A taste of a favorite of mine

This song is one of my three favorite tracks by Aphex Twin. Not only is the song mind blowing but Chris Cunningham's direction is genius in this one, as usual for them both. Check them both out if you've never heard of them.

Here's the video for windowlicker



enjoy!

now boarding confusion

Distinctly distanced in disagreement, day after pills keep me in congruent agreement that shadow-cast sunlights are but a demeanor towards the crucial crux that balances our honesty towards the heartless, puss-filled fragrance of life's susceptible circumstance. Dismissed phone rings, banished to the bellows of an incandescent light's shout, a massacre in the streets below beckon shipwrecked curiosity and inhale the defunct notions of a past which are all that go down easily. SIGN UP NOW! MAKE MONEY! PARTY TONIGHT!: all the bells and whistles that find no wind to help life along. The ashen buildup falls, a calcification of dreams hardens and there are no TV infomercial answers.

A coward brought his broken system in a dilapidated box, water worn and aged with stains, it all seemed to be coming apart. The seamless dire straights followed, the pre-school glued memories of discolored cohesion, scraping at the falling pieces loosely connect the same cyclic speech of a vernacular worn away and frayed at every edge imagined. Peg-legged marathon hobbles forward, blind captives caught in a maze drawn in the fashion of failed ventures venting the very depths of a congested hope. Sickened by the very nature that speaks in bright tones, drunk with daylight, no place left to rest the battered elements of creativity. Punch-in to clock out all the irrelevant whispers wandering the confined buzz of a drug ridden demise. This relic could mislead the focal points erased by the cloudless sky. Wilting amongst the weather-beaten reflection.

Heroic inflection, notorious rejections, harmonic commotion, words defunct behind the shades of nod-off eyelids. Expressions of leisurely confusion rings specks of shunned galaxies hidden within heartfelt sentiments. Twirling, leaving behind the modus operandi to befriend a fading wind behind the enclosed state of the payphone booth awaiting demolition. The crumbling brink. The fading state of instinct. Vanishing amongst the queue forever building only to revise the ways of delusion.

endless twilight, perpetual night

Contorted by the assort which catches the forlorn sight, sparkling and glistening before it all vanishes eventually. Abort! Abort! A,B,or,T? Quietly sneaking behind the skin which knows it's own story, scribed by an illiterate bafoon wailing on his basoon to harmonzie the unknown scraps so many of us try to make sense of. Locked in the distance, sleepless and hindered by a self molded circumstance so concrete in its repetitive passivity. Flailing in the slight gusts sent by friend's breaths from across the oceans and on the other end of the continent, a requiem for the past. Layering guilt as if it were sustenance. Simply still. As idle as those who forgot. Filling my innards with the scarce soliloquy of a rush towards the unknown, but does one mirror not show the very blemishes of our insides each and every time? Wilting wonder. Wander the shaded pathway and embrace the pile asunder you've become. To witness the whisper which dissipates the flakes of misshapen being, to bend till you're heart tells you enough is but a speck amongst the fractal horizon. Pushing. Destroying. Absent to all that reaches beyond what most consider 'sense' until infinity is entirely accepted as a trinket in our napsack of life. Bewildered in silence. I don't blink until my eyes tear and my innards find a way out.

Digital Death

Perhaps the most annoying and oddest aspect of facecrook is the counterfeit immortality it unwillingly and unknowingly gives you. I've lost quite a few VERY close friends in 2009 and as much as I love visiting them in a quantum and spiritual way, I certainly don't need to be reminded of their absence in this dimensional path nearly everyday. There's that tiny and absurd box that reminds you of all the friends that you haven't contacted lately via facecrook, and of course, why would anyone really bother writing on a passed friend's facecrook page? Honestly, the intention is there and that's what really counts, but must one do it in such a public way? Or is facecrook becoming the first and preferred way for humans to contact one another more and more? Usually such a notion would find it's written form in a notebook of mine but I believe it's quite fitting to publish this online since it deals directly with this new 'online consciousness' and binary life we all seem to be willingly (and scarily enough, more frequently) participating in and for some, consumed by.

Yes I find it annoying that a computing system made up of 1s and 0s is unabashed to force you to remember not only the fact that your dearly loved friend is no longer physically present, but it reminds me of death. Though to me, death is simply a notion, the loss of a physical state has nothing to do with the epicenter of being but it certainly does relate to our physical state of experiencing being. I might also mention that I sometimes visit the edge of that chasm and peer down into the endlessness and wonder what's so enticing and mysterious about physical death and it's relationship with being. The moment we start living, we start dying, it's an unavoidable proxy of existing in this realm, but does the opposite hold true? The moment we start dying, do we start living? The simple shift in perspective shines an entirely new myriad of light across the entire notion of being, in life or in death.

So back to the whole 'digital living' thing. No algorithms of an individual's entirety is recorded in these databases online, no essence of who we are even properly translates over the computer screen (though I do admit we can share parts of ourselves with more people now, which is interesting in itself), so why the obsession with socializing online? Can one 'die online'? Is it possible to remove every speck of myself from the finite capacity of these digitized minds? Set off an EMP (Electro Magnetic Pulse) shock wave and theoretically yes. For the naturalists, the Sun's electro-magnetism, even an immense solar flare, could shut down all electronic devices on this planet, so yes, it's possible. But is it possible to wipe away the memory of a loved one from one's consciousness? No. Not even if we tried the rest of our lives.

The point of all this? I hope all of us learn to start embracing each of our connections with people in a real way (sometimes due to physical distance, online is the only way to contact some loved ones) rather than simply gain presence through a digitized illusion of being, living. If any of us need reminders of our friend's that have passed on, especially by a computer, then perhaps we are digitized already ourselves. We're all already alive and don't need to be constantly reminded of death, the absence of loved friends, or that fact that facecrook is a digital vortex trying to intentionally and specifically gather information on lives (likes, dislikes, patterns, desires, etc) that was entirely foreign to the computing world just 10 years ago for who knows what means. I live on not only for myself but for the loved ones who gave their lives to help fill the lives of the ones they loved, so I live on to also fill the lives of those I love. And I love you all.

Although this is a digitized message, the intent comes from the heart. Quantumly entangled, all of us, I hope the true message is received.

this song has also been on repeat:

Again and again

I stick my face in, only to find that flames still singe.
Again and again, the whithering of my heart grows thin,
to the point where I loose all senses of what it is to be human.
Not this digital joke of texts and lies behind colons followed by
a closing parentheses.
Emotionless. Disconnection. Growing distance.
The inhumane treaties, the vampiric kisses, all worthless when
it comes to an end.
We'll ignore one another when we share space some place, it happens,
again and again.
The world speaks in foreign rasps when alone,
trapped in thoughts long gone.
Again, again.

published work

It took forever...but finally I'm getting published!
check it out y'all, just click below:

Jeremy Scott Tokion Interview

feedback is greatly appreciated

dire faith

It happens without fail, everytime, ruthless and unable to cross that barrier. My heart on a tiny saucer, waiting for her to eat it as my time is very limited on this place. Yet they all refuse the offering, time and time again, left alone, standing under the bruised moon, separated from all the stars, dispersed amongst the flailing winds. I feel like a speck of pollen fallen to the infertile ground, smashed into the Earth by careless by-standard-passers by. Ruined.
Clouded skies, no longer clear to me, my heart told me before it ever came, that fragile ache. So I smoke the smog of ages unknown only to chance that degradation which has lost all beauty, to enjoy my life as I see fit. My honest breath is so often taken as the song of the blues, my actions and motions as timid lack of aggression, but I know not how to force regret upon others. Her voice sends a certain thrill but know the reach only goes so far to penetrate a place I'd once resided, and can no longer call that place home. Yet I know I'm not the only one, and that makes me feel more lonely than ever.
Each spanning a different path, criss-crossing along infinity. Though there is definitely something about us, and I'll always remember that last time our lips met, outside, by that gate, my swollen face and eyes colored like the pinot grapes of Napa.

I navigate the endless night seas by your star-bright beacon,
compass to my directionless voyage
across the crashing waves of society's
storm.
Dehydrated essence, shipwrecked,
morning-star magnetism so complex,
the eyes of hope spring forth geysers,
rush towards the sun.
And finally, clarity.
I'm here. You're here. We've always been here.
Together.

THROUGH the chapel perilous and to the light

I hide my sorrows in all I've ever known, I embrace the death that I've lived through on this planetary orbit. I've watched my friends give up without a fight, the fight I know they still embodied, yet this atrocious parlay we exist in, this horrid world we fill, became defeat. Snorting the dust of our dead brothers & sisters till our lungs give out and cherish love no more. Devoid. Vapid. A walking, barren sparse of land called the mind. Alone and distanced all at once, I find no home amongst the treacherous map of the solidified confines of the mind. I speak nothing new and therefore fall upon the silence of my own fading breath. There is no going back, there is no 'there'. Forever confounded by this sickened slick of excrement, this light is shinning bright for only the coming of a new nowhere. Lost sensibility, ruptured hope springs leaks all about me. I know not where I'm going nor where I've ever been. Lost amongst the endless sky. I am forever floating. You may hear my cries when the rain glistens lights after a storm, but be certain that there's not a single drop of dying hope. forever immersed in this cloud of waste, please take heed at what I've created out of haste: a whimpering knot of endless pain. I've felt the tears on my shoulders for ages unwritten, these freckles and moles, mere records of an age immemorial. Remembering why I came & left with each glance at all that's never left. A barren expanse of a golden age, no longer present, but wrought with rage. This is the final hurrah of a dying man, with colorless sight & numbed hands. Reaching out in any direction for a slight reciprocation, they entertain the fool with lost words & plastic smiles. Gone. Gone too far. Far too long. No shrug in sight to lift this weight I see with every move I make. To dissipate into the smallest of dots, a single point forgotten & lost. This is what I wish to be in my brightest hour, a single star in the endless matter. Come forth and throw my face to the concrete so I may possibly feel again and cease to feel unworthy. Do away with me, these allegories. I fade to musk at the dawn's entrance and wish this story upon not a body. Nothing at all seems real anymore, I've lost the will & can't sing the score. Forget me so, this empty identity. Forgive me Mother, for you taught me better.

In a fey state of mind

Perusing the burrows of spatial existence. Awakened the twisting helix with a gracious touch from light, sound, vibrations: information. Struck by the star-burst pattern, the morning came as night set in. Tracing the grout holding it all together, each corner speaks facade and shows me the fourth (forth) dimension, clear-connection, no static, devoid of pitch and full of fractal tones. Flowing with the body, climbing the ladders tilted at diagonal angles, reaching into a new sort of heaven, a present paradise.

Fleeting images speak specks of glittered memories. Remembering, for it's all been here forever.

Sharing what can't be undone, releasing the orgasmic sensation freedom brings: accepting the spectrum of being entirely. A perspective arises from a sliver between meeting points. Interacting continuously, a fey whisper of voiceless speech wanders inside the very rhythm of your heart, affecting the entirety. Shivers of light connect all dimensionality to this closed-eyed-vision of our place with infinity. Laughter causes the air to rumble and infects all of our chests, filling them with bright steam of sweet scents, allowing a shared sense of relativity. The heart awakens again.