Names of a Future Land.

Space is nothing but a blanket of time. 

Within the rapture of comfort and patience we encounter
time as a vacuum of warmth and causality

 Jak pokonać własne serce

 Reflux is a distillation technique involving the condensation of vapors and the return of this

condensate to the system from which it originated

 According to zen Buddhism and most forms of Buddhism and quantum mechanics this life is just

another game of hide and seek.

 Any description of the universe which leaves you out is inaccurate. Because any description of

the universe is a description of the instrument that you used to take your reading of the

universe. And if the only instrument you used was your own nervous system, then you gotta

include your own nervous system in your description of the universe.

 use audio codes to indentify certain events. Whistle for dinner, two claps for Clickers

 Zip Ties.

We have The Benefit of looking back on the 1970’s and saying

                   “OH WHAT RICHES
         B. R. O. K. E. N.
               T. I. M. E. S.”

Everybody knows we’ve been lied to
at school, during work.

With the class, 

with the whole class.
People give a shit.
It’s pretty clear now that it was an unjust war. (ALL THE DENIM!)
Because giving up on the government doesn’t mean giving up.
People are taking it on.
Critical thinking in the streets-

Politics in the living room

risk in the class rooms.

Black power, 

(back to the land.)

Women’s lib-

feminist presses/ the new Frugality.




Artists Gathering means 


There is energy to that period after that hopeful period.
Giving up the Ghost

is a kind of National growing up.

People doing it for themselves, 

 2004 or 1964.

It’s still an Us vs. Them time. 

A SIMPLISTIC POLARITY HAS BEEN RUPTURED. We are stepping out of our allotted boarders.



cropping up everywhere.

It’s a more than merrier Specificity!

We may not have jobs, but we have more than ever before- in our lifetime.


We are unafraid to make utopic gestures and say complicated statements out loud.

Wild experimentation and 

investigation across mediums.

not: us versus them,
squares or misfits.


   liberals or cons-

But- Disco. Soul, Rock N’ Roll,

Funk and Folk.

Everything in it’s own sphere and everything bleeding. Many of the vets have come back.

Our views have become complicated.

Disillusionment as a Starting point.

Newly Adult critical Minds were so young when the Wars were won.
Realizing How Much Can Be Done without Capital. That more dangerous, more powerful is


 that sharing 

means something.







Artists are: Publishers/ Partners/ Workers/ Dancers.

 So less hand shaking!


Not a revival of an idealized decade;

A building of a new revival

with open Eyes

resigned spirits

weighty desires



-Unkown street artist, Chicago 2015.

Grandmas Old Apple Pie Recipe.

The word FIRST-BORN is used 108 times in the bible.
How many stitches are on a Major League Baseball?
The number 20 is used 108 times in the Old Testament.
The letter Kaph corresponds to the number 20.
The letter Kaph is derived from a pictogram of a hand. (I.e. The prefix Manu)

There are 108 cards in a deck of UNO.
Humans are all sharing the same consciousness.
The angle between the paws of the pentagon is 108 degrees.
Six squared equals thirty six.
Six Six Six 
(6×2)+(6×2)+(6×2)x3 = (?)

Everyone talking at the same time. 

Twelve times twelve, minus 36 equals 108. 

Robin Roberts wore jersey number 36.
Cubs win; 108 years later- Counter coup cycle.

I know a gal whose name is Natalsaurs

Her eyes will change your life,
they sure did mine.

It took about three minutes for her and I to fall in love. (Real sick with it.) 

By our third date we were planning out first vacation.

Every chance I get to see her feels like I lucked out. Like the first time the mountains met the sea.

She’s patient. Knows how to tell a joke.

(She’s a real sweet lady.)

By our third month we we’re figurin’ out how to move in together.

(She’s a real kind gal.)

Prettier than the dickens. That smile of her’s makes me shout out!

“Do you see her!?”

She can wear a tee or tank, she knows how to wear heels. She’s comfy. She reads books and listens to music from the 20’s.

She dances like a fighter pilot. She knows what wine is, owns a hammer.

She’s fought her battles, likes her tattoos like she likes her bourbon.

Looks like a knock out before she can even brush her teeth. (She’s a real gem.)

She’s my bun. She can hold a conversation. She’s got a soul that goes way back.

Before our first year we we’re already living together. 

Her Rabbit fell in love with me.

She’s curious, fearless. Strong- a talented professional.

(She’s a real beautiful women.)
She’s got a voice- a spirit that you can see. She’s a friend,

a companion, a critic. She wears sunglasses.

She’s a smart shopper, knows how to cook a turkey. She’s a dream and a morning by the lake. She plays boards games, and doesn’t mind a little rain. 

the world. Everyone in it,

moving at the same time.
It seems like everyone is after the same thing, but going about it in different ways.

The billions of us, sitting on different sides of the scale. The lows, the highs, middle, the bottom, the part of the scale that holds itself to together.

Standing / eating / sitting / breathing.

Expressing ourselves through clothes and culture, technology as a middle name. 

Games / practice / cameras. Everyone holding a phone or crossword puzzle.

It’s just another wild time in history.

We’re all wild here. 

Everyone thinking in their own way. Behaving within the own reality tunnel. 

The man with the air brushed hot rod t-shirt. The women with her expensively thin sandals. A gold watch, a calloused heel, white headphones, those pair of glasses. 

Each breath is theirs too.
A city is now more diverse than the jungle. 

People are allowed to be victims of their own making. A wild deer isn’t taking a loan; for a cell phone. 
But, both are just as amazing with the right perspective. With the right amount of expectation everything is so spectacular.

We’re all natural parts of nature. Some animals can type, and some animals can digest bones. 

So, why are the ones who can type feeling so displaced?

Social conditioning? Confusing education? Unexpected parents? A bad cup of coffee? A movie that just “didn’t cut it”

I think most of us just don’t really think about what we want.
We think about, what would feel good, what sounds good. What is good based on what we don’t have. But is that it?

Is there any one thing we can have that will clear away the desire for more

money / food / luxury / power / love / sin / more time / another chance / bigger / faster / smaller / taller / posture / her shoes / that boat / a new face / color / time / a house / a bigger name / better attitude / voice / skill / handwriting / outfit / hips / intelligence / style / talent / grace / reduction of clutter / usage of energy. 

Is there any one thing that will clear away the misinformation? The confusion, the search for more things? 

The Planet Earth is Inhabited By People.

This morning a person jumped in front of the red line and died.

The whole ordeal delayed my commute. I sat for a few trains. Finally, I made it to the factory and had my morning meeting at 9:00am.

Just another Monday. 

There was a bomb in Chelsea this weekend.

The prime minister of Haiti accused our democratic elect of bribery. I shot a fly with a salt gun during lunch.

My dads’ phone fell into a lake.
My cousin is getting married in October, her father died yesterday.
Paul Combetta got caught deleting emails on a popular Web Fourm.

Ohhhh, and what else?

Vincent is Another Name for Australian Beer.

Your resignation letter was torn into twenty seven pieces. The GSR still stuck in your palm.

We heard that your office was consumed by vultures. 

The fiends pecking away on your stapled paper. The damned birds didn’t even let your body cool.

The vultures should of had their wings clipped, because we all have mouths to feed.

But yours was filled with iron.

Watching the stars align like ducks.

Truth at the edge of our Long Island ice tea.

So cold, was your body when those birds flew away. They hadn’t even left a single rose pedal. Not one ounce of information out of place.

And, so what if Birds had history books? 

What stories would they tell? William always told me. “I love you in a place, without space or time.” 

The pecking-order-of-raw-meat. 

Grapes on the vine. 

Your depression like burnt rubber. 

A wet, tire iron. 

The distance between you, and everyone else was a mouse trap. The horizon, where you saw our shadows was moist. 

And, we watched as you sank, up stream in the ancient Nile-

granite in your boots, dimes in your eyes.

We saw you, Vincent, with those vigilant Rose Petals. You were so young then.

Kansas was a part of you, but it was also a breeding ground for intelligent birds. 

And the Starr’s finally aligned in ninety seven. 

And your family was so tired by then. 

With Polk, Finches, Clinger, and Robins, nipping at your bones.

In the dark,

we continued to breathe. While those colorful birds, sang in the morning sun.