therapy in france
w freud n lacan
the former looks in
your past — the later
linguistically leaps.
loop dat track ~
theoretical garbage in
koolhaus’ junkspace
contemplating non word
happenings — romance
symbols — the play of
labyrinthes / difference
detective togetherness
break inner institutions:
talk to the radio, make
art, take drugs and
dance to demolish
hierarchy

no elevators for my pitches

walking this room, and the next and the next, grasping at the reality embedded in everything that looks like no worth, i mine at it with my labor and my faith, im an awful businessman, turning over the symbolism, from within the institutions, i pick at their rhetorical gaps, and other disparities, but to who do i turn, dear community, leaders are educated to speak on how society is suffering, words for a soteriological out, words are for social passing, pecuniary material investments, are you living the class and race suffering you preach around the town, did you borrow your speech from they, is an empathic instagram caption pathologically uncriticisable, where does the community stand on those who are interlopers and everyone else, dear community, is that you, where is the neighborhood, every person looks at me, entrepreneurs waving microphones and business cards, all i see are exchanges of cultural and social capital in my purview, what do you say to your followers, say, donate plz ill follow you till digital death.

art and lies,
the simplest forms of self-defense.
+
the ordinary can be medicine,
like 2am pizza and counting your crushes.

norwalk st
sweating and waking in sweat while having bad dreams about bugs. nightmarish sans the feeling of terror. those ticks were all over lucifur. i pinch their torsos acutely with a metal tool and feel for them unclenching their jaws. i yank. they snap back with a predictable programming. the physics of this event hints of simulation. i observe for a while and wonder how we got in this construction.

.

room proj
my body does not feel well after biking and i am now sitting in the darkness at room with my sunglasses on. mood today. what is going on nik. posture. having a hard time sitting up straight. twisting and rocking back and forth to find the right position. listening to hype williams and feeling all the angst in my spine.

.

fisher bldg
trying not to dissociate while i eat my utility sandwich. looking at screens has ruined me. bread texture is a new thang to my eyes. higher in resolution. the vegetarian dream is six slices of cheese on rye with a pickle. the woman at the deli calls me ‘youngster’ and i find it endearing as fuk. never did i like pickles but i like her enough to annex my order.

raisin bread, the true luxury

he has
the tattoo 1=1
i think
‘oh, how modern’
but i say
‘hm math is cute’
and i wait
for tautological
responses,
and kisses, the existential
means of egress.

KKKKKKKKKKKKK
LLLLLLLLLLLLLLL
OOOOOOOOOO
SSSSSSSSSSSSSS
EEEEEEEEEEEEEE
TTTTTTTTTTTTTT

JJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJ
AAAAAAAAAAAA
RRRRRRRRRRRRR
GGGGGGGGGGG
OOOOOOOOOO
NNNNNNNNNN

smoking in her parents’ car,
in view of a shapely gray monument
‘is this a church or a strip club motif?’
the police roll by, i slide down my seat
to touch my screen, it’s nice to quit
thinking, i close my eyes
‘it was a Chinese restaurant’

in a navy blue hoodie
i disapeare and worship the city

wooing the sidestreets,
while reciting to they
in the language of
a legal proposition
or an advertisement.
the city is appealing
to my senses
in the grammar of 
multifamily
working class homes,
freeway pigments,
brutal signage,
and broken glass
vernacular.

‘how did you know that?’
i open my eyes, memories
of monuments haven’t budged
i know myself in no other city,
for now

drugs when stressed,
cleaning calms.
the proxy anxiety.
from the network.
time for work
and time for life
is undifferentiated.