My Headspace (schpilkes)

I live anachronistically. I be free in that manner. I like to write ungrammatically / seldom see a red mark / because* I don’t prostate myself to red marks. I do not submit. I won’t entangle myself in the prevailing system no mo’. I speak relativistically. Think that way, too. The relativist = the solipsist. But at least be nice. Until u ain’t!

But we all live here now—and we must get by. We all make choices and believe in our own thing. I speak strangely. An obscurant. Obscure pronounciations. A strange frequency. I say strange+abstruse+ugly ‘tangs to suit my headspace. 

And so I’ll say this to you / —>

icy fingers linger / thoughts fritter away / ideas spiral up into the borehole in the sickly green sky / maybe spanglish says it best / —>

me cago en el state of humanity … 

(maybe that doesn’t capture it so well, no) 

i dance a jig on a bumper crop of needless death… don’t do needles, kids… concentrate+synthesize ° then utilize ° your divine discontent… live and create in the midst of the desert… 

… we must imagine sisyphus happy …

they ain’t no choice but to push on … get above thee, boulder!

we must keep it lowercase —

keep the schpilkes at bay.

What I’m Reading:

That there is little joy in the world is not just a view of things. Every benevolence is suspect. You finally figure out that the world does not have you in mind. It never did.

— Cormac McCarthy / Stella Maris