Learning to fly in a downwards trajectory, a tragic achievement with scatological insults; the overspill of emotion part of your geography.
Memories slurred in cabbage and broken glass - smart junk, disposable wit, fetishized objects,
Pilgrims of Derangement impersonate Fantasists, a forcefield around eternity.
Autobiography deconstructed from relics, bleached of meaningful distinctions fungal avoidance teasing out moral complexities, esoteric longings and the nature of proportion.
The prejudices gave spiritual status, sensorial tonality, master of shifting discontent and diagonal momentum;
Too much to say very easily becomes nothing but static.
The impoverish soprano saxophone improvisation kills the Moody Gospel in an free wheeling jam session; a series of inconsistent contradictions, refusals to be contacted, doing his dirty work, by proxy.
You think it's money, it's not; it's personality, and you haven't got one lieutenant.
What has he got that Susie likes? Lost his leg to a home town sweetheart, a feeble alibi for amorality. Your every move is obvious, all antisocial perversion of value, not cleverness, not imagination, just brute force.
The line of wolves who are nothing to anyone. You are Genghis Khan, Alexander the Great, Caesar - Yes, they were skilled; but were they subversive?
With beetle-browed irritation here we go again: Sprezzatura - essentially or inessentially an identity derived for the pop imagination of a self-exploding book.
Not a prison house or a world view, this seems a little different, not in cognitive taste, but in cultural flavor.
The amperage of misunderstanding increases, these darkly funny night sweats a correction to complacency, a strangled, atonal blend of billows, stutters, and cracks - a free-wheeling orchestration of liquid samba and depraved forro.
Pearls hang down in necklaces, islands come round in archipelagos, two pupils and one fool go yelping with little allegiance to tradition; concertina remixes on high wire, tightrope de crescendo scowling in god's pocket beyond basic logistical discussions.
There are no rehearsals.
The language of flowers: a trio of violets, thistle squiggles, overlaid on mulberry dead palms and live parakeets, angels show up elsewhere, no complexity, virtuous intentions, maudlin caricatures, or amplitude.
The waggles of focal dystonia: my light from one lightbulb, I stand illuminated, and the bastards tried to stop me.
I've overheard that life is stressful in Fargo, destiny is not a foregone conclusion in the Trapeze Academy where busyness has acquired social status, and the room is in need of a huge, green, plastic alligator.
Disorienting youth, adolescent overindulgence in pizza and porn, her lesions left unresolved, praying for reality with punk exuberance and holiday fecklessness, trigger a crisis, no surplus in chastity, a pleasant moment at frieze.
I sensed a kindred spirit contrary to it's spirit of discipline.
I want to be a scout and I'm stuck here washing dishes.
Times are conducive to extremist anger - instilled fear in their traditional minds. The way you react to normal stimuli changes talk over action. Between tongues - different boundaries. To be a monument is certainly false, the metaphor of loss is translation.
How do you obtain a death certificate for a brother-in-law?
Frugal with language he skirts the edge of poetic practice, like Dada, but still remaining straightforward.
The paucity of reliable sources limits our understanding of pastimes and politics, not discrete categories of experience.
Chimerical projection of new gendered actors, took part in formerly forbidden practices that shocked elders, chiefs, and government officials.
Free from the confines of kinship and community expectations, embraced individualism, purchased imported material items, openly initiated local rhythms, ballroom standards, calypso flair, countrywide cooperation and collective harmony disempowered people.
Not as an embargo of the present, the porous boundary between palpable musical energy and social change; a highly contested realm where clothing matters, and dress is political.
Boho Dreams of Space and Time 