GO TIME

stay out of the sun and off the sauce until further notice have
been living in a fictional bubble pure la-la wonderland of raw
imagination projected to the invisible screen inside my skull
no applause required
silence preferred under these circumstances
ever notice how Santa and Satan are never in the same room
at the same time?
just one more reason why I believe 2 wrongs can make a right
especially in a completely virtualized world such as ours golden
techno glow existential fairytale collision of coincidence drives
a level head sideways screenshot saved for the final goodbye a
mad dog spit at midnight bottom lip split in half between first or
last gripped around memories on the run from the past history is
no longer behind but within us appearances and interpretations
images words and parallel injunctions among leery eyed warriors
enlisted to protect a vanishing code of what was once in place to
hold all of us accountable to mean what we say even though the
Creator has been dead for quite a while already "Language and
the prejudices upon which language is based are a manifold
hindrance to us when we want to explain inner processes and
drives: because of the fact for example that words really exist
only for superlative degrees of these processes and drives; and
where words are lacking we are accustomed to abandon exact
observation because exact thinking there becomes painful; and
indeed in earlier times one involuntarily concluded that where
the realm of words ceased the realm of existence ceased also.
Anger, hatred, love, pity, desire, knowledge, joy, pain - all are
names for extreme states: milder middle degrees, not to speak
of the lower degrees which are continually in play, elude us,
and yet it is they which weave the web of our character and of
our destiny."

Nietzsche, Daybreak

VANISH

what would you choose to do with 7 days to live:
from ignorance to innocence to write in such a way that gives the reader the full scope power of freedom to believe whatever it means once inside the darkness then say goodbye to life for the last time when it takes 3 beers to feel 1 some might find it my fault without knowing why as if addiction = logic + pussy + super transcendent bliss Emerson raised to the level of Thoreau no less impressive than Plato totem hyping Aristotle with prehistoric intellectual junkies consuming  toxic sophistry hard to the core unknown and 2 steps ahead of the help cunning truth from out of its essence leaving a shell ghost expression pure surface dead language shooting silence words driven ruined in shadow marks cast above incandescent light quantum lines between parallel minds End of Story almost absolutely but don't ask me of fractured metallic moment contrasting stages of self spiraling religion into philosophy into science into money into family into my final creative act "We mean that man first of all exists encounters himself surges up in the world and defines himself afterwards.  If man as the existentialist sees him is not definable it is because to begin with he is nothing.  He will not be anything until later and then he will be what he makes of himself.  Thus there is no human nature because there is no God to have conception of it.  Man simply is.  Not that he is simply what he conceives himself to be but he is what he wills and as he conceives himself after already existing - as he wills to be after that leap towards existence.  Man is nothing else but that which he makes of himself.  That is the first principle of existentialism.  And this is what people call its 'subjectivity' using the word as a reproach against us.  But what do we mean to say by this but that man is of a greater dignity than a stone or a table.  For we mean to say that man primarily exists - that man is before all else something which propels itself towards a future and is aware it is doing so.  Man is indeed a project which possesses a subjective life instead of being some kind of moss or fungus or a cauliflower."

Sartre, Existentialism And Humanism
  

LEFTOVERS

Black Friday
Dirty Gravy
Dark Meat
Broken Spun
Over Done
Past Due
Running Out of Reality
Second By Second...
Nothing Other

it's funny how they promise a better
world if elected but in reality they
stick us with another fucking library
filled with goofy lies and ridiculous
artifice in a revision of history that
never happened...

Zero Point
Absolutely Me

it seems like you've got something
to prove but no one to prove it to...

Good Brew
Liquid Trance

I prefer boozing in solitude because
imbibing alcohol is an original sacred
ritual meant for transcending illusions
of the world and accessing true self
much like taking yage and peyote or
waking the mind through prolonged
sessions of extreme meditation...

Modern Perversion
Autonomous Moods

"that this is the gift
and I am ill with it;
it has sloshed around my bones
and brings me awake to
stare at walls.

musing often leads to madness,
o dog with an
old rag doll.

into and beyond terror.
seriousness will not do,
seriousness is gone:
we must carve from
fresh marble.

hell, jack, this is wise-time:
we must insist on camouflage,
they taught us that;
wine come down through
staring eye,
god coughed alive
through the indistinct smoke
of verse.

the light yellow mamas are gone.
the garter high on the leg,
the charm of 18 is 80.
and the kisses, snakes darting
liquid silver have stopped:
no man lives the magic long.

until one morning it catches you;
you light the fire,
pour a hasty drink as the psyche
crawls like a mouse into an empty
pantry.

if you were El Greco
or even a watersnake
something could be done.

another drink.
well, rub your hands and prove
you are still alive.
walk the floor. seriousness will
not do.

this is the gift,
this is the gift...
certainly the charm of dying lies
in the fact that very little
is lost."

Bukowski, The Gift

WASTED

if it weren't for the void within each and everyone of us what would the inter-network connect to from snub to snog it's all been pre-conceived choreographed by the masters of illusion responsible for circulation of empty information a virtual shangri-la in google we trust truth be told I should've been gone two weeks ago but I've put my extended life on my credit card holding at 7.24% APR and I can always flaunt bankruptcy try collecting anything from me when I'm floating face down below Big Sur spoken ocean imagining a space between Bogart & Hitchcock the good old days of white lies dead flies black ties and dark skies we've seen the picture from a rear view mirror just in time for a Walter Cronkite news bulletin smile as if Kennedy had expected what was about to happen envisioned it coming out of Cuba Israel Moscow Khrushchev bathing in butter fried foie gras and human caviar blessed by the holy hammer & sickle one in the nose sticks and stones may break my bones but names tickle my balls one in the gut the other in the Bible is not without value but isn't it funny that it is taken word for word literally by the most illiterate among us why learn how to read when its so much easier to be deceived? "I'm pretty sure I can hear someone screaming in the house next to ours down the canyon and I close my window. I can also hear the dog barking out in back and KROQ is playing old Doors songs and War of the Worlds is on channel thirteen and I switch it to some religious program where the preacher is yelling 'Let God use you. God wants to use you. Lie back and let him use you, use you.' 'Lie back' he keeps chanting. 'Use you, use you.' I'm drinking gin and melted ice in bed and imagine that I can hear someone breaking in. But Daniel says over the phone that it's probably my sisters getting something to drink. It's hard to believe Daniel tonight; on the news I hear there were four people beaten to death in the hills last night and I stay up most of the night looking out the window staring into the backyard looking for werewolves."

Easton Ellis, Less Than Zero

END UP 3

not so much the stuff of Shakespeare
Baudelaire
Whitman
Pound
Elliot
or even Keats

no my friends this isn't poetry -
this is street rag:

the gritty stuff of back roads and
empty alleys where night meets
darkness and quiet souls wreaking
havoc amongst battered shadows
like sheep being led to slaughter
choking on laughter -

it's a bad world
it's a mad world
we create and sustain if for but to
ask forgiveness from some oddly
absent deity who remains distant
until at last Judgement Day -

as always as it is this world we live
you must be nuts not to think of it
crazy such every aspect has been
contaminated with mutated forms
of synthetic energy passed around
like fallout in a windstorm flooding
consciousness with impossible hope
dead dreams lingering upon metallic
sky a new conspiracy theory trilogy
spliced and re-engineered before the
beginning of Time "When a growing
individual finds that he is destined to
remain a child forever, that he cannot
do without protection against strange
superior powers he lends the powers
the features belonging to the figure of
his father; he creates for himself gods
whom he dreads, whom he seeks to
propitiate and whom he nevertheless
entrusts with his own protection. Thus
his longing for a father is the motive
identical with his need for protection
against the consequences of his own
human weakness. The defense against
childish helplessness is what lends its
characteristic features to the adult's
reaction to the helplessness which he
has to acknowledge- a reaction which
is precisely the formation of religion."

Freud, The Future Of An Illusion

END UP 2

AFTER that big old sun takes a
load off going totally bogus plus
terminator x it -

there are so many other things to
remember after all is said and done
but not right now-

some one ought to make the point
what it don't isn't a matter anymore
than if history lived in a broken tea
kettle -

time has a bit up its sleeve yet most
won't know about that until the end
damn near begins again -

my face done gone made itself a
freckle today and I'm surprised by
the way it makes me realize it  "In
the first place I'm sort of an atheist.
I like Jesus and all but I don't care
too much for most of the other stuff
in the Bible. Take the Disciples for
instance. They annoy the hell out
of me if you want to know the truth.
They were all right after Jesus was
dead and all but while He was alive
they were about as much use to him
as a hole in the head. All they did was
keep letting him down. I like almost
anybody in the Bible better than the
Disciples. If you want to know the
truth the guy I like best in the Bible
next to Jesus was the lunatic and all
that lived in tombs and kept cutting
himself with stones. I like him ten
times as much as the Disciples that
poor bastard."

Salinger, The Catcher In The Rye

END UP 1

snow is so like cold the
coldest there is

and just try to eat some
some day and freeze
your stomach off

kick in the punch trust
your fingers like in a
trapeze act on fire

just the opposite forces
of what the fuck are you
talking about

talking about drawing a
line in the sand forever

another 2nd Level initial
anti glucose coma dealing
migraine inside split mind
reverberations unlimited

to a sound revolution of
an underground unified
clam song I've seen pussy
like that sing a beautiful
tune excuse me if

empire of worms ants or
other forms of whatever
God wants

dead Uncles who fought
in the War

I'd like to thank Hello Ms?
I'd like to thank all of you
those of who I've known in
one method from many or
nothing really important

I've been privy to where
the words in front of your
mouth originate and their
inevitable destiny

the God they talk about and
words they want to believe
above all else
the faith of their imaginations
fails to realize what is most
obvious
they God the talk about is a
power within made actual
released into the light of the
world from without

a level of self excluded and
abandoned discarded by the
truth accepted amongst the
masses

which is why it's bad luck
to pass gas at an ashtray...

MIND X

to create nonsense in such an honest way as to appear as real as truth in order to compel the mind to see through the illusion of assumptions it has accepted of Reality and redefine each element by its opposite essence if but for no other reason then to reverse the trend of being demented before Time decides Never lasts longer than Forever seems like a dream caught in a bottle or an unsanctioned orgy of monks and nuns full throttle not sure what something like that should be rated I mean who can say for sure which came first walking it back from the edge of the end to a permanent distance of instant resistance against the coordinated hoax of historical reference just as Nietzsche discovered and declared "God is Dead" I'm here to deliver the poison tonic spider bite unholy venom to kill the Bible drive a fang inside the skin rip the soul and destroy the Source of original guilt and shame that hangs like a toxic fog above humanity's claim that immortality is a bit overrated given the fact it doesn't exist whether or not it can be proven anyone with a touch of common sense will tell the difference between believing and seeing feels like what watching porn is to cracking nasty eat the pink ring albeit far from me to suggest how one goes about releasing the king within embracing the savior reflected in mirrors Eternity + Now = 1 more thing to consider "It is only through the influence of individuals who can set an example and whom masses recognize as their leaders that they can be induced to perform the work and undergo the renunciations on which the existence of civilization depends. All is well if these leaders are persons who possess superior insight into the necessities of life and who have risen to the height of mastering their own instinctual wishes. But there is a danger that in order not to lose their influence they may give way to the masses more than it gives way to them and it therefore seems necessary that they shall be independent of the mass by having means to power at their disposal. To put it briefly, there are two widespread human characteristics which are responsible for the fact that the regulations of civilization can only be maintained by a certain degree of coercion - namely, that men are not spontaneously fond of work and that arguments are of no avail against their passions."

Freud, The Future Of An Illusion

THE ANTI - SIGN

or acid on Kafka words of fury blazing a path through sleeping dreaming invisible souls awaiting to be taken home luck has nothing to do with it just ask Bukowski whiskey and water once and for all sounds like taking out the garbage when no one else is around to confirm or deny your whereabouts at the time it all went down head butt lock and load 4 weeks 3 weeks less than I care to count or dare to remember up against Father Clock Mother Sun Sister Moon never stop to consider what are the odds of lightning striking the same place twice in a world when everything is so impossibly real postpone the announcement to the media to be determined as soon as new legislation provides an outline suspended expectations will be required by anyone in trouble with the Law a low ball response to high cheese pitch on the money an incomplete recall you might as well dance while you still can the lemon horizon dawning into tangerine as we speak can't say I said that coming back to an unsolicited "I told you so" let's just leave the shift caught between passing epochs recorded in gold leaf and toxic mascara look at a mirror the next chance and try to understand History is an obsolete theme song repeating itself in a vacuum through blind coincidence unguided happenstance and the seemingly innocent yet unobtainable quest for redemption we have all so naively swallowed hook line and sinker "And these men for whom life has no repose live at times in their rare moments of happiness with such strength and indescribable beauty, the spray of their moment's happiness is flung so high an dazzlingly over the wide sea of suffering that the light of it spreading its radiance touches others too with its enchantment. Thus like a precious fleeting foam over the sea of suffering arise all those works of art in which a single individual lifts himself for an hour so high above his personal destiny that his happiness shines like a star and appears to all who see it as something eternal and as a happiness of their own. All these men whatever their deeds and works may be have really no life; that is to say, their lives are not their own and have no form. They are not heroes, artists or thinkers in the same way that other men are judges, doctors, shoemakers or schoolmasters. Their life consists of a perpetual tide, unhappy and torn with pain terrible and meaningless unless one is ready to see its meaning in just those rare experiences, acts, thoughts and works that shine out above the chaos of such a life."

- Hesse, Steppenwolf

WHY MOLLY KNOT

a slice of mind a twisting spine popping the top I already know what it’s like because I’ve been dead forever just a coincidence maybe maybe-not who told you I know what it’s like outside to refer to its certified classification one never knows when it comes or where it goes of unknown origins spike a memory 2^nd line round the razor tip of an old ugly spear piercing energy rush unlimited with an incorrect word out of place innocent in the way God Bless / Jesus Saves the last noodle boiled into coagulated mucus mental inception from beyond issue must have been what was said “that’s that again” pick up some better luck next time then is will always be as I’ve seen it dead forever again again already gone off to everlasting paradise shopping cart full of faith in a mystery stain cumshot crusty gun mother of funny stuck at the intersection of nowhere & other

the story is the story start from the beginning

begin at the last page and work backwards in back words from a raw transcendent bliss with Strawhat Charlotte who smelled like garlic snuck into a (won’t forget) PT Anderson tribute Hard Eight : Boogie Nights : There Will Be Blood : The Master : each one after another to another to another looping through a finite stream of light and electricity

I’ve read the dialogue from voice over to subtitle still can’t make it make sense and I wake up in the middle of a life shining itself paper thin like a screenscript on acid dipped in pure euphoria something to keep the heart beating while murdering consciousness at its core where it stands stretching insanity to the brink payment on loan from an underground shadow sector I mean who hasn’t killed Jesus once or twice the center edge inverted inside everything defined by the Anti-Sign…

I promise when this is over a total noetic unity nor “clotted liquid dung”  I need three years to finish this hedonistic trip mainline no one else behind or ahead of me empty horizons like key lime pie ubiquitous directions on fire leave the beans paralyzed by midnight oh yeah the Story Chapter Epilogue Footnote (don’t forget the Title) rearview conclusions adopted abandoned erased in the unspoken code of freedom agreed to in theory yet never felt in flesh

opening my eyes during a very real moment perceive the form from which it derives

power connecting dots in a linear arc through Yeats to the Beats and back again if you’re not learning you’re not living oh the Sound the sound of sounds a long miracle list  giant hodgepodge collage of human history so easy to say every perspective of our collective on display 360 degrees a panoramic brain scope sizing up again and again where it’s going from where it’s been speaking of a world within splintered tongues betrayed by a kiss to lick heal deep lethal wounds scars left behind by war sister nations giving birth to inevitable extinction jealousy reigning over expected reactions a natural response to the given assumptions divided by time despite the conjunctive clause in the original contract keeping any fear aside from the matter at hand madcow foot mouth eat that grin off your face or else taste the consequences –

an organic reality linked between cause and effect chains of ideas preserved in order generation to generation repeated for no other reason but to generate momentum as some things flow alone in the zone elevated to the peak of uncertainty a common misconception of what it means to see through the surface I’m compelled to tell of what I remember hearing a group of small children singing while waiting for a bus

“a snitch in a casket like a brick in a basket pawned to the Army as an orphan whose only purpose is to curse existence for being nothing more than a cruel joke played on the poor broken souls clinging to the unlikely hope that all will be forgiven”

DEAD LETTER

when I look at the world I see literature... / superfeta #285 /
and maybe just maybe black people shouldn't be owned like property by white people and yes maybe just maybe a green weed that if smoked makes people happy content peaceful and relieved of pain anxiety fear shouldn't be criminalized with there being so many guns in circulation and corrupt politicians bribed by greedy bankers and freedom hating judges Congratulations America there is hope yet:
now all you need to do is to stop believing in an innocent dude who was murdered for walking on water turning shit into wine and subverting authority and you might literally avoid being conquered by extraterrestrial aliens of the 3rd gNarf sector:
not to mention but speaking of which if the range of God's test of Man's faith in him runs from Adam and the Apple to Abraham and Isaac to Job to Daniel to Jesus and Paul all the way up through History and including the Holocaust then it's safe to say he's a motherfucking asshole...
"O you hypocrites, O you whited sepulchres, O you who present a smooth smiling face to the world while your soul within is a foul swamp of sin, how will it fare with you in that terrible day?  And this day will come shall come must come; the day of death and the day of judgement. It is appointed unto man to die and after death judgement. Death is certain. The time and manner are uncertain, whether from long disease or from some unexpected accident; the Son of God cometh at an hour when you little expect Him. Be therefore ready every moment, seeing that you may die at any moment. Death is the end of us all. Death and judgement, brought into the world by the sin of our first parents, are the dark portals that close our earthly existence, the portals that open into the unknown and the unseen, portals through which every soul must pass, alone unaided save by its good works, without friend or brother or parent or master to help it, alone and trembling. Let that thought be ever before our minds and then we cannot sin. Death, a cause of terror to the sinner, is a blessed moment for him who has walked in the right path, fulfilling the duties of his station in life, attending to his morning and evening prayers, approaching the holy sacrament frequently and performing good and merciful works."

- Joyce, A Portrait Of The Artist As A Young Man

WORLD WAR ME

all of philosophy poetry verse based creativity is a long list of words attempting to describe what life truth time being reality self is not in order to reveal in the mind of the reader what it is:
Nietzsche murdered the word at its very source by which I mean he destroyed the hypnotic trance or blind faith control most people use to guide their souls through a language maze riddled in tangible illusions and dead image space...
(what a way to go more whiskey less war)
Nietzsche applied in a sense what Marx said about Religion to all of Modern Society Culture Science Politics the grassroots thought channel bar shot chatter exchanged between slush heads full of talk rot doesn't matter wherever there is raw language engaged in authority supporting power structure operating unilaterally above those who are willing to submit to and follow in conformity all mob wranglers obsessed with attention taking their trust in advantage to gain personally at an expense and detriment of the species thus begins the end of the 2nd Coming...

The Final Dive [when] is it the ego's transcendence of itself that presents the world or is it the world that becomes its other through perceptions of the ego's reflection upon it? "Well I began analyzing it - my imagination persisted in sticking horrors into the dark so I stuck my imagination into the dark instead and let it look out at me - I let it play stray dog or escaped convict or ghost and then saw myself coming along the road.  That made it all right - as it always makes every thing all right to project yourself completely into another place"

- Fitzgerald, This Side Of Paradise

OTHER KILL MINE

a poetic jam of unbeing stream of dead words speaking to the darkness silence is the tongue of light
eternal
universal
absolute
not unlike Being isn't a product of an idea or theory
laws are for idiotic halfheads who believe cheating is ok as long as you're not caught
no system or privilege of freedom is a purer form of existence all and every to each of one in their own as it is for a moment:
just imagine if Life stopped and asked "what is the meaning of you?"
what would you say...
alive
dying
dead
it doesn't matter Man is created in his own image with an incomplete language caught in a mind warp word loop empty bubble pop rock sun shot "In fact, I am then plunged into the world of objects; it is they which constitute the unity of my consciousness it is they which present themselves with values, with attractive and repellent qualities- but me, I have disappeared; I have annihilated myself. There is no place for me on this level. And this is not a matter of chance, due to a momentary lapse of attention, but happens because of the very structure of consciousness."
- Sartre, The Transcendence of the Ego
the new underground smells like a rusty bung hole plugged solid with rotten toxic mushtots just as some have thought or what of it the big end 7 to go or maybe 6 until the final dive driving off into the sunset once and for all when that was enough don't ask Nietzsche for a ride who only knew that War is best better than sex killing trumps fucking any day of the week more potent than truth or wild drug rush higher than Life itself silly stump questions oh so much to say before:
love is an illusion between gods who murder their own sons for fun who pimp married women and rape little children oh what a crock of it everything comes to be as soon as you realize it's already over...

WHEN ONCE WAS ALL

to think imagine believe that all the evil terror suffering murder rape violence war fraud lying theft waste destruction greed tyranny holocaust genocide weapons of annihilation abuse addiction delusion all of it the darkness abyss void uncertainty negative dying light anti-mind confusion wrong way no how the end of everything an unnecessary death that all of this could be in the one i nothing more than fear 
of Love:

to be afraid of loving as much as being loved by another and from fear we watch witness notice observe the world strangled choking on a chicken bone... 
I don't want to be remembered this way and I'm sick of waiting 8 weeks 8 weeks 
to think imagine wonder consider contemplate decide preserve communicate

what words have done with silence –

what language has done with words –

what story has done with language –

what religion has done with story –

what poetry has done with religion –

what philosophy has done with poetry –

what science has done with philosophy –

what technology has done with science –

what society has done with technology –

what money has done with society –

what time is doing with money –

what silence will do with time…“Basically, cancer is scary, but some kinds may be more boogeyman-in-the-closet scary than serial killer scary. To understand fully, you have to look at the history of cancer diagnosis, Brawley says. In the 1850s, a group of German pathologists did some of the first biopsies on people who had clearly died of cancer. They took samples of their tumors and decided what breast cancer looks like, what lung cancer looks like, etc. Today, Brawley says, there is a patient who has a lesion that's approximately 5 millimeters in diameter -- smaller than a pea. There's a doctor taking a biopsy of that lesion and a pathologist who's analyzing the sample using 21st-century technology. The problem, Brawley says, is that they're still comparing the samples to the cancer definition that was created more than 150 years ago. It's an issue many people have difficulty wrapping their heads around: Some patients who are diagnosed with cancer do not need to be treated, because that cancer is never going to bother them. The problem is that we don't know who those people are.”
By Jacque Wilson and Amanda Enayati “Overtested Americans: when cancer isn’t cancer at all”

MAD STATE

"what will you have"
"whiskey and water"

"how do you suppose to teach them to un-learn the insanity of the world as the only one they know"
"you mean how is one cured of the self once it's believed to be real"

"howdy Gents what will it be"
"oh we're not together"
"I'm waiting for someone"
"I'll have another whiskey and water"
"nice talking with you maybe I'll see you later"
"ok baby be good"

"is this seat taken"
"no it's all yours"
"ok bartender I'll have a vodka and coke and a little ice"
"so what brings you in"
"I gave a book reading tonight at the college here in town"
"no shit how did it go"
"well the audience was attentive and courteous and it all went just as I thought it would"
"then it was a success"
"yes yes quite right"
"to success"
"to success"
"so what's the book about"
"I used to to an exterminator"
"a bugman"
"yes a bugman"
"bang any horny housewives"
"fortunately I did not"
"oh ok then"
"no in that line of work I was mostly alone in basements attics behind the garage bulkheads never really got around to lining the bedroom"
"yeah sure I just thought maybe you'd gotten lucky"
"nope and I've never much relied on luck"
"really"
"Nietzsche says the outcome of one's life is the result of his own will and ultimate intention"
"yeah but Nietzsche was a certified gertrude"
"a certified what"
"a loony madcap I mean by the end he was totally bonkers"
"yes well the truth can do that to a man"
"not with one of these in my hand bartender another round for me and my friend"
"as often is the case only the insane can see the truth for what it is because logic leads back in a circle to uncertainty and every answer begets another question endlessly until the mind is tied up in a knot"
"or decides to jump off a bridge"
"oh alcohol helps to suspend the conflict briefly in some but to survive the ongoing challenge of life eventually the mind must face the light"
"fucking bugs"
"not much a man can do against the light"
"the needle"
"well well what do you know and how do you do my name is Bill"
"Hank"
"bartender..."

AS I DIE LAUGHING

stop and imagine how you'll be remembered and you'll quickly wish to be forgotten
like a disaster waiting to happen.
one more whiskey and no more war.
please don't worry.
I'm nothing.
but this is how it should be:

Apocalypse Not
(the Reduz that never was)
Directed by Aronofsky
starring:
Gandolfini as Col. Kurtz
LeBeouf as Capt. Willard
O. Wilson as Kilgore
and Depp as Hopper's Character the Photojournalist

oh fuck me right too late unless we get Willis to gain some pounds or maybe Rogen is free to grease the noodles...

ok ok bad idea fucking stupid but how about this:
a Mockumentary of the making of a Good Will Hunting remake
Written by Kevin Smith
Directed by Ben Affleck
starring:
Matt Damon as Will
Johnny Knoxville as Ben Affleck
Austin Powers as Robin Williams
Peter Sarsgaard as himself
and if Mini Driver isn't available then Mila Kunis or Juno...

I let the words worry about what they mean if this shit writes itself I wonder who is it for? "words are no good" well then what kind of war are you trying to win blame of me for what again? died for me from who? I don't think it's right to make me receive any thing by someone innocent being crucified. all wrong and makes no sense. all wrong so it can't be but not much of but another book full of killing time with is what I see...

GHOST WRITER

what if we're already dead how much more meaningful it would all seem to be: no?
murder is the misappropriation of suicide death energy dark matter gone awry. given the amount of it we've had so far one might hope we'd know a better understanding of what Time is other than something as misconceived as a measure of money's worth. but that is my pride getting the best of me unaware of how foolish it must sound to any other but its own. when will it. when will it. less than 10 weeks now. but it won't go and it won't stop. I can't make it what it won't. love is what we use to deny ourselves because it is so much easier to lie to someone else. you write like a disaster waiting to happen. I can't make it what it won't to its own. trust me. nor can you neither. if Death is what they want there is plenty of that going around. what if we're already. between war and whiskey and the way words turn right to wrong I can't wait to become one. do they know we're already dead? what difference is there a difference. can't make it what it won't. not now. not ever. seems like they read me just fine. words got me good. "I can remember how when I was young and believed death to be a phenomenon of the body; now I know it to be merely a function of the mind - and that of the minds of the ones who suffer the bereavement. The nihilists say it's the end; fundamentalists, the beginning when in reality it is no more than a single tenant or family moving out of a tenement or a town."

- Faulkner, As I Lay Dying

PRECIOUS .IS.

language is a dead medium for explaining human experience.
between war and whiskey an American Legacy best summed up "I'd rather sink with a Republican than sail with Democrat" as if loyalty is a cure for ignorance. it isn't. once more there are those who say they would rather sink with a Republican than sink with a Democrat is there a difference...
I write.
I breath.
I eat.
I sleep.
I write.
I'm going to write until the sky splits open and heaven falls to the earth.
I'm going to write until everyone who can't read understands what it all means.
I'm going to write until my soul bids farewell.
writing is what makes the vital worthwhile.
cigarettes are a poor man's watch. come see the pink machine dream of being the real thing while the world pretends now is the end to believe life is shit is a lie: it is less than that. all or nothing and not much of what one can make I guess war is what we do to keep it from becoming more boring because war is as close to true as one can get without dying yet boredom is even worse is where madness springs and madness is the beginning of evil to start some up and see where it leads makes war look like sport or organized religion no pun intended support systems to keep the abyss at bay. sex. eat. sleep. until the final send off. later. goodbye. why else would it matter to a troubled mind providing literary experimentation for sake of expression no one comprehends what it feels like to perceive the essential awareness between light and time running on the same line described but unnamed saved for the last page discarded as a fake mistake overlooked in the process and exactly as it should be...

WRONG OF RIGHT

I fell into a deep sleep and slipped into another world...
give them what they want
Wars are fought by men mostly old children but they are won by warriors by the ones who've died in battle. War is our honor game to the Gods. It is how we weed out the weakest and most feeble minded from the gene pool those lucky enough to be born but not tough enough to live lacking intelligence and awareness organization strategy vision cunning patience deception when necessary knowing when to fight and when to hide and wait. Everyone who dies in war chooses to whether they realize it or not. The only question to ask is Why: and of course the answer will must remain whitewashed in silence. 10 weeks.  10 more weeks to live caught me eye on hangnail I feel like I could sleep forever and not miss a goddamn thing talk is not only cheap it is worthless and symptom of extreme delusion. Writing is just a little less so. "Often a man wishes to be alone and a girl wishes to be alone too and if they love each other they are jealous of that in each other, but I can truly say we never felt that way. We could feel alone when we were together, alone against the others. But we were never lonely and never afraid when we were together. I know that the night is not the same as the day: that all things are different, that the things of the night cannot be explained in the day, because they do not then exist, and the night can be a dreadful time for lonely people once their loneliness has started. If people bring so much courage to this world the world has to kill them to break them so of course it kills them. The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry."

-  Hemingway, A Farewell To Arms

add time. add more time. they want more time. always...

HELLO WAR

Hemingway
Steinbeck
Algren
Vonnegut
(but not Burroughs and maybe not Kerouac)
and there are others I suppose
they work you over for a few pages of acceptable details
of plot and character insight that twist and entwine and
finally knot and once knotted
need to be loosened through a dialectic trick of posing
opposite thoughts against each other until an impression
of balance between words is restored
between words...

it's the classic scenario of an author (as dictator) taking
credit for solving an imagined conflict he instigated in
order to discover some applicable principle of life that
unfortunately exists only within the same foolish pages
of his frivolous script

if it was a case of a cat chasing her own tail it would be
cute but it's not
it's more like a doctor killing his patient and then balling
about the quality of medicine these days

all at the wrong of right...

THE SILENCE AND THE FORM

"This was where I saw the river for the last time this morning about here. I could feel water beyond the twilight, smell. When it bloomed in the spring and it rained the smell was everywhere you didn't notice it so much at other times but when it rained the smell began to come into the house at twilight either it would rain more at twilight or there was something in the light itself but it always smelled strongest then until I would lie in bed thinking when will it stop when will it stop. The draft in the door smelled of water, a damp steady breath. Sometimes I could put myself to sleep saying that over and over until after the honeysuckle got all mixed up in it the whole thing came to symbolize night and unrest I seemed to be lying neither asleep nor awake looking down a long corridor of gray halflight where all stable things had become shadowy paradoxical all I had done shadows all I had felt suffered taking visible form antic and perverse mocking without relevance inherent themselves with the denial of the significance they should have affirmed thinking I was I was not who was not was not who."

- Faulkner, The Sound And The Fury

FUCKIT

I think I'd be better off without me:
it's so obvious why did it take so long to figure out life isn't meant to be lived. the world would rather be left to the bugs and dust let the bees fight the yellowjackets and the cockroaches argue with ants let the lions eat antelope and the owls mark the snake.
we've all but overstayed our welcome and who knows Death is eternal ecstasy...
try to blow your own whistle it isn't easy:
repurposing reality for history seems like printing money on worthless paper instead of coining gold for beer and bread now as we all know for certain the only things that trickle down in America is piss shit and toxic bliss...
words from the future written about the past we've only just begun to live. divine inspired verbosity I'm no longer protected hidden within ignorance from others they are awake alert curious interested now growing more suspicious of me my quiet inward gaze chasing time to light it's like each website has its own unique personality my offspring progeny virtual legacy I leave to the world instead of procreating flesh and spirit and blood and freewill I post a space and name it and make it shine like a new star to the night sky...

SPILLGUTS NOW

don't think. write. get out of the way. where words go to die. there is space for an ending here. finally. a light flashing blasting in the sun blinding mysterious light I can see it coming words more words but I don't know why. I don't know what it is. so close. too close to the light. I woke up too soon to see how it ends. because I wanted to make plans to head out of town and drive down the coast. walk around the beach maybe drop 4X6 superfeta but I can't see that happening now.
flip.
switch channel.
I can try this again later but for the time being.
I see it as the complete expression of darkness and negation of original energy starting with you the voice of paranoia and incurable confusion. then of course the oldest of us he is the bitter one. I'm the hostile one caught in the middle. and the last in line he is a tack of vapid sarcasm. which brings me to the Source of our ruptured family unit lost in a perpetual battle against itself he has been dead for over 2 years...
there isn't a final solution or meaningful resolution or trick to avoid the trap. no.
in the end everything is left unsettled unresolved misperceived misunderstood indefinite unknown
in the end all is nothing:
and if and only if one accepts this against the endless illusions reality projects inside the spectrum there is a chance for one to stand at the center vortex where time and light converge as mind and realize there are better things than being alive...

NO NAME MORE

... yeah so my name is yeah ok so what my name is ______  Spillguts so what why does it matter anymore you've got yours I've got mine yeah ok so
life moves fast. can't catch up you know. time is constant out there moving some where beyond where I can see it but I know it's out there keeping a constant pace moving fast and yet when we choose to observe its position is totally arbitrary. one moment this next moment that. what does it matter. it's like an emotional reaction that goes nowhere. like screaming in a dream. like living in a nightmare. like dying in a movie. the larger the capacity for thought and genuine curiosity the more beautiful and awe inspiring Life becomes. but it moves so fast. here today gone tomorrow. mine is almost already over I doubt I'll even get to finish this book (?) blog website whatever who cares. which is not a story by the way. who needs another story and quit reading the Bible like it was the only one in existence or as if it was Life itself. because it isn't. it's just one book in the infinite shelf and books are full of words and words are empty vessels of abstract information illusions rumors myths lies. no one should be made to
answer to a Word. so fast. gone. it's over. what for. how come. why all the trouble. and forget numbers too. numbers are fucking evil. I bet life would seem to slow down a bit if we all decided to remain silent. for awhile. long enough to let the dust settle...

NEVER FEAR NOTHING

LIFE:  an empty energy full of nothing that like breathing gives us a chance however brief at being...


NIHILISM:  an useless reaction to an incomplete assumption (temporary is not the same as nothing) to offer man's mortality as an excuse for nihilism is to immerse oneself in too much symbolism and completely detach from actual reality as it is...


VOID:  does not exist but for the word that represents its place in the flaw of language that allows the mind to speak and perceive in terms of things unreal and impossible...


MIND:  that which gives meaning to the world through creativity and expression of energy but is susceptible to believing in the absurdity of taking what it creates or imagines for Life itself...


ME:  the greatest illusion of all...