I see them filing out, robots from the institution. These schools produce, these are the production lines and we are all being branded. Stamped, shuffled out and repeated. With paper packages on our heads to print smiles on our faces.
It’s You Too
pounds of indecision
winning
lots of children running
to feel feet
Catch the troubled
dreamer dreamer
Normal Going
I need more normal when all I want is to break the normal when normal is not enough which route do we make? And where is this loose road going.
Everything hits the frame.
Parking Structure Woes
Take the hit?
You can try to look stronger tomorrow.
But you obviously can’t get really good at anything
And you obviously have not been not sleeping enough for this.
So scrap.
Rehash.
Mostly understood
What happened… but with each reiteration we easily become more maniplulated
Ghosts of Detroit
There are ghosts in the Packard Plant. The communing homeless receive visits from the dead of America. Ruins of this American Dream.
Henry Ford, where do you roam?
Idealist’s Paradise
I’m building childish plans for us to run away and become modern day Indiana Joneses. Explorers of the earth and one day… we’ll be legend. We’ll never die because generations and the next will be inspired by stories of our adventures. This is the Adventure Series [and you will ever forget its greatness.] We’ll be notorious jewel thieves. Masters of the art of the steal. The discipline of ninjas the hacking abilities honed only by an elite. The world is a playground, its architects were madmen. We could explore and play forever OCCUPATION: daydreamers/lifelusters. Poets and artists and romantics. Little kids and sometimes lions. A surrealist’s paradise. Be in a fantasy of now—because that’s a life worth living. Satisfactory days… that’s the life for me. Can we learn to talk and conversate with birds? Anything and all that I want but don’t know… idealism has this grip on me. So bring me back down or go crazy with me please.
Tamed, these monkeys bore me
Welcome to the petri dish. This is the observation tank and I will be the best of scientists. Here.
None of you monkeys are amusing. Are these the average people?
Is this where we put them all… in the suburbs
You.Are.The.Worst.Test.Monkeys.Ever. and I want new ones
Here
s
your suburb smile
blonde happy children
all dressing the same
is this some subliminal jealous me
These monkeys suburbed themselves
idyllic blonde and shiny white
Labyrinths
i tore apart electronic devices looking for a quick fix
the plastic was unsympathetic. no god in your factory?
machine
without
a manual
Welcome Back to New York City
“The 18 hour bus ride was the ninth level of Hell.” –Z
Dear my invisible audience,
Hello, from the quaint Rm. 333 at the Gershwin Hotel at 27th Street and 5th Avenue of New York City. Hello from my window that faces this brick wall corridor that I may never remember but could paint you a picture because it looks the same as any other. And Dear Reader, I hope to give you every silliness and smile I can manage. Though life is slow sometimes, it’s experiences like these that make living seem top shelf to me. Yes, and writing my stories to you. I hope to be your entertainer for the evening…
You see, I cannot sleep, nor want to sleep in this New York, my playground, a wonderland that tugs on my heels, beckons: explore.
Jesus has an iPhone, can now connect to all his hipster fans
When we were underground we were cool. Now here comes ubiquity. Everything is worldwide and creativity you can buy, it’s cheap. And infects the market and young minds with fireflies. Now available. and the ADD is free.
Being a member of this global dialogue is important to the creative process. Thank you internet? I’m so close yet far away to you, I don’t need to meet you, that’s barbaric! The monitor is holy. Apple is where I attend my Sabbath.