Thursday, May 7, 2009


“Why do people think artists are so special? It’s just another job.”
- A.W.

What is it about words that get to people so much? Or images? What is it with images that seem so powerful and so moving? I see images all the time. My life is images. My life is a bunch words also. Words words words. Someone once had the last name of Wordsworth and I wondered if that bothered them. It definitely was a them. It wasn’t a him and wasn’t a her. It was more of a word. It was a Wordsworth. There was this one time when I really wanted to ask them a question, but it dawned on me that it’d just be a bunch of words. Can’t I just do things with my arms? Can I flail them around and jump up and down and make noises? Lots of noises. Big, loud, crash and boom kind of noises. The type of stuff that makes you jump out of your skin if you could do that. Maybe I’ll just jump. I’ll jump up and up and up and up and up and up – and then up again. That way you won’t even see my image. You’ll see blurs. Blurs aren’t images – they aren’t crystal clear. They don’t even have a definite form. They’re the anti-form. The anti-description. Anti-clarity, understanding, perceptible answer, idea, thought, theory, faith, comforting warmth, kiss on the forehead, blood-soothing, back massaging, sit on a beach and watch the waves crash down upon you. What are these words that I use to define something that is but a blur that zooms and zigs and zags and bags and sulks, bulks, misses and disses and finds no place for misses within all the wishes that make up for the lost kisses of my myriad of isms. Do you understand? Do you comply? Is there an accord between the two of us while we try to converse on the subject that is the subject? This is senseless you tell me. Who makes sense? What makes sense? Are you full of sense? Are your words making sense when in reality – another word – there is no sense to reality? You know this don’t you? You know that when I drop this right in front of you, your eyes, your images and definitely your words won’t be able to catch up no matter what. It’s going to fly right by you my friend and you’re going to make something up. You’re going to make up the best goddamn story your mouth can utter – and if you can’t utter it, you’ll write it. And if you can’t think it enough to write it, you’ll do it. You’ll do whatever I tell you to do because I can. Because I’ve got images on my side and words in my pocket. You ever stick your hands in your pocket only to find something you forgot about? It’s like a gift, man. A real genuine gift. Sometimes there’s even enough character to it to change your mood or even make you smile. Your smile, man. I like it. I like a lot. You should do that more often. You know why? I don’t need a word to define your smile. Words can’t describe things like that because it’s your own. I can call it a smile but really it’s not even that. A smile is pretty boring to me. Do you know how many people smile? It’s pitiful. Just plain pitiful. People have lost the sense in them to carry on in a useful fashion. They’ve got smiles to replace real things, man. Real things. You know what real things are? No, man. I’m not talking about reality. Real. No –ity. No –isms. No nothin’. Just take it for what it is, man. These words and these images and these sights and these sounds and these blurs, realities, things, figments, fractions, distractions and misplaced reactions are going to do you nothing. Face it, man. Just face it. We’re in this together but you have to believe me on this one. Let it go and let it loose. It’s going to blur right by you this time so take a second look. If that doesn’t work, just give up. Most people did before it became a reality.

1 comment:

JAY said...


(i had to.)