

talking

supposedly

to someone

somewhere else

can’t sleep

putting away

trying

to sleep

my phone

into the drawer

of the nightstand

then thinking

of another

poem

and having

to pull my phone

back out

noisy night

it’s a noisy night

with the news

from the open window

in the bathroom

and the traffic

always the traffic

and the neighbors’

conversation

through the wall

behind us

traffic light on the wall

i want for

the little square

of green light

on the wall

to turn yellow;

i don’t know

why exactly

but i do, maybe

just for something

to change

or because

i know

what comes next

so well

that i just

want it to happen

already

so when it does

the satisfaction

is short-lived

and soon after

turns to red

not safe city

think of all

the cars coming

and if you were

for the first time

in the city

unaware that

cars are not

supposed to

cross over curbs

or run red lights

and so not even

wanting to walk

on the sidewalk

or crosswalk

or other walk-y thing

that seems

to be safe

based on norms

and probabilities

but really

isn’t safe at all

world > everything

if the whole world

didn’t exist

i’d still do this

but if i had to choose

between this

and the whole world

i’d still

choose the world

pant leg monster

scary shape seeing

in the dark

groggy

and scared easily

in the dark

early morning

pant legs

on the hanger

and a shadow body

moving toward me

old glasses

i put on

the glasses that

i’m supposed to wear

all the time

but usually don’t

and feel overwhelmed

in the grocery store

from all the

extra information

on the labels

that i can’t

usually read

sitting in the cafe

like the fan blades going

and the wire

inside of the light bulb

hanging by a cord

from the ceiling

and the sound from

the speaker in the corner

just slightly louder

than the headphones

in my ears

morning light in the cafe

a sliver

of morning light

shows itself

on the left side

of the square

wooden table

where i work

in the cafe

casting a shadow

beyond

the cup of tea

still steaming

—the same

table

on which

there was

only darkness

an hour before

routine

everything

is done for me

because i’ve lived

the same life

the same day

many times before

—so my shirts

are form fitted

from having been

washed and worn

on the same body

and the same people

i already know

just say hello

and less

nice to meet you’s

and i still

remember

the way to where

i usually go

so less looking

at a map

and trying

to figure it out

and i know

what i like to eat

so i push my cart

in the same path

at the store

and only stop

when something

is out of stock

oh the morning

oh the morning

yes it is

what i thought of

last night

when the day

had become too much

and in need

of something new

pretty sure i’ve written this before

when wonder weighs

what won’t be held

it’s hard to keep it quiet

though sudden sways

in ocean waves

and wind outside the window

make it so

that even though

breaths are held

just waiting

it all will come

from a summer’s sun

that shines so all can see

Walking home on Fillmore on a Friday night

brisk cool walking feeling good and even open even though foggy and dark and windy and blowing in my face and walking downhill that up peppermint on my skin opening my nose tree leaves overhead stopping at intersections and keeping rhythm with the clacks of my heels of my weekend shoes that I wore because it’s Friday night and waiting for a car at this intersection and it goes so I can patch voices in the distance to my left

San Francisco being quite a really beautiful city and people laughing which makes me happy doors close it got parked cars that start their hinges it make me wonder why everything is plural because it was really only one car cars cars cars cars I’ve said this before but if you walk up the sidewalk in the city it is really car is at Phill most of your consciousness either listening to them or try not to get hit by them or looking at the ones that are really expensive are the ones that are not expensive it makes so much noise

I wondered why the Google maps app said it would take so long on my phone the walk I mean it was only a mile or a mile in 3/10 baby but now I realize it is because of all the stops at the stop lights and having to wait for cars those are the stops that make a mile walk take 30 minutes

So much here yup I’m sure of it now even more sure than I was when I packed a backpack and moved from the Midwest to come to the coast the people who had been here told you was great now I am one of those people that will save myself that it is great this wind blowing it’s seeming like it is not so great in the city but he thinks cold and dark but I know it is from the ocean that is not far away it’s so ISmile is just as if I were on the beach in LA

it’s quite easy now really to flow just the immediate after work hours on a Friday after I’ve worked and worked and worked and slept and woke it up and work some more and slept again so that I get into the mood of just doing the same thing over and over and getting good at it and measure the bed not being able to do anything else so now on a Friday when I finally have some time and want to make some art which is what I really enjoy doing I can’t because all my buyer wants to produce is the workI think that that I won’t ever come back but it really just takes a couple hours for everything to open up

Passing around a crowd her and I from either side had the same idea and so crossed on the left her right and almost ran into each other around in the crowd not being able to see

And so wanting to see by golly just show me what we came here for and can’t wait anymore to let her eyes have with anything but the same for it is for any of the senses sight especially just to have a change of pace

Meditative walking so not thinking of getting quite far pay attention so much to surroundings that you don’t realize how much this route exit changed and now looking up at the street side to realize you’re in a whole other part of town I should’ve known for the way things look different but the changes were so subtle that every small change one by one doesn’t equate to a big change all at once

Just capturing all of it without discussion like this and this and this and that and that and all of it so great so beautiful overwhelmed with my camera out hitting the trigger button pressing captured so many times over and over just spinning in circles taking a picture of everything up and down my shoes in the sky in the building for the people in front of me and trying to write down what they’re saying when they’re talking and trying to record my own thoughts and also what my senses are telling me converting stimuli into words and writing down the words on the street signs in the markets are the gas prices and running out of breath saying this into my phone

seeing home in state after a long walk and getting excited to see you baby having to wait for this last light counting down with the flashing orange hand and yellow rectangles across the way where pedestrians are supposed to walk I can see the apartment from here not our window but I know it’s the window right next to it and I know baby is sitting there waiting for me or maybe try to distract yourself like I am right now thinking of anything just to pass these next 20 or 30 seconds before I put my key in the door and get to see babyLike I wait for all day lately it is but every day that I weigh like this and I suppose it could be every day here after

Introduction to The Speech-to-Text Experiment

While working in the city I’ve found it difficult at times to both keep up at work while also finding time for my writing. Because of this, I started writing during “small pockets of time” like sitting in the back seat of the car on my way to work in the early morning, holding onto the handrail on the bus on the way back home, waiting for the elevator in my apartment building, waiting for a friend at a restaurant, lying in bed at night before falling asleep, etc. During these times, I was still “on the go” and couldn’t sit down to open my laptop or write at a desk with paper and pen, but my iPhone that I always had with me anyways was the perfect tool to record a passing thought. (I know this might sound like an Apple advertisement but it’s really just the authentic story. I tried my best to read into the copyright laws about using the word “iPhone.” Please don’t sue me Apple). Combined with the fact that these moments in time were when I felt most “free” to focus on my writing, while I was also “getting something done” for my personal or professional life. It started as just texting myself with the Messages app. At the very beginning, I was trying to write a novel or short story. So I practiced writing scenes or character descriptions, and then would try to piece everything together on Saturday when I had more time. At some point I realized I was better off just keeping the pieces separate. This was my introduction to poetry. I was capturing very short and specific passing thoughts or a quick snapshot of what my senses were telling me—like looking up at the buildings downtown while waiting at an intersection, or closing my eyes in the car and listening to the traffic noise. The next iteration was using speech-to-text. I noticed there was this little microphone symbol among the keys on the iPhone keyboard. I had seen my dad use it sometimes to send messages for work. I started using this feature to speak my poetry out loud, especially when it was coming too much and too fast for my fingers to keep up on the tactile keyboard. There was also a more natural “flow” from saying the words and hearing them out loud so it was easier to make a correction when the rhythm was a little off. This allowed me to be more productive and contributed to most of the contents of this book. Now that I have had the chance to think about it as a completed project, and more removed from the natural way that its production came about, I think there are very interesting ideas about how our technology understands us and allows us to communicate with one another. I have often texted a friend and thought that the conversation could be dialogue for characters in a story. Further, I wonder about the stream of consciousness that everyone has naturally, and if technology could capture it. In producing the contents for this collection, it was often my goal to let my thoughts flow as seamlessly as possible—from what came in through my senses, and back out through my words, whether spoken or typed. I wonder if the human error, of my experience being translated into words, could be removed, and the experience could be translated directly. The same could be done for other art forms: a movie playing exactly what someone sees, or a soundtrack playing exactly what someone hears. Anyhow, here are those thoughts and experiences to which I have referred, recorded and copied by the methods I have described.

for fear of being formless

why crunched so much into a form that has passed for fear mostly of being formless so holding on without realizing that it is all still there and a brief detour won’t erase the whole map as long as the journeys traced with your finger are taken at some point or another or even that tracing itself is a location or event on a higher order of maps

why crunched so much

into a form that has passed

for fear mostly

of being formless

so holding on without realizing

that it is all still there

and a brief detour won’t erase

the whole map

as long as the journeys traced

with your finger

are taken at some point or another

or even that tracing itself

is a location or event

on a higher order of maps

leaving work in a car on the bridge on friday night

left after a week worked hard in the car and my shoulders starting to relax a little as they do at least until a gradual tightening come sunday evening but just happy now to be headed out of downtown and back to where i spend my nights and the city has somehow kept the building under control and so is more natural to see the sky and easier to forget about what is other than a mono blue or white or even grey at the worst but even the fog on a rainy night i prefer much more just to sit inside and take time to boil water for tea and eat then steam or otherwise relax and spend time without having to get a return on the investment

gone for good this time

reaching into a thoughtless mind wondering again if the poetry has gone like i know i have thought before and without fail the poems return but for some reason like before i think again that this time is different—that it has really gone for good this time.

raccoon bag

a plastic bag

on the sidewalk

under the bridge

in the dark

blowing slowly

looking like

a raccoon

sleuthing around

simple things, and other simple things

building tops

and walls

downtown

against the sky

like my girl’s shoulder

against the mirror

in the apartment

—simple things

made even more

simple

and clear

outlined against

other

simple things

contrasted

by difference

so the line

is clear

wasting away

i feel myself

wasting away

when all

the attention I’ve paid

is to the out and out

on going out side

of myself

where most

meaning is made

and drives me on

but a body can only

be driven so far

by meaning alone

until physical matter

must be upkept

several waking hours

so only sometimes

several waking hours

when spent as if

time won’t pass so fast

and really left

to look deep down

into what’s always there

but often glossed over

in favor of other space

made important

by limited time

wake up

i raise my head

from the pillow in bed

as a brief flash of light

comes under the curtain

and catches my eye

just enough

to wake me up

weatherman

i talked to cloud

and sun could not say

whether we are waiting on

high, risen, or setting

today

cement crack

cement split

like a natural crack

only that this one

goes so deep

as man has made it

while a crevice

may run to the core

tag along

tip toe tag along

prancing praying

you don’t get caught

doing exactly what

everyone else does

where words get their meaning

words make you feel because you use them. if you heard a word, but had never used words to mean anything yourself, i wonder if you would hear anything. words are fat with the weight of past experience. different words are more important to different people. the reason that writing can be so emotional for me is that when i write a poem or make up a story, the words i use are inevitably defined by how i’ve used them in my personal life.

looking last

when you realize

looking last

that nothing

in the past

kept same enough

for an identity

that holds together

but instead

rubbed off

and ran through

all other parts

of the big whole

let the good build up

it’s actually the work in the office all day focused on what has answers that crams my art into small pockets of time so it becomes less like a drip which spread out doesn’t pack a punch and so means nothing much in a concise enough form that can be read and impressed upon like a flood where if you let the good build up behind a dam and mingle together creating in your subconscious what comes forth all at once after work on the bus ride home scrambling to hold onto the rail with one hand and type the poem that’s been waiting all day on your phone with the other hand

two ways to write poetry

there are two ways to write poetry. one is to write words as they come to you, somewhat randomly. the other is to try to think of what makes sense or what is true or what people will like—and then write that. even when i use the second method, however, i find that sometimes it will doesn’t work anyway. and on the contrary, with the first method, i can write something random, in a sort of stream of consciousness, and it turns out great. so with my poetry at least, i’ve given up control, and resolved to just keep writing.

sitting cross legged

i used to sit so

things felt

only contacted

out of place

like one leg

slung over

the other

sitting in a chair

looking cool

but only feeling

the leg pit

or the knee cap

of either leg

at once

and so worrying

that one leg

isn’t working

so not even

sitting cool

do i get a break

from my mania

how i feel in the morning

open free

feeling

quite alright

after some time

in unconscious flight

woken with

a bounce

or a bump

and nothing at all

feeling closed

or impossible

quite yet

creative

at first

thinking

being creative

to do

something new

then

notched down

and in

to a groove

having worn

the same path

ceasing to think

and feeling less

human

more machine

mumbo jumbo

if the writers

keep writing

on the other side

of the muffled voices

apartment wall

and late afternoon

brunchers

and bakery

line waiters

all saying

some words

that spill into

my dreams

a moment with a stranger

i shared a moment

with a woman

i didn’t know

at the bookstore

her and i

both browsing

as jazz music

played (no joke)

a little fast

and her and i

in this tight

little alley

between bookshelves

i wondering

if she’s interested

in the same stuff

and her wondering

i wish i knew what

and i stepped out

to write this

and she left

and it was over

simple world

i see it so simple

what i can’t capture

with a camera

or painting

so try to capture

with a simple world

like simple

which crams

a castle

into a shoe box