dotted eye

left behind to

find

i

get bored. no

so i watched the ants.

not the hill,
not the queen___
not the little crown
made of sugar and panic.

the ants.

tried to tell you a while back

she was in your hive

how they found the|surface crack,
how they carried the sweet things BACK——
one black crumb at a time,
how the line appeared
before anyone called
it ————— a line.

we watched from inside.

behind the wall,
behind the wet paint,
behind the room
you thought had no windows.

i drew eyes everywhere too.

small ones.
ugly ones.

mirrors on you boo boo
bad little coin-slot eyes
cut into the paper
where the light gets nervous.

you left trails.

not footprints.
too proud for footprints.

words.

sloppy.
dripping.
little syrup sentences
dragged across the floor.

little legs.
little mouths.
little flags
made from other people’s names.

I tried to tell ya

that we just wanted to exist___

///////////so///////////

i watched the sugar move.
i watched the room learn hunger.
i watched the same crumb
become a feast
become a sermon
become a swarm.

the funny thing is,
the glass was never clean.

it kept everything.

breath marks.
finger oil.
wing dust.

we heard chewing in the room.

we saw the map.

disappear ——-peekaboo——-still there but under shadows again———

you carried it place to place to place to place place to place and wrote back and put in right back in her face and their face and place to place

a n d s o m e w h e r e i n t h e w a l l. . . . . .

one ant turned around
wearing a crown
it made from a flake
of somebody else’s skin.

i drew another eye.

then another.

then another.

not because i was watching.

because the room was.

boo

BOO

from there and there we watched you carry it from there to there…

now its just part of nature

of dates and times and dates and times

stuck to foot of the little guy carrying it from the sand to the sky ———— 👁️👁️

from the sky to the bottom of the stairs——-we always knew you’d be there——————

This was inspired by my simple teenage imagination. To be honest, that imagination probably hasn’t expanded much. Certain things opened doors and some things allowed me to accept honest approaches to creating art but in the end, this was about sharing my writing. Sharing has always been the hardest part. So, I tried to never find the end of projects for a long time. I still do it. That’s why I treat so much like daily sketches now. Years of unfinished art overwhelms me in the form of terabytes of music, writing, video and photography that I don’t share because I don’t find its end.

These words were pulled from something left in a notebook in 2001 and I rewrote it to celebrate it finally finding air.

A close friend that is no longer with us inspired a lot of these words. He annoyingly made me listen to Burroughs read for years and I fucking hated it. I read a lot of the teenager starter set and I’m glad to read Burroughs’s voice. It changed how I use my words. But I got so sick of my friend making me listen to that old fucker read.

I watched Naked Lunch on LSD. Eh, it was notable because it felt like the intention of the film. Plus, Peter Weller in a Cronenberg film inspired by Burroughs’s writing?! Whut! I mean, you kinda have to watch, I guess, right? My little brain didn’t quite get it but even when I can’t fully grasp the find details, I appreciate the complexity later when I’m forced to learn more.

I’m very drawn to Burroughs’s syntax even when I hate to admit. I hate to admit it. I really don’t think I like the man that existed behind the words. I do like the mechanics of his writing and find myself ripping machines through creaking floorboards in weird layers of unhinged rants in a slow smoky tone that fucking creeps me out… …

So naturally I found serpents finding the inky visual venom… And yes, I also found AI to finish my vision, I didn’t fucking have to. I wanted to. Get over it, I have. I finished and I’m ok with that.

Big shout out to Serling here as well. I think he knew things and I have a lot of respect for him and I think it’s important to mention he’s as much an inspiration here as Burroughs. But, we’ll keep it simple and focused for now.

I won’t mention Welles but I will say the underlying theme I don’t mention loudly also has to do with a few of the tales of people finding comfort in community for the sake of not being alone. Believing each other blindly during panic situations and following each other into lies—-just to be a part of the group and to not be alone.

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I’m thankful to have friends that handed me books when I was a teenager or I may have just ended up a simple failure—confused and curious. Now, I just feel like a happy failure that’s always eager to create but still—confused and curious.

When I was writing about sharing those words, it made me think about last year and finding something in myself that makes me desire endless creativity every day without shame and without rules. Most of these projects I’m sharing below were done in July/August and I shared a few here already. But some didn’t really have a place (or inspiration) until now.

This pic below was taken for my creative process (66 day creativity) blog.

This process was part of the next process and the next… The collage was used for digital sketches that eventually became other pieces of art. Some of the photos came from a journal that someone that cared about me created years ago.

Some came from photo sessions, some from years of photographs not used. Most stuff, never glued to paper as a final linear project… I snapped pics, printed, reprinted and added it back to the mix (by hand from printed paper) and it became a new version of itself. It’s a never ending collage until I find the way I want to finally glue it all down. Maybe I’ll never glue anything down. I don’t know. I don’t care. I like the layers I can create by taking the photos and using it anyway I want.

Some of the collage was used for this simple project in the video above. I called it a “sketch” and moved on.

I used this photo above as a background on other art projects. It’s pages of the journal— destroyed — and actually glued to a mat. You can see some sentimental words finding their way out in certain parts. This was a beautiful gift from a friend but it found its new shape and form in a healthy way.

If you’ve been seeing any of my feed recently, you’ve seen that my best friend Chester has found his new role as the energy we swim in, and immerse ourselves in, here in this galaxy. I have no doubt that his purpose and love has found new meaning.

I’ve struggled to press the send button on the pages I’ve written so far but, I’m glad he was always posing for me. If you’ve read anything I’ve written the past year, this animal loved when I pulled out a camera and he was very aware of the attention. He never adjusted or got shy. He was a great model so, over the years, he helped me to learn how to aim a camera. I even eventually learned a little trick to get him to do a snarl tooth thing he did and he actually learned “smile” which looked like quite the opposite but was his best “happy face.” I still have zero clue how to use the camera but I am going to continue to share these memories and the accidents I’ve made during the attempts.

Chester was very patiently awaiting a photo trip. We took those little trips almost every day. Most days I didn’t take pics worth sharing.

I miss hearing his collar jingle when I grabbed the leash. He knew it was time to venture out. We enjoyed thousands of amazing walks through beautiful places for many years and too many fun adventures to share in a few paragraphs or pics.

Even though he hates the ocean, and the sand, with a passion—and hates seagulls even more—he loved our trips. «←— don’t judge me for that sentence, we’re emotional over here and that’s how we punctuate today. I’ve been calling it “punktuation,” and I need ya to just get used to it. I’m done trying!!!!

Plus, it’s still super fucking hard to pick the tense to write in when I talk about him but I won’t adjust quite yet.

I’ve taken hundred of pics in this one little space over the years. This was just another day but, I had a camera. I can still feel the breeze when I look at this pic. Also, it was hot as fuck. “It ain’t the heat, it’s the humidity.” It was fucking brutal that day.

I think this last pic is was the aftermath of a day holding down the passenger seat and pushing through the demands of the sandy paws and dangerous tides. Or this could’ve just been any moment during most of the 16 hours a day when we weren’t out on an a little adventure. This dude rested. Very often his legs were kicking my iPad at the other end of the bed while I was writing.

Thanks for being here and letting me share.