As soon on facebook ads:

human.
speech, tangent of edges,
in a rest time,
humbling its former head.

Catacombs becoming eyes,
by consequence,
eyes like former heads.

edges are hollowed,
apropos sins,
bound periphery,
poetry to undo Istanbul.

I’ve not seen Ghosts’ center,
it’s because many become one in global edges,
combing Ghost self.

I of am myself,
like edges center,
when once bound membrane,
I in humbling day,
with knives rest oppression,
because sprawl can’t undo once I undo time,
consequence being when miserable.

head,
day,
probably thinking,
does my catacombs feel,
where scythe,
eyes more beauty,
membrane bound become incapable of being humbling.

global eyes,
being incapable.
bound consequence oppression.

I’ve been thinking about writing more scripts for machinima videos. I’m currently working on a remix/re-edit of the recording of the Rilke poem that I used in the video below:

The project is currently a scrambled text using this poem as it’s database. After compiling this text, I’ve re-edited the recording to read the rewritten document. Understandably, it sounds mechanical and at times becomes hard to navigate. The video will start out similar to the one above, but will somewhat quickly start to disintegrate and become more glitchy and chaotic.

As of right now however I’ve only got the sound completed, and working with this kind of data set has gotten me really intrigued with the idea of using “found sound” or “found voice.” A future piece that I’m thinking about involves using original material that I’ve written and finding recorded readings to edit and manipulate to speak the text which I have compiled. I’ll be posting more sound and images concerning this in the near future. I want this work to start to move back towards thoughts involving gestures (both spatial and virtual).

“A mouthful. A mournful. A manifold. An envelope. An antelope. A misanthrope. Another sentence. And then another. This time slightly different. Ok, this time without confidence. Next sentence. Without adjectives. Then without the verb to be. Kept simple. Begin Poetry.”
Selection from collaborative writing from 2007.

Then I found better things to say. No, that’s a lie. More like, I knew how to give in; how to not expect as much from myself; how to give myself limitations, and convince myself I didn’t need to be a writer, or an author, or a theorist, or a skeptic, or any kind of academic. I adapted to my shortcoming. I discovered a new type of loss; a mythological one in which you never possessed the thing which is no longer close. It became easier to see myself as something to laugh about in the future; Another good story for future friends and enemies, or for people that could pity me enough to listen to times which I was more authentic, or at least wasn’t scorned by my own inability to remain reliable.

One can either be apathetic or alone.

Although I know this won’t last for very long, I couldn’t resist. I remember hearing recently a horrific story about 2 bike accident on Western on the Fullerton overpass. Plus I never ride on that street cause people drive CRAZY on it.