Woz-Pink

I had a sigmoidoscopy the other day. It’s a procedure where they stick a friendly tube up your ass with a camera inside it. So I’m on a gurney and in front of me there was a monitor. I could see the insides of myself as the doctor pushed the tube in deeper and deeper spiraling through pink tunnels on a fantastic voyage through my bowls, which looked like ribbed fleshy fox holes speckled with blood. The pink resonated. It hadn’t been the first time that I’d seen my insides- but every time I go through this procedure the thought lingers.

it’s all so pink.

A friend of mine was in NYC at that spot, that exact spot about 30 minutes before it became ground zero. She described the jumpers who through the sheer velocity of that drop- their bodies torn to pieces and inside out-

As figures plummeted

Lies inverted

A grisly transformation into streaks of pink

And we are exposed.

Fe-Iron

It wasn’t until they could taste the iron in the air, the flavor of thousands of their dead neighbors filtered through the bandanas over their mouths and rested on their tongues. This was when the weight of the day settled in.

Matant mwen li di, “mwen pap janm bliye ki jan le trezyem de Janvje goute.”

Chains in Jacmel

Tight.

Kanaval in Jacmel.

This is a summation of the vibe, the intensity.

The power,

the aesthetic.

Improvisation, thats my word.

something out of nothing

september doesn't really exist

here is proof of my pending good fortune.

september was just a distraction.

so, now we can move on.

right?

when trying to look for blog worthy metaphors within my existing work

'The next stretch of tunnel was about thirty feet to an oil lamp on a make shift pedestal constructed out of bricks and bones, followed by a soft turn in a forgettable direction. There were a surprising amount of loops and turns in the tunnel, eventually Militza stopped counting. The left side of the tunnel had three rows of shelves that followed this curve. The top shelf had years worth of caked on candle wax with circular voids and an array of chalky, pasty rainbow colors covered in dust. Beneath those shelves were empty hollows.'

Catacombs, 2011

dolores park

a man with a couple ounces of humbolt on a stick approaches us.

pass

another with some 'ice cold'.

pass

finally a lady and her kid pushing some medicinal something or other wear us down.

and we reluctantly give up some cash,

half the proceeds of her hash go to stimulate youth interest in the sciences.

Reading @The Actual Cafe, Oakland