momentarily housed abstractions

this journal has moved to youseeiseeyou

( how to sell your soul-101 )

Everything removed
has been of course
moved before
and will without
doubt be moved again
as it sits
as it exists
as it rests within
the infinite movement.

There should be no surprise
or wonder as to why
I'm always smiling
when I'm leaving.

( seen on previous post--seen again, slightly revised )

48" x 36"




52" x 29-1/2"

Run out, wringing
grey matter between
your hands like rags
and catch
all these filthy
thoughts of mine
in a bucket and leave it
under the sink with
all the other dangerous things
you'd want to keep
your kids away from.
Sing with the pink
of your lungs
exposed
and spin out of control
knowing you never
had any to begin with
and when you lift
your eyelids like rain boots
with muddy puddles underneath,
close them like you were
crushing dust-bunny dreams.
If it ever stops
raining, please
put my mind in a clean
box and convince me it's been
spotless this whole time.

it is at this point, the mark of one year with no physical intimacy whatsoever, that the yearning for touch becomes almost unrelenting. the hormones kicking into overdrive. but the hopelessness of any possibility of intimacy happening anytime soon is what pervades. fear leaves me too paralyzed to put forth the most miniscule amount of effort, to make the slightest of move, to say so much as a hello.

so i just keep saying to myself, listen, man, you know that happiness is found nowhere externally, not in anyone but you. let go. give up. enough of all this moping and moaning and sighing. then i say, but, but...the human needs human contact, we need the comfort of another sometimes. and i say, no it doesn't, no we don't, look at ascetics, guys living in caves til they die. then i say, well, obviously i'm not in a cave, i'm here, i need another body to be with. and i say, shut up. i'm not listening to you anymore. you're alone. get used to it.

.

anyway.

i was staring at this Monet today and thought... my god. i still sometimes can't believe i get paid to walk around an art museum all day.

and it's amazing how something so simple can be so amazing

i typed the following sentence into the translator, translated it from english to portugese, then the portugese translation back to english::

dinner exploded in our mouths like blasts of excrutiatingly wondrous lust aching to be devoured again and again.

o jantar explodiu em nossas bocas como explosões do lust excrutiatingly wondrous que aching para devoured repetidas vezes.

the supper blew up in our mouths as explosions of lust excrutiatingly wondrous that aching for devoured repeated times.

...new to me. wierd. very strange. ... to see something that these hands did hanging on a wall amongst things other people's hands did. to stand across the room. to walk by and watch strangers stand in front of it and stare and cock their heads and grin lean in and look at one part of it then look at another part of it and whisper something to their friend and point at it ,the strangers never knowing that the person whose hands made it is standing nearby watching them look.

strange in a good way. in a "yes..this should happen more" kind of way.

of course..no one bought it. and i have to pay the guest artist fee. so i'm out twenty bucks for that. *shrug*

next time i've something in a show ... the price tag will read something like
"i will give you $10 to take this home"

O, the paradox of having absolutely no control and complete control simultaneously...

.watched this great movie last night called "Brother From Another Planet" about this alien that looks remarkably like a black man except he has three huge toes and his spaceship crashlands in Harlem and he doesn't talk but can fix broken arcade games by touching them and closing his eyes and can heal wounds like E.T. did and sits on park benches and hears the voices of other people who've sat on the same bench .

...

was over at sean's teusday night getting a piece ready for friday. ..for those of you in the phoenix metropolitan area, i'll have definately one (perhaps two-three things) in Holgas Gallery (3rd st/Garfield) this friday. the one that's definite is 12 drawings mounted on a board . and for $181 you can take it home :D (or rather, come back later this month and get it)

"...Then you comb your hair
Shave your face
Tryin' to wipe out ev'ry trace
All the other days
In the week you know that this'll be the Saturday
You're reachin' your peak..."

( minus half the scruff )

( kitty draws a picture... )

( me--circa this morning. .and one more ink to say goodnight by )

it seems i have no choice but to accept as a new pastime picking cat hair from my beard

( 3 little things )

( ...one and a half fine point Bic Gel pens later )