Eating a pomegranate. Thought my head was going to explode. For my entire life I’ve been terrified of houses, bedrooms, and doorways. And beds when it’s dark. I don’t have any memories of my foreign travels from the 60’s. or do i? the more I learn the less I want to know. Vicious cycle right now. Need to read less weird shit. Or do I? the more I learn the less I want to know. Recently finished Rose Madder by Stephen King. I loved that book and found the protagonist to be very fully realized. I love the show Killjoys so much, it fills me with happiness. I need it in my life. I was reading Batman Odyssey at some point. Great Neal Adams artwork. Neal never lost his touch in my opinion. He never faded. Zany stuff. Don’t know why it took me so long but I’ve been reading Frank Miller’s Ronin for the first time. Miller is so great. And Lynn Varley’s colors. Love. Cars. Thinking back to the last autumnal and winter seasons. The time has passed. Though I do enjoy the work that was produced during that time. Cutups. While watching a female centric martial arts film. A salad tossed me! Not me. Someone recently asked me if I would like to be cut in half. Memories of a plush avocado and a beautiful laugh. Seafood. I bought several cans of dolphin safe chunk light tuna recently and didn’t realize it was in vegetable oil and not water. It took the consumption of several cans to realize my mistake. Then recently I went back to the store and bought several more cans though this time I made sure they were in water. I learn from my mistakes. Or do i? the more I learn the less I want to know. A cube of cold air to my left. Herded like cattle. Esoteric texts. Multiple languages no one understands. Languages no one speaks. A tube extracted my stomach juices. Why. Primitive. Voices talking to us from the ceiling. Voices echoing from a radio that wasn’t turned on. Started there then throughout the room, vibrating from the walls. Someone inside the walls talking to me and then someone threatening to kick my ass. I hate thinking about my childhood. A shelf lined with human skulls and art books. Interesting. Not mine. The rot of it all. Rot must be incorporated. Mix. Sweat. Remember skin. Need to get at something real. Dread when the sun goes down. Travels to Africa. Jungle travels. Truth in experiments. Fractured knowledge. Hidden knowledge. Need to go to a diner and drink coffee and discuss powder. Things only become real when they are dreadfully unsettling. Terrifying. When you can taste the fear, mouth full of it. Travels in foreign countries. Travels in the continental US in a dense city. Amazing what one can find in a dense city. Even blue eyes across stark black and white. In a dense city a stairwell can be frightening. Up or down. Can take you to very strange places. What if the dimensions don’t add up properly and you find yourself entering into impossible rooms? Not me. The production on Tom Petty’s album Full Moon Fever is very clean.
How do conmen (and conwomen) work? The art of the con. What are the necessary details. What’s in the details. The details are everything. Word choice is so key. Infecting minds. Covert agencies infecting minds. Mechanics. Devices. Wires. They put something on my head. It was like a bowl, like a silver bowl. No, that’s not quite right. Connected to cable, thick black cable. With wire connecting the cable and the bowl and other wires not as thick as the cable also connected. I saw lots of colors. The room was a mess. Clothes on the floor and what looked like adult diapers, soiled. I though the place smelled awful, spoiled and like excrement and sweat. But when they put the thing on my head I wasn’t smelling anything. Still, a big mess. Big stain on the floor to the right of me. Wine? Maybe. Blood. Paint. Don’t know. Someone was hunched down in the corner. Arms wrapped around themselves and rocking back and forth. Who was this person. They looked covered in mud or something. No, their skin is actually black. The color black. Oh god, they’re look at me. Eyes all white, skin all black. Rocking back and forth and looking at me. And they put the thing on my head and they’re asking me questions.
I probably wouldn’t have ordered that kat book if I’d known how fucking huge it was going to be. No comfortable way to read that thing. It’s all about comfort with me. And tossing salads. And big cellulite laden thighs crammed into fishnet hosiery. To the right of me, on a chair, rests a book with a yellow cover.
I suspect many answers can be found between the covers of old discontinued magazines and old out of print books. Hidden knowledge. Secrets knowledges. Buried in the sands of time. I really like the band AC DC. I really like Mexican recording artist Ana Barbara’s legs, especially when she wears hosiery. I might go to a bar later on. I like wasting my life away in bars. I’m pathetic.
Need to give something name. something grey seems appropriate but also terrifying. How does the secret guard itself. Conspiratorial thinking. Everything ultimately points in one direction. I love redacting and I love when things are redacted. I find redacting in general to incredibly hilarious. Humanity is so sad and funny. I’m never actually happy. But that’s okay. Paper cup holding several black #2 pencils. Wildflowers has I guess what we would think of as warmer less glossy production. Hmmm, or maybe glossy but in a different way. Need to dig out those big art books. I really like eating pasta. I haven’t eaten pasta in a while and I’m starting to miss it. Noodles. Chaff clouds. Honey comb skulls. Sugary cereals. Redacted documents. Basement flooding and ruining a massive collection of jazz records. Oh the glories of wet and rotting cardboard! The glories of used pantyhose! I need to firmly jam both index fingers into my nostrils and think about triangles for a while! Animal or man? I was watching a man expertly and effortless carve up a massive tuna fish and I was utterly mesmerized. Or was I? the more I learn the less I want to know.
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