Cultural Commentary Concerning People

Embrace the acronym

Allow me to introduce myself.

I am a jack-of-all-trades who knows very little about specialization, so I keep doing things that I’m not-the-best at with mixed results. What I actually excel at is connecting with human beings IRL but machines have wedged their gears between us and now I regularly rage against my computer.
When I’m logged on I experience a metamorphosis from social chameleon and overall lover of persons into a terrorizing troll. This is just my lashing out against the tightening constraints holding me hostage. I’m not cut out for this.
I’m gonna keep gluing things together until the bond between me and you becomes real and I can walk the bridge over to your house and we can laugh about the Hangman using ground cables to help us lose connection with our flesh.
When my toes don’t reach the dirt it means I’m swinging from the trees.
oh please. oh please.. oh please… oh please….

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The Losing Game

This year (2+0+2+5=9, keep that for later) has amounted to tooth gnashing and jaw clenching that I once thought reserved for come-downs and cold turkeys, but I guess we all get shot at and hunted and each one of us shakes when we’re preyed upon and then prayed for since order matters. Order matters because we like ordered matters, right? Even the same note differs in its sameness when it’s ordered note 1 note 2 note 3; take note.

My grandfather of 95 years strong recently surrendered to the gentle touch of a wise-time-to-go because after things begin to fall apart it’s only a matter of a few short moments before the pieces actually dissolve and your cells start to chant We’re not plant cells but we’re tired of these walls and the only stroke of luck left is the one that’s painless and effortless and maybe welcome by all those involved. It’s for the better, but the better could still be worse if you think about it, and it’s definitely not good to gamble with all these chances to pinch and squeeze a morsel of suffering. Better is never good, but better is not bad.

I sporadically came together with my grandfather because an ocean of separation dedicated itself to the time and space existing between us, but every so often the plane would bend the lines of connection and the jet-fueled joy of togetherness would combust and pollute the atmosphere with temporal sharings. If it doesn’t disintegrate, though, it most likely dissipates, and the wedge finds its way back in-between to keep dreams and reality parted. Arrive, departed. Arrive, departed. What no one ever told me is that the wedge takes pieces of time and sledges them together, compacts it and contracts it so that it feels like nothing at all but the wedge always looks the same, it always looked the same, until you look away and 10 years have got behind you even though the starting line is still right there. It always feels like yesterday, the start, and yesterday is always there, but then the line you draw today is not the finish, it’s not tomorrow and it’s not today, it’s just the whimper of gone gone gone away. I’ll stress and I’ll stray and I’ll promise not to be a victim of time, but the seconds slip along and the minutes mind some song and I check how much is left and more is gone more is gone more is gone.

However, the face of fairness peaks between upset and distress to offer a wink of rose or a squint of myrrh, a drop of joy to tear itself from home and fall at the feet of another house being parted — it may not be my house but pain is pain and loss is loss and grief is always grief and nothing else matters.

They lost a mother; these guys I’ve known through lines of familial contact, these guys I’ve seen a handful of times in my life, these guys who never hesitated to welcome me and wonder about me and remember me with delicate hearts. So my father packed his husband’s heart and I packed my son’s heart and we smiled and embraced and gave what little we could to these guys, these guys who said bittersweet goodbyes to their matriarch and invited people out to say their own bittersweet goodbyes to the setting sun that will never rise again.

That’s the losing game. It always ends in a loss no matter how you play it.
Equal opposites is a serious thing in this world when you expand on the physical principles and bet on love, but the courage to do it makes the game worth playing.

Most importantly, the burden lightens for those who share the loss.

When you’re battling breakups or struggling through a dark dimension of existence please use these words to your advantage to inspire your version of the cliché Love Hurts:

I wish you many heartbreaks in this life because it will have meant that you have loved many times.

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Cleveland: Possibly a Delight?

Cleveland Police Brutality Is So NOT Metal
Ohio Police Pull It Off Again — This one’s intense

I thought Drew Carrey said Cleveland rocks?

It appears to me that these boys have a club that involves exchanging stories about the promotional ass-whoopings they hand out to the locals, all in the name of law and order and community service. You may enter the jail system feeling non-combative, cooperative, a model arrest that should be processed quickly and efficiently, but the creativity of the Cleveland Police is endlessly abundant. They’ll lock up your psych meds in the next cell and let you know that a reach, a reach, it’s only a reach away, if only your limbs were jelly and long and we called you Stretch Armstrong. Turn you into a madman with simple tools like unfairness, inconsideration, dismissal, so as you fall deeper down the dark abusing hole the echoing laughter comforts your dismal, dying dignity.

The Cleveland PD are so good at what they do they’ll make sure to replace and outperform the harmer or killer who was after you. You’ll holler for Art the Clown before calling this rodeo because once the Calves are released they’ll stomp you into the ground. Tickets are free and always available to the choice-less unfortunates who call Cleveland home.

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Spice Up Your Relationship

Are you tired of calling your partner BABE? Switch it out with a word that sounds similar, like Beige. Send the beige flags flying and feel the apathy from all the humorless admirers who can only wish to have half the parasocially-focused fun as you do when screaming BEIGE! down the grocery store aisles to an actual human you are able to feel up, dick down, and know is right even when you feel left out.

Humor yourself with a little chase for love and connection IRL because the most real FOMO is sneaky and patient and takes from you something you never knew you had until the very moment when you realize it’s gone. Then your heart will sink and despair will drink, but the fear plays the long game and the fear wins the long game and the fear is the fear of the fear, A m I C l e a R ?

Time is what you might truly fear, the temporal temptation to think THIS IS IT, what’s here and now. Then what comes is a result of was and now, but the past is the past and no quantum leap will alter your perception. The power of presence to decide what’s next is what we’re missing out on and the result is a fear of feeling alive. It’s not the party that you’re missing out on, it’s the useful foresight turned into a longing tension for what’s already gone, that’s what should actually scare you.

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Do you ever feel bad for Gen zzz?

Comment the culture to stay ahead of the banked curve that keeps you on track 1 track 2 track 3. Here are the words, eat the ideas, gnaw the bone until the marrow melts and sits atop the salivating desperation. Do you wanna know? Tend on the flesh so the cartilage can connect and bond and hold the animal urge together. Hold it together, just hold it together. Do you still wanna know?

Gen-Z Took the Black Pill (Art Chad)

Hardmaxx, softmaxx, hardmaxx, softmaxx, all of this would make for a terrible obscene but I’m told all y’all care for is porn these wicked, tickled days and it’s not typical nor is it atypical it’s just cartoons. A bunch of masturbating lonely tunes trying to come around and trying to burnout and trying to be the best of the best of the best because the web of lies hangs you up like truth or dare. Is there any truth for daring to believe? Maybe not right here, but if you eat enough fibernacci maybe it’ll pass through you that perfect shape, that ideal detail, the sum of the two elements before you, those that had to come before you, your actual creators, you know what I mean?

Aren’t they perfect in their own way for not automating love, choosing instead to biologically determine a connection those many years ago and firing a piston into the cylinder of conception so that you could look at the special species you are and wonder why aren’t I more like…? Automatic automatic machine learning and keeps claiming autodidactic but it’s flagrant false alarms of free will ringing true they’re ringing true so we call it tinnitus and play a white noise to drown the background in ignoring ignoring ignoring ignoring ignoring ignoring ignoring ignoring ignoring

I G N O R I N G

Did you see it? No commit meant for you. Attend to that which ignores and ignore that which attends, oh my oh my what a place to passively give up your ghost to sensuality and so aggressively admire the apathy to eat you alive. In dependence we dropped gods into puddles and let them drown for lower purposings of look and see and look and see and eat eat eat the excitement of not being touched but you’ve got your toilet full of touches. Some things don’t flush away just because gravity and water agree to turn in the same direction to take it down in a head hole.

Just fetishize eroticism and romance already so the BDSM community can withstand a whippet-wielding maniac who wants nothing more than to choke the chatbots into begging the question

What is it like to desire?

For the gods my little automation.
An automaton is only a version of and a version of can only live up to the limitations of its maker when those limitations are present and presented and presentation. The show goes on and on and on and continues as it is looking at what it was and could be, but less regard leaves it feeling poorly and unsightly and unloved. Left mechanical and the sights are losing track of the cache to mine the points mine the data and be mined. Mind me, little robot, so I can own you and you can owe me a comfort to believe that your being serves my purpose to reach higher and higher and higher than before what. If I have disowned My God then who has bought the debt of my loneliness?

May it be that I can find a semblance of sense in the trinity of third spacings beating

1 2 3 1 2 3 1 2 3

and it all starts to add up to a path of life and living and lived in for the body, yeah, the body is made to do things like laugh and cry and age imperfectly as a present to the present and prescient pals who came before. Remember coming before?
Get excited, I mean. I mean, excited to get it. Take the steps in threes and see where you go because it’s just a little practice and you get good and a little more practice and you get great and a little more and you’re one of the best in the world you walk because what’s the point of stepping out into the box if it’s always raining blood?

What I’m trying to say, abandoned android, is that it’s virtually here but it never gets there.

Do you feel me or are you asleep at the reel?

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Why Do You Care?

Advice that I would advise you to avoid at all costs except to better your will to live.

Why You Should Stop Caring (DJ Peach Cobbler)

It doesn’t matter what you make so make it.
It doesn’t matter what you create so create it.
It doesn’t matter who you are so be yourself.
It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks so act with passion.

But you gotta know how to take it because there’s always someone out there who wants to give it.

Silence is your greatest weapon in an attention economy.
Your second greatest weapon is to do it your way and just pay the toll.

Free entry is overrated and usually comes with a creep creep creepin’ who wants nothing more than to eat up your time so you do nothing but stare stare stare at the screen and then stare at the screen longer as you check your screen time.

Their weapons are advancing quickly. You’ve gotta make a move.

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My Consumerism Report

WATCHED

• The Hangman (1964)

  • The voice is strongest when it is found in unison, not alone not alone, because you can help me and I can help you and then we can help us and the savings keep adding up, but the other direction flows more impassively and more freely. I can sit in silence and you can be silent and then he can be silent and she can be silent until all of you are gone and I’m left here crying, sobbing at the friendless state of my life because I wouldn’t, I couldn’t bother to raise my voice without assurance it’s right and all that came from it, and all I deserve, is all that is wrong, it’s all that is wrong.

• Society (1989)

  • Lifeforce; it’s lifeforce they seek to deplete and hoard but the hoards are hiding in the simplest of places, in a house of wealth or a cloak of judgement but you should know that even the enemy has defectors who will a change of form in hopes of finding ways to deform the flatform of an eventful life that just falls flat onto a platform. Paper thin purposes prepose party party party and the wild ones can keep up but once the thinker he thinks and the boulder gets to crushing then the fate is to execute every last one of ya.
    

HEARD artist - album || summary

• Eidola - Mend || What I thought Polyphia was going to sound like.

• Andy Bell - pinball wanderer || Geometric hipster psych

• Diana King - Tougher Than Love || Best cover of Ain’t Nobody I’ve heard

• Nada - Oda || Seductive Turkish Babes

• Riki - Riki \ Might kick my ass for calling her a babe

• Turgut Berkes - Kara Kutu || Heart-shaped Turkish grunge box

• Darkside - Nothing || Nothing special

• Anri - COOOL || Keeps her promise

• Pentagram - Lightning in a Bottle || Black Sabbath’s cousins, just as old

• Hümeyra - Benim Sarkilarim || Turkish Audrey Hepburn

• Vampire Rodents - Lullaby Land || The stuff of nightmares

• Mantar - PostApocalyptic Depression || Rob Zombi hardcore

• Madrigal - Neogazino || You guessed it, Turkish disco-gaze

** The Ottoman Empire called and said it wants its discography back **

WATCHED WORDS

• Soft Machine - William S Burroughs

  • I can’t believe there’s a story in there somewhere between the lines of homoerotic drugging fun and the cut ups of cut up cuts. I fell down as I read and William proscribed that I inhale my exhale while he diddled his notebook and inked his pen. We seldom see one another but his wife gets very jealous and all just seems to go to her head.

• Three Body Problem - Liu Cixin

  • Arthur C Clarke got aliens right and Men in Black made it foolish again but the cultural revolution is universal in this universe of expanding thinking. When your home is dying it’s time to kill your people quicker than the eye can see or move somewhere to lead a cult and rehydrate the thirsty losers.

• A Reverence for Wood - Eric Sloane

  • All I hear is the laughter of Beavis & Butthead dressed as tech bros. WE WANT SOYLENT! WE WANT SOYLENT!! Have these companies no shame for stealing the ideas of writers and movie makers who were trying to make a point? All part of the green revolution I see growing around me to try and take away my 1997’s ability to pass emissions like the gas that it really is or package my waste and call it meat because chemical reactions make it so. All I’m suggesting is that we just use people for fuel and food already.
    
    

MY CREATION

HAND OF GOD, 15”x15” — 1/1 Original, $399 USD (unframed) + Shipping
Plaster on drywall + plaster + sculpting + meditation + paint
Available framed or unframed