i appreciate that
i’m just trying to find a new way into it all where i can integrate all these passions and interests of mine… even if that message is ultimately that life is poetry and reality is arbitrary…
i don’t want to take part in the usual musician spotify popularity contest cool photos come see me play live thing… it’s so fucking boring and dead… so shallow and trapped… claustrophic
i have really gone back in time with my preferences regarding music and art
jazz, classical, art cinema, world culture, ancient religious texts and scriptures
Just look at the fucking cathedrals and compare them to these modern buildings?
Ugh…
conformity is the enemy to what i consider greatness in art and life, but it is surprisingly challenging to avoid because we are always at war with our own minds, bad habits, erroneous thinking, bitter memories and all that
the life of a poet is to rise above it all but at the same time to go deep into it
some survive longer than others
some burn bright and fade quickly
like Jim Morrison said, nobody gets outta here alive
to listen to jordan peterson or sam harris or whoever and the history of cinema and pop music and take whatever drugs can help or purification methods or religious books or ways to kill the ego death devil patterns or even go into them, essentially becoming some kind of love sun psychopath… to find god and then murder and rape him/her/it and get locked up for lifetimes and be reincarnated as a sloth or a snake in the desert and then try to get out of that for a few thousand years
so all these forces at work driving my insanity and still somehow saying “i’m doing alright” when mommy calls to not cause people to worry (lies)
if they knew what i was really thinking when walking the streets, what kind of beast i am behind this costume… well i suppose you have a little idea of that
but even this… email
moments where the book is over and you are sitting there with this solitude and silence
these moments where things come in uninvited like that guest poem by rumi
(in the coldplay song)
these words and thoughts are guests
we invite them in
sometimes they get hostile and we have to kick them out
they dont wanna leave
they like this beautiful house we have built
but yeah anyways…. the imagination
that is what it’s all about
creativity
you said i killed yours
but you could’ve just stepped away a bit and said, ok i am gonna use THAT as fuel
or maybe that’s exactly what you did and i’m the one who got trampled on
because it’s all fuel baby
it’s hard to not let the forces overwhelm
like reading too many books
or drinking too much coffee
as a woman from the soviet block i’m sure you can make your own metaphors which i would never understand
you know i get all your email
i want to reply
but i dont want to just go down the same roads
i want to know what it’s like not replying
and i’m sometimes in strange situations
again, you are welcome to use your imagination…
this post-modern thing is quite fascinating… again, as a poet i am not really sure what to think… i like the different perspectives… we have Peterson and Harris kind of agreeing how evil and dangerous it is… but then you wonder if they are not really appreciating the subtleties of how something can be seemingly not evil but still a LIE… right?
John Maus is a complete fucking nutjob anarchist far far far left… i suppose he got this from Deleuze and those french cocksuckers… to question the very underlying fabric of modernity.. i tried to read his dissertation but my head exploded
the cool thing about Maus is that it’s in his music too…. man, that is something
he is a genius… a little tiring to listen to talk but his music is brilliant
like an old video game combined with an italian fat lady singing on the street
so i dont fucking know
it’s nice and cute to say that the leftist neo marxists are the end of us… and we should protect that western SECULAR sovereign individual bullshit that is the reason we can wake up free and walk around 24/7 and not be confronted with starvation and bombs and rape and hell on the streets
i’m not so sure though because i have never really fit in
i’ve always felt like an alien
i have had anxiety my whole life
i used to cry a lot as a boy
and then i found a channel for that
my music is the sound of devils leaving bodies
this unease
that is why i write and ramble and go insane on the guitar
it’s the way i fuck and talk and think
love is such a radical idea
i mean real love
like the sun looking at itself in a room full of mirrors
so that MEANS…
even if it was all hell and rape and torture and my eyeballs are being poked in and someone is gangraping children and the supermarkets are all gone and just fire and madness and GARDENS of flowers everywhere… explosions of neon light
or psychopaths running the show… i mean true malevolence and evil… and slavery… endless misery…
it is perfect
God
True Love.
to smile and just let the poison wash over us and take us down the valley into the waterfall
democracy, capitalism, communism, left, right, conservative, liberal, progressive, tranny, binary…
I am the Psychedelic Politician.
Multipolarity
Multiperspectivalism
Metapersona
My vices are voids… blackholes in pupils where we can dive in as we look at other aliens
Only Beauty Can Save Us Now.
president of Funland
Pervasive fear: what people will REALLY think of me if i show them the REAL me.
I can’t seem to get over that one. I know it is actually me that fears what I could really become if i were to not give a fuck about reality. Even now, i am an impostor trying to be good or something. Mister handsome Poet hiding behind his masks… how convenient… how boring and pretentious
you are not Markus or anything… you are just a flowing process
(i secretly fantasize about being locked up in an asylum like in Shutter Island… there is something tragic and romantic and cozy and inspiring about that… )
even my insanity is not pure or genuine
i have to fake everything god damn it
i wonder what the job scene is like in Hollywood for all those big movies
maybe it’s time to become a superhero and make some real money!