きつね

The Esteemed Visitor

We walked onto the stage
giving lines, taking notes
from the director, had her
in a class last fall,
my first semester,
director Heather,

now we're simply students
doing theater, a small
production based on
a draft by just another
student, from a class
on writing plays

today's rehearsal,
rehearse the scene,
where Superman
gets the key to the city

from a mayor, our very
mayor, with her fake
blonde hair, it looks
laughingly pretty and
I could really care
about her, hair

I ride in on a pantomime horse
with a fake mustache, to give
my opening lines, something of
a soliloquy, I look up and say,

what about the man from the sea?
they call him Aquaman, I think
he saved the fishes, and lived his
life in a shell, sure he might
not deserve a key, but maybe
he would like one

he could be a hero for a day
with his water wrinkled face
on the front page of every
single paper that cares

about people who get keys
to the city, whatever city
is giving keys to these people

there's a light from the
side, maybe from those
windows, it hits my eyes
so I look down and see
it's also on the floor,

it seems to mock us,
and the mayor begins to
laugh out of character
as the director, newly
careful Heather, holds back
on her inclination to be,
herself, which is to say,
accommodating.

Classical Conditioner Operantee

Simin was in an emotionally problematic relationship. Everyday when her boyfriend got off work they'd go to her apartment and end up fighting. Their fights always ended just before Simin's roommate Tomoko got home from classes, around seven. When Tomoko gets home she always turns on Jeopardy!, sort of loud. Each night as Simin locks herself in the bathroom she hears the Jeopardy! theme just as she starts to breakdown and cry. Recently, Simin broke up with her boyfriend. But now, every time she hears the Jeopardy! music she breaks down and starts to cry.

Whenever she cries she eats her favorite food, and now she's starting to cry more. When she stops crying she says she'll be good and puts away her favorite food too. I heard a joke about a guy abusing his wife, saying you stupid bitch and just beating the shit out of her. The onlooker says, if she's so stupid, why did you marry her? Fucking moron! Simin thinks it's funny. Then she says she recognizes some guy, but can't remember from where. Maybe he broke into your room. Aha! she says. That must be it!

Wednesday.

Tomoko always tries to get home just in time for her favorite show. It's this long-running quiz thing and she plays along. She worries about her roommate though. Tonight she's up in the bathroom again. What is she doing in there? Tomoko wonders, hey wasn't she in there Tuesday too? She does that a lot. Final Jeopardy category, government. Afterwards, washes her hair.

An Absence Of Meaning To The Light

At five I saw my sister doing something special,
I think she was dancing, I don't know where
she had learned to do it like that, but she was in
this white summer dress with little red flowers
on it, her golden curls shining in the afternoon
light, and her face, I remember, was so happy.

At seven I saw my sister kidnapped,
this big guy, he took her in a white truck.
We had been out chasing frogs by our stream.
I remember it was kind of cold, and we were
laughing. Then the guy came up to her
and she stopped, when he grabbed her,
I lost it, just went blank. I stood there by
this tree and I watched them go towards the
truck. I followed slowly, he just held her like
she was some sort of doll, but she was screaming
he just got in the truck with her and drove away.

I remember the red lights of the back of the truck
just watching them pull off into the distance
and it just became this little white truck
and then there was this strange flash
in the sky, but I just looked up for a second,
and then the truck was gone.

I said she'd run away, I told everyone that.

I was walking home from school when
I found her body on the road. She was
wrapped in a blanked that used to be light
blue, but well, I think it was her blood.
She seemed so small, and her eyes
were closed.

I didn't do anything for a while. I just stood there
and then I remember moving, and I was going
to a different school, and it hurt, this thing hurt
inside, but I don't really remember much for
a while.

At twelve, I broke my forefinger trying to close
a window. This is awful, but for the next two weeks
I would stick my splint bound finger down my turtle's
throat before going to bed.

Each night I'd go a little bit further, a little bit
more. Sometimes I think it would try to throw up.
It couldn't bite because of the splint,
then one morning mom took that off,
and you wouldn't believe it,
but that same day
my turtle died.

I guess I've always done weird things, I don't
know why. And I don't mean to. Sometimes
I think back to my sister, her smile
and that glow in her eyes, but then she
goes away,

then I see her on the road, in the sun,
that dead face, and I always think
her eyes are going to open.

I just have to slow down for a moment,
it's there inside, that night goes around
like it's the only one, that little place
we'd go to and chase frogs, it's like
that place exists inside me now
the cold air, the little stream,
the trees, the grass, the
leaves and shit. I'm
shaking. I have
to think about
something
else.

I know, you see, I know
a lot of weird facts,
just random things, like,

did you know Thomas Edison electrocuted
an elephant? Her name was Topsy. She had
been abused and was killing people. Edison
made a film of it, it's all green. Topsy just
stands there, like a regular elephant. Then
this smoke starts to rise, and she falls over.

I just don't want to talk about back then
anymore, I need to just take a little break.
I'm doing okay though, otherwise.

Oh I wrote this thing, I want to read
to you, it's about this guy who's just
moved out, he like nineteen or
something.

“I have my own place now, but it's pretty empty.
My big news is last month I bought a used Honda
Civic. It's supposed to be a really good car. But,
now I've got this loan thing barreling down my
throat. So, I'm getting this second job at, if you
can believe it, a circus. I get to clean all the shit
up. I can do it, I mean, I just have to remember
I'll have that loan paid off in no time. And, that'll
feel good.”

Dane Cook At The Movies

The story goes something like,
4 a.m. on a Tuesday
Satan barfed up a set of small
figurines in a dark alley
of some forsaken North Carolinian
city's ghetto

they were shitty toys
from the early 1980s
bought for a quarter each
out of a vending machine

even as they oozed in Satan's
chunky milk looking vomit
you could make them out
on the alley's floor,
two inches tall,
in the early morning light

an orange muscle man,
with a large '6' in
permanent marker
over the stomach

a purple Venus de Milo,
formed from a wrestler
with pecks that had
been molded too conical

and a fat yellow camel
which Satan used as a target
to relieve his one-six-packed
too many bladder,
just before he skirted off to Kansas

magically, the camel changed into a fat faced
man, who ended up starring in movies
and letting his dog shit wherever

and who one night broke into his parents'
house after a night of binge eating
and puked in their hallway,
before falling flat onto the
wood floor

in that pre-shit-factory-up-chuck
laid a small maraschino cherry
atop a seven inch sausage
Dane had swallowed whole
and now it was laying there
once again outside him
in front of his glazing eyes,
something that was once truly his

as his lips let loose vomity spittle,
making bubbles that rested
then silently split in his heavy breathing,
Dane reached up for the sausage
and back in he put it
palming it once more through his lips
and down his throat,
where it got stuck

the funny part is those shitty toys
had been Dane's, he'd hoarded them
like he did everything else
but recently he'd started carrying them
in his underwear as a way to cope with
stress

some girls had been standing in line
for his new movie when Satan
came around to put a touch of the cancer
in a little kid's hip
and whisper 'fatty' in a teenager's ear

Dane was driving drunk nearby
and when he spotted Satan he knew,
he had to kill him

so he drove right into the line at the
theater, killing the kid, and the teen
and the girls who wondered who this fat
faced drunk was.

But, how Satan ended up with the toys
and how Dane was absolved,
I leave up to you.

A Life After Arts

For Dennis Cooper

“You get to feeling like a fixture,
set in 1966,
time came that we drifted apart,
drifted apart,
to find an identical twin.”

– Stephen Malkmus, “Old To Begin”

I'm a poem that can do five things.
I can rhyme career with Korea.
I can say Kankoku.
I can do a variation of that with:
Sea of Korea, career.

I'm a lazy poem.

Without social grace, with no sense of taste,
as you've seen, and totally unacceptable.
You could argue those first three things
are hardly unique, and moreover,
condescending.

But at least I do those pretty well.

The other two things I can do are to say
that this girl I was nuts about in high school is now
incredibly successful, upper level and climbing
names with initials firms successful,
and that she has a monozygotic twin,
who maybe I once lost sleep over.

But I can't tell you she's Korean exactly. Nor can I explain
things about that, Japanese and American people,
and language, with contexts for all of it in the sense of
outlining the environment for which these events
occurred, while actually illustrating something else,
something about me, or vice versa. Though, you should know
an event can be anything.

Oh, but I can almost do something else.

I can almost talk about what I'm feeling in an interesting way.
I'm also practicing humanizing an obsession by getting over not
taking a Latin class eight years ago. Which might be partially why
I'm in my second year of Japanese. And, I feel so blank at times,
so much so that it feels I might stay that way forever.

Or maybe I'm confusing something for myself that's really something else. Something that's not part of me. Maybe all I really can do is be a poem that steals a possibly misheard couplet from a Pavement song, all the while trying to talk about this girl I once could say I knew in a way equal to the beautiful somethings
I'm supposed to have experienced. Which I can't seem to do.
And maybe only one of those things was ever interesting.

Anyway, apparently she gave up arts for something to do with money.

Poem For Yayoi Kusama

when I was a little girl
it was a hundred drawings
and that was just before breakfast
now it's a thousand dots
and I'm an old woman
I do all those before lunch

it used to be fists
punching into my face
but that was just my mother
and that face was just me
way back then
I was smaller and
there was still an outside
to run to

I got naked in public
as a young woman
when New York City wasn't a cliché
and Warhol was still Andy
there are films of this

I returned to Japan
and lived in an asylum
which is where I work today
self check in
that shows courage, understanding
a degree to help and function
I've done circles, curves, everything

red dots, on white
blue dots, on aquamarine
yellow dots, on black
and now there's so many

I paint large circles on floors,
walls, the dresses of little girls
who are really sculptures, molds
dots everywhere, and the girls
look at the world and I can't explain it

maybe they ask why
but they don't demand,
it's different and they're standing

Soul Protector Painting for CT

Soul Protector painting for CT

to keep away monsters

Matt Marcure/Panda? impromptu interview

Good-day Your-x readers. I am in bed and have decided to do an impromptu interview with the artist also known as my brother, or as some say "panda?". Some call him twilight2. Or is that, too? Anyway, as I have him next to me since I'm stuck here nursing a stomach-ache and with hyphens to spare, let's begin - after a quick pee-break....

(and... we're back - we're being me, Matt stayed here)

You-x/Joseph: Okay - so, this is live - un-edited blogging at its finest. Uhm, so are you okay with an interview?

Matt: Yes.

J: I think normally they tape record these, or mp3 em and then transcribe it later. Typing this shit live is gonna be a magnificent pain in the bajeeber.

M: (Sort of laughs). What is a bajeeber?

J: I don't know it just seemed more clever than 'pain in the ass'. So, when did you find out that you were the brilliant artist with a million fans that we all know you as today?

M: When? I don't think that's true. I mean, cause I don't have a million fans. Plus, no wait hold on, (laughs) - uh, back to the question - that was after the yes -

J: What do you mean 'after the yes'?

M: I mean after the question where you asked me if I was up to the interview - with the bajeeber - which is not anywhere near as clever as 'pain in the ass'.

J: Is that a jibe at me? I know I'm being an ass. Let's restart. Reset -

M: You're being a bajeeber.

J: Hey, I was going to say that - I was building to it, honest. Um, okay so yeah, um, when did you feel like you had some sort of connection to doing visual art, say the sort of stuff you post to your blog?

M: Um, what do you mean exactly?

J: I mean, um, like when did you ... feel like you had found or developed a voice or whatever in your visual art that you wanted to share or post to a blog? I'm not looking for like time specific, I guess really my question is, was there a moment when you felt it all came together for the first time? Because, it seems like your art definitely has a common thread, or its own world that it's coming from.

M: When I developed my interest, or connection, to visual art was when I did my first post - which was like last year -

J: Hold on a sec, I'm a slow typer - sorry

M: When I developed my interest, or connection, to visual art was when I did my first post - which was like last year - and I really got into pursuing art and I got more interested in other artists, especially Nara who I feel is my biggest influence.

(phone call interrupts)

M: Connection, thread thing - I mean common...

J: Sorry I should have written something down first. I guess what I'm asking is: was there or could you explain the sense of discovering that you could express what you wanted to, or explore something, for the first time in your art, a moment from which you've been traveling on from... fuck, I suck at this.

M: I think it was the "Why am I always so lonely?" picture. Which obviously I was at that point pretty depressed and lonely. And, that is probably my personal picture ever. And, since then I feel like I can express myself more freely - or that I can actually express myself.

J: In art or anything?

M: I think almost in the 'anything' category. But yeah, since then I feel like I can express myself without fidgeting up or like have a lock-down and not really talk.

J: Were you intentionally working towards something like that, or did it just happen for all sorts of reasons, or was it a miracle?



M: It actually, it wasn't intentional or anything, I always start out with the hair and I did that picture with pastel colored pencils. And, when I did that - when I saw the hair I pictured a scarf around the persons neck, and at that period I was wearing a scarf like non-stop. And so from then I made the person look kind of like me but still could possibly not be me. Then I just did the writing, and I can't remember what I used. After that I felt, I'm not really sure - I think I felt a little better. Since that point I think my art has really evolved into something that I like. Because I used to not like anything I did, I'd just do it as a past-time.

J: That's really fascinating. So, fast forward one year or so later and you're having your first retrospective or really I guess it's your first real show. Which is amazing and fantastic. If you don't mind, what are your thoughts on that? How does it feel, or how real does it seem? Those sorts of questions.

M: Even, well, since I found out it was happening, the day Dennis told me, I was really happy, ecstatic and all those synonyms. And, it actually didn't seem really real to me. After that day, I don't know, I think about it but, it doesn't seem like it's having that big of impact - in the sense that it just feels normal, like these things just happen. Which I really don't know why I feel that way. But, my mom - she seemed like she didn't believe that it was happening. And then later she told me that she couldn't believe it was really happening and that she was really happy for me and that I should start making a portfolio. And, my friend Jarod (or as he's known, 'munch crunch' on here) uh, he was really happy for me and he told me that I was going to be world-wide famous now. That's what he said. And, from you, I think you feel similar to our mom.

J: So what does it feel like to have these amazing but otherwise textual-only people enjoying and appreciating your art? Is it different than say if just me, or our mom, or your friend, or some random local saying they like it? Because, obviously a lot of those people, Dennis for instance, really know contemporary art and have a real passion for it. Not only that, but they're well known and respected and have a lot of friends who are brilliant artists. When we went to that little gallery here the other day to see Nhuy's show, was the gallery owner's interest in your work different in how you felt about it to say the response you gotten from Atheist and others from DC's? I mean in the sense of the honesty. Because from my vantage point the people from DC's seem more honest and genuine in their interest. I don't mean to discount to woman who runs Gallery 74 or whatever, but it just seemed like she doesn't quite yet know what she's doing. I still think her interest in your work was real, but well, she's sort of in her own little world - she'll probably read this - fuck.

M: Uh yeah, I agree with you on DC's and the gallery owner - can't remember her name. Going back to the textual people thing. It actually seems like it's almost not textual - like you're actually talking with these people, or they're talking with you, like on the phone - the phone is more personal even though you only hear the text. But yeah, whenever I hear a compliment, like on DC's, it makes me feel really good inside. But when I heard her - the gallery owner - I didn't feel like she had any real interest in my art. I think she just had more interest in that I was young and she wants young artists for her show. And yes she most likely will read this - somehow, with her computer virus.

J: That's really interesting, to, to interject my own sense, I also feel that what's said on DC's is almost more real than what I hear throughout the day -

M: In real life conversations?

J: Yeah. So, do you think meeting someone like Nhuy Pham has had much effect on your sense of being an artist? I ask because she's done t-shirts, and now a show, and has this sort of out-going, no-regrets, but sort of low-key attitude. Not that I think she's influenced you at all. But I remember the night she was here she just was amazed by you and you art and the world you had created in your room, and all of that. I was wondering if she has in any way maybe helped you feel like you could open the door a little bit to others, for instance now you're posting on DC's.

M: Open up like personal wise, or?

J: I meant open up that door to your world to others, or for yourself, so you can speak and share or communicate - god I sound so stupid - but does what I'm asking make any sense?

M: Yes, it does. I really don't think she like opened my world to others.

J: I meant that meeting her, and her response to you gave a sense that maybe you could open up to others...

M: Maybe so. To make t-shirts, or do art shows, or whatever, she is sort of an inspiration. Otherwise, I only met her once so far.

J: That makes sense. Here's a question from the audience: what drives you?

M: (laughs) What drives me to do art? Uh, recently it's moreso I just feel artistic and I just go and do it. Sometimes I'm too lazy and don't do it and just go to sleep or watch tv or whatever. Otherwise I just go to the computer or go to my desk and get a piece of paper and just draw.

J: Audience again...

M: Do like a cheering thing.

J: The question is, do you see it in your head or does it come to during the process?

M: I rarely ever form an idea before I start drawing or messing on the computer. I usually just go on and I just start like a line or whatever and I get like a very basic, simple idea of what the picture's going to be and as it continues it forms into what it ends up being.

J: Would you compare aspects of your work to Yoshitomo Nara, whom you mentioned, say in the sense of isolation, loneliness, the solo figures - or is that not really the connection you have with his work?

M: I have moreso a connection with the face and figure - the face and the hair in his work. And, over the period of watching cartoons, looking at art, and his art, I've learned how to draw eyes, draw hair, and draw a body or whatever. But, recently I've been trying to differentiate myself from that connection - it's still there - but it's not a bad thing.

J: I don't mean to say that I think your work is really like his, beyond what I did point out loosely, I mean you often draw guys for one thing. And Nara doesn't. Is that mean to say?

M: No. But I guess I've been differentiating myself from my connection with him from the beginning.

J: Differentiating is a great choice, word-wise. Anyway, I guess I'm just obsessed with theory and was sort of trying in my fractured way to get some sort of inner thoughts from you, abstract ones or whatever on your art and art you like. How do you think about art? That's so vague you could probably answer with anything.

M: My feelings about art are so disconnected from me I really don't know how I feel about. I mean I definitely enjoy looking at it and doing it but I still don't know what I feel about it.

J: That sounds fair. Now, I wanted to touch on music. What kind of role does music play in your art, or in how you think about it - to get back to that in a different way - and in how you make your art. Or even just music as art. What are your thoughts? I know you're quite the fan.

M: The role connected to my art - I don't think music has really changed the aesthetics of my art I usually just have to always have it, music, on when I'm doing anything, including art. And, music, yes I absolutely love music. And I would probably go crazy without it, the vibrations.

J: Sounds like you enjoy bass music.

M: Isn't vibrations connected to every type of music? Since each instrument uses vibrations to create each sound...

J: Big bass speakers.

M: Do horns use vibrations?

J: I don't know the specifics, but yeah, you're right in sound being vibrations. I was just joking. So, you like the specifics?

M: No. I don't but uh, my last teacher tried to make me go as specific as possible. So I think that may have rubbed off on me.

J: Speaking as someone who knows you really well, I'd say that you've always had a thing for direct and precise communication. Which I've always thought was really interesting. Are there any bands recently or in the past that you find have helped you with your art in how they have expressed things in theirs?

M: As I said before, it doesn't really influence me. But I guess, Pavement has sort of influenced me. If I have any Pavement album on while drawing that will probably influence that art. Also the album "Feather Float" by OOIOO, when I was first starting out, or just getting back into art like a year or two ago, that album really influenced me in how I drew since that album is kind of trippy and experimental and takes you to a different world - which you're kind of not aware, you're kind of unconscious, you don't feel it, you're kind of on autopilot. I think that influenced the art in that period, and I still really like that album.

J: Well, I think we are officially past the impromptu stage. Anything you'd like to have me type up before I publish this?

M: That I hope you enjoy whatever Dennis has set up for tomorrow. And I hope you enjoy this impromptu interview.

J: You mean not me, but THEM. Right?

M: Well, the reader. The readers, besides us.

J: Yeah, I know. And tomorrow could be today. Thanks for letting me try my best at doing this.

M: You weren't that bad. And thanks for the, uh, interview.

J: No, thank you. No, thank you.

M: No, thank you. The scene where he chases her around the table and puts food in his mouth...

J: Yeah.

(both sort of laugh)

'the mirror on the wall won't talk to me at all'

self-portrait in mirror (trash-can)

And...

Can I get in?

(full story here)

"The mirror on the wall
Won't talk to me at all
Now that I have everything
The face inside the frame
Just doesn't look the same
Now that I have everything

I wasn't always so fortunate
But I knew what I had to do to be well-to-do
And it had to do with the things
I had to do"

(lyrics from their first song on their first demo, now that i have everything at the tmbw)

sadness (something here)

... but, inspiring Hine



(see more of hine mizushima's tmbgb)



(location from 'they'll need a crane' from museum of idiots)


alice

"鏡の国のおうちに住んでみたい？　あっちだとミルクがもらえるかしらね。鏡の国のミルクはあんまりおいしくないかも――でも、あら！　ちょうど廊下のとこ までやってきましたよ。鏡の国のおうちでは、ほんのちょっとだけ廊下をのぞけるのよね、書斎のドアを思いっきり開いておくと。それで、見えるはんいでは こっちの廊下とそっくりなんだけど、でもその向こうはぜんぜんちがうかも。鏡の国のおうちのほうに、ぬけられたらホントに楽しいでしょうね、子ネコちゃ ん！　ねえ？　もうぜったいに、すごくきれいなものがあると思うんだ！"



here

鏡 【かがみ】 (n) mirror;
国 【くに】 (n) (1) country; (the) state; (2) region;
住む 【すむ】 (v5m,vi) to live (of humans); to reside; to inhabit; to dwell; to abide;
廊下 【ろうか】 (n) corridor;
書斎 【しょさい】 (n) a study; library;
思いっきり 【おもいっきり】 (adv,n) with all one's strength; with all one's heart; resignation; resolution;
開く 【あく; ひらく】 (あく,vi) (1) to open; to become open; to become empty;
見える 【みえる】 (v1,vi) (1) to be seen; to be in sight; (2) to look; to seem; to appear; (3) (hon) to come; (P);
向く 【むく】 (v5k) (1) to face; (2) to turn toward; (3) to be suited to; to be fit for;
楽しい 【たのしい】 (adj-i) enjoyable; fun;
思う 【おもう】 (v5u,vt) to think; to feel;
kanji crib sheet cribbed from wwwjdic

you-x tb day on dc's on tb's on your-x

Researchers would have to test how common mirror writing was in people with atypical language laterality.

"We'd need to know whether mirror writing is over-represented in that group."

Jackson said mirror writing may not have anything to do with language centres per se, but rather be linked to the way the motor system was being activated.

In synaesthesia, where the auditory cortex is connected to the visual part of the brain, you can't activate one without activating the other, he said. And the same kind of motor mix-up may be happening in mirror writers... (continue to article on mirror writing)

Look into the depths of the mirror as though you were looking into a bowl of water. At first it may appear gray than colors will come and go.

With time and practice you will be able to see sacred images like still photographs or moving film images. Spirits may sometimes look at the scryer, talk to the scryer or even touch the scryer. The visions may even exist outside the mirror and surround the scryer on all sides... mirror scrying

... most animals can't see themselves in mirrors right? even goldfish, I'm guessing...




"鏡" (kagami)

'we'll hide you well in a secret place'

the Clean - 'Secret Place'

Over the last two months I've been listening to a lot of music that is new to me, and of all of it one song has really stood out. It's a song from the early 90s by the New Zealand, kiwi rock (I like how that sounds) gods: the Clean. I thought I'd share the song here. It's really beautiful and sad, and cool too. Really poetic and great.

It's from their album 'Modern Rock' which is still track-down-able, and is, I think, something of a lost classic.

Oh and the above is simply a space divided spin on a crop I did of a scan of a page from a photobook that someone else did that someone else posted to somewhere else... Anyway, I did the image earlier today and it seemed like it was somewhat like a secret place

'someone might love you, someone might care'

'tally ho!'

or:
"the road to rejection is better than no road at all..."



"if I see your negative shadow"

the great Stephen Malkmus doing an acoustic rendition of 'malediction' the final song off his 'Face the Truth' lp... there's an interview video before this one... but yeah, this song is great and I think this performance is really charming, disarming,

"I will lead it from the room"

message to sender... malladikshon/malkedikshun

"certain kinds of people that you got to know and"

a benediction wrapped in a malediction wrapped in benediction wrapped in a 'malediction' - his Mediterranean house in the rain, and i've wanted to leave this house, i don't want to leave this house, i want to leave this house, i don't want to leave this house

"others gotta go

if you wait till you're ready you'll never make an amends"

'Birds'

'Birds' is a comic I intermittently write and "illustrate". This particular strip was done as a gift for my mom this past Mother's Day, and was the first one I'd done in maybe seven or eight months, and the first color (of anything) in a while longer. I thought it turned out okay and I was actually happy with the joke, which fits with the strip's basic themes.

Eventually I'd like to do 'Birds' regularly in it's own place, but that's something I put on hold a long time ago. In the meantime, I'd like to post some here every so often. Below is the full unbroken up strip, and yeah I'm sort of going with photos that basically work but aren't really perfect at the moment.

ぜつぼうさいしゅ/despair collector

These are some photos I did the other day of what was the original ぜつぼう collage print (a photo I found and really liked, and fucked with and printed out in two high contrast b/w versions)... I still want to do something else with this but I liked something in these.

ぜつぼう/despair

these two poisons

these two poisons
would be sad if they lost it
and they lost it

each other
they fucking lost it
before and after

these two poisons
were people
inside

these two poisons
learnt a lot about
communication
they learnt a lot about
lack of control

they thought they needed
an increased smoking habit
pills, wine

they thought they needed
each other
and they fucking did
honesty was a policy
they followed relentlessly
slay

these poisons
held hands
these two nearly killed
each other
these two poisons
just fucked up

my feelings in false syllogisms

a.

it rains everyday in Hong Kong
it rained today
therefore I live in Hong Kong

b.

people fall in love in Paris
I fell in love
I must be in Paris

c.

ice cream is always cold
there was melted ice cream in the driveway
the driveway must be very cold