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.

Hookers with Penises

Imagine being Amoebas. I think life would be easier that way. I'll just be weird and isolated. So be it. It was meant to be I guess.

Black Honda and Walmart (I'm not creeping I promise, lol)

 So yes, Nathan. I love him, in a way that doesn't need to grasp or obtain... I miss him, but again, not to cling, but to always signpost. He's one of the kindreds. He knows me and I know him. but that' isn't a preclude to say those who don't need words, don't need a visual to have already met...and someone knows what I mean. I said what I said. You know it. I know it.  I follow. You follow. And there it is , as I eat, as I pretend to not notice. Your black Honda, near my black truck. Rust spots on the front of the car. Ear phones always in...those sunglasses. I shouldn't notice should I. We can all pretend. It's how we all work...as one, together, and yet a club of lonely hearts. He knows what I mean. Nathan knows what I mean, of which I suspect he's found someone to settle down with. I hope so, like Jordan R...I hope he and his wife are doing good. Which this isn't gay-straight, or relationship desiring stuff...it's something else...just these quiet types. Solitary types. It's not a cry for help. This is what I mean. It's not something that needs attention, but rather, aims to embrace. The younger are here and on the way, and we are among that thread. The determinate space, these words, can be all wrong, this splitting isn't what I mean as I signpost and detour...This is what I mean. We are together. We know it wherever we are. Theres a group that will go through the same. So it does mean, we shouldn't be so guarded. Black honda...maybe, he can fight through it and club me over the head and take me to his cave who knows. Which means...I don't now, like to play charades....to wonder why are you so fucking nutty...or maybe something else. It's odd. All is odd. WORDS....WORDS....ROUTINES...SOLITARY CONFINEMENTS...SMILING AMONG SANITARY CONDITIONS... For now, it's just so...watch dog over everyone else, until someone makes note, I'm watched too...the generation above us, they are still here, I sense them as well. UGA hat...Judge, etc...Yep a regular tragic ballet and we all know it. Ear buds...walking around, silent, black honda. He is truly interesting. I can't apply words to him. I wish I could. I can't. I like him around though even if  he's not so, into me. It's okay. There just something about him. I can't really say much. It's a mystery and that's that. I'll leave if that is what he prefers, but he does interest me, and it's not so literal. He came back. Among proximity after I said what I said. Maybe he likes me?  That could be nice. Or maybe, as usual, it's just one big misunderstanding. I think he's the decider of that. I didn't choose it. It's just the way these cards fall. I hope all have that connection, even as I have yet to have it. It' might come. It might not. It's just how it is I guess. Even for someone, she told me what's happening. She's not going to be here for long, and yet, she loves her family and she has done all to make sure she has given all to everyone she meets. She holds a gravity among us like no other and what is truly astonishing, is even with her influence, she can't experience her own significance. I think that is the case for all of us.

What I have learned from black honda is that old souls need not a visual or a world to follow matters. It can mean a variety of things. I don't care. Veal...He was straight and yet one of the most effeminate men I have ever met. He loved everyone. He was depressed at East Coweta, and I always remember him at East Coweta Middle. He was unhappy. He was someone who exuded love and yet he wasn't a desirable being, his design to be hated and detested, among the tight lipped crowed, and even as we had our moments...of a sadness we understood each other intently. It wasn't our world, wasn't our time. we were of a design among this existing mirror that was hell to pay. Straight or gay, of which we both represented the opposites, we knew we were together. The poor dears. Creatives. Smart. Not easily fitting into a mold that could be held to the mirror. It would be a problematic for us, even if we were simply being ourselves. He found his poor dear counterpart early on and the timing worked out, but it wasn't enough for him to check out fast like Adam. I get it. Still, I'm here among this endurance test and no, even if Nathan and me worked, the timing was entirely off. We care for each other, possibly, maybe he things I'm nuts...likely nuts, lol, but it wasn't, I don't think, meant to be. THEN, there is black honda, easily a construct among my own creativity, but it's just too delicious not to pretend at least, like Anne of Green Gables; But I could be entirely off and wrong. I'll have to own it if I am. I should eye fuck him one day. It would be funny. He can be straight. That would be funnier. Then I can breakout theatrics and he can stun gun me...at least there is something interesting to pass the time. Maybe, for me, it's just a never never land scenario. I'm to just keep it upbeat as everything else falls apart. I can handle it. It's not the first time. So that could be the scenario, and black honda, ear buds sunglasses, mystery could be straight, and in love...married. I can embrace that as well, and yet, he returned near me. It was nice, but as expected, it's likely a complete failure. So be it. It's just the life of other voices, other rooms. Most have something, and some have nothing. Wah, wah, wah. He's interesting though. He truly is, even if he is...you know, focused and attached to a design that doesn't involve me. Just observing the one in a cage. I can handle that. I expect that. Nice though to see the proximity, because it at least offers some sense of intrighe, some sense of hope that doesn't read as lost desire. I don't know. If he came up to me, I couldn't reject. That, I do know. If he rejected though, I wouldn't suffer. I expect it. I see folks with family, friends, and lovers, and realize in relatin to me, that scenario, regardless of the reason is a near impossibility. I'm to be a pure isolation it seems. So be it. I can take it. 

He can be straight. I'm fine. He reminds me though of veal, who was straight as well. Meaning there is something in the water, were I grew up, of a design that isn't at all guy-girl binary form. My friends. Most of whom, oddly, were straight, and we loved each other...they are all dead. A group gunned after them, and I am the last. Why? Not so sure, but I'm here, and I'm not straight. He's a lot like them. He's likely straight, lol, but he really is then. Veal in particular I can tell. Quiet. Observant. Not so into the mirror. Caring. He should have someone. Fuck me, he shouldn't be alone. I can tell this, even as he does his rounds. And here we are, this life. awkward, and at a loss. Where is that angelic...non existence that just works like a trusty switchboard operator and connets those who need to be connected.  She's nowhere to be found these days, so some of us, of a particular design, are to be entirely fucked. The modern existence I guess. I'll simply run off into a rural wasteland and paint I guess. Maybe that's what this era is about. Ice age grids, and a hollowing silence among those that don't fit in. I'm not so sure. But when someone seems to connect with that, in a black honda, I'm intrigued..and I can be wrong, and I can read between if I am. If not...drop by...It's okay. I can be the idiot. Not to worry. Am I just thinking too much and too intrigued for my own good. It's not like I would suffer in a way that couldn't survive. Just come up and mock me. laugh. I could take it. That's what I mean. How did we become these...isolated routines so far removed, when once upon a time, despite these odd, biological attractions, we didn't shy away. It wasn't merely biological so we were excited to run into each other, yet again. Seems like if we do that, it's all taboo. Why?  I'm here. I can handle the mockery or the love. Just drop by and stare...even with sunglasses. It's nice. Again, I can be wrong. I'll take the heat. It's simply nice to see one be around again. 

It's the same with certain people differentiated as women. I think of Stormy. I miss her and I also miss Pat, he's differentiated as a man. I just wasn't someone who really can find solace in the mirror. Why, I can't articulate, but the oddity is there....My friends and lovers are a mesh of confusion and I have to accept it. I can miss the mark, and I hope, folks get that it isn't a matter of creeping someone out, it's just a matter of having this sense of identity that is at an almost complete loss, without folks coming up to me to say hey...I'm here. It's okay. Give this a shot. It's likely to never happen, and I can accept being among the lost boys club of never never land...it seems to be my destiny...at least the creativity is always blooming. Something that I can follow is a welcomed gift...far removed from interests desring mirror play. Again, when a silent figure walks around and opts to park near me...after I said what I said, I have to wonder, of which I need no words, no visual, no type, nothing superficial to understand. I do wonder. He's a lot like veal. A lot like him, and we loved each other in a way that straight-straight couldn't understand. Adam was the same way. I miss them both. It was love upon first sight, not of a bodily desire, no, it was this energy, this sparkle in the eye, something familiar, something not so literal, like an attempt to literally paint the sky blue. It was love. It's gone though, but not lost. That's what I mean. Someone who gets this isn't trying to present. Rather, the are connected to the same matter that underlies. We could just stand next to each other and just get it. 

An impossibility it seems. I'll just have to accept that. I'm just fucking weird. It's all in my head, lol. I'll keep to myself, and leave the mirror, mirror, to itself. that's the beginning and the end. And as for the ass-antics of a family unit, smiling demons in a mirror, fake as hell, of which we will never rejoin, as they know their bullshit...and my good friends dead...it's simply work a job and move on until the eyes among this rock spinning around fire shut forever. That's that. 

I really do say crazy shit...it all may or may not be the case...but I mean...I wonder...I have to wonder...the outcome is the outcome...but I wonder. I think we are all fucked, even among indeterminate space. Here...we are fucked. I look forward to the day of finding a tomb stone that reads...here lies XXXX fucked to death. Something of that nature. I've seen funny tombstones, but something that doesn't sugar coat what this is...a decomposing trash heap of meat...and as we flow on...what all of that is...to be continued type of thing. It's not something I worry about...at all. It seems like a better event then what this mirror mirror world could offer. 

For now, to pass the time...Black Honda...and Telenovela scenarios that are merely speculation, but I mean...the day is less interesting without it. I even imagine folks cross-dressing and consider if certain people held  pajama parties...what cartoons would the select...era, genre, etc...and what would the theme of the pajamas be...I also think of people building fortresses...some build fortresses in the trees...maybe a treehouse, or maybe something impromptu...in kudzu, near creeks...along with an entire system of fort code...I imagine who has built a fort and who hasn't. If you are NYC you are just fucked in that department. I lived in the middle of the woods...it was all of the above, including adobe, log cabin style...etc...there wasn't really a TV. No TV. Not much for words...for a long time....even the words now...it's more performative. I can't really buy into these words as a basis of my existence. Maybe that's why I can say these things without concern. Even if one had words to my words...it doesn't mean much when you die, much like the empire of the dirt. The performative, more in line with words as art though...I think that can be worthwhile...maybe not a need to follow all the literals of the literal, but the methods and the overall landscape among all of the writing...Much like observing a good painting at a museum. One doesn't have to know the entire method to connect, but the overall sense of what the artist's process is about. I tend to connect first, in that way before I would attempt to outright know the artist, their name, and even look up more on what they are about. 

Alixe!

 Well...I hope not...but possibly maybe....I do think of Victoria...I observe you eating a cupcake upon our meeting again in seattle...you yelled at me in a dormitory, among liasion...I'm just so...impossible. I understand. I geuinely do. You wanted to shop for kitchenware, and I wanted to go with you. I did, but I didn't have skin between my legs. No one knew...but it didn't matter. What doesn't kill us, makes us stronger. It's a rock around fire. I just can't go with the mirror. I think that is the intrigue. I love in a way that is difficult. We all know this. When it's so easy to pass the test, I will do it all wrong. I simply say this in relation to purity ring...and also, you know, just noting that I don't want those caught up into a storm to think matters have failed. They haven't. It's not possible. Whe I-dog from Georgia, not of the US but you know...something tied to Europe said, he didn't like me...with V-other-dog from Romania...I loved it. Matters were going to work out in a way that was ironic. It's coming. We are together. Don't doubt it. I miss you all, but of course, there is always work to do. I miss you all, but in the end, we come back to each other, so don't feel lonely in the least.

I love the disdain your father gave me in the dormitory, and yet, I was in a fight with a family unit that doesn't follow. I pulled every single card the matriarch had to offer as the rest aimed for obedience to her. I held every single one of her moves with ease and she knew it. We can play it mirror, mirror, I genuinely don't care. I held her, regardless of what she attempted, and the rest, remained curious, of which considering this impenatrable system that that in many ways remains penetrated, I failed in a way that succeeds like taoism....an embrace of contradiction, an embrace of through the opposite we remain dynamic, to get to the good we go through the bad, the studious, the dumb, the living, the dead, etc...of an interplay that will perplex most. And then it is Alixe and a cupcake. So gentle. Seattle. Someone still living under the shadow of a body culture that isn't at all who she is. She's pure beauty. I know it. Those around her know it. In the mirror doesn't matter, but she was made to belive the mirror is all that matters. It doesn't. Your heart is a swan's love. I've noted of you. Don't fear....even if I hold you to a polemic, the motivation isn't what you would expect...shine...be grace. I genuinely hope you found someone who is loyal to you. If they found you and they left, it would be the tragedy among all tragedies. We can know this together. Fuck everything else. I hope you have the finest of all dishweare in your flat or castle. It doesn't matter. The rock is still spinning and the fire still burning. We didn't start it, but here we are. Hugs. That's what I mean. 

And from the look...I think A-Dog's father wanted to strangle me...if he did, it would be most appreciated. It's hard to be loved when you are this kind of design. I appreciate the disdain. It's not a mirror, mirror play...that's refreshing, and yet, I understand how I could set the veins on fire, and yet, there is no confusion, I know who I am, and what I am tied to, even if the family unit is so fucking clever to arrange matters in a way where it is going to blow up in an entire network's face, as this so-called unit manipulates a network they are not to manipulate. It wasn't my decision...rather the father figure that reads the comics unlike his brother seems to be so much smarter than me to make a pact with his daughter to rework son-to-king in a way so the son is trafficked like a bitch, and yet his mom, I picked her cards so surely I have no idea what is going on, even as I attend University of Edinburgh.  I mean there is a fight, and I don't back down from a fight. Even as I love Nathan. He should know that, and it would be easy for me to settle down...Though....I can't put myself on a platter that seems normal. I have to fight the good fight, among those arrogant enough to run this game in a way where they can't even fathom the irony that is a dead scene. So there  you are, with the husband..."sister"...that you setup on the fake consulting scheme for money laundering plan, per the ass-antics of your father who is on the inside to the outside even if he is dumb as shit, the same asshole who chased you through the woods to beat you up yet again, as you run up the driveway with blood soaked sweats..but you are his...and I am...of course, someone who is to be among your plans and yet again, I picked the matriarch's cards every single fucking time, straight to hatred, and divisively towards the one who will never hold a nickname, and yet, you...the obedient one's are going to teach me a lesson...sure thing! Pretend. I'm okay with it. So...at Edinburgh, and the lesson has arrived, and I go into complete formation. My only regret, still to this day, and that doesn't mean I do not care about anyone else, but still to this day will be Nathan. He didn't deserve what happened. It's not Hollywood romance. Jordan R... can be the witness. I didn't want to hurt someone who did get hurt. I own it. And Alixe can yell at me like the day she did at the dormitory with H-dog. It's okay. I'm vicious, in a way that cares, but sill, vicious and frustrating for the fire hearts. I'll own it. 

Hugs, in the hellfire sense. Nothing to pretend. I miss you all, and not within this context of what I need. Fuck what I need. I want you all to have what you need. I can handle my own. Fuck it! 

I want to live in the middle of the deep wooded area...and build an adobe village....or live in a van and roll around the states....and Canada...and Mexico if there is time...might have to simply vacation in Mexico...roll around the other two...not really sure...where am I going with this...who knows..It's like in Chicago at the museum of science and industry...it was very industrial....then I entered into a funhouse exhibit with a maze that was trippy as hell.  I think of Robert Anton Wilson and Timothy Leary...not inclined to take matters on the page, the television screen, or institutional promotion too seriously...especially when tripping balls. Balls. 

More of...that bullshit

 So you are dealing with someone, who already months ago came in the breakroom running an absurd fucking line about getting rich, like the guy from London, at the chiropractor, even upon opening the door, he doesn't turn at say a 90 degree angle, but we were both approaching the door, and he did an entire 180 degree, with a cheshire cat grin, like that creepy kid on Christmas story that kept staring at Ralphie in line...nothing odd there. As he left, he asked me about AI and making millions from it, which I gave him my best. The table is set, so there you go, loves, the grabbing hands take all the can. Hasn't been my flavor, but it does seem incessantly throughout my life it needs to be my fucking flavor....

So...when the youth comes in, as I am working in the back, doing my job, of processing out spoiled items...we want to ask over 10 questions of me, in succession, of which that money matter was sandwiched in between, and the nonverbals, including smiling at one's clever series of ass-antics, in asking questions of me, while not even listening seemed like fun for him at the moment. I then asked him, why are you doing this. To tactfully give him the hint that he is entirely off with me, with this game. Then, he persists, with more questions, of which I field, and yet, I already knew what I was going to do next, as I am trying to do my damn job...what did I just say? Of which he laughed and said he didn't even know, which I already followed a long time ago, and he thinks the disrespect is humorous. Why? Why is this funny? I am likely more than double your age, graduated with a few degrees, did a lot of things outside of that like music, informatics, and now art...of these rigors of process. I'm that, AND I have what I need, kid (classroom ass-antics w/ someone double your age = Adult N/A). We are on a rock, spinning around fire, the empire of dirt is a wash, and you need to run the clever routine with me like I'm not onto you, including the ass-antic in the breakroom. Then as I tell you to please leave, you want to play it up like you don't know what's happening. So you did the irrationalizing routine, and now you want to dig a little deeper, in the entirely wrong fucking way, to irrationalize further. You know what you did. You can roll the cameras and see how absurd that was. The line of incessant questioning...and as I am talking, there are those fine noverbals, of you thinking to yourself and even smiling at the next question line you are about to feed what seems to be a puppet on a string to serve your need to pass the time. And I was very clear in already knowing when I asked...what did I just say, one would be at a loss, and yes, that would piss anyone off. You are soliciting me, you are engaging my mind (when I am working) in a way that intends on disengaging in such an obvious fucking manner which is adding insult to injury and you think that is fun. It's not fun. It's complete disrespect. You can stay away from me. I don't treat people that way. It's like a grown adult acting like this is high school and asking the teacher a series of questions to waste the entire class's time. Leave that shit in high school and dig a little deeper in the other direction. When you converse, aim to make a connection. Life is short, and people matter. I've seen too many people come and go far too fast in this life. It's not a game. It might seem amusing to you, but it's not to anyone. Especially, we, the older adults, likely more than double your age, who are not your same-age buddies or day ones. Grow up. You ask a question mean it, don't attempt to play games at someone's expense...like the one who can't follow what you are doing...if I don't say anything. Sometimes I don't but I've got work to do...and I'm done after I drop that tactful hint...which most folks, up to no good would have got that one and exited, but you kept going. Great! 

At the end of the day, people around me are respectful...but it only takes one, and among a particular networked play, sure, you got my background which means I'm fun and games for you. Arrogance. Tell you what, do what I did academically, if you want to play it up like that, then come back and try that shit again...then you will understand how disrespectful that was. Most people can follow that, not simply of someone with my background but in general my age. It doesn't stop. At all. Ever. 

It's the way matters go for those who hold mindful rigor who reside on the lower margin, which isn't a hand up, or hand out, or hunger, or any other framed deficit. I'm fine and dandy with my life among my mom and art, but for some folks striving for the fucking mirror, with some superficial fucking framing, they need to have that go with me. I am tired of this shit. When does it stop! And when there isn't a manager around...here we go again. That bullshit. 

You like your money...Great, like that shit. It's fine by me. The world's a beautiful mess and people are different. If you are into rigors of process, then keep up...isn't your thing, fine...and yet, live and let live, not at all. It's gun for me, with some irrational fucking framing, coupled with the very disresepect of carrying on like I'm chopped liver when anyone of a similar background already knows, the vast majority of people are never going to hit that competitive mark academically like I did. Once upon a time that warranted respect, but I mean, when you are in the lower caste it seems, fuck this alumnus...let all throw rocks at the fucker until he's off his rocker. No one should have to deal with this ever. My success isn't your opportunity to fuck with someone...and it's easy when you flat out don't give a damn in a variety of ways, because I have observed how you think of your job and treat many of the people around you in ways that they don't really appreciate. And now, it's my turn...again. I'm going to raise hell if you even flinch in my direction with that bullshit.  Take your mentality, your attitude, and your ass-antic games back to the kids table. I don't have the time. 

Even in the opening line of this absurd questioning, one remarks the previous coach of the online department, hired him on the spot, and why do I think that is, when others hired took a lot longer?  Okay...seems like there's something there I should fear I guess, or maybe have a concern, when at the end of the day, I'm here to do a damn job. How about that! And another oddity, is soon after the ass antic, then all of a sudden, we have customers asking me to search for items in dry grocery in a succession that doesn't read as mere coincidence, but it could be. Still, it's a bit odd, and regardless, the series of questions coupled with not even listening as I answered the questions you directed in my way...disrespect. It's so nice to see what the value system is in this country. You could be dumb as fuck, but hey, you got money, that now takes authority over any matter of mindful rigor...can we see where this bullshit is headed. So by all mean, feel free to disrespect again, and watch hell, fire and fucking fury coming at your ass. I'm done. Managers want to dip out and let this go down, it's corporate and lawyers, and emails to every organization around...everyone want's to sleep on this behavior...it's fun and games...got it. I'll just take matters into my own damn hands, and it's going to be a fucking mess by the time I'm done. Again, I'm done.  I come into work, to work. I am not a big talker when there is a task at hand...but yes, I like where I am at and the people....but then....hit job in such an obvious fucking way.  You ask questions but you do not listen....you drop subjects and find amusement at what you are getting at....disrespectful games when I am trying to keep up with counts and do my damn job....

Pissed. Anyone else sure as hell would be pissed at that as well.  Waste someone's time and roll up like I am your puppet on a string and drop subjects like...hired right away...job doesn't pay enough...why not go for the money....tell me how does it all work....so on and so forth...like I said I am ready to raise hell over this.  I come to work to work.  And you are at liberty to play it up in my direction...hell no.  

I do not think of myself as better than....nor would I waste someone's time with games...pissed! Double your age and that is what I am...the one of a level of respect like that of your friends half my damn age....again, not to mention my background which isn't to count.  Even among the workplace that had been indicated.  So if you have money and you compete at one of the best unis...it is respect.  If you aren't adorned with material frame then it is a golden ticket for folks to still to this fucking day dog you out and drag you through the mud.  I mean you don't have money so clearly you are a dumbfuck in my irrational dimwitted book....makes so much sense.  Should I play trivia pursuit to prove myself because that is what you expect post grad....to constantly be in need of proving for folks who can't even acknowledge they didn't do this...not my thing, or even flat out studies weren't my strong point....we can't be all strenghs...we cant be everything to everyone...no need to be insecure....can't be an easy feat...obviously strongpoints to hold that achievement....cool.  He's doing his thing.  And I am interested in other folks doing their thing....but here we go....the insecure and arrogant playing that fine game of disrespect...so you want to size up to me with some half baked, contrived set of questions you initiated all the while checking out on everything I say.  Great.  I am your toy for the time being to pass the time along with subjects that smack of framed deficit, that smack of arrogant superiority, of the one holding the silo of knowledge to me when last time I checked knowledge runs through....so when you converse...it is to be genuine...there is an effort to understand especially when you are firing away with the questions....and when they keep coming....when all indicatons demonstrate you checked out....and the only focus is to catch a quick clip of something and focus further on something contrived...to observe your own amusement as I talk. When I even call out what did I just say, and you laugh and do not know...Pissed. You asked the questions. You apparently wanted to do that and I wasn't for a meeting of the mind....so what was it?  What were you doing because that was an action! What purpose was the action serving.  All may ot may not be the case...but I do know you solicited questions.....all the while you were not listening, so why ask?  What was the intent because an exchange of idea was observably not driving this action.  Am I the hollow body here to amuse you? To be tacitly belittled to achieve something, of a particular dynamic...You wasted my time, all for what purpose.  Considering your humorous expressions that you could not hold back, while I talked, there seemed to be a need to achieve something. What were you achieving? 

You ask the questions and you are not even listening? What is driving this?  What does this establish? 

Genuinely pissed.  Not disturbed. Pissed! 

Even among conversation, question after question?  Conversing?  And you are not listening?  What does this serve?  

Why do that...shall we pretend?  It was all innocent?  

So nice to see the workplace is your house and you can treat people however the hell you please.  Just an innocent conversation with questions firing away and not even listening to the answers, of what this mind is worth....hollow body to serve....Guess it was the entertaining hot air that inspired you to continually ask a question, check out, cherry pick, ask again...and again, and again...because this is what a conversation does, this is what genuine connection is about.....question, question, question, question, question, until it reads wrong....question, question, hint what are you doing....question, question, question....what did I just say....????....please, get out of here.  Games.  Disrespectful games! 

And when you consider the entire context...someone in the breakroom putting that hit, about making money on you...London smiles, MI6, soliciting in such an odd manner desiring an opportunity with AI and millions...graduate school the MI6 liaison, immediately, roommate from Alabama, now at Vanderbilt, with the other professor, who was at a distance as my Aunt figure, who tried to previously catch me into an IRS debacle, decided, in our distant times, to offer a congratulatory dinner...like the rest of the family unit just so enthused, all of a sudden about my admission into graduate school...on the debate circuit that professor, Vanderbilt, at a distance observing...upon arrival, that roommate, Alabama, now at Vanderbilt...so I go from studious, responsible, to seemingly the one who can be portrayed among a family unit, who just "loves" me, with this fine play from a sociopathic father figure...who likes to beat women, pump fists and honk his horn at people inconveniencing him...not to mention place hands on necks while folks sleep...stroke anyone...have battery cables pulled and well what happens after that...fuck it. So trafficking ops by a fine unit as I am you know on the path that earned, now a silver platter for the criminals I'm related too...who like to smile in the mirror and pretend. Much like an in-law drops by and gives me that look, it's subtle but I get something is up. To all of a sudden among decades of almost not face to face interaction, we desire to come visit. I know better, and at least some of us in that group follow that too. It's off. We all get it. But again, it's off, like other voices, other rooms. So here we are, and someone is telling me about an odd opportunity, set up, involving yet again an Aunt figure, Father figure, and inherently considering when we are at the table with the family matriarch, first and foremost, you are to share in her politics of the minority being a varmint. So, yes, I am asked what it would mean to work for a consulting firm that never contacts the firms it consults. Just sits in a room passing along half-baked ideas, the book is shut, then everyone is paid...and when one delivers an actual solution for an elevator problem...to the manager and the manager thanks one for an actual solution and makes clear never to let the team know of this...I mean, when the team knows they are caught up into a trafficking scenario and you do that, and they realize you are still in the process of being trafficked...and this is a Georgia Tech grad...must feel real nice to get that backhand. And again, when asked specifically in the kitchen...and my response...I think it's money laundering, and that nervous laugh and fake as smile from the sister figure, responding "that's what we though." No love, that's not it at all. You are a liar. Maybe if I'm not working out, you need another body to gut out so you can run slavery 3.0...4.0...etc... To be a fucking family...So yes, in part of that trafficking. the critical aspect of that play is to share notes to a group in the mirror, looking respectable, that this is the one, of dimensionless existence that we are justified in treating this way. Then it's a spin of intelligence among an incessant onslaught of pawns, ready to server for their opportunity, half assed in everything because they don't give a fuck, just gunning with the notes because it's just that fucking easy. Here we have the grabbing hands...the one at the surface...we have our records to prove, he's a meat body living in a meat world, among the mirror, disconnected...he's the one below us, he's the new slave play, our very own ichneumon wasp candidate...build him up, portray, headstone for the broken-hearted type of shit...listen to the little devil talk. We knew who he was all along...and yet, that play...and of course the wolves in sheep clothing dolling up the sheep in wolves clothing...I mean when it's seeing is believing, no air to breathe, no process of behavior traced, just that pretty fleece we can all trust, much like the innocence of a sister figure killing with kindness and playing matters innocent. How lovely...and when it's all said and done and enough Darwinian wasp bodies are in play...I mean, certain groups, of wealth and power, at least if we are being superficial, but you know these people of a design  orienting toward the rigors of process rather than the plays of superficial supremacist allure (money anyone) will be back in that violent blood bath again. 

So among this macro context, you fire away at these questions...and even guide the matter to why not go for the money. I'm entirely fucking pissed. I'm going to work to work. Not take a hit from your youth gunning for his opportunity, too goddamn clever to even realize his arrogance. Like the sister figure...just all innocent. Don't know at all what's going on there. It was all innocent. I mean to happen to guide IDK, someone who seems to be divorcing you into a money laundering scheme, and once caught up...human trafficking anyone?  How nice. 

Cool! Just one big misunderstanding, over and over again. To be this fucking smart, and take your shots with someone who can raise hell over this...by all means do it again, I'll strike up the writing, this fine time of me needing to be among determinate space, and start digging a little deeper and disclosing a lot more, that isn't going to bode well for anyone when it's all done. Go ahead...youth. Get your opportunity at my expense today. You want a game...I can flip this in a direction that will be pure hell for a lot of people. Keep it up. 

You want to live it up like the lives, LIVE, on the television screen...because it seems to be making it...you know the great carrot machine that we all are to chase...by all means, this is fun and games for you, among matters of small world network. I mean if you want in on this acid bath...it can easily be arranged and all without your permission. I'm born into the shit. And yet, I mean, when it's fun and games. Now, what did I just say? When all looks so nice? And yet, when the older crew on this rock spinning around fire follow how it actually goes down. Go ahead. Get your piece of pretty hate machine hell today. Let this existence be your very own quest for an empire of dirt so you can sit in your death bed, blitzed, not even capable of getting what just happened. I should go for the money? I should go for the money? Why not go for the money? Money! It just seems so innocent doesn't it. I mean, when you are not tied to matters small world it can be...and here you are fucking with small world just because you can because some industrial starfish is in-need of getting at me through the mindless dribble that will set up her chop shop for breaking all matters democratic entirely down. Kind of like when admitted into University of Kentucky, with the help of her trusty smiles, next door, we can surely make the entire produce department and entire wreck as I walk in each and everyday...and when you are smiling to my face, being a "good friend" like I don't see past that bullshit...I mean you certainly don't like the new wlamart symbol, because of what it represents, 6 points. Crosses to Hypatia. Christian Social Party to Nazism. Martiarch jerking the back of my hair quoting every 50 years, and naturally I am the minority varmint. I mean, when you skipped the books and have a lot of fuck you money...that's living! Dick on expensive shit. It looks so easy doesn't it, and I mean, being so loyal to any and all including starfish that skipped the books...I mean it will get you closer to the dick on expensive shit bug light. Shake hands with beef. Real doll time. Go ahead, get that shit. And by all means, gun for me, I'll roll out a hell of a lot more then. If that's the direction we all need to take, then let's do this. 

Get to know me, in that way!

And someone selling their ass out to play it up pawn. By all means...It's fun and games until you know, small world gives you your wish.  Not born into this...most don't make it. If you can't move pieces...and who really would if you are not born into the bullshit. But it does look so pretty pretty, and naturally, my desires that didn't "know what I want" desires art, works at Walmart, and opted to come back to hang with my mom because we are very close and we are always good for each other. But man, I'm missing out on life arent I, and this is your fucking place in this world to gun for me however the fuck you please. Come on, player. Bring your games to my doorstep again. Come...my...way. Let's light this shit up! 

All can welcome you to this cage play. Emerald city gold, have at it and me however the fuck you please. Let's go! Bags...Bags!  It's all about the bag. Get it! 

Racism and the Cosmopolitan

 Again, it's not at all upsetting but the same tired play. A forced conversation using dichotomies in the mirror such as gay-straight, black-white, so on and so forth, and no that wasn't a coincidence along with ears closely afar, in a way to you know...get the hit job hearsay. Which okay so we asserted to me, someone I haven't ever had a conversation that trans is essentially used to disguise pedophile personalities. Hmm...that remark with someone you haven't conversed with and so easily dropping that line with J-Dog listening in. I wonder what that is about. Much like the assertion of people colonially differentiated as black using racism as an excuse for laziness. We've never had a conversation in our lives love, so why that framework as one converses along with ears circling about, attempting to look oblivious and yet that wasn't the case at all, much like J-Dog standing at the front of the department. It wasn't an accident, of which naturally I suppose that should have matters all caught up and yet let's be clear....

All of these fine matters in the mirror, of dichotomy, may or may not be the case. I would suggest beyond the generalizations and speculations, take matters case by case. Would it be about answers or asking the right questions? 

What if we took the opposite of straight, like straight is used to cover pedophiles. There is that assertion, but it is obviously irrational, so there wouldn't actually be a need or place to engage a meeting of the mind, in relation to matters grounding into the consistency of design.  But there is that play of racism and the cosmopolitan of the lose-lose bind, where it can just as easily be a morsel of irrationality to further irrationalize, of the one who didn't unintelligibly fight against the very notion of one who is trans couldn't possibly be something bad or underhanded where one embraces the dichotomy at the surface, rather than the dichotomy squared. Why that framing gay-straight pedophile. Why not black-white pedophile, or good cop bad cop pedophile, maybe strangers-friends pedophile. meaning the choice framing in relation to the assertion wouldn't be random or accidental and those ears listening in. It's clever, but absurd. Much like this notion of racism as an excuse. Again, consider...

That may or may not be the case, let's take it case by case. Specifically, to assert the matter without a meeting of the mind, is indeed speculation first and foremost. All can have a meeting of the mind so case-by-case would be necessary, if we again, are grounding into the consistencies of environmental design, much like we reason insofar, just as human as the next, bleeding must the same, out of a womb of which we do not create, which isn't this matter of commercial forum, but rather the basis necessary to stabilize an order, of some form of rational constituency, at least among this colonial form of thinking, which differs from the informatic form of thinking, not yet in western institutions just yet. And while we all have the best of intentions, and couldn't possibly be running an network hit, as always, there still remains the irrational engagement of attempting to assert dichotomies in the mirror, of framing controversial topics with those dichotomies, to converse with someone, in a way that intends the controversies of one among those plays of dichotomies, and yet, again, we reason insofar, these matters may or may not be the case, and still, without the in-between, we aren't getting at the dichotomies square, the dichotomy sandwiches, like conversing with one emphasizing process over supremacist allure, like say an intellectual-type, or types associated with post-modernity, or say one adept at tracing these abstractions among our behavior to consider what is actually at play, this need to hoist irrationalizing power over the one demanding rationalizing process, the one dimensionalizing among these fine complexities of context, that can be succinctly traced, contrasting with these conversations that intend on engaging in such a way to attempt gossip that runs with the dichotomy in the mirror play. 

Essentially, it's this attempted trap of sorts...oh racism is an excuse to be lazy, of which to respond, no, is simply the embrace of the dichotomy in the mirror. It would irrationally assert on this irrational basis. Again, it may or may not be the case, but regardless of the speculation, we still can have a meeting of the mind first and foremost, and indeed, for rational constituency. Again, when the ties to the southern plantation are in the North East, and the slave trade tied to European power, as would be the case among all avenues, there are irrational and rational minds. In my travels, in those I have conversed with, carefully, you have the rationalizing minds of lower and upper lots, dealing with the same horseshit...the irrationalizing minds, skipping the books in a meaningful way, cultivating the very ability to trace patterns, including the patterns of behavior, this air we breathe, which entails more than mere seeing is believing, including the use of body-to-body dichotomies in the mirror while we converse. The person I was speaking with, while I do assume good, still the agency used, that is the environmental ordering necessary to even initiate the very process of the colonial language itself, was irrational agency, of no greater good other than embodied performance, of which assertions like pedophile, or lazy in the context of dichotomy in the mirror, would hold the conceptualization of bodies in the mirror; all of which props of the play of cosmetic authority that deems such a performance. The agency itself, doesn't derive authority though, as there isn't a pre-justification, to opt of such an environmental ordering, as their remains this arbitrary play...why does one need to embody for the other in the first place. Sure there can be post-justification, but the agency itself lacks a stabilizing grounding and throughout the layers of written record, this is the agency that takes hold, then grounding into the instabilities of group sentiment, destabilizes inevitably. It's just a matter of time. Something authoritative requires a basis that grounds into the consistencies of design, like out of a womb of which we did not create, reasoning insofar, invoking a bound that grounds matters, which is why matters of citizenry, by design, would remain distinct from say, plays of commercialism and subjectship, if a society is to remain stable. 

I'm not so worried about this, and the utilization of these dichotomies isn't often followed, but the ears in-tune, very much so. I think in such times, refraining from positionalities and questioning in a way that brings assertions of the unintelligible mirror, again mirror dichotomy play, back to a meeting of the mind where the mindful process is emphasized over the supremacist allure. Where one can follow notions away from a simple dichotomy into how dichotomies actually work, which are generating the divide, in action, among ideas, to catch matters of process up between that divide, like Prince's articulatoin of this in his Controversy video. Ultimately though, the killing field, isn't a fight between two sides in the mirror, but rather a fight involving the group that likes the play of divide to target the ones who are to be caught up until they divide, of a design that is more in-line with notions of matriarchy rather than patriarchy, nto in the since of two sides of an aisle but a triad, of the group driving the divide, and the one desiring interactivity between, of a process between, like a meeting of the mind, to disrupt that play of divide. Those benefiting from such a divide, will gun in a variety of ways, including propping up people who are simply conversing to gossip, and yet how the conceptualized veiled to what seems like innocent conversation, coupled with ears of certain personalities in-tune to that conceptualization tacit among the conversation. And tacit, referencing tacit knowledge, like one finding their center of gravity of a bike, of a particular form of knowledge, where the rider doesn't have to be explicitly aware of their maneuvering to hold some form of competency, and yet, even if they are competent of their maneuvering, even if they hold forms of explicit knowledge, that doesn't mean the hold explicit knowledge in relation to such maneuverings. Much like one can observe a power point presentation on how to ride a bike, and still remain at a loss about the tacit form of such maneuverings until the get on a bike, to experience the way in which they achieve a center of gravity on the apparatus. The point being, that explicit and tacit are not inherently linked together, one doesn't inherently follow the other. We can maneuver well, but that doesn't mean we are so great at the explicit understanding and vice versa. We can veil ourselves toward an understanding among ignorance, etc.. Like Taoism's good through bad, bad through good, of this morphing or sorts. A lot of people are good at maneuvering but the explicit knowledge in relation to the tacit maneuvering, from observation, is rarely ever followed by most speakers. They speak, and yet the agency they are using, in use without a consciousness of it. The point, it's easy for certain minds to enlist and use others who are understanding their world in a way that lacks full awareness. 

And again, this is among determinate spaces. The man on the run....the move me like a controller play...talk-talk...the depeche mode leave in silence type of matter. It's not matters challenging notions of the universal, like that of the non-literal forms, involving indeterminate spaces. I like both, and sure, I don't have to remain in this determinate space, but i do like tracing patterns as I converse.  I find the entire matter intriguing, and attaining an awareness of the maneuverings doesn't come easy, but when one has it...it is odd. Much like my previous post of the movie Forbidden Zone, the lend of the colonial language, really does work like placing a paper bag over one's head. Is it evil? Not inherently so, and yes, when on the larger lot plan, there is a need for a power play to run matters. 

For me, I'm the small fish, simply intrigued. Interesting world. Interesting conversations, all of which, may or may not be the case. It genuinely is a lot of fun to explore these ways in which we interact. Meaning, even if someone is on the power play, would that necessarily mean one is out to get someone, not likely, if you are a small fish. It's just, we need a language lent and a paper bag over the head, which will not work in relation to me, but I applaud the effort. 

Again, I wouldn't assume these measures are hateful, but out of power play necessity. It works most of the time, as one's tacit aspects, involving this way in which one relates to the language, aren't likely grasped enough not to get lost among the muck of dichotomy play. It will not work for me though. It's entertaining however. I do enjoy the patterns, and it's interesting to see the words flow, the agency masked, and the one being aware as they are unaware, and I don't mean this as being smarter, or as an insult. Rather, it is a brilliant institutional form. 

And yes, it's writing...yes it could be the ONE ON THE RUN...but it's obviously not, considering the pop culture play, the introductions to newer institutional form, of dynamic arranging capacity, something the Western Institutional System lacks entirely. I'm not so...headstone for the brokenhearted but we could always pretend. Rather, I reside among indeterminate spaces, and make determinate spaces my dirty little institutional slut. I mean, when there is that newer institutional form of dynamic arrangement...it flips matters entirely, by design, no need for this play of splits on colonial medium. This institutional form, by design, at this very point, couldn't actually keep up, which isn't to taunt, but rather to highlight the very fact a challenge is within the Western building, so what are these so called institutional giants going to do about it...the younger crew, many of us, expect nothing. Just the same song and dance of a time once when, while certain personalities look the part and fuck off with the rest. That could be a taunt, or...it could be something beyond the inundations of sycophancy and nice-nothing. Dynamic forms of language development, wouldn't have to be an actual threat, but rather newer capacities, newer forms of competencies, including these manifested practicalities of cultivating newer industry...but when all are to celebrate the emperors in new clothes, even if their shit smells...it's the gloss of perfection, of which all should know their place, of some form of obedience, even if they are pist whipping their asses with newer institutional form. It's not say that is the case, but there really isn't much to say when the matter has been actually done, no? 

And sure, we all like our Western Culture...but there was a time, when it was an engine of actual innovation...rather than excuses and showboating...like make everything great again, which means, matters aren't so great, and yet, that's pushing a campaign. That's considered an acceptable idea by any American, to admit that as a good choice for the aggregate? To look to a past, to the good times...when? Like caravans toward a western frontier were all there to make everything great...again? Like that would have ever been the mentality of previous generations. Great....Again? Must we pretend? This isn't hatred or anger...it's cheeky, but not ill-willed. It's like we went from a colorful ball pit (like the one's we played in when kids), to maybe partying under a disco ball (big hair we don't care mentality), to something more reserved like ball room dancing (think Anna Wintour helmet, which is classic), to musty ball T-bagging. I mean we are all just...so enthused with EVERYTHING...Financial crisis, covid, tariffs, oh my! It's all so great again, and again, and again to the point of disbelief. 

Not from a place of being upset. No. I think a lot of us are past that point. We are simply over IT. We'll just go through the motions while another group plays it by the numbers and sweeps any and all challenges under the rug...it may or may not be the case, but there is enough there to make anyone at least fathom all of these fine missed opportunities among great again swishes, and must nuts in your mouth dreams...

Granted, Art is the focus, much like I reside among these interactions involving indeterminate space. But tracing these patterns among mirror play...seems needed at this point. At least in attempting to crack the sychophantic crust that has resulted in some not so good scenarios, my favorite being the opioid crisis, and I mean that GINI Coefficient...if we all need to pretend. For me, I have all that I want. It's not so much about hand ups and hand outs, but rather violent orientations toward the American people, which wouldn't be simply words, but an actual violent manifestation without the proper give a damn to even go around. 

It's odd. Maybe this is the future for everyone? And when it's opportunities like this, there's always drugs...snitches...and ho hos. THE PARTY IS HERE?...Mirror, Mirror...

The oddity

 Even when I say liason, I'm not meaning underhanded. Rather, it's odd in that at 14 there was this divorce. I went from almost failing out of school, to near the top of the class, top 5, which wasn't good...single-household, retail, and that was my life, completely removed for years from a group that wasn't at all a fan of me. Again, my tendencies were at issue. I attempt reconnection here and there, to you know, see what that entire family unit matter is, only to note of the indicated traps. It was never good, to continue distancing. So you work through undergrad, and it's all this matter or rigor and interest among those with the same connection. It's more of these conversations about research, interests, grad schools, for further research, etc... The graduation comes, admission into gradschool comes, then all of a sudden a group of smiling faces are there to now take an active interests in all of it. It's odd, but okay sure. Much like that graduation dinner, the first kind of thing, held for me, with a lot of odd association. Then, in a complete turn of events, yes, a liaison with the MI6, again, not assuming matters underhanded, coupled with this new disposition for me, of knowing what I want, when that remark, incessant, wouldn't make sense, considering the work I put in, the track record, the GPA's, the Extracurriculars, like I'm the game of grabbing hands, and I'm not supposed to follow what that means. Why not, research interests, and possibilities of further research, etc...or these odd questions, like what do you do?  Which of course it's not a matter of victim at that point. My interest hasn't at all been about the mirror, but it seems to be a portrayal at play.  Much like grabbing hands, grabbing all they can, like certain plays of pop culture presentation isn't at all something that I hold association with, and I'm out. I'm not associating with that absurd fucking portrayal, especially when one can look at the track record and why my application resulted in admission, but then again, if one is attempting to spin that as well. Let's be clear, single-household, retail, and this mysterious other half, a family unit, no associations, no communications for decades, with the exception of a few, that is sparing over those decades and fucking estranging odd, not to mention strained relations from the shit that happened in those first years. Again my tendencies. So, for me, fuck it, I'll just stay focused on substantiative matters, like nationalism, and real-time tacit knowledge, involving all matters informatics which is an interesting puzzle. Then again moving to New York and that complete same fucking oddity of a chorus now, that's consistent from the very inception of gradschool, of a complete 180 on who I am and the way to orient toward me, no longer of strong academic record and research interests...but what do you do?  Know what you want...Hi there, you must be grabbing hands. Your quest entirely superficial...and yet, let's see, divorce at 14, strained relations, schism really as phone records would indicate, especially after yet another odd trap scenario in the early 20s, which I didn't volunteer shit, I was asked to help in a matter that wasn't good at all. I did, and red flags galore I checked the hell out of that crap and kept my distanced until that fine renewed interest in me upon grad school admission, with yet, another set of odd behaviors. I guess a group of superficiality needs to win in that way, much like an in-law needs to figure out if a consulting offer was money laundering. It was. Again, great world, along with personalities in power, helping these people run the intelligence and gun for me, without evern checking the official records and noting of what they were aligning with. So I'm 2 universities, full-time, a lot of extracurriculars, full-time work, honors, and I'm superficial grabbing hands...Fuck you. 

Which like that portrayal there can be this new absurd portrayal, like the one striving for their own opportunity, but I'm at that age, where that's obviously not going to be the case. I'm also switching toward an art site, if it doesn't get cancled like pinterest, so yes, I'm reflecting among these fine matters of whirlwind and a certain prestige, more than inclined to take the hitlist notes, never do the research, and attempt to traffic someone with a strong academic record and all with a smile. How lovely. I mean could we not even make an effort on this...no. That has been the answer. It seems my admission to something mean I was more like an invasive species rather than a student there to study, and the word got around about me fast, the complete hit job that kept gunning even post, post-graduate...straight to hell. I mean the sister figure before that absurd underhanded play, of my photo at chik-fil-a the place not even made mention as she asked if I wanted to go with my nieces out to lunch, who this would likely be my second contact with them, face-to-face...all innocent of course.  And presto chango, this is their favorite spot...oh hey can I get that photo of you next to a statue of the founder...totally innocent there...after all I made my choice and I have one family. Kind of fucking funny considering we have almost no relations whatsoever, so did that run through the channel of communication, of did one of the faces seem to omit that part as well. I go from respected student, to grabbing hands, overnight, coupled with a lot of peculiar behaviors and it all seems to be in relation to these odd, violent, smiling faces, at such a fucking distance.  I guess you've won something. Congrats. I'm simply considering all of these matters. Much like it seemed, yet again, and in strategic fashion a sister figure wants to touch base on my birthday. We have had  sparing communications over the decades, and yet, there is this need to touch base with me. It seems so nice. Why? I'm sure we could take all at face value but when you couple that with these oddities...it doesn't add up. To care in that superficial fucking way, along with plays of association that would do damage to my life, and all with that nice-nothing, never a mean bone ever, act. 

Again, great world.  Great, GREAT, odd, world. I think though, my focus remains consistent, on my process, and let the train wreck have to itself, music, academics, painting, etc..much like arrogance of say...youth can frame deficits by all means...it so very opportunistic to do that in relation to me...like grabbing hands, which it seems all of a sudden upon even the first week of grad school that was what I was to be. Why was that?  And the liason relation...I'm sure it was all very innocent. I suppose I should be suffering or disheartened...I supposed should be regretful of you know, being the one derailed among a bid bad, let's tap shoulders of all things officious, all things military intelligence, including getting a neighbor, who killed a whole van of people at a construction site, a tap on the wrist by dialing up a federal judge biker buddy to you know, help him see the light...I mean the matriarch did it...including getting the father figure off of breaking federal law in high-school...the complete opposite personality as me...and I mean, when you are entirely irrational and you need to teach everyone a lesson, including pumping your fist at people on the road, passing them, slamming on the breaks...even going so far as to drag someone out of their car at a stop sign...I mean when you can behave in that way...maybe I'm learing a lesson?  Yep.  I mean when you have that power...maybe that's why there was this need to embrace upon admission..like cutting a check...for the cost of a college course...on the last year of my undergrad. I mean it could have been good will, or a pat on the back...much like that tag you placed on the front of my car, representing something soo American, and yet, upon further research it wasn't...though great material for little ol' me to be entirely caught up in a violent divide...it seems so nice at the sufrace, the words, the smiles, even that nickname "happy" and yet when one traces the behavior and the strategy that can be had with useful artifacts. 

Grabbing hands...yes indeed. You still, to this day, haven't grown up it seems, and when a mom bailed you out of every troublesome scenario you were ever in...and arranged matters for your heroic status...But then again, much like the innocent lunch with the sister figure and that strategic photo...I guess we are all to pretend in the mirror...to be this spineless and this cowardly. Good for you. Have it all, empire of dirt. It's not like we were ever together anyhow. But of course, angel in the mirror, not a bad bone, one cares in such a strategic fucking way, including branding association when there isn't an association. 

...and beating up the women in the family at-will...physically beating.  And when the matriarch would get you out of trouble for anything...including breaking federal law...when it is plenty of above the law, duck you money under the table....I mean whe that is your prop....winning and in that way....interesting.  Have at "IT."  Still on my process...

Art on the way! Great, great, world. 

More reflection

 I just think of that time in middle school. The whole area, via the olympics changed so quickly...so it's not even like I'm angry with anyone. Rather it's this international context that meets a southern context, of not a mere dichotomy, but a play of dichotomy sandwich, two sides, a hatred among diversity, of the same minds who enjoy playing the saintly part in the mirror, while running the violent bigoted behavior across the needed divide (struggling) gunning for that calico cat of love, poor dears, of the bleeding hearts among diversity. So, with the rapid change, yes, it's this...matter, where it's without a doubt, considering I did live in Europe, and know how to touch base with the right people, that a certain group holds a particular value system, and will certainly address matters once there is time for everyone to even get their bearings in an area changing fast. For me, I was the lucky winner to be in this transition phase, of which always that ignorant opportunist among the change, ready to serve as a neck that likes to devour the head, when the opportunity presents itself (and as for the cost of that play...but that's another story to play out). Anyhow, again it's this play, this spin of intelligence among southern churches, among the so-called righteous networks, even as the are out of a womb of which they do not create, of the struggle is real as they strive to improve matters in such a violent, fucked up way, of the dichotomy in the mirror with nothing in-between, smiling, loving, caring...fake as hell. Not everyone, rather, those with certain names in their mouths, among certain righteous forums, involving people not in their social circle, not attending their church, not at their house, not their flip phone friend....and yet, their name needs to be in someone else's mouth, which isn't merely gossip. So yes, that spin of intelligence, coupled with the neck attempting to subject that of which is not to be subjected, the head, and their newfound play of opportunities which can all be used to align with this fucked up play branded as south, but again, that brand was brought to you by an elite group that wasn't tied merely to the south, and it's always the calico cat of love caught all up in the controversy (see the Prince video). I mean little money, colonially differentiated as a white body, little money, colonially differentiated as a black body...that violent play can use you all up, especially among a group free to do whatever the like, regardless if it is someone minding their own. They fit the bill for the fucked-up need. That devilish play by the most angelic of personalities...not a bad bone in their body, which for anyone outside of such a play, that nice as ice, which always has the best of intentions for everyone, should immediately seem odd, but it looks so nice in the mirror, just a syrupy love toward the one that is...on the hit, bless their little ol' heart.  It's the south, that's just what southerners do? As opposed to people exposed to something a little more cosmopolitan, and likely a little more in-tune to how the world isn't always sweet, so why the act? This is what I mean. It's an adjustment entirely, but yes, I'm back in the area. Remaining, to address this and I get to hang with and support my mom, which  is fun for me. We are close. And what happened wasn't okay and there is indeed personalities from this region, enjoying their newfound association, and yet, their value system not at all aligned in terms of actual human regard, which wouldn't entail humanitarian brand to fleece plays of racializing characterization all the way to violent disregard....for the groups candle light vigil before the camera...and of course add in the arrogance of subjecting those you do not subject. Not a good idea loves. There is no luck to be had with that one, if you don't know what that means, you will. I mean, it's not like this kind of behavior isn't going to cross those you do not cross. Just saying. It's not a threatening matter, again, it's about aligning with the value system needed and understood in relation to a layering of written record...that does require rigor to actually trace patterns, and there are many out there who know it in a way like no other...and everyone should be held to a standard of rigor of following enough at least to note of and trace these bad behaviors, but that doesn't exist right now. That's not in play in this area, and it should be, but again, this whole area has experienced rapid change. I can't thumb my nose at these growing pains. My writings aren't intended to be frictional, but rather, helpful overall, which may or may not be useful. Still, I witnessed something. I knew it was entirely off, to experience and witness those of my design stigmatized among righteous avenues, by people who we all held no association with them. Again, that's not innocent gossip, and they were all feeling awfully emboldened by their new cosmopolitan friends, and yet their behavior in relation, not at all aligned, even if among the opportunistic forums they can put on the act for the time being...like it doesn't' catch up? And even upon my return, decades after what happened, and to witness the smiling faces carry on and act out in the same fashion, including those random appearances and a need to converse that fits the bill for spin the intelligence all with that good ol' nice demeanor, even as one is entirely full of shit. Like I said, there is a group, they are well in-tune to these plays, and know, you are not smarter, and no, you will not get away with matters. As matters adust, the mirror play...coupled with behaviors that don't add up..but again, I am at a certain place of work, and you can always you know, do whatever you like to me as I work. I say this, specifically, after the candy apple matter...which I would have assumed it was just an innocent repeat, but the response afterward, the almost manic smile, and that need to get away from me as fast as possible as I began to explain our last interaction months ago, not weeks, not days, but months...didn't seem to fit the needed narrative..and again, to have my name in your mouth, when we haven't hung out socially, we do not work together, we don't attend the same outside organizations...and yet, your group needs my name in your mouth. It's not innocent play. No need to figure out what your concerns are with me...rather throughout written record, those of a particular design, on the margins, among a group that has my name in their mouth. I understand you are the kindes of angels, and here to support every humanitarian cause you can muster, for nice shit of course, but that play, my name, in your mouth, purely violent...oh and well you are just working at the same store, randomly drop by for a conversation, still not working in the same department, not socially hanging out, not among the same outside organizations, but you did drop by, had that needed strategic conversation, and my name is all up in your mouth. Not mere gossip...and that play has a long record of violence associated with it...but as long as you smile and love EVERYTHING....

Again, it catches up. Still, when you are confident you are smarter...just skipped the books and fast-tracked yourself into knowing all, even when you can't actually know what you don't know...but you know. Your network of ignorance empowers you...so why not...just drop by, chat. Go and shop, does he remember...even months out...but one can leave that part out...after all, he didn't remember. Oh, that's what's at issue. Anecdotes, underhanded play, frame the deficit, even if entirely irrational. What does a degree of a particular university even mean, when the witch hunt is openly available to commence for the one of a particular design, and status that makes their stigmatization just fine and "dandy." He can be the child-like "creative" mind that doesn't have to be taken so seriously, despite offical record, and no need to even question the oddity of one not even having even the slightest of opportunities open up professionally, ever. Granted, I've moved on at this point. Still, it is odd, and yet, not one single mind among the bunch even traces that matter back, to question, the very lack of a basis to do that, unless, well, I mean there is the family unit, there is this matter of what seemed obvious to me when I was there, of human trafficking. Which I'm not saying the University name right now, because it is obvious, that's a very bad look, and if we trace the formation, not at all good. Let's see 2 universities full-time, working full-time, both degrees with honors, that's 33 hours I think a semester. One degree was from one of the most competitive policy schools in the country, the other, more like a junior college, not so difficult, but there was work to do. Still, 33 hours with honors. Clearly, I'm a totla fucking idiot who can't remember anything (sarcasm). I guess it was luck that got me through one of the worlds most competitive universities, even as I carried a lot of people in the group work, and I mean, the finance class, the entire class, used my mathematical modeling. I am...surely, since the human trafficking failed, and as a group of industrial fuckwits attempt to cover their asses, a total fucking idiot (again, sarcasm).

Great world!  And naturally, I mean I just didn't try hard enough and I'm making excuses, when 2 universities full-time, working full-time, honors, tone of extracurriculars, from high school through college, along with a family who just so happens to love spinning intelligence and I mean, when money under the table isn't an object...what is it sister figure, I made my choice, you have one family bullshit...coupled with I see my nieces for the first time in likely a decade and a half, and that innocent drive to where they just love to eat...and that strategic picture you take...not to mention the oddity of the second visit shortly after, involving a so-called "consulting" firm of which the question was asked directly to me, what I thought it was, and I made clear, the experience described, that consulting firm is a money laundering operation...kind of like being at a record label with an IRS audit, involving what could be criminal activity. Oh and let's not forget the Uni over the pond with H-Dog, wanting to be a bestie, and the liaison between me and the class...father works for MI6. It's not to say anything bad, but you know, intelligence family...cousin living over in Moscow as well. 

Again, great, GREAT, fucking world. To be born into this shit. But yes, let's all do pretend and my favorite play these days, elevate at my expense. Good for you. The one who has a record like few would ever have, matters you know did what they did, and here you are, on stage ready to live your best...and what better way to prop yourself up, then play me up for your benefit. Bravo. I'm so happy for you. 

And then, there was folk art...which again, in that regard, matters are good. I'm at that age now, where, for those in the mirror, planes are likely landing, and in my case, I'm taking an incline back to at least sea level. Not exactly at a loss, nor am I a victim, and all matters mirror, I'm at that point of complete disregard for...professional-looking liars. Life just has these paths. Some seem so harmonious, others entirely fucked up. Mine, is somewhere in-between. Meaning, I'm hyper creative, which includes techical-logical activities as well, with good marks, btw. So, I can do well in school, then go out and play in a band, or take on a variety of creative endeavors, including programming or art. It's just something that comes with more ease than many, and I'm not saying that to prop myself up. Rather, it is this source of wealth which has been fulfilling, and I'm in-tune to matters of process, so it's not this need to present...which those who knew me as a drummer, and knew me as an academic that had similar backgrounds, to be very clear, would already know, yeah, someone pushing that hard at something, they enjoy the process...it wouldn't be about a desire to be among the mirror, or eat at a table set that was never theres..but like I said there is this family unit, evil as hell, smiling like angels, pretending, and doing what they love to do spin the intelligence, and I mean, when one is you know, on the texas-mexico border, in a position, and women seem to be going missing among plays of trafficking...and of course I'm being forewarned, how vicious the matriarch is, etc, etc...and the friend tied to the MI6, who served as the liaison between me an the class. It doesn't add up. You know, if we talk to people who played in bands with me, or those who competed academically at the same level with similar records. Not many out there...but no one really needs to look into that do they. Especially when the one's with so much fuck you money are trying to hide the fact, from the most powerful group over the pond, that there was a trafficking scheme and they were using them to have that go. Not a very smart thing to do, but such is life. I can be more than happy with what I have, and I am at that age where Art is indeed the focus, and has always been a major focus for me everywhere I go, even if I didn't opt to paint until much later.  Let's just say, certain song birds, kindreds of the creative, kept encouraging me to pick up the paint brushes eventually. I have. Seems like I'm at home with it...what a surprise, lol.  

Paintings Coming Along

 Folk art is the focus...Today I worked on my paintings...one is a fish, the other an old grocery store log. It's a lot of fun. Still in the trial and error process though. I like it though. Elegant decay. Something that isn't so...in the mirror. I'm in love, lol. Today, really was a lot of fun, and interesting, in that I am on this forum, not on a polemic, but simply reflecting, between spaces, of Gabe C. and Drab C, a bridging, addressing matters among determinate spaces, while away from this screen, embracing indeterminate spaces as I paint. It's a calming day overall, which considering everything written, it does seem ironic. I shouldn't be this pleased but I am. The impact of Art wins every time I think, not art as presentation but rather art as a process, where one explores and keeps exploring until one falls in love with a particular medium or mediums and the process involved. This is the beginning of something beautiful I think. I will attempt to share, but knowing how things go for me....CANCLED, lololol. 

I mean, I am known for being a Honey Badger Le Pew. I can empathize and still give hell. 

Pinterest Suspended

 ?????? Always. Every time for almost any account that I open, not pinterest, just anything I open, I go through this. A lot of people, no issues at all. Me. Why? Who knows. Much like I am told that the account was suspended for...please see violations...

Hmmmmm....who knows! Mysteriously shutdown...

On a Different Note...

 I will be switching sites, which then the focus is on the art. The site isn't so much about a promotion, rather it's a need at this point. Meaning, I grew up with a lot of good folk art that is disappearing. We even, once upon a time, on the interstate next to the cannon gate golf course had a large folk art installation. I don't think a lot of people who I grew up with, even recognize how many cook pieces of art were around...largely because people aren't as obsessed with it as I am. Much like when I traveled around the US, lived in Europe and the like...all I cared about was the museum, galleries, artists...etc...which tends to take me on interesting and odd adventures, that are less literal and more just moments, to consider methods and how those would relate back to matters, aesthetic representations I grew up with, some possibly deemed art, and some simply just a creative work that wasn't maintained and yet had a quality that wasn't so easy to mimic. There's also the context, elegance among decaying hell and a beautiful boredom, all without the internet...and that wouldn't be a desire to return to my days of yore. Rather, it's still an experience I am always connected to, as everyone is connected to their areas of upbringing. It doesn't go away, even if it has been refashioned into a major metropolitan area. Everyone has a story, and seeing is believing doesn't get you there, unless and artist can tap into that in a way that holds connection. Who knows really what any of this will be, in terms of my work...but I do need the site considering I will be doing some pop culture works, of which cannot be posted on sites that sell products obviously. I need a place simply to present, so yes, there will be a newer site, focused solely on art coming our way soon...which then, I can simply hold focus there...I look forward to that...as I reiterate some serious issues among the area I live in. I obviously know how to survive and can handle matters. I'm not so concerned about me. I'm concerned about folks like me, first on the hit list, among angels spinning the intelligence, who will not so be lucky, and will self-destruct, of a nature, that even families over the pond can trace matters and follow, one of this nature, self-destructing in tandem...not a coincidence. There is a long his-tory of this. A lot of smiling faces, looking good in the mirror, with bigoted hearts, gunning for blood. Nothing new there. 

Not to worry though, it can all be Art!

And in my regard, matters have improved greatly. So it's not about me right now. It's reflecting on what happened, and even what a group could observe happening to me at my place of work, at least among the operations. As for old-ass racism greeting me with a smile, that's an entirely different story. Still, my focus is articulating to people, who are wanting to know, about some odd and peculiar behaviors, especially in the area I grew up in, that are not lining up, in relation to a particular network's value system. I'm fine at this point. Obviously, I can handle myself just fine, including picking the appropriate forums to communicate. Rather, there are guys, very much of my design, flamboyant, creative (which doesn't work so well with a gay-straight, dichotomy btw), who most, aren't going to be at all prepared to address what takes a while to address, in part involving personal preparation, in part involving time for matters to manifest where a group, not at the surface at all, can trace the interesting behaviors, always with a smile, always the angelic type in the mirror, nicest things to say, kindest intentions, and yet entirely full of shit. Again, it wouldn't be a matter where those who I share in a particular value system, would need to somehow internalize this. For me, it simply needs to stop. That's all. It sucks. I know some of the guys, who were like me, would be around, if certain personalities among these churches were addressed before they starting spinning the intelligence together and gunning. I mean, certain personalities love to play a game of veiled bloodsport. It's cowardly, but when your limp dick needs to "feel" empowered and you are irrational as hell...you buy into that good feeling you have when you gun for someone else's blood, of a design you hate, can't find the reason why, but they are a poor embodiment, and they lack any vantage of playing up to supremacist allure, so you cherry pick the anecdotes, string the matters along into a racialized characterization, stigmatize, and especially with newfound apparatuses among newer networks...you can quickly send the poor dear into their misforutnate event hell...and again other voices, other rooms, "feel good" about the hit job among your fellow bigots, of a diversity, struggling in such a way where the divide sets the permitted killing field, of a dichotomy sandwhich for the one, of a design, you don't like. This one corresponding to the ancient bitch, the ancient of the ancients, if we decide to trace back enough, like past the egyptian pyramids, shhh... I think when matters like this occur as well, words do nothing, of which is a matter discussed among associations of post-modernity, of which I wouldn't say I suffer. Suffering seems to require something foundational to understand. I don't think these matters are foundational at all. I think these are matters that sharpen the focus of the mind, where matters that appear so kind and caring, aren't that at all, and one then understands, to give a damn, there is this responsiblity to trace the design throughly, which isn't an easy feat, and certainly will be met with a series of abraisions, typically delivered in a flippant manner, as one takes what happened that wasn't okay, and light-hearted treats the matter in a way that sweeps everything under a beautiful visual...which in good times, a certain group, in power, will not allow that at all. Matters, such as this, are to be at issue and light-heartedness, along with plays that intend on removing the dimensions of context, in good times, would indicate more layers of what is at issue, and the angels in the mirror at play, in relation to the bloodsport of these local poor dears, who seem so humorous to a variety minds, even those who like to play the gay-straight dichotomy, and yet minds of process vs minds of embodiment, that would be among both gay and straight, so we use a dichotomy in the mirror, clean-cut, nothing in-between to contextualize, no acknowledgement of dichotomy sandwiches...and all these misfortunate events just keep happening...and no one has yet to figure the matter out. No families in Europe, Canada, anywhere? I mean when it's this easy to veil the killing...live from the TV screen, more if it bleeds it leads...just for you...the apathetic angel in the mirror....and our little smiling devils out and about for the candlelight vigil, aka too little too late, and that is completely okay...And I mean for anyone to even attempt to speak up on these matters...well she's to be a disturbance...shhh...under the rug...quick get junior for opportunity to lessen the blow of such a poor, poor, bleeding heart dear. Sure thing, it can all be art! I mean, for such an event, yes the response would require residence among determinate space...and we all know what that means...she's missing that deeper calling among indeterminate space...as for what happened...under the rug. To live in America! Calico Cat of love gunned down among the KKK-Uncle Tom the strggle is real...Dial up Kara Walker...It's not like the south is absent of certain minds desiring rigors of process...but that's right, it's the south, body-to-body, struggling for peace, struggling for humanity, help them run the hit list today, shhh....It's so sad what's happening...get your candles today and join in on tonights live segment, ancient bitch gone mad and devils with angel wings in the mirror on site to give thoughs and prayers...again, after the fact, SMILE.

Oh these teeth...

Is she going to be a problem?

 So here's the critical issue of our area...you have the southern dynamic, which isn't at all what's on the television screen, in the his-tory books, or you know really ever going to be at the humanitarian gala considering you know, a particular tie, say of the New York Yacht Club and Southern Plantations, shhhh... So naturally, one from the Northeast, is clearly the racist-free agent, like the European crew, PTC. In no way could the possibly be getting played. After all, matters are so much more...astute. And yet, let me reflect on the guys, of my design, who are now dead, and we were close as we made our way through high school. The one's who connected already sensing the stigmatization in middle school, and then keeping matters disassociated among the smiling faces, of their newfound money from across the Atlantic and their embrace of the new megachurches, like crossroads. Let's get to it. So, the South, and yet that distinction the South...well there is the divide, north and south. There are legitimate storylines, yes, and yet a divide can always be used, like Catholic-Protestant, Gay-Straight, Hutu-Tutsi, Christian-Jewish, Sunni-Shia, etc...divides are always useful. Of which, it isn't about answers but asking the right questions. For example, we have Palestine-Israel, we have Ukraine-Russia, and yet nothing in-between. Of shared communities who aren't so into these odd divides, loving each other across those lines within proximity, and yet that isn't ever to be "live" on the television screen or in the books. Of course not, then the role of the book and the television isn't going to work so well, in terms of how matters can get played. 

Not to really believe what I say, or even considering matters as conspiratorial. Rather one can trace matters themselves. So back to the South and the divide. Yes, the portrayal of the South simply a dichotomy, among people colonially differentiated among arbitrary characteristic, like blue eyes vs green eyes, or maybe green eyes vs brown eyes, only it's skin, white vs black because that makes so much fucking sense. And naturally the design that enlist the needed killing fields is a simple dichotomy in the mirror, body-to-body, among an incessant struggle, and yet, that's not how the killing fields are able to enlist. Rather, it's a dichotomy squared, of a diversity utilizing the body-to-body divide, gunning for another diversity, bleeding hearts, aka calico cat of love, raising suspicion, concern, running the intelligence to gun for these types that emphasize process over embodiment, creative play over supremacist allure, as the diversity that sets the divide fights hard to end the struggle that is so fucking useful to veil their measures that aim for the others violence. Of course, the over the pond crew here, and the northeast crew that came into town when I was in middle and high school, you couldn't tell them that. You couldn't say a fucking thing because they know all about the south, including the terrible inhumane tradition of the south, brought to you by a boat-set crew tied to the New York Yacht club. Yes love. You totally got it. It's the southern white bodies and the southern black bodies, simpletons, in the mirror, struggling, as the dichotomy gunning, of a diversity play into your stunted notions, to help gun for those of a design that families over the pond would already know, are going to be caught up in the cross-hairs, if not dunked in water, if not tied to a fire, if not hanging from a tree, if not just caught up in a misfortunate event, like on the margins (church intelligence works wonders for that shit, just remember keep it nice and veiled, keep it uncle tom and kkk with a rainbow flag)...oh poor dear, losing their job yet again...nothing to do with performance, just you know...I mean when a network can do whatever the please...yes, we stacke the files, we cherry-picked the anecdotes...based on our good word, they are someone who needs to be let go, again, and again, and again...all the way to hardship, hell, and yes, the sad, sad, misfortunate event that the group gunning, angels of peace, can now use for their close up candlelight vigil. We just don't know what's going on. This fire was always burning since the world was turning...it's just so...unfortunate and just so...hands falling conveniently short. So again, it's the dichotomy squared, aka the dichotomy sandwhich with the calico cat of love getting sandwhiched into hell, and when money comes to town, and the KKK-Uncle Tom crew get into the ears of you know the one's who are to be of a concern, the simple-minded southern idiot, who graduated from one of the best universities in the fucking world...right! Granted, naturally with the helping hand of the family unit, it was simply a trafficking play, even though it never was, but you can think you were moving the pieces all day long, two faced fucks. I don't care. It wasn't the case at all, and I've been keeping tabs on how the guys, designed like me, were killed off, even as you, with the help of your European counterparts, who I seriously doubt they realized what they were assisting, would prefer to sweep this matter under the rug. Not happening. No way in fucking hell will that ever happen. 

And maybe now, even for these newbies in PTC we can review what that matter of being southern actually means, how it is used...including exploring the forms of racism around the world and following that racism isn't a mere manifestation, dichotomy in the mirror, but an actual behavior that manifest a variety of forms, of which racism framed as a dichotomy in the mirror, puts the entire killing field into play, and can certainly sweet talk those belonging to families of certain measures into a measure of contradictory form. I mean, your family members were killed off in a similar fashion, and yet in the quest for humanity we serve a dichotomy in the mirror to gun for the calico cat of love yet again. Doesn't really make a lot of sense, does it? I can't say it's easy to follow matters of a region when one has dropped in, but to carry on like one couldn't possibly ever be played is fucking absurd, and yes, I think that entire orientation fucked a lot folks, of my design over, who aren't here today. By all means though, do try to sweep this under the rug. You know, it was just a southern matter, and yet nothing in-between, of asking the right questions. Why this need to conceptualize with the divides given that are so cleanly cut?  What are you about? 

It's not to say everyone missed the memo, rather in all avenues and forums there will be minds of rigor, orienting toward process, tracing the design, including tracing matters beyond seeing is believing, as the air we breathe still does exist. Meanwhile in these avenues will be irrational minds who most certainly play up to seeing is believing therefore the air we breathe doesn't exist, of the illogical standard, who think in terms of embodiment, including supremacist allures, always a fan of assuming the intelligence of a fuck you money member, and naturally Marilyn Monroe gets the pass and Norma Jean needs to be erased. Of which, yes, racism is merely a manifestation. That's it. I see nothing else. What do you mean there was a white sheet in your yard burning something. What sheet burns something in one's yard?  Again, this matter of questioning...this matter of tracing the behaviors, she had no eyes, that would manifest the matters, and yet, to lend oneself to a particular framing of the event, to lend oneself, to questioning in a way that further assists the irrationalization of one being irrationalized, and in great irony, to then veil among humanitarian brand, diversity, and the like. I mean killing?  I didn't see anyone with a gun pulling a trigger?  These guys were just irresponsible, no one among the churches running the intelligence at all, and no newfound network of money playing the assist, as the diversity in the mirror sweet talks, in the name of humanity, this poor dear shall bleed to fucking death...so we can make matters more peaceful, loving, humane, in line with the value system over the pond.  It's just so easy, have a simplified, lazy ass notion of what the south is, and just go with the good word at the surface. Nothing bad is going to happen there!