I Eat Soil

I: remember reading about the soil eaters-- women, somewhere who compulsively consume red earth. Though I do not eat dirt,  I understand compulsion. It stems from multiple channels of input layering into a single stream. I seek to separate them long enough to have an idea separate from its thought.


II: My skin pimples against the cold as I remove my outer layers of clothing. It takes a moment to adjust to the new ambient atmosphere. Looking into the dish of crystalizing salts, the resinous mass seems to be supportive. The experiment in natural design is a simple experiment based on the flaws of radionics. In seeking to simplify the durability of the definition of life, living matter became matter animated. I am seeking to animate nonliving temporal matter using the building blocks of method and misappropriated theory.

III: The pounds have been dissolving into my bloodstream. Designer denim was build for my current frame. Hints of curves join planar surfaces. I am half way through the modification on my right arm. The brand will be a circlet of neighboring points. I have nine or ten dots beginning above the elbow of my right arm, they march toward my forearm. These small burns heal in sync with the date of their induction onto my flesh from still pierced purple to near white and slightly raised from my previous casing. They adorn my beautiful arm.

IV: e been at such a loss for touch as well as a loss for sleep. The many projects that I maintain, love, and nourish are costly. We never know the cost until we are asked to pay.

Into the Mist

It is chill this morning and I recovered from two hard days of consumption. It catches up quickly for me these days: the accumulation and following release of pressure. In the good: I am officially the Bar Manager of the best bar between SF and PDX. I am the boss. It has to do with systems, approach, and a disdain for mediocrity.  I am also the shop manager and a TA. I am an artist and I am unraveling, slightly, the complex territory of my self-limiting belief systems.

Kicking into overdrive beast mode all I have left is the desire to be fucked good and hard against a wall. I am surrounded by flaccid dick. That's the thing about being an incorporated two legged human who inhabits more grey than black or white. I am terrifying to encounter on a human level.

I am learning that I don't feel as easily or well as many other people. Feelings are put into the unsafe zone-- from a cognitive behavior standpoint it's logical. Managing my emotions is a constant agreement with myself to be safe, secure, stable.

I love you, know that I am touching the resin of my being to build a starburst constellation