FREE FORM ON REGURGITATION

What of the Future? You put the Past and the Present in a blender and press the ON button.

Our Present is strange. Our Future, stranger yet. Toxic waste, what we eat (hopefully not human faces, brains), OCD mess to not miss, puking up strawberry shortcake. We aren't cleanliness, godliness, yet we pretend we're polished/perfect/gorgeous. More so fast food posturing plastic. Somehow all related. So much to be documented. Overstimulation, oversaturation.

Who has been polluted with expectations from kids who only had brains enough to revise and rename a past static turned conveniently into the automatic bliss of TV? EVERYONE. All calibers of kids. Their character often vile, not because of blood/lust/vices. That's not what this is about. This is about counterfeited art and idealisms... huge efforts in length of emotions for small importance. Stolen goods, art that is made to affect and appeal. Carbon copies applied to ones' identity, slightly personalized to wrap neatly around the edges and thus the informed giggle...


How many people grow up frustrated by their names, their definitions? Some not wanting to be named at all. By giving oneself a description, putting together words to make a definition, Individualism flies out the window. All the kids complained, "yada, yada, yada! blah, blah, blah!" about "standard this, standard that" in our "society" and our societies within a society. Even in identities against "the norm" we still create "standards" and from "standards" we get robots. Everything is a replica and our Individualism is a replicant romance. More like the Republika. 

You yawn a bit and then you weep. 

It's highly illogical to create "new" and that argument is purely "old". It cuts the life out of things that we love and butchers our dreams into repressions. We are all ambitious with good ideas, even if jump-started by a flicker of the projection booth or the headphones that saved our lives, but we sometimes don't apply ourselves to our visions due to fear of "copying". We want to set standards, we want to create outside of what we have seen and love. We only are able to explain ourselves to each other through words. As collectives we created "Marxism", "screamo", "conservative", "teenie bopper", "de-realization"...

Then we get eaten by our created standards, and, with them, feasted upon are these personalized stamps of approval. Could the markets get ahold of my comforts? Yes. Think sofas and "be yourself" Sprite commercials. Televised persuation has nothing to do with our standards. So with no rules and no definitions, I might have been safe. Moan into your crossed arms. Good ideas are asking for cheapening. Marketing. Movementism.


Complain about art whores, intellects, perhaps because the thought of discussing meanings and theories in an "as a matter of fact" fashion bored us, not to mention the flashy name dropping and wordy useless dialogue that coincides from one art whore &/or intellectual to another. Haha, wordy useless dialogue. Being well-read translated to being full of shit, enthusiastic to insecure. Talking is lecturing, a yearning to be admired for one's knowledge.

This is a reoccurring purpose in all "kinds" of people where any art form, or even formed thought, is concerned. Good ideas ask for representatives, and most of us (if not all) are scratching and clawing our way for an outlet. Words are inspected, intentions analyzed, there is not a trace of indifference that we can glutton with the confidence in being the one who can truly impress. (All Empresses and Leaders to the front desk, please - they all got up from their desks, thinking they were "it".)

Aren't we all insecure little shits? We never loved each other as we never loved ourselves. We pointed fingers. But YOUR HAPPINESS IS WORTH IT. If it makes you happy, do it, i.e. MAKE IT. We are happiest when other people are happy, too. We can create dialogue off each other. This is no rat race of the Super Ego. Perversions of the Ego make the worst things in the world. True inspiration is an artist who is immersed in the happiness of making art even if they wear their influences on their sleeves.


Those who force themselves into half-assed communications and projects, especially w/ people who disrespect and are constantly struggling to provide democratics (unless of course they already have the upper hand), are missing out on what it's all about. And what it's all about is what this is all about.

Settled into your skin, the noise of construction and cars can lull you into dream states if you let them, places where all you need to feed is the gorgeous menagerie of thoughts entangled in your imagination, the beautiful dreamscapes of your mind.