Murica at half mast. Time to heal its deepest wounds.
Two for one
At Secret @thesyncmovie shindig
Syncing with this again…
I never wanted to be an American. Especially when I lived in Europe. But now I know it’s a part of who I am just like my skin color and the amount of money I have: minor details that mean a lot.
Promotional photograph of David Bowie for Diamond Dogs, 1974. Photo: Terry O’Neill.
Syncing with dog days
I am not here.
NO “TELEPHONES”. TALK TO EACH OTHER. FACE TO FACE ONLY. WRITE A LETTER. SEND A TELEGRAM TO YOUR MOM. PRETEND IT’S 1860. LIVE.
NO ‘WRITING’… TALK TO EACH OTHER. THROW A ROCK AT YOUR MOM. PRETEND IT’S 10,000 BCE. LIVE.
URGGA. ROU GRAAURH. RUH.
<SMACKS HANDS ON WALL WITH PAINT.>
NO ‘HIGHER BRAIN FUNCTIONS’ …USE YOUR REPTILIAN BRAIN
EAT YOUR MOM’S CORPSE SHE DIED TO PROVIDE YOU WITH SUSTENANCE
PRETEND YOU HAVE JUST AROSE FROM THE SEA
NO “MULTICELLULAR TRAITS”….. USE YOUR SYMBIOTIC MITOCHONDRIA
REPRODUCE ASEXUALLY, YOU’RE YOUR OWN PARENT
PRETEND IT’S 2BYA
NO “LIFE.” USE FUNDAMENTAL PHYSICAL FORCES TO FORM SPHERICAL OBJECTS REVOLVING AROUND ONE ANOTHER IN SPACE.
FUSE HYDROGEN INTO HELIUM USING GRAVITATIONAL PRESSURE TO PRODUCE HEAT AND LIGHT.
PRETEND IT’S 4.5BYA.
STABILIZE INTO EQUILIBRIA
NO “MATTER”. EXIST IN THE VOID WITHOUT PURPOSE OR MEANING.
THERE IS NO “YOU”, ONLY THE VAST CONCEPT OF NOTHING.
TIME DOES NOT EXIST.
Well, that escalated quickly.
Sometimes the notes are the best part.
The Last Flowers by Tanya Shatseva (Artist on tumblr)
I’ve only had something close to a panic attack 3 times.(thankfully)
Once in a Bed, Bath & Beyond, once in an Ikea & once in the mountains of Utah when I was alone in all that nature.
four screenprints in color
The plants showed me my death. In fact I was more than just shown. I felt it. I had rapidly depleting strength and the sensation of being pulled away from myself. At first my mind refused to play along. “This can’t be…it’s not really that” and other such thoughts hung about for a bit before it settled upon me that what was happening wasn’t like death or similar to it—it WAS death. As my life flashed before me I had no choice but to see it was no big deal if i was gone forever. My nice little life was a silly music video at best. One that was only released to a few people. (almost none). My life was a blip—a splash against the screen. A grain of sand.
Thank you to the plants.