taking pictures. writing books.writing essays. playing songs. cooking chicken. choking chicken. picking nose. writing art reviews. popping zits. thinking about reading. seeing books. seeing pictures. browsing pages. writing poems. taking medicine.researching all over the place. wondering about drugs. wandering about. looking at plants. looking at wasps. looking at paintings. laying down. reading essays. reading fiction.feeling fat. reading poems.feeling old. writing poems.feling bald. writing on blogs. talking to friends on the phone. thinking about talking to friends on the phone. tentatively cooresponding with artists. writing about artists. imagining plots. short stories. novels. poems. poems with plots. poems in pieces scattered on a construction site. grasping for meaniing by discussing meaning. realizing i cant focus. making not focused focused wont work. thinking about work. scared. jealous.looking at bills. wondering if i forgot a bill. lonely. excited. inspired. horny. depressed. suicidal. hungry. curious. hearing words to write.trying to not think about the fact i am using the internet. thinking about the internet as a community. thinking about the internet as a valuable context. thinking about family. thinking about angry things. creating angry things from nowhere. not crying. not laughing. realizing it's a blur.realizing that the internet is a thing,a piece of art itself.thinking about how there are concepts beyond me. thinking maybe i should not even try. thinking maybe there is genius in recognizing ones own limits. realizing how removed thoughts and presence seem in retrospect. thinking back in terms of months or hours.thinking about work. not thinking about thinking about money. afraid for future.not ggettng moved too much by anything. mimicking emotion it would seem. remembering. projecting. bitching. not listening to others. listening to others. curious to create consistantly. drinking coffee. changing music to something not so sad but atmospheric. adjusting lighting. looking at potential art materials. seeing everything as potential art materials. seeing nothing as potential art materials. feeling too many options. feeling like boxing up belongings to move. thinking about artists i admire. thinking about real people and making them less than something. thinking about parents. Thinking about writing a book. thinking about poets i now and how the stuff written by this writer is no good. realizing what good is. caught in a cycle of self awareness that starts off outward but ends up very inward. gargling hydrogen peroxide. playing with pieces of my broken tooth. taking pictures. loading pictures on computer. writing e-mails on the internet. imagining conversations. replaying conversations. imagining people. looking at trees. looking at squirrels. thinking about people who needing a respectful phone call. thinking about exercise. thinking about unhealthy food. thinking about a thankfulness for being beyond cigarettes. craving a cigarette,but not really. recalling driving habits. conscious of the time. adjusting glasses on bridge of nose. feeling sweaty. aware of cleanliness of environment. aware of disorganization. aware of a song's abrasive moments. dirty clothes in a red chair.black vinyl text on acetate rattled by a box fan. paintings on mdo plywood age. back hurts. fingers type. thoughts become sluggish. becoming self aware. i am self aware. i am trying to type thoughts. i am typing thoughts.liking a moment in a song. feeling it make me feel. for a second.thinking maybe i will try to organize myself.realizing i have tried that before. realizing i have tried that before. realizing that it what it is. thinkng i will organize my thoughts.thinking i will organize my reality. thinking i will do.
taking pictures.
writing books.
writing essays.
playing songs.
cooking chicken.
choking chicken.
picking nose.
writing art reviews.
popping zits.
thinking about reading.
seeing books.
seeing pictures.
browsing pages.
writing poems.
taking medicine.
researching all over the place.
wondering about drugs.
wandering about.
looking at plants.
looking at wasps.
looking at paintings.
laying down.
reading essays.
reading fiction.
feeling fat.
reading poems.
feeling old.
writing poems.
feeling bald.
writing on blogs.
talking to friends on the phone.
thinking about talking to friends on the phone.
tentatively cooresponding with artists.
writing about artists.
imagining plots.
short stories.
novels.
poems.
poems with plots.
poems in pieces scattered on a construction site.
grasping for meaning by discussing meaning.
realizing i cant focus.
making not focused focused wont work.
thinking about work.
scared.
jealous.
looking at bills.
wondering if i forgot a bill.
lonely.
excited.
inspired.
horny.
depressed.
suicidal.
hungry.
curious.
hearing words to write.
trying to not think about the fact i am using the internet.
thinking about the internet as a community.
thinking about the internet as a valuable context.
thinking about family.
thinking about angry things.
creating angry things from nowhere.
not crying.
not laughing.
realizing it's a blur.
realizing that the internet is a thing,a piece of art itself.
thinking about how there are concepts beyond me.
thinking maybe i should not even try.
thinking maybe there is genius in recognizing ones own limits.
realizing how removed thoughts and presence seem in retrospect.
thinking back in terms of months or hours.
thinking about work.
not thinking about thinking about money.
afraid for future.
not gettng moved too much by anything.
mimicking emotion it would seem.
remembering.
projecting.
bitching.
not listening to others.
listening to others.
curious to create consistantly.
drinking coffee.
changing music to something not so sad but atmospheric.
adjusting lighting.
looking at potential art materials.
seeing everything as potential art materials.
seeing nothing as potential art materials.
feeling too many options.
feeling like boxing up belongings to move.
thinking about artists i admire.
thinking about real people and making them less than something.
thinking about parents.
Thinking about writing a book.
thinking about poets i know and how the stuff written by this writer is no good. realizing what good is.
caught in a cycle of self awareness that starts off outward but ends up very inward. gargling hydrogen peroxide.
playing with pieces of my broken tooth.
taking pictures.
loading pictures on computer.
writing e-mails on the internet.
imagining conversations.
replaying conversations.
imagining people.
looking at trees.
looking at squirrels.
thinking about people who needing a respectful phone call.
thinking about exercise.
thinking about unhealthy food.
thinking about a thankfulness for being beyond cigarettes.
craving a cigarette,but not really.
recalling driving habits.
conscious of the time.
adjusting glasses on bridge of nose.
feeling sweaty.
aware of cleanliness of environment.
aware of disorganization.
aware of a song's abrasive moments.
dirty clothes in a red chair.
black vinyl text on acetate rattled by a box fan.
paintings on mdo plywood age.
back hurts.
fingers type.
thoughts become sluggish.
becoming self aware. i am self aware.
i am trying to type thoughts.
i am typing thoughts.
liking a moment in a song.
feeling it make me feel.
for a second.
thinking maybe i will try to organize myself.
realizing i have tried that before.
realizing i have tried that before.
realizing that it what it is.
thinking i will organize my thoughts.
thinking i will organize my reality.
thinking i will do.
almost enim such stuckist,
ReplyDeletedaily diary, dear, think
my thoughts thinking through,
which may be a look, glance,
retinal pleasure, fog the glass
to window writing, moisture, the
rain, looking at gps, maps to
navigate, voices say something,
where to go & how to get there,
redlight means stop & greenlight
means go, stonehenge of our
astrological charts, off to the
bog with our bodies, marsh of
meaning, making unmade, fifteen
minutes per lifetime, an evening
at the cinema, popcorn is hollow,
screen to screen, what must be
adjusted is our way of seeing,
greasy glasses, sight of upturned
roachbug, the final kicks, muscle,
brawn of brain, to dirt, a dust
covering all furniture, comfort,
armchair quaterback, philosophy
is a vagrant happenstance, forty
ounces or five hundred grams,
why describe the description?
As an adult, unless we have a complete nervous breakdown, it’s rare that we are in a position to step back consciously for a couple of weeks and say no to almost everything. I realise it’s not just my body that’s physically been going through an onslaught, but my mind as well. My brain has been completely hammered. I realise that to get anything done I have to be thinking at least six or seven things at once, and be taking a great deal of responsibility for several more, and at the same time I get completely wound up by the smallest details of things – the angle of the chair, does the teacup match the saucer, that kind of list is endless. I’m sure if I wrote more of it out it would make people laugh, but in truth it actually isn’t very funny. It’s just more things that twist |and torment my brain. I know that |I have to care how things look and how things are and that it’s not superficial. I am an artist and the majority of my whole being, my whole existence, relies upon some kind of aesthetic judgement.
ReplyDeleteI can hear police sirens in the distance. As the noise fades away, |I wonder what they reach at their destination. All our thoughts and moments are somehow connected. My thought goes out of the window and latches itself on to the sound of the siren. The siren spins, spraying my thoughts high up into the ether, my thoughts travel on clouds; later in the evening rain begins to fall, lots of different ways to cry.
Today I have so much pressure on me I find it almost impossible to write. Even all my thoughts are far-flung and very disconnected. It’s like I don’t really have a centre. I know that I am engulfed in some kind of sadness. My eyes are hurting as though I have tears trapped behind my brow, but everything feels trapped, the tears feel trapped, I feel trapped, everything feels trapped and I’m just wondering how long this feeling is going to last. I’m also wondering how real it is. I can’t stand the way I feel, but it’s from inside.
I’m writing this really hoping that other people have felt the same way. It’s not even depression, it’s just a blankness, a world where there seems to be no harmony, clarity; where things are set up to confuse and annoy. This is a bad day for me to write my column but it’s the only day I have. So now I will just go back to reading Daphne du Maurier and listening to Radio 3 – and console myself with the fact that bed is a very safe place to be.