It is always the same! Every time I venture out into those black spaces in a war of words I hope to find something beyond the extraordinary. It is a war because it forever remains a battle to defeat a lasting spirit of mediocrity that chains my life to a habitual consistent repetitive patter. A conduit of sorts. Something to conduct the sewage of society in its most desirable direction of flow. Conventionality. That cesspit that exists to harness the efforts of all bipeds to the false gods of a life based on commerce. For the modern world is naught but overlapping echelons of emotionally lobotomized slaves. The likes and dislikes carefully husbanded by the larger system of reality replacement through uninterrupted fantasy. We must always pull together! But just what in the hell are we pulling? From where to where? And hence all previous history summarized as a cap-less pyramid that is never finished nor ever will be! This is the wall that I try to toss my thoughts over. But I am cursed! Cursed in word and deed as I continue to believe in everything that is not considered to be true. This selfish form of existence that like a muddied rut I have fallen into in the midst of the rainy season. Dare I raise my head?
The virtual space of the canvas or the page that stretches out in all directions yet never up or down. You can go left or stay right but never rise above or sink below. That is for the fiction of corpses. For when the inspiration fails you get your ‘get out of jail free’ card though you can no longer pass ‘go’ and collect the reciprocating two-hundred. It is the gap of former memory that vexes. From whence one came falls heavily upon the direction of where one ends up. For the young follow your Pokemon libido to its ultimate destination. Wage slavery. For the generation that was in-between siring and being found so, a pile of bills that would rival Everest. For the babies conceived after the second most useless major conflict in history the conclusion of your earthly existence high on dangerous prescriptions and a series of invasive tubes soon to come. What is this mad rush then to an indefinite conclusion. Take whatever time like fine wine. Hold back the best part in reserve. Make them pay because you know they can, and they will! Where is the conversation? There are no takers on a phone. Why not let the animal loose? Words may be the vehicle?
The blank space is Dodge City. Anything goes! If you can imagine it then it probably really is. Something to inspire those that seem to be institutionally brain dead. Better to ride the edge of ongoing narrative of the alternative official crisis surfing. There are not enough bullets for your gun. The high point of Western civilization is in the rear view mirror. The Hottentot’s are on the rise! Say the wrong thing and you are isolated by every useful idiot in town. The snowy white of the blank page is your personal preserve. Say what you will but don’t expect to get ‘Liked‘. The fifth column meanwhile is plotting your demise. Build your own story from the bits and pieces between the lie! How to recover your narrative from the everyday mouth of madness? I guess that you have to bleed a little. And of course this is just a bunch of paranoid nonsense. Nothing out there today, any worse than what was lurking around the corner the day before. What patent curiosities can you bring to mind by yourself on your own? That is what should serve as a fit pioneer for your own cultural expropriation of the waiting emptiness.“Wagons Ho!”