Manifesto of the Wilderness

We must recreate the wilderness. turn the cities back into dark uncharted forests. turn our streets into villages. our homes; unexplored caves harboring unimagined secrets. transform this world of absolution and commodity back into one of mystery and uncertainty; into adventure. find the shadows in the light. seek out what you cannot see. lose yourself where all that was once natural, and pure, and obscure, has been pushed aside for clarity, baseness, and vulgarity. re-structure the world. play mind games with yourself. fool yourself into believing in things that you do not believe. discover your body, what it is capable of, and how it works. explore someone else's. compare and contrast. feel everything. leave your body and your mind. observe both of them passively. feel no attachment to your thoughts or emotions. confound and confuse yourself. climb something absurd to climb. Hide from yourself. hide things from yourself where you'll never find them, and then stumble upon them years from now. run around in the dark. Walk around with your eyes closed in the daytime. strike up involving philosophical conversations with complete strangers; don't bother with formalities. ask questions. learn what you don't know and forget what you do know so that you can learn it again. be mysterious. be discreet. be overt. be a hypocrite. be a helpful criminal. Create things that don't work, or break things that do. misinterpret the obvious, and wield vaguery with precision.



Rather than the insult which it has traditionally been, the mantra for
this century should be "get lost!"

Murder

Cynicism is the murderer of good ideas.
Boredom is the murderer of time.
Efficiency is the murderer of creativity.
Morality is the murderer of thought.
Life is the murderer of life.

Sticks and stones.

Words blunted on your thick skull.
I think your nose is bleeding.
I thought you could take a joke.

Some Haikus

Escaped from the mob
If only for a short time.
I take what I get.

Gentle Waves Breaking.
And hour of life by the Bay.
Waves break before spirits.

Big dog little dog
Bring your owner here to me.
There's a useful trick.

Certainty.

Only briefly do we glimpse
what is always.

Difficult to see
because it is nothing.
Hard to hear
because it is nothing.

Feel lost?
Good.
You are getting warmer.

Now stop.

Do you feel it in your stomach?


Neither do I.

:

Timing is the reason for everything.
Timing:

horror upon horror

so much horror
our eyes stop seeing

so much noise
our ears stop hearing

so much stink
our noses stop smelling

so much
our mouths stop talking

it's getting to a point...

3RR0R

End result of a comedy of errors
Successive error in a succession of errors
Here we are.
All that currently are.
Here is next. Here to go.
No end. No result.
And on and on and on.
da;ohafehf...
Till nothing aint No more
But everything is still reeling...

Sue Grafton

Seven More until your life is over Sue Grafton

Green Glow Halo

Green Glow golden Halos
Guard all space-time
Things that can look after themselves
Jot it down
Jot it down Johnny
Repeat.

Down in History

“I couldn't begin to describe it to you.”

“Well what do you think caused it?”

“Hard to say. Doesn't seem like anything could have brought it on really.”

Moments ago, a man had just been turned inside out. Currently all that was once quietly contained inside his frame was splayed out on the floor of the Bank of America, on the corner of Amherst and Pine. The entire scene to this point had been treated with the kind of quiet reverence usually paid to patriarchal memorial services or medical death sentences. Far past the point of rational horror, everyone within sight of the spectacle kind of gathered around and shared in a moment with each other.

“Do you think it'll happen to someone else?”

“Hard to say. Better just leave em' be.”

“No way! We've gotta get this guy outta here!”

“Aint so much a guy anymore. Now he's just a mess.”

“Hey shut up. He probably had a family and stuff.”

He did, in fact, but that is all inconsequential. Who this man was does not matter. It's what he did that matters. What happened to him. On an average day, in the midst of his average life, this man's body became the first ever in recorded history to have spontaneously inverted itself. Is there any reason this man should be held responsible for this? Well, it happened to him, didn't it? He may have done nothing to bring it on, but it happened, and because it happened to him, it earned him a special place in the annals of human history.

The post-mortem pathology report is as follows: The subject was a 37 year old male of average build and weight. No previous medical conditions. At the time of his last medical checkup his blood-pressure had been a little high, but nothing out of the ordinary. He allegedly maintained a relatively healthy diet, and was fairly active.

A review of the Bank's surveillance tape shows exactly what happened. The subject was standing in line for a teller. He began to take a step forward and at this point his right foot appears to bend back, almost in half. Blood immediately bursts fourth from the split. A seam rips from his heel all the way up his thigh and upon reaching his waist his internals just fall out of his shirt and hit the floor. The tear continues up his chest and neck as he is collapsing to the floor and upon reaching his mouth, the skin on his face peels back terminating in a point on the back of the subjects cranial arch.
If it was not for this incident this man would have led a wholly unremarkable life.

Filler

In the beginning, there was the container. It contained nothing because this was the beginning. Keep up. After a time, the container was still empty, so it was put to a vote. It was unanimously decided that the container should be filled. Blood, feathers, and soot, were collected and mixed into a large bowl (a container in it's own right).

But there was a spill. And blood and feathers and soot to the ends of the universe.