Regression is almost complete.

I have begun my return to child like behavior. The 3 Printed sculptures could be toys from the alternate universe version of me. ¬†So it follows I would print the boxes to hold the toys…

 

Rocks in my head

I was in the desert and took  pictures of a big pile of rocks. I like big piles of rocks. I imagined how glaciers from the last ice age could have made this big pile of rocks or perhaps they we part of an earlier tectonic shift that pushed them up from below? I am not sure. Then I tried to imagine how much I would enjoy making a big pile of rocks. Then I went home and though about it some more.

inflection or not…

Sometimes you think you are at the breaking point when in fact you are at the moment of a big reveal. This doesn’t make the moment good or bad or even about you, merely that no one can see the future.

 

 

I wrote a poem

What happened?

Why did I crack up?

Who is the zombie?

Where is no longer a choice?

When the deal no longer exists?

Learn about neopagan post human feminist paleo reactionary good times.

Learn the uncomfortable truth about lies.

Learn the comforting lies about the truth.

The death of life.

The life of death.

The afterward of pretension.

The preconceived notion of the unknown.

Why is this here?

I can’t decide if my world is a three dimensional spreadsheet with an undetectable circular reference or an out of focus, intermittent holographic projection.