This career I've been building for the past
15 years of my life...its finally gaining momentum. Getting a response from the big wigs, powdered noses,
and the watch dogs,
it was all I needed to keep going, it was all I needed to push myself to learn more about the world,
this strange society we live in.
I shouldn’t have to explain myself anymore,
I write about whatever messages come through this horn torus.
The vehicle that houses my transmission, its real.
The horn is playing along with the rest of the brass, wind wood, and percussive instruments out there in the universe.
I truly aim to join in the music;
making beautiful arrangements of sound,
layers of canon notes climbing the scales,
going deeper into the keys,
reaching new octaves.
I do not wish to burn any candles from both ends, swing any double edged blades.
I do not wish to bum anybody out, start any fights, or bargain for any micro-chips.
I just want to feel connected to this world, to my friends, to my people.
I want to connect to other parts of the world that are foreign to me,
I wish to hear those expressions that build new neural pathways,
I wish to witness the beauty of nature through the light of mankind.
I wish to hear those tunes that only dogs can hear so we can apply those subtle details to the overall composition.
I wish to find the sub-bass sounds that charm the snakes.
I wish to defy the laws of thermodynamics with quantum computations of my brain,
thoughts that only make sense in the arbitrary formulaic equations of scientific theory.
I wish to see the flourishing of these projects into our reality so that we may find a new way to experience life.
I gain a sense of inspiration through my 6th sense of intuition,
a sense that is outside the electromagnetic spectrum.
the dark matters,
the platform for static. I wish to break this idea free of its confines so that it may expand a little more so that we may find ecstatic landing zones.
Places out of touch, zones out of reach, times without space,
estates that are not connected to the control valve box,
chaos that is free to generate velocity, so much further away from lines,
latitudes, longitudes, corners,
or those three-dimensional things I keep tripping over.
I guess I just want to explore the great unknowable,
with more than just more words presented in cyberspace.
I want to take my vehicle of radio receptions and send it on through the black holes that we have waiting for us to travel backward and forward into the future,
back out the past,
find out why I got so damn lost,
oh wait…we know why.
Is this the recollection of how I got to the torus of suburu,
the seven sisters,
the seven sinners,
the corruption of man,
the stars that created the bull,
the taurus in the sky.
Its just another discovery relative to the mind, but why oh why do i feel like i’ve lost a few bytes of information along the way?
I feel that, before I took to the skies,
before I started my creative journey,
I encased everything within my soul,
something I cherish very much,
and something that I avoid writing about very often.
The time/space folder I saved my soul upon is one of my greatest works,
The Great Divide,
and I gave it away for nothing more than the cost of printing on paper.
I did not zip it up,
the particles we left out were not secured in the folder i had created.
I had been unsure of the nature of holographic modulations at the time,
so I sent a back-up back home in the form of an archive,
and a copy to my favorite cyber-cafe,
and the only physical copy with one of my most trusted friends.
I had hoped that the source of the creation would be secured,
and it was so well preserved that the information seemed to get plugged into the quantum computer that creates all of reality.
The journey itself, it seemed, lost parts of me.
Some parts of myself that were still innocent in the eyes of man, the boy-ish side of me, the kid.
That is no longer me. The parts of myself that are only guilty of expressing my soul truly,
fully, without shame, without worry,
cause I know who I am.
I guess I am only experiencing a form of pity for those that were not ready to see the truth shining bright above their heads.
I felt like I had blinded the eagles flying above,
some of our most endangered species of allies.
Nevermind all that noise,
strike the gamma hammer down,
allow the anvil to come to the temper that smiths some of the sharpest swords in the night.
Forge this heirloom in the furnace,
the coals glow orange and yellow; white hot,
drop it into the water…steam clouds erupt,
and in it…evaporates my desires to kill the ego.
Its been dead for so long,
that I’m done looking at the psychology behind my motives to write,
it’s nothing more than the aesthetic of line weight.
I’ll just stick to creating art that is finer than my list of parking tickets on the streets of Denver.