there was no need for it there was no room for it there was no love for it. and yet they sought it out and pursued it with all their might. they walked out into the sunlight one day and stared at the shadows. an unevenness of exposure to light could make or break the composition. a keen and critical eye would detect it differently than another eye. a satiated eye. why couldn’t the earth straighten up on its axis? the old urges had long been defeated. they had stopped making themselves up for nobody to see. everything was off from how they envisioned it. nothing would ever be exactly so. and for the first time ever they felt themselves small and insignificant. they relaxed around this knowing. there was a rustle and a hesitant movement into unknown territory. letting things be what they were and liking them. #katyamills
Tag Archives: ego
reading #212
the telling
Those who survived terrific and terrifying scenes of yesterday, survived simply in some cases today and tomorrow by not telling. Like authority or ego outgrowing itself — the truth was irrevocably exposed, and one could feel so out of place. Not making sense, all sense falls away…no grammar, no ruler, no rules. no meticulous edit. no beta.need.care.anymore. without any closure you-they-it has and have found recourse to-from…above-below…this. the very end. the beauty in live-to-tell was not in the telling. it was in not telling. or. surviving and not needing to tell. for now, you and all you have been through are known if not cherished.
urban dictionary. constitution
made an urban dictionary out of our constitution
When you came into my life I was shooting pool, and neither were the other kids in school. There was a break and all the balls started rolling, and who could be prepared for a world administered by twitter feed, half-mad on fast food fry-batter, running down an uphill battle? The recycled oil had turned, the battery gone dead. A postmortem analysis found the conditions out of which the nightmare came to steam. All the way in the back of the tired rolodex of eighties-punctured index cards, we located the moment butter got sideswiped by Country Crock. Even the name gave it away! Yet we accepted the substitute and without any hardcore/softcore vetting. Consider us fucked right there.
Dare I look into these projects you are slumming? Somewhere in each one a person pushed out front, coat-tails blowing up egos in need of personality. Altruism was suddenly a four-letter word like media and Muslim. You made an urban dictionary out of the constitution. Wannabe celebrities still slinging their ghostwritten books, to get a stab at some easy cash before the crap inside all the margins falls out of consciousness and to your cutting room floor… now ankle deep in film, archaic, in a dark corner of ill-literatures.
Meanwhile…
Here we find a thorough & recent review of my work:
GIBNEYS BLOG: BOOK REVIEW
m x memory ending
m by memory -xi (fin)
Yes, being WIRED had coalesced cultures all across the earth, simply the most powerful force in the paradigm shift. What normally took the flash of a couple hundred years in the pan, took only a hundred plus, facilitated by the mighty conveyance of internet connection. Many subcultures rebelled against the seated powers once they became aware (almost instantaneously for common citizens, dependent only on the functionality of a modem in an electric grid) of the relative freedoms other cultures and countries had which they had not and wanted. They got restless under the thumbs of a ruling class they had limited stake in appointing. None of these performances on the dramatic stage of sentient theatre had the innocence of virgin material, there would be no immaculate conception by so and so producer, writer, director, star, or egocentric asshole. There would be no trailblazing invention at all. It became clear that you go with what you have, your essential ingredients, and make something more of it. Make a clearing and let it grow. Any farmer could rule the day. Meanwhile the old controllers and their desperate need for control would be stripped to the wire, primitive and unworthy looking, and frayed. Easily spotted for removal by the arbitrators of theatre in whatever form they chose to express: tv, movie, made for tv movie, short in some indy festival, drawing on some ipad, page in some kid’s sketchpad. It didn’t matter! Just as the tarnishing of heart and soul, in a rusty mechanical sort of perfectionism, could be caught on an intellectual hook and pulled up and out of the path of vital life, so could the real, unblemished heart and soul of common decency be ever sparkling for us to see and believe. And so we would have cause to celebrate again. Love was out in the open. Then back to work again.
church.15
The church was good when
all were selfless
singing organs
blaring ego hid
the devil
hide
i am looking for
someone
to have and
to hold and
to crush
on to death do
we part
i am self
i am self seeking
someone
to make me
whole to make me
dinner
i am interested in
a pharmaceutical
beauty
a cutey
a cut above the rest
a pillcutting
precision marching
prisoner of love
a chain gang
related
peptide talking
walking atomic
wonder
free from mistakes
because
God never blunders
i am looking for you
and i get what i want
you will love my decision
toward your realized
captivity
some day
when i tire of
your birdcage delivery
i will set you free cause
i love you so
free you
so
hide !
your ego wants to be bankrolled
What is nice? Nice is never nice nice . You can put that on ice. Superficial kindness. Nice is heart felt, heart spoken, nice is sincere. I don’t care how the content may have gaffled the ear. Treacherous contagion these local tourists from niceville.
We need only be the distance from the heart to the head. Stay out of the head, when you practice loving kindness. Stay out of the head, if you don’t want to slum it. The mind is a ghetto of fear.The slumlord standing over the ruins is your ego. Your ego is not gonna bend over to plunge the toilets.Your ego does not see itself as working class. Your ego wants to be bankrolled. Your ego wants to cut corners. Your ego plays cards with mirrors, and would get as intoxicated as necessary to convince you that you are gonna be king or queen and live forever. Your ego sucks more blood than your heart can pump. Your ego puts vampires to shame. Your ego is like mine, because every ego is the same: a real motherfucker.
You can either duck or walk to the other side of the street, or drown it out complete. The tension of denial is on an IV drip in tropical morning heat. Feel it like a hundred percent humidity. Stifling. Replete. Something must be done. Usually. Sometimes if we’re lucky, shit will work itself out, rising to the top before getting flushed downtown, underground. Where every asshole terminates.
The process is streaming for sure, like any vein of sound or vision; opened up for all the world to get a visceral fix. The heartbeat of a universe. The simple obvious undeniable pulsation, single cell to polypro manifestation. Scaled from way up high to on the down low. Time to smile at the faces. Time to overindulge or analyze or find someone to co. Why? Cause your ego said so. Pack in your chores of the day. By decree of your ego, slave away.
Only then can you go.
K IS SILENT 