Came partial circle. For past ten years letters have been archived in a plastic bag. Recently free computer. Now, it's quite beneficial, SRO Hotel LA is too close quarters to typewrite.. A place to look at my scratch in print as if from another. A place to be spontaneous. Opposed to wasting creativity writing laborious unrequited love letters to girls on dating site.. A space for unedited spill and archive. Thoughts, corridors, catacombs, square statements, scraps of memory, quotes, poems, attempts at prose, screaming notes in search of God, surely a drunken log.. Mostly for my own experimentation but go ahead.. If lost or abandoned will just make more, will break apart one day anyways, will not matter anymore then, these old moons and pale worn yellow dreams.. The skies will finally have exhausted. It will be exquisite..
If you choose to live a life committed to violence, you can be seamless in violence. You can be wild with power and wield your sword like a surgical instrument. It is luxurious to feel such power, and it is romantic to embrace a life lived down a violent path.But, though you may briefly experience that power there is one thing this lifestyle does not entail; time. Your path will be limited. And once that power is snatched away you will be sucked into a vortex of regret and repentance. You will be forced to walk some terrible line. Only those who endure a life lived on an honest path will be rewarded. An honest life is hard, it is not romantic and it can be tedious.
P.S. It’s ok to steal from walmart and big grocery/department stores so fill your pockets up.
All systems are antiquated. All this human ephemera is looking tremendously dismal. It looks like dangerous, poisonous garbage good only for a few minutes distraction.They have been reporting the same old stories on the news for millenia. This Earth is miracle enough to joy every human ever born. Art can be spiritual, it can be decorative or it can be educational. Sometimes just plain strange or beautiful. But your Art can never be elite or godly. Art should enrich, bring joy in humble ways. The mind is so restless it must be taught how to accept just being human. You should see yourself as an animal. Art can be good for that too.
Artists have always been influenced by and reflected the times in which they lived. Jackson Pollock spoke a lot about the Modern Aims in his art. Andy Warhol was like a Mirror. Even as far back as Lascaux the age was reflected in the art of man. But I can tell you surely that Facebook, Twitter, Smartphones, these soul sucking institutions will not lend themselves to Art. Maybe this crap will lend itself to art but people will probably be unenthusiastic about the results. This is because FB and Twitter are so greedy and obnoxious. Also, their enterprises make people less aware of their lives and the world.
So, the result is that Art will just get worse. Artists will get more dismal. Too much time on social media dulls the artist’s ambition. I could be wrong about all this. Maybe as a son of the bay area I’m just so fucking angry towards these companies for gentrifying and square bear-ifying my area that I can no longer afford or want to live there.
Lord, grant me some leniency, as my generation is far removed from your shade. And your Bibles written by men I cannot trust.
As I can’t even trust the accounts of men alive today.
People lost in a digital limbo.
I don’t think it would even be possible for Jesus to come back today anyway, because of all the Celebrity fetishes and gossip. They would ask him to like pose for Rolling Stone and shit.
People are born and they only pass on technology. Spiritual evolution happens slow. Each generation must relive the same mistakes. They struggle to find the same footing in each life and they endlessly fight the same wars.
Greedy seedy egotism. Too many kings. And far too many subjected to the wills of men-kings.
There is nothing worse than another foolish, smelly man telling you to do his ideas of something.
If there is a God, this God will need infinite billions of eternal hospital beds.
As people come in screaming.
I think its flowers. Maybe Cactus.
Like the gates of heaven.
I saw funny little mud ponds somewhere.
The coast was like miniature glass plinths on a blue pool, the houses all snapped into a row beneath the low furling clouds and heat.
Their license plates have oranges on them.
I flew over Florida.