1. It was my Oedipus
moment- when I take the pins off the dress and stab out my eyes, observing the
two things you can never hold, your own death and your mother, a whole life,
hung up on the rack, the alpha and the omega, the vagina and the noose.
2. At the end of the day
K.L. is Dr. Faust, with piles of language (A.F.) he burns it all for the
fountain of youth, bright colors, a garden bed of attractive faces. Maybe
there is good reason that I can’t adapt well to that scene. Tyler has
time for conduits but not for ends, and so it goes. And me, what can I
really believe in? Must all hopes and dreams die, mother hanging on the
noose, the art that gave me birth, and Bard, and so much magic, goes nowhere
but to suicide, it dangles.
3. The lover, which is
creation, the muse, is also the mother. Does that make me king? How
can I become great at anything when I keep jumping professions? But
Andrew G. is fine. So many, Porter, fine with a leap, a crossover of
fields. Who makes it in the theater? Can I? Could I return?
What is it that I really even want? To share ideas. What the
fuck is that? Must become acclaimed, an expert, a reporter, gather only
the past and tell. Why is it always about gathering? Duchamp. Historian.
Must gather to say something new, Picasso was a storyteller because he
found the relics of Africa.
4. The King died and Pepsi
took over, the totem became trash, monument to disposal. Petra Jordan,
just a moment and then gone. If no one gets to be King is there purpose
to life, rhizomatic, is the machine just a way for people to stop having value?
5. What about the
movies? They too fade like all culture.
Popularity contest, the mass spread of film, forgotten in time, lost in
a past cultural consciousness.
6. The hallway where I
cried in middle school. A shrine of my psyche, no one else will ever
know. It lives and dies with me. But it lives with me.
7. The tomb of the
pharaoh. And she died. And no one knew what she had grown,
fostered inside, against all odds, mortality won.
Voice 1: You are scared
of getting older.
Voice 2: I always have
been, but now more than ever.
Voice 1: You are scared
of death. You are scared that your value will stay trapped and wasted.
8. A body leaves traces.
History lives in the minds of the living. The scope of your doings
to reach the doings of others and thus to slant what is to come.
9. (H)ours.
10. And she fell from
great heights. No one ever knew she even lived. She became dirt. No
one knew.
11. There was a
speakeasy. A secret that spoke, a private place, away from the law, away
from control, away from sight, where language flows.
12. Let down your
great hair.
Voice 1: The most
important thing in the whole universe?
Voice 2: Hydrogen. I
have no idea, something constant.
Voice 1: The most
important thing in human life?
Voice 2: Satisfaction. Happiness. ‘Good’ behavior. A life that serves life. Peacekeepers,
mediators, a conduit for positive change.
Voice 1: Most important
thing in your life?
Voice 2: Respect.
Respecting others and being respected. How can I help others?
How can I be useful. My favorite thing to do in life- talk
one-on-one with people, to discover something new together. This is
social but how can this be a job? Teacher, therapist? I always want
to be an artist. There is no rainbow. The reality is what you make
of it.
Voice 1: What is
of value? What do humans need? What does the world need?
Voice 2: “Gods” as in something to believe in.
“Ideas” as in something to believe in. Sex. Peace. Love. I can help people make love.
Be good. Connect better. Be more understanding of others,
care, pay attention, learn, discover what is.
13. “The road is
walked one step at a time.”
a. There was one key and
ten doors, you can only open one door.
b. You are trapped in
the woods and you don’t know what direction you are going, you can wait until
morning or you can burn down the forest at night. You burn it down.
14. And she said
nothing worth hearing, no value, no light, all meaningless, all hours spent,
and for what? No one knew, no one was helped, just friends and issues,
just cups of coffee, we all die. We all pass. How to save the world?
How to be of value? Great effect. Refusing to be anything
other than worth paying attention to, speak-up, the first step is getting into
an institution. Death, death. I want to be an artist. And say
what!!!?! EXACTLY!!!?!! AND WHY?! Fuck, what are you changing? How far can
you reach? What is worth talking about?
15. Is god dead? My god. The god of creation, of art, of voice. When does god die, when do you let your gods die?
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