In Memory of Words

words...when you die...I'm going to eat your heart out...like head stone for the broken hearted.....arms to kill for flowers to steal....where the poor dear, the bleeding heart, meats the pawns gunning, of which words, words, words, or an easy death indeed...all the while the devils in the mirror love all...as they put out the hit on the poor dear. Wolves in sheep clothing...Sheep in woves clothing. Good times. One will read the words...one will write the words...among which the shots we all take...the more she slips away...but you know, is this about will or fate...is this about classism, racism...maybe we can all just run into the woods and meditate...like those on a trust fund shelled up in their peaceful abode. I don't know. It wouldn't be a hateful assertion, or a hand out or up assertion. I just don't care about these matters, when it's even odd we are all spinning around fire...it all just kind of happens. These words, kind of happen. Mirror, mirror, kind of happens. Is this a matter of running, or simply a matter of embracing determinate space with ease, following the process of indeterminate space, the art crowed, is on go. Matters of significance wouldn't have to reside here...but yes, those who gun with the mirror, mirror, to trance, to explore, to be somewhat vulnerable and weird...it does highlight certain matters, for folks to address the irrational power play shit. I do know when I switch modes to Drab...it's art...but for now, it's a bridge between...Never a resolve...just a spinning, around and around, and it seems fruitless, but still, it's assuring when one isn't so caught up, but rather, juxtaposing in relation to indeterminate space, justoposing in relation to newer instittuional form, of informatics...it's like being thrown into the labyrinth...and yet the informatic dismantles the walls and the bull head is left with an informatic compass...thinking not in terms of this on-going...I don't won't to play but here I go again matter...rather, it's dropping anchors and restringing with a newer institutional form. The labyrinth is old news in relation to the informatic. Still to reside in relation to this juxtaposition...and writing is fun...it could be into an oblivion, or it could be something to anchor informatically, or it could simply be among the performative arts. Must we desire this as a foundation. I doubt that to be the case...but sometimes we need that to be the case. And when we die...these words, oh my. And all could be a fault, but why a need to lay blame. Much like the Geneva Art video...who gave you the right to talk down to me...is that even possible with words...meaning if we explore the deisgn, we can make the attempt, but to talk down...to grasp...to establish something that doesn't run through, contained, like that of a silo...could that actually be possible, considering the bound, teh reasons insofar. Yes meeting of the mind first and foremost, but a foundation on solid ground, vs a foundation among oscillating consistency...we seem all too fluid, dynamic, and complex, to be so rigid in our foundations. Something molecular has a foundation, an orbiting is foundational. This is what I mean. We seem to be in motion. The words interacting seem to be in motion, but the words themselves, a corpse with something moving the splits in a succession...and what do they mean when they die. Someone else can read, but the meaning....it's never going to be the same...and yet, a lot of that is taken for granted I think. To read works among dead authors and to claim what they mean, and yet that isn't likely possible. the world changes a lot, even in one lifetime...so generations across, we we follow the meanings in relation to the splits. Not likely. We might have indications, and distant research of the time. Still, does that highlight someone, not just of a world, of a time, but someone among indeterminate space, addressing the determinate, developing distinctions to make room for experiences that include matters of existence before we had a language, of dealing with an onslaught of mirror, mirror play. Modern or ancient...Even Plato noted...we are going to have to shadow box whether we want to or not. It's not to be an easy life...there will be these frictions that we have to eventually embrace and address in some way, and yes, it is possible. Just don't confuse the shadow boxing with the more important stuff. Art, is with the more important stuff.