Some times It’ s hard to keep thing s straight. Wha t’s the differ ence between real ity and sub conscious ness. Some times, I can not tell.
I am very lucky to have friends who understand the psychosis, who fuel it, and support it through a creative medium. Here is a collaborative zene talking about our inner monsters. (Special thanks to: Adrianna Sauceda, Donovan VimCrony, Toni Neezy. Dear friends, if I missed you, let me know your tag and I will beContinue reading “You’ve Got a Friend in Your Split Personality”
(Continuation of “On the Writing Process”) Writing knowledge. Knowledge of writing. Writing about Knowledge. Knowing how to write. Wait, I think the last one is different. Knowledge: (n.) “Information and skills acquired through experience or education; the theoretical or practical understanding of a subject” (Webster’s Dictionary). Hmm, perhaps the last one is not so different.Continue reading ““On Written Knowledge””
(Continuation of “On Writing in Iran”) One English teacher told me that writing was a process and everyone’s process was different. I laughed. A process? Ha! It’s more like a Pollack. Throw it on the ground and get mad. Maybe get a little drunk. Fling some ideas onto it and see what splatters, what oozes,Continue reading ““On the Writing Process””
Writing. Wrighting. Right-Wing. Rrrright-Ing. -Ing, -ing, -ing like an annoying ping, ping, ping. What the hell is it? It’s like trying to get a direct answer from a philosopher. Confusing and unattainable yet entirely adaptable and personal. Don’t judge my writing! Otherwise it means you don’t like me. But, I must learn to separate theContinue reading ““On Writing””
After many experiments, I have officially concluded that, in fact, these are the sounds of the rain and washing machines as best can be represented by human speech! Rain 1. Shlip-Splop 2. Blink-Tink 3. Vavoom 4. Pink-Plink 5. Stop-Slop 6. Crinkle-Crack Washing Machine 1. Shimy-Shake 2. Sixes 3. Broth 4. Viscous 5. Seepage 6. WorcestershireContinue reading “Experiment 27 ½: Rain and Washing Machines”
Hello. Goodbye. Go fuck yourself beautiful. I want to tell you nothing. But I want you to feel something. The shame of being beautiful-ugly, fat-fit, hairy-exotic-homely fuck. Fuck you inevitable, fuck you future, fuck you destiny, (How many more times can I say fuck? I don’t fucking know.) The darkest part of myself is theContinue reading “Hello. Goodbye. Go fuck yourself.”
I could hear the simple melody from afar. Correction: I could see it. Beautiful blue electricity crossed my vision. As I walked across the campus and passed the sun-bleached green picnic tables, the colors danced enticing me to follow. Sensuous electric fingers pleading and pulling. On the concrete steps, sweating in the sun, sat aContinue reading “School, Guitar, and Death”