perspective is nearly impossible to achieve on spiraling fiction, spin, a now and then, if and not but, there are no options when the attempt to breathe life into falls short, no matter what is thrown into the mix, the growth cannot be sustained. when all else fails, look out the window, and there perspective is..............
feeling grateful for the existence of such spaces, the feeling of age, the context of the past creeps in and hits hard, feeling passed by but present. this is part of a whole long time, line up and wait for what is the pressing need of the moment and hope to fill in the blanks, maybe i will see you tomorrow night............
i am having a show at this awe-sum gallery and shop here in the neighbor hood. come out and check it out, i will be painting the walls and showing some new stuff. hope to see you there.......
current events control the currency of culture and it's global influence, affluence suddenly becomes slippery almost hard to hold, the definition somehow shape shifts following the aforementioned current. what is there to believe? that there is a larger context surrounding the smaller words contained in the boxed headlines, are we sure that is all there is, running through the past is flighty fantasy, but there is some pattern, the equinox approaches.........
the moon hangs low and red, another life was brought forth, a simmering connection completely lost in the mashed up sidewalk thoughts and hayseed dreams. recreation or re-creation, not the same, scratching an itch just out of bendable reach, the contortions creak to make it work, knees bend and crack, my eyes follow the moon..........
picking up where one left off, the addiction percolates, the past is so far off, distant memories that still could ring true today, if not for the distance, unbelievable, as if belief was required. the follow through became the objective, the process, the problem, the law, the lay of the land. truth still remains subjective, may the circle be unbroken....................
i am having a little art opening on thursday, 9-11, at black wagon (off the corner of mississippi and shaver in north portland). my friends meredith and tripper are also displaying their awesomeness on the same walls. please come out and see us.......
closure starts today, that is the beginning of the end of an era to which full investment is doubtful, but commitment is unquestionable. handshakes, handstyles, gesturing toward the horizontal, a secret drizzle of change beckons the summer heat and we shall all follow suit........
straight on down the line, the sounds slip into one ear and never find the other side, rattling around in what seems like an empty cavity filled with gray noise, soothing on a sunny morning with little to no wind, sinister on a long night with no distractions. maybe all we are is our ideas of ourselves, and even those might not be ours.............
