January 23, 2022
To bed with the tactile subconscious. Fracture took a right turn off the cliff side & fell three doors down. I pour Nancey another shot of gin & queue up six random access memories, like a game of Russian roulette. The stakes, as always, are nothing. Circuit boards are black holes for poets, dreams the philosopher, whispers the banker. Real estate scars the suburbs as the bull mounts a housewife &
January 22, 2022
The moon wears its shirt backwards buttoned
Because I take care of its washing up
January 21, 2022
Ever since my wife left, I’ve been playing the synthesizer with increasing frequency. Like literature, ambient synthesizer music is a creative activity that I indulge in quietly at home, out of the way of any interference between my ego and my own pleasure. I bought my first synth for my daughter. A Yamaha DX-7, which is often associated with pop music made during the musical zeitgeist that preceded the digital revolution.
January 20, 2022
i’m sick of people standing up for friends who keep getting talked over. i’m annoyed by those who meekly accept their waiter fucked up an order because they’re too sympathetic to say anything. it’s not that i’m an asshole to service workers. i do those things too. but i don’t get in front of a camera to record dialogues about it. i don’t vlog about my 700 self-diagnosed dissociative identities.