gibber
Just for the hell of it here's what I wrote during the course of Per Verse last week - and I wrote some of this pretty quickly. Other than the odd mark or crossing out this is exactly what was written - wayward punctuation and capitalisation and all.
Had an idea yesterday from both Carol Watts + Scott Thurston about pieces that could be read in a few different ways (I suppose Tony Trehy's long line was in there too). But had nothing concrete other than short lines + segments essentially ripped off of Scott. But maybe also a little of the summer's minimals. //take place//green glass glasses gel light//under take//take over//walls are only there to be climbed over//lightness//mercurial//change//lies are//don't start that shit again//
meaning just takes me round in circles//
Fuck that - something about walls mirrors windows hardness reflections blocks ghosts of course in the mind no explanation meanings always running away - what the fuck old glass tv screens tink teeth + nails pixels amorphous shapes in the brain expressing one thing through another when actually you're after something else but anyway there might be another way to do it - screaming + banging + painting with my hands + feet to see if I can find the place it stops being poetry if maybe someone might says hold on a fucking minute what is this but being ready anyway because when people say 'we like tis' you say 'ok, well try this then' and go a little further OR when they say 'what is this shit?' you say 'hey fuck you' + push back twice as hard. always the only person who's holding you back because of this and and and and. hold tight. let go. get high. fall apart laugh + sing + all that shit. some things are just too fucking easy to be fun any more + who needs it who needs it? fragments. always forever trying to escape from meaning thats what this is trying to write off habit get down all the thoughts and outrun myself but my brain's always faster than my pen, the only thing thats faster is my brain on E the speed I can go then voice almost as quick but the thing is sometimes my unconscious brain and unconscious pen already got there + I don't consciously realise until I get caned + my voice stubs a toe on it. the scariest thing there is truth - that could be a commonality between ecstasy and my 'poetry' if that's what it is - that each is an attempt to scare myself into something I didn't mean to saw or do but I'll regret it if I don't and hope to fuck there's an accident along the way too so you might learn something and because thought is not language and language is not thought and there's a degree of estrangement maybe greater in my case but who knows? but (but again - why the fuck is that coming up so fucking often?) anyway, but but get away from this self reflective horseshit. Get back + read that Harvey Milk article especially for his policy + ideas on regeneration - it has to be community not buildings + business. Castro Street. what was that? this was racing off in pursuit of something or other until I got derailed by the poets coming back + having to make some kind of sense - or at least feeling that way drop the self light out in pursuit of what creeps up from somewhere you weren't looking the dreams where you run faster than you ever can run along rooftops or down endless stairs and mountainsides skipping from limestone pavement rock to rock not only can you not see where you're going you're not in control of your own momentum so out of control it's marginal there's any difference between running and stumbling choosing to jump and falling or flying but the best thing not organising anything all accident and contingency for once forget about precaution skin warming so thick you want to rub it off on someone else any way you can - run yourself into realisation of what it is you're scared of and whether you need to worry about it. and you think why am I sitting this way it makes my back hurt puts people off I need to come closer to the fire show I'm listening to the stories because I'm interested dress in butane benzene cast iron wax indie songs we don't really like but they're the closest we can get + I need my coat but I don't want to wear it a kid taking a trike down to the shops she won't ride back, get bored of mum or dad will have to dangle from their hand walk back with her exploring off in other directions all the way because it looks very different from that angle security climbing up the verge + because it's bright find the abandoned toy that becomes more loved than anything bought - shit, this'll be the 8th page tonight, all crap but who fucking cares - the self is the centre but unconsidered and warm and liberating because of that not the confinement pretence pain bullshit it turns to later wouldn't it be great to be a gibbon, orang-utan swinging leisurely or quickly drop from branch to branch. liana vines rocks upward down that motion bilateral symmetry without that human right/left split, one sided bias uncertainty wouldn't it be great to fuck your fear of heights crawl up the side of buildings live the city in 3 dimensions instead of feet and eyelevel and places to go crossing road looking out for trams and that's supposed to be perspective you don't actually know where you live so busy holding on to it you never get your shit together to enjoy it. go on give yourself a break. I have set light to my shirt by accident in a long time - and that's a shame, it's kind of a loss but you get back there sooner or later. accelerate I ought to do this more ink it + blood beforehand I thought I heard someone say. tattoos? I don't really know I might have misheard
.
Had an idea yesterday from both Carol Watts + Scott Thurston about pieces that could be read in a few different ways (I suppose Tony Trehy's long line was in there too). But had nothing concrete other than short lines + segments essentially ripped off of Scott. But maybe also a little of the summer's minimals. //take place//green glass glasses gel light//under take//take over//walls are only there to be climbed over//lightness//mercurial//change//lies are//don't start that shit again//
meaning just takes me round in circles//
Fuck that - something about walls mirrors windows hardness reflections blocks ghosts of course in the mind no explanation meanings always running away - what the fuck old glass tv screens tink teeth + nails pixels amorphous shapes in the brain expressing one thing through another when actually you're after something else but anyway there might be another way to do it - screaming + banging + painting with my hands + feet to see if I can find the place it stops being poetry if maybe someone might says hold on a fucking minute what is this but being ready anyway because when people say 'we like tis' you say 'ok, well try this then' and go a little further OR when they say 'what is this shit?' you say 'hey fuck you' + push back twice as hard. always the only person who's holding you back because of this and and and and. hold tight. let go. get high. fall apart laugh + sing + all that shit. some things are just too fucking easy to be fun any more + who needs it who needs it? fragments. always forever trying to escape from meaning thats what this is trying to write off habit get down all the thoughts and outrun myself but my brain's always faster than my pen, the only thing thats faster is my brain on E the speed I can go then voice almost as quick but the thing is sometimes my unconscious brain and unconscious pen already got there + I don't consciously realise until I get caned + my voice stubs a toe on it. the scariest thing there is truth - that could be a commonality between ecstasy and my 'poetry' if that's what it is - that each is an attempt to scare myself into something I didn't mean to saw or do but I'll regret it if I don't and hope to fuck there's an accident along the way too so you might learn something and because thought is not language and language is not thought and there's a degree of estrangement maybe greater in my case but who knows? but (but again - why the fuck is that coming up so fucking often?) anyway, but but get away from this self reflective horseshit. Get back + read that Harvey Milk article especially for his policy + ideas on regeneration - it has to be community not buildings + business. Castro Street. what was that? this was racing off in pursuit of something or other until I got derailed by the poets coming back + having to make some kind of sense - or at least feeling that way drop the self light out in pursuit of what creeps up from somewhere you weren't looking the dreams where you run faster than you ever can run along rooftops or down endless stairs and mountainsides skipping from limestone pavement rock to rock not only can you not see where you're going you're not in control of your own momentum so out of control it's marginal there's any difference between running and stumbling choosing to jump and falling or flying but the best thing not organising anything all accident and contingency for once forget about precaution skin warming so thick you want to rub it off on someone else any way you can - run yourself into realisation of what it is you're scared of and whether you need to worry about it. and you think why am I sitting this way it makes my back hurt puts people off I need to come closer to the fire show I'm listening to the stories because I'm interested dress in butane benzene cast iron wax indie songs we don't really like but they're the closest we can get + I need my coat but I don't want to wear it a kid taking a trike down to the shops she won't ride back, get bored of mum or dad will have to dangle from their hand walk back with her exploring off in other directions all the way because it looks very different from that angle security climbing up the verge + because it's bright find the abandoned toy that becomes more loved than anything bought - shit, this'll be the 8th page tonight, all crap but who fucking cares - the self is the centre but unconsidered and warm and liberating because of that not the confinement pretence pain bullshit it turns to later wouldn't it be great to be a gibbon, orang-utan swinging leisurely or quickly drop from branch to branch. liana vines rocks upward down that motion bilateral symmetry without that human right/left split, one sided bias uncertainty wouldn't it be great to fuck your fear of heights crawl up the side of buildings live the city in 3 dimensions instead of feet and eyelevel and places to go crossing road looking out for trams and that's supposed to be perspective you don't actually know where you live so busy holding on to it you never get your shit together to enjoy it. go on give yourself a break. I have set light to my shirt by accident in a long time - and that's a shame, it's kind of a loss but you get back there sooner or later. accelerate I ought to do this more ink it + blood beforehand I thought I heard someone say. tattoos? I don't really know I might have misheard
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