so, you can save time.
Be efficient.
Ride a bike, save the planet.
It is too hot right now.
But when I'm not complaining about it being too hot I complain about it being too cold.
Connectivity is something I have been working on lately.
As well as telepathy, and talking to your computer in ways that don't include your keyboard, screen or speaker. Listening to the processor fan, hearing how it whirrs faster when I am thinking happy thoughts, and slower when I relax. Just keeping it closed, and having it mirror my emotional state.
I think a lot of myself is imprinted on my technological devices.
What do you think?
I think it might just all be in my head.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Monday, November 28, 2011
In Parting
follow-through, it's the thing that always gets at my throat.
Neck on the chopping block, waddling around the library, headless.
There are few things that I want to have. That I really, really want with all my heart...
...
...
...
Actually, there are none. Not a single thing.
Nothing, I'm done.
Finished, famished.
Starving on the floor, running in circles.
Headless, heedless.
No worries, no stool samples, no collarbones, no nothing.
Bringing back Monday, to the people, by the people, for the people.
There are a few things that are actually true in this world.
Mostly because language is a terrible, terrible construct.
A construct that can be taken apart into smaller parts, but never small enough for me to understand them.
It's never small enough, simple enough, straightforward enough.
It's never to the point.
What is "it" anyways?
Where can I find "it"?
Who do I find "it" with?
Is "it" even findable in the first place?
Why do I want to find "it"?
Can "it" be some kind of life long goal of humanity?
A big celebration with party hats and confetti.
People popping out from behind couches shouting "CONGRATULATIONS!"
You got it!
about fucking time..
Neck on the chopping block, waddling around the library, headless.
There are few things that I want to have. That I really, really want with all my heart...
...
...
...
Actually, there are none. Not a single thing.
Nothing, I'm done.
Finished, famished.
Starving on the floor, running in circles.
Headless, heedless.
No worries, no stool samples, no collarbones, no nothing.
Bringing back Monday, to the people, by the people, for the people.
There are a few things that are actually true in this world.
Mostly because language is a terrible, terrible construct.
A construct that can be taken apart into smaller parts, but never small enough for me to understand them.
It's never small enough, simple enough, straightforward enough.
It's never to the point.
What is "it" anyways?
Where can I find "it"?
Who do I find "it" with?
Is "it" even findable in the first place?
Why do I want to find "it"?
Can "it" be some kind of life long goal of humanity?
A big celebration with party hats and confetti.
People popping out from behind couches shouting "CONGRATULATIONS!"
You got it!
about fucking time..
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Bogus Wish-list
- Collapsing myself into a singularity.
- Writing great stuff
- Stop faking orgasms
- Sign your name, never.
- Bite before chewing.
- Action hero dolls, life size
- More things to bomb.
- Less bombs.
- Less bullshit.
- More cardiac arrest to cats.
- Less fat cats.
- Dreams of silly things
- Utter inspiration.
- Power to all.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
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