want to start a secret society for the two of us
i want to explain, in depth, purpose, method, goals
to usurp all governments, with you
complete domination seems ideal and impossible
ideas of dominance destroy feelings of life affirmation
cleaning, building, eating; processes
let's move, swiftly, past our close group of friends
overtake them on their career paths
take success by the earlobes and drag it
holding hands, squeezing our ideas together
this is life; this is horrible; there is some vast glory here
something untapped
ideas of exclusivity and world take-over in a monogamous vacuum
a neutral love poem
flowers
passion
conversation
dreams
expectations
doubts
texture
fear
fantasies
arguments
fluid
anxiety
silence
fast
slow
void
warmth
tomorrow
felt sudden anxiety and mild stomach pain when my brain transmitted information that i had 'bypassed' reviewing previous posts on this blog and had opened an empty, ostensibly 'new' post with looming expectancy that i would somehow 'fill' this blank area with something
blogging is dead, i've come to understand mimetically, though not definitively, abstractly, really
i am still alive
i still enjoy cigarettes
i still enjoy 'unhealthy' [though paradoxically, it seems, life-continuing] food
i still care more about fashion than my family
i still don't [apparently] have any life-threatening diseases
i still have a distinct phobia of outdoor places and trees
i still do not know any women who seem 'worth' leaving this place [what some would consider the 'nest'] for
i still have a million projects that would be easy enough to delegate if i had ~$1,000,000, no desire to produce feature length 'hollywood quality' movies, and no student loans
i have no new desires
i keep looking at my phone and wondering when it will ring next though it's 4:33a.m.
i would do things on twitter if this didn't feel like it might become literary at some point
fuuuuck
that felt good to do
men and women communicate their observable differences differently, it seems [when approaching the idea vaguely and from a writing viewpoint]
i feel curious whether women perceive writing that affects them but that is written by men by imagining the male perspective to be an amalgamation of traits they have perceived, recalling observations they have made about men they have interacted with/heard of, and subsequently project that perspective onto men in future interactions, or if they simply transpose their experiences onto the male perspective, or both, or more...?
when i read writing (by women) that affects me i imagine similar experiences i have had (and project myself onto the female perspective), while i simultaneously contemplate whether or not the female perspective/voice is indelibly tied to a perceived, (essentially female) depth-of-reference that is consistently more fluid than the average (male) thought progression (and therefore implies/incites/accesses a more extreme depth of information than i am capable of perceiving), which excites me and causes mild-to-high anxiety during attempts to 'think critically' about text/context/subtext, due to the (emasculating) possibility that i cannot 'get it'
i think everything is inconceivably confusing/confused, and feel (mostly) comfortable (with an average 87.348% psycho-emotional stability) thinking and acting accordingly
welcome to being alone
swelling occurs
there's this thing, called jealousy
movies are comforting, but not very comforting
if everything were unacceptable i would fuck things that are serious about being fucked
passive agressive health
genuine embarrassment may be a common occurence
but acquiring attention from attractive people is paramount
i keep thinking about ex-girlfriends in what feels like an unhealthy way
breasts are sweet
feel good that i haven't been in a fight for a while
transportation impairs one's ability to be in a relationship pretty harshly
it's so cold outside
brilliance doesn't get you laid
ineptitude for brilliance doesn't get you laid
swift movements at opportune times gets you laid
what if i were writing this while getting laid?
would that be notable?
i ate pizza for breakfast today
every indolent hook-up seems like nostalgia for infancy
seems like crushing the first ant
seems like hitting the first girl
seems like stealing the first cookie
seems like leaving the first womb
and what, if anything, does that create?
a corruption.
and a corruption is wrong, in that corruption doesn't signify anything except a mood
and i don't want to signify a mood.
seems like opening the first present.
my dislike for shakespeare's elizabethan-zeitgeist-oriented poignancy is similar to my dislike of most 'norms'
but if memory were defeated all things would feel new
and what would people learn?
what would people have to write about?
how would people express their faculty for expression?
seems like puncturing the first balloon.
if i could show another person,
a person with capacity for empathy and restraint and religious levels of human value,
would i want for that person to see how i elicit attention?
would i want the most basic stereotypical human to see how i communicate?
SEEMS LIKE CLIMBING THE FIRST TREE.
i want to demolish a gargantuan brick warehouse and call the resulting pile of rubble 'mine' and hate it and still not know what hate is and cry until temporal displacement turned the rubble into something different and beautiful and objectively perfect...
and i want to still not care what perfect means
i think i am probably wrong about everything
but it seems like the first halloween
seems like the first intimate relationship
seems like this poem is discernibly an extended metaphor for virginity loss, 'actually'
...an extension of the human impulse to procreate
and a remnant of the wake caused by the pubescent epiphany of discovering i will never know anything about anything ever, including the concept of anything
even when it seems i do
if i am widowed in my old age and have nothing better to do i will ride every known roller coaster in order of completion date, maintaining a neutral facial expression, and repeat this action until everything in my body ceases functioning, as a performance art piece highlighting the thoroughness of humanity's confusion about reality and its inevitable extinction (impending doom) amidst a regenerative cycle of imperceptible chaos
i feel 'over-extended'
maybe i perceive reality how a remote control perceives a television
also, i have had four cups of coffee in the past ~1.5 hours
it seems that the most probable cause for myself is somehow 'pervasively sexual'
but right now i feel like an apple macbook power adaptor cable that isn't long enough to extend from a 'nearby' outlet to a preferred workspace
i want to kill myself sometimes; almost entirely on weekends
i feel curious if my anxiety derives from something metaphysical or if i induce it myself, consciously, or subconsciously, or using a type of reasoning inaccessible to current knowledge of the mind
when i was younger i performed a solo dance routine on stage in front of a group of people, then six years later saw the same choreography performed by a group of children more than ten years younger than me and felt okay but kind of betrayed
i think this led to me becoming an 'atheist', in that everything in the universe that happened previous to me becoming an atheist contributed to my eventual atheism
sarcasm doesn't extend to most regions of castellano that i am familiar with
seems like 'impending doom' is the most concrete abstraction i regularly access
last night i had a dream that steve jobs had a presentation in downtown los angeles, and i felt aware and calm that he was dead, and about death in general
i woke up and felt horrified and prophetic and that something must be done and someone must be informed but felt unsure who or why or about what
the service staff where i am living seems considerable more well-adjusted than i feel
it seems like here would be the appropriate place to advertise 'cornflakes'
poetry collection, compiled for a reading
welcome to [something]; fuck
seems like there is something inside of me
an emotion or something solid
causing a natural convergence of standards and principles
specific levels of enjoyment are retained, and crushed
like cars in a compactor
or like muffin batter in what you put muffin batter into,
inside of a convection oven
that’s been preheated to three-hundred fifty degrees
we are negotiable as human beings
a finite debate on what must be done
and opposing actions that are taken
and i am a 747 airplane filled with desperate people
who have anxiety about how they are perceived by a cruise ship filled with apathetic people
52,000 feet beneath them
‘are we a force, an object or just invisible?’ they ask; wantonly
‘are we making sounds? do they enjoy these sounds?’
they lust for positive reviews upon their descent
and as they think these things we think to ourselves that we can kill each other
and that it will be okay
it will be fine after we are dead, and nothing will go wrong
it will be fine
it will be fine
it will be different, but it will also be okay
kneeling limp with my hands placed in a way that i would have to look down to spatially relate to anything
masturbating
i look up at the sky at nothing
feeling 'welcomeness' towards death
and to the extreme enjoyment of viewing and discerning between objects
a light varnish on my perception;
and a swelling, somewhere non-sexual
i am an enormous crystal
and my cleavage, and shimmer are ideal for cutting,
and setting in something feminine
but i am just too huge
to my right, there is a walnut, and i think, ‘brains’
and i question this relationship
and feel longing for some type of understanding,
then dismiss it, gently
'i will conquer all facets of myself,' i think
then crinkle a bit as gravity acts on various objects
and small things slowly become large things
i ejaculate onto my mattress and stare at it
and immediately want to cum again
you look at me, knowingly and i become a ruby, looking softly back at you
and we all become rubies and tsunamis and answer questions
of what is this and what is that
and then the universe resets a little
and it feels strange
there are three-hundred million people in this country and i don’t even think anyone really understands the concept of three-hundred million people or what a country is in a way that could be posed to me with any sort of definite clarity due, almost solely, to the abstract concept of ‘vastness’
i have no idea how my siblings will die
but i know that they will
and i’ve seen some death
i really attempted to contemplated it
i drank some cola while doing it
i’m not partial to ice in my cola
and i prefer pepsi to coke
and everyone i have met,
with the exception of my grandfather likes pizza
which, like most junk food, goes well with cola
but both, when over-consumed
can and will cause heart failure, diabetes, among other conditions
this doesn’t feel contemplative anymore
this isn’t going anywhere
‘vastness’
ideas of exclusivity and world take-over in a monogamous vacuum
i want to start a secret society for the two of us
i want to explain, in depth, purpose, method, goals
to usurp all governments, with you
complete domination seems ideal and impossible
ideas of dominance destroy feelings of the affirmation of life
the acts of cleaning, building, eating; processes
let's move, swiftly, past our close group of friends
overtake them on their career paths
take success by the earlobes and drag it
holding hands, squeezing our ideas together
this is life; this is horrible; there is some vast glory here
something untapped
poem written a few months ago
it appears that significance has nothing if not little to do with this
like sincere feelings of attraction would bring about a result
knowing and not knowing feel very similar
there is this euphoria in relishing awe
and this other euphoria in discovering a perceived truth
jesus
haven't brushed my teeth in like twenty hours
waiting for a phone call, thinking of you
when this concludes we should go for hawaiian pizza and cane-sugar pepsi
interview with eric belview
NIAAWW: i’m here with eric belview, famed writer and director. mister belview is the creative mind behind such films as fuck you spielberg and tommy wiseau’s revenge. his reputation as an innovator in both the worlds of cinema and music have resulted in such distinguished honors as gracing the cover of newlywed magazine and a five-star rating from acclaimed critic dashawn jackson, not to mention various academy awards, golden globe honorable mentions and a grammy nomination for his debut song, ‘where were you when you broke up with me via text message’ for single of the year. he is here promoting his new film tao lin: the movie. thank you for joining us mister belview.
EB: i hate my job.
'A THING FOR VALENTINE'S DAY' which i made a physical copy of with illustrations for my girlfriend last night
A THING FOR VALENTINE’S DAY
a thing,
mostly about lara,
entirely for lara
a brief history of the relationship i’ve had with my chinchilla
i met my chinchilla at a party, but don’t remember her or the party much
i met my chinchilla again at a birthday thing where we made out all night
it snowed a few feet, so we stayed in my chinchilla’s cave mostly during that
when i played in a band, my chinchilla came to most of the shows
i told my chinchilla something sweet, then we fought about other, pomegranate-related shit
my chinchilla went away, twice, to nicaragua, and i cried a bit
i felt a small sense of relief when my chinchilla was gone, but mostly nihilism
when my chinchilla is around i attempt to feel things, which causes a sense of comfort
which i prefer to mostly nihilism, i think
results of surgically fusing a party girl to an android giraffe beast with recently-installed overactive libido software
hoards of men stare blankly at the party girl android giraffe beast and think things like ‘she looks kind of like, um, a dali painting or something’
joint temporal abuse of social responsibility still produces calm feelings of maintaining a success-driven, goal-oriented existence
instinctual male procreation anxiety is universally alleviated for three hours every 72 hours, causing a rotating 75 hour pandemic insemination outbreak among the extremely promiscuous
astronomy-centered activities seem bland and mildly redundant due to the constellation-like spot patterns on the android-giraffe portion of the beast’s body, causing mystic astrological practices to be replaced by compulsive freckle mapping sprints among fanatical mystics, and a reversion to the ancient chinese art of bone reading for signs of the second coming of an previously un-talked-about buddha figure, describe as ‘serenely clichéd, in a sort of daring, connery-esque, yet sweetly reminiscent of christian bale way’, by a freckle mapper of some renown
a unified effort to promote veganism arises as a means to end suffering in all neuron-based lifeforms, inspired by telepathic subconscious messages implanted in the brains of the populace through a collaborative effort between the android and giraffe parts of the beast’s brain, however undermined by a power-play from the pro-meat/pro-avimal abuse partygirl faction, solicited, in secret by the outraged party girl portion of the beast’s brainstem
lengthy sessions of movie concept brainstorming occur in people whose profession it is to be in direct opposition to all forms of artistic media, especially film
a list of things i will have to systematically cause to result in positive emotional reactions for our relationship to last through to your first pregnancy
use of the phrase ‘i’m just living my life’
clothing going onto the floor instead of onto/into something that is not the floor
whining sounds when [variety of things, but especially things that require some labor on my part] are desired
the use of ‘i love you’ and ‘fuck me’ during sex
inexplicable instances of forgetting, misplacing, or disposing of objects of [seemingly] extreme importance
‘reckless’ spending with no expressed intention to assess the current budget in a ‘i have this much money to spend over this amount of time’ way
asking ‘do you think i’m fat?’ in a non-sarcastic, non-self-aware manner resulting in mutual confusion as to what the desired answer is and being dissatisfied regardless of what the response is whether it is an answer or a diversion meant to avoid answering
‘bursting into song’ [typically a spanish song, song from the radio, or nostalgic song associated with extreme bad taste in music]
preparing to leave for [seemingly important event] with [minimum amount of time] prior to the beginning of [increasingly important event], with [exponentially higher rate of anxiety] about [increasingly small amount of time] before [adequately preliminarily informed-of event] will occur
use of abstract, wordy rhetoric to elicit conventional feelings of comfort, security, and entertainment
INTERMISSION
a bridge
oh but how all simplistic inquiries seem ever to invade my soul’s redundant monologue, seeking an alloyed infrastructure in fluid thoughts of you, and a way which, lost on me, is the clear heading of all lives that i have lived, between the painful, though trite calamities that burdened my youth, and this era, where i find myself arisen, new, beautiful, with whole poems of thought for you: ‘how she is tender and meager and all-forgiving, and here is my heart, again, so surrounded by a dull mutter of what must be a powder, saccharine, and on a cake sautéed to perfection, lavished in ambrosial syrup’, and now here we are, and i am, once, asking that you find me some simplicity, for you, being so everything, would be nothing should i never find it, but in its search i am justified, sitting, alone in this tree, sprung from seeds of anarchy, where i have found a map with no cardinal direction and a destination of which i do not know the name, but the region is named for you, nymph, goddess in a pantheon built and destroyed by previous worshipers of word and drama
a list of ‘qualities’ i find unique and endearing about my girlfriend in a way that transcends previous notions of ‘uniqueness’ and ‘endearing qualities’ found in previous women i’ve been involved with/interested in
my girlfriend is a lady, and is therefore not nothin’ but a sister
my girlfriend is pretty much ‘DTF’ 24/7, jealous?
my girlfriend is as sweet as a sweet ass hershey bar
my girlfriend is not a girl, and not yet a woman
my girlfriend chills the hardest out of all my bros
my girlfriend ‘eats this shit up’
my girlfriend gets high as a georgia pine
my girlfriend is ‘an enabler’ but waves ‘enabling’ off because she thinks eventually the enabled will ‘do something with their lives’
my girlfriend looks at me like i’m the only man on the planet, sometimes
my girlfriend cares more about her tan than her family history of melanoma
my girlfriend is annoyed by her own ‘sorrostitute-esque’ voice
my girlfriend says ‘hi’ and ‘i love you’ to break awkward silences
my girlfriend has a deep, false sense of superior taste, in everything, to everyone, but refuses to provide any evidence
my girlfriend is beautiful, no matter what they say, your words won’t bring me down
my girlfriend is hot as sriracha sauce
my girlfriend consumes, retains, calculates and outputs every piece of information i input, like a computer or something
my girlfriend wants to spend the rest of her life in close proximity to me
when i see [my girlfriend’s] face, there’s not a thing that i would change, because you’re amazing just the way you are
THE END
andrew moreno
life feels increasingly temporary
i’m moving through space
waiting to decay or something
contemplating syntax
and impossibly large celestial movements
i’m waiting to meet the person who will ruin my current relationship
i’m waiting for emails to arrive, refreshing gmail
i’m waiting for an onset of hunger and then the inevitable meal
i’m in a book store consciously refusing to read books
looking for books about nicaragua with the sole intention of not reading them
not finding them anyway
i’m surrounded by people using bluetooth technology inappropriately; anti-socially
planning to apply for a job, then look into space thinking ‘what’ repeatedly
i have some intention of doing this
i am looking at your reflection and you avert your eyes
you don’t want to look at me, my imperfections
my destructive handwriting
when contemplating cute animals my mind swims a little
from a lake into a river composed of serotonin
and dopamine-infused pebble formations
this is normal this is okay
INSANE [CAREER-MARRING] DRUNK POST
I GET IT
I AM POST-BLACK
PEOPLE CAN'T GRASP THIS CONCEPT
I'M LIKE A MISSING LINK OR SOMETHING
I'M SOMETHING THAT WILL BE POPULAR IN 20~80 YEARS
I'M TOO EARLY
WHAT AM I DOING HERE
JUST THOUGHT 'GOING TO DIE IN TEN SECONDS'
I AM BLOGGING LIKE KANYE WEST
SEEMS DAMNING
SEEMS LIKE A BAD CAREER CHOICE
THOUGHT 'PEOPLE WHO BECOME FAMOUS FOR BLOGGING/CREATING "ART" DON'T EXPOSE THEIR AUDIENCE TO THIS LEVEL OF INSECURITY RE THEIR FEELINGS OF "LACK OF DEPTH" OR INADEQUACY'
[LINK 1]
JUST THOUGHT 'VICTORIA TROTT' IN A [SEEMINGLY] ENDEARING TONE
READ 'NICARAGUA' BY CLANCY MARTIN AND DEB OLIN UNFERTH AND FELT 'JOVIAL'
TREATING THIS LIKE A 'PRANK'
HONESTLY FEELS LIKE 'A PRANK' DESPITE NOT FITTING THE APPLE DICTIONARY WIDGET DEFINITION
LISTENING TO BASEMENT JAXX VS. LIGHTSPEED CHAMPION AND FEELING 'EVEN MORE' 'FUCKING' POST-BLACK
INCREASED LEVELS OF CAFFEINE AND ALCOHOL HAVE FUELED THIS
I FEEL LIKE LIL WAYNE
I FEEL LIKE SUGE NIGHT
NOT REALLY
[LINK NUMBER 2]
STILL SEEMS LIKE A PRANK
LOL, 'I GET IT'
THINKING REALLY SARCASTICALLY ABOUT THIS POST NOW
DEFINITELY A PRANK
OMG, THIS POST IS ABOUT TO GET REALLY LONG
if there were some level of destructive instinct in the genetic infrastructure behind blue whales or whale sharks the undersea ecosphere would be totally fucked
seems very important to avoid all impulses to refer to pop culture/indie culture/nihilism, though strong urges to write an extended dissertation re these concepts/themes seems [paradoxically] ‘imperative’
[LINK 3]
I WANT TO WRITE SOMETHING THAT SEEMS CONCRETE/ACADEMIC BUT FEEL INCAPABLE OF DOING THIS
SEEMS THAT THIS WHOLE BLOG POST IS STEMMING FROM THAT DESIRE
‘OH MY GOD’, WHAT IF I JUST DID THAT
JUST WROTE SOMETHING CONCRETE AND ANALYTICAL
REVISITED MY COLLEGIATE WRITING TACTICS AND ‘JUST DID IT’
SEEMS TIRING TO TRY TO DECIDE ON A THEME/TOPIC RE ‘SOMETHING CONCRETE AND ANALYTICAL’
SO BORED OF THIS BLOG POST NOW
GODDAMNIT
feeling really melodramatic
have been sitting in a loft in baltimore for what feels like forever
thinking critically about 'rebranding'
looked at all my websites and they all seem stylistically sound
confused why no one reads my shit
no one watches my films
i am too poor to do physical endorsement/travel and 'expand my influence'
and feel 'repressed' and at the same time 'limitless' re ability to 'turn a product'
where have i failed, brand-establishment wise?
do i need to make things 'more consumable'?
what the fuck is going on
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)