3… 2… 1…

F.

“If words could heal i would drop my righteous judgement upon this land and lead these sinners to freedom…”

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Published in: on February 25, 2008 at 6:12 pm  Comments (9)  

there are always coments and never questions… and this is life…

at nineteen i moved in to the vacant room of an apartment with a part time dealer and a full time philosopher and his girl friend…

six months later i moved into a seven bedroom house with some party animals from work and a girl i had been dating for a couple of months… i had the master bedroom…

in 2007 while talking with some chums at work something truly amazing happened… articulating my pointless point with the most elaborate hand language, i some how trapped a fly out of mid air between my index finger and thumb… i had him by his limbs exposing his entrapment for the world to see… the conversation halted with a loud silence. we all stared at the miracle trying to decide what had happened… and for as many things as could have been said… no one said a word…

sometimes our expression take on a form similar to that of a child… we can raise them to be exactly what we want them to become. we can tell the world what they will become. but they have there own free will and they will in the end exercise it. when it comes to expression the free will is that of the reader, viewer, and interpreter… and we intake it. let it inspire, and maybe even change us. but in most cases our coments out way our questions…

Published in: on February 14, 2008 at 6:18 am  Comments (7)  

I have a much uglier word for it sir… MISAPROPRIATION!

Tomorrow i wish to interact with you minus your ego… we will ad a heavy dose of emotion-leveling logic to balance the super ego and its views of reality… and the entire day we will document what its like to tare away that fleshy, flashy cloud that stands in the way of our divine identity…

standing in front of the bathroom mirror holding that cold razor in my right hand… my left hand braced against the sink proping me up in the position that is the perfect way to face your reflection… i try not to stare… its rude to stare… i run the razor against my jaw with a long and careless stroke… the razor is old and dull and it couldnt matter less, as this is not a challenging ritual. with each stroke i begin to feel my cold naked face just as it is. i can no longer avoid the deep gaze my eyes cast upon my portrait… i soon find myself locked into eye contact looking down a tunnel straight into my soul… my strokes begin to fall with an undertone of rage and the inevitable happens… a cut is formed… my eyes are closed in an attempt to calm myself, but i can feel the opening throbing on my cheek… i open my eyes to investigate the cut and find i have a small gash lined up directly with my jaw line… i think about the pain and try to block out every thought and emotion that would cloud me from it… i concentrate until i can feel nothing but the gentle sting and the sound of suddle ringing that your brain makes when you have a thoughtless moment…

i wish to tare away every pound of flesh from my body… and stand there naked of myself… and i would beg you just to look at me as i am… uncensored… unchanged… exactly as i am… and i would beg you just to look at me and tell me what you see…

Published in: on February 10, 2008 at 5:41 am  Comments (8)