So when 2 personalities approaching me as trans, offer their...friendship, of which the second member of our so-called community greets me with a high five just because and can't seem to connect with the first trans bretheren drinking from a Chik-Fil-A cup...I wonder what's going on? So anyhow, it seems, even from a gentlemen, with a particular British accent, with a particular flag on the front of the car, with a particular plate on the back, MI6, lololololol...not hate loves. Anyhow, in the office one is holding a conversation about AI and the money, money, money, opportunities...Of which, one is making that fine offer, and my response, I'll give you my best....Much like I open up Ryco Katz a mock celebrity project to fuck with those who need me to fall...and yet I haven't, still, to this day. And now, I Zazzle, RB, Tee Public and Spoonflower...I mean, she's shooting, she's ready to arrive. She's striving for the mirror, and yet, that wouldn't be the case at all, but if we all need to pretend. Not as if my lot in life wouldn't stop the incessant need for certain personalities to engage in that ever arrogant way of being realized, as they hold generations of bodies in the mirror, and yet to even acknowledge these matters involving rigors of process that they haven't themsleves engaged. I could be wrong, but when arrogant, yes, even at work, one will have that go, of which I take the hit, each and everytime. Souring I suppose, and yet I remain in relation to these processes that were in play even during my early collegiate days. And among other academic endeavors with those very expensive watches and cars, and yet, wasn't at all focused on such matters...and yet the British accent, not just any British accent, needs to attempt discussion on these fine monetary opportunities, as if I am oblivious. I am the pauper among this rock spinning around fire, so be it. My fate it is. I will endure as always. In the meantime, I am quite happy with tapestry caravan. It's a commercial production, with the aim, of something that wouldn't involve money, money, money, not as a higher calling, but simply as a focus. I'm likely living in a van, so the zazzle is nice, in that I have pillows, tapestries, curtains (that I don't like), but they might reside in a caravan, and wrapping paper, which I'm not sure about either, but I consider bohemian gift giving...of one nesting among metaphysical process that involves commercial avenue in a way that certainly challenges the banality of existing design, and no need to pretend, though the silence among the white light limousine is expected, for those of us on a red dress run. I suppose? Who knows really? And the RB is coming together as well, which feeds into the Tee Public, and SF, though the focus isn't any of these avenues, or whether or not I get followers. I just dont' give a F*$#! Rather, what I do give a damn about is how these subject designs lend to something that I desired. To paint the subject physically in a way that is almost effortless, with an emphasis on color. The tapestry flowers and strawberries, and likely more are setting me up for what I have been desiring. Working with colorthoery to produce involved works, and yet, to lend back to something that is a bit more humbling. Embracing our physicalities to work with these complexities in a way that accepts the limitation of not being a generative perfection and yet remaining in love with pigments and forms that embrace intermal considerations, to explore the interplays of ideals, to connection with notions Plato articulated, among an order and their mysteries, of which wouldn't exactly be disclosed on the most exciting measure involving our road to self-realization, the Television. Again, though, when the smiling faces, especially of a similar design, desiring to get to know me, in that fine, strategic manner, of which me, the one among the absolute smallest of networks, is naturally oblivious of our youth gunning for their opportunity, and by all means, one wants to play with fire, then by all means. When I was that age, I was finely tuned-in to where that path leads, but by all means, do whatever you like. Much like, I could be at the finish line of the one who got it, and yet, you observe as I go in a way that embraces the frictions that foster the muscle to grow. I suppose life could be so easy if I just did what was the "proper" thing to do, and yet after beating those odds, I want the double down and the exponential form. We are on a rock spinning around a ball of fire. You can have all the weapons, people, and buildings tied to your name, all day every day. I'm not afraid. I'm here, like it or not. Send all to assert I am the one who strives to achieve the mirror, and yet, at this point, anyone not afraid to face these challenges would follow, that wouldn't be the case at all. And it wouldn't come from matters of antagonism. There is no hatred for those I love, even if my love is difficult. One who gets that, follows. Others, our fine earth angels, simply float among the surface, rainbow synthetic beings, like petrol ooze surviving with training wheels, cherry pick what makes sense to them, which just so happens to place them into a postion of being the answer to me...of which expect them to pay me a visit at my place of work to play the tacit game of I know more than you horseshit. Smile. Meanwhile, once upon a time at least, a group among ancient context wouldn't be at a loss for my activities. I'm not into the mirror at all, Zazzle, Tee Public, Red Bubble, Spoonflower, and all. I don't need the material frame, the empire of dirt, to hold inform in relation to who I am...We can play it still waters, but there is always the flush, among that ancient play that desires not the category but the ongoing interactivity between, and the tradition among those who do not stop to make such connection, material frame or caravan-nonmaterial frame. The rigor is followed and understood. We bond, while those in the mirror kiss ass for their next polished pucker opportunity, including that desire to hold title, even if they are completely full of shit. Peace. And as for the suffering among words, where was I? Verse. Chorus.
It's Odd
...Adam was self-destructing right after we did a meshuggah, rational gaze, debate case at Georgia state (he wanted to go home, like I would remark among my times in the middle of the woods among violence)...the patriarch measure, brought to you by the father "figure" that likes to reference me with a HAPPY demeanor of "son" fakeness and all, among which even let off a neighbor for killing an entire van of people (wrist slaps for racism, shhh) via calling a judge because they are bike buddies...shhhh....judges and lawyers totally enforce and yet, when it's the client...which my family would be that...SMILE....so anyhow, sure thing, Where the fuck are any of us...dial up kiddy smiles and laugh the night away...figure me out...I don't have that need...she left this lame building a long time ago...so pretend by all means it relegates matters all too well...as usual...think ancient times on repeat....here we are, yet again...and I like elfmans cycle admission...1935...it's known and yet something emerges that allows an opening, even if stuck on repeat...ancient times and beyonce (beyond, though beyonce sounds better)...shhhhhhhhhh...it's all so linear...it's all so new....meaning in relation to lineage memories, in relation to Mike Patton associations, of which I question, there was a lot of hardship, and yet nothing for Adam and myself, not to mention that play of those running the intelligence that would require our stigmatizaton...we could be dangerous after all, and yet that wouldn't be possible...I wonder who took aim in relation to us..again this being attempting to reference as father figure and yet nothing of the sort, smiles and all. I'm not upset, yet, it all started to come together, including when an 8th grade teacher warned my best friend of whom he associates with. He needed to be careful and yet she wouldn't clarify even among oh captain my captain memorization, never heard again until 5th avenue New York city...I guess I couldn't possibly follow among the bliss that has graced this rock spinning around a ball of fire...when a materialized game, this empire of dirt, can affirm like a veil of distortion among the wedded eyes, then who can possibly object. All is well among these earth angels spinning into an infinite hell. I wouldn't want to oppose. Rather, do whatever you like, realize one's among the superficial mirror. It is your cake, and we, the lowly ones, what's left of the icing. There is not hatred in the remark, but the criticism among the assumption remains. Why pretend, when matters sobering sustain...then again, we all, deny it if you will, like that disney play...why fear the mouse when the talking mouse entertains. It's odd. No need to say, just take note of the oddity. There is a talking mouse that you all love, and yet this would be a mouse that talks. How did we ever come to the measure to accept such an event? I doubt we could even figure such matters, as sometimes, the frictions of realization seem too involved to even be alive to such critical meausre. Rather, we just give in...it doesn't have to make much sense, as the effort to even consider seems so....difficult, to find that pulse...we just flat-line while gravitating toward the cloying figure in the mirror, so we can live on a high that flat-lines entirely. I could be wrong, and yet post moments of such...glory...the forced smiles attempting to sustain and yet among the faces, energy fading away...I mean when she doesn't have to exist...so disregard as those connected to her drive the oddities that cannot find harbor among the safe and sound of our given time. She's weird. She's isolated. She's not so accessible. She's among the background and yet, what she does....her creativity.....her connection....shhh....let's carry on....let's pretend...let's run the grid to prop up the imitations of life, while she meets the very erasures that enliven at her expense. Maybe ths means nothing, as she is designated to mean nothing. I cannot find hardship in this. Rather, curiosity and critical measure that remains incessant as we delve further into these...needed considerations I think. Oh my, where was I?
Creative Madhouses
The Talk-Talk, would miss A.G. I can understand the production of appreciation, but this matter, of corresponding to the category, rather than the interactivity between, misses the very basis of endeavor. At some point, the one with that connection, always challenged among the surface, strikes that chord, not so in-need of the eyes, not so in-need of the basis of understanding, endeavors among a relation that challenges the very comfort of such categorical basis. There really isn't a need for understanding in a literal way for this formation. What words could follow as the one finding difficulty relating among the surface contorts and orients minds toward matters, not so insta-friendly. 1800's, there was once a creative madman, and there wouldn't be one among our time? It's simply not possible, and yet, fortunately, thanks to a running familiarity, the fire, of such creativity still breathes. I write this considering even my expansion of key, in relation to my design, of the darker hauntology, and of the brigher voro experimentalism. People like to think, and yet, they fail to question the very construct they use...It's odd to me. To invest one's identity in relation to these matters of surface seems entirely lost to me. Still, I go along and pretend. Not as one being superior or better, but at odds, questioning, wondering, and empathizing with. I'm not too good. Rather, it's just, I find matters in the mirror hard to digest. I suspect A.G. went through the same, and articulated this among his work. Zaha Hadid, I suspect, did this too. She, her firm, from my vantage, have always been brilliant. Too bad, people still fail to recoginize these minds still influencing even after their passing. And it's odd, in the bad times, matters will emphasize the surface, so all will be political, and it becomes this threatening mattter, and, yet, to drop the category and simply step into these built environments, and to consider the influences of one's childhood among these constructs...to consider before there was a language obtained, one was out of a womb with a message, of what this life will be, of which to then work though that and attempt to soothe minds toward something a bit more connective toward, as we pass. This is what I mean. Not so literal, even among the literal. Forget this, simply take note of the kid yet to grasp the categorical splits we call langauge. Take note of how peculiar we truly are despite our plays of normalcy. Meaning there is much more to the story, and design that highlights this entire matter, is, indeed, noteworthy I think.
Just thinking stuff...
When you get it right, do it wrong, rinse and repeat. Failings succeed, successes fail. The failings wouldn't fail. The succeed (a layering of meaning) wouldn't be success. Meaning the interactivity wouldn't involve the mirroring outcome. Think wild strawberries in a field...
Mobius & Non-Universaism
It's just odd, when too many times, incessantly, there is this "bless" matter, without any considerations of bounded faculty, mathematical sublime, etc...or even Derrida's theology, and yet, many are free to have that go at me, and why? I am at work, and once upon a time there was a demanded respect for someone who did what I did, in terms of studies, but not anymore, though it is getting better. Still, even with design, it seems a lot of need to read into matters, of people having their reasons, and yet, when I modeled this language mathematically, I already made clear such a trajectory would be incomplete. The language isn't developed, of a to be continued type of affair. Much like one can find a need to be so literal, in relation to matters, like mathematical sublime, but I wouldn't find a need for these universals. That isn't a rejection, nor is it a lack of understanding, rather it's about asking the right questions, rather than holding answers to the deemed other, which isn't completely stopping. It's happened twice in the past two weeks, but it falls flat entirely with me. We can question matters, much like we can focus on the interactivity between, we can intertwine the to the good requires the bad, to drop the Talk-Talk and consider matters of design. I will likely model here and there, but I must say, when I modeled Guattari, I think the decoded flows codes the machine, invest-invest organs, desire, revolutionary desire, was the closing of the polemics project, and into what i was working on throughout last year quietly, which was plan A, B, and C, of my tapestry project, with decisions that needed to be made in relation to an audience. Plan A was intended on being light-hearted and fun, like my mamaw's kitchen. She had a chartreuse kitchen that was magical, she fed me buttered bread and Spaghettios with sherbet on the side, had a fabulous shag carpet, and would chain smoke in the recliner while I played with my care-bear mobile. It was a car in the shape of a cloud. I thought of plan A as a tribute to Carol King in some kind of way for obvious reasons. More informal and Woodstock. It didn't work. The remark that got to me, was it was all over the place, when I was clear I can design anything. It's more about the decisions in relation, which then, I moved on to the Unicorn Tapestries trajectory. I like that one too! It holds my Edin ties and I think the group will like it. Regardless still, the aesthetic and approach is my approach. Something that I put forth the effort, made the editing decisions, and moved forward with. It's fun. I even bought 2 business books, on the project, which one is fantastic, in that it focuses not on "making money" but more so on how to sustain a voice among such activities. The other one is "making money" but it has more than that, in relation to different approaches to the whole social media chaos and ways to use feeds and emails. I'm not so sure if I would follow the advice though. Even the whole Pinterest matter, I have been slow to start on that, because I'd like everything to be more focused on a study of textiles, rather than buy my stash. I think of Iris Apfel, the mind that even deflected matters of elevation. Bill Cunningham did the same I think. Herb and Dorothy... Meaning, I have a mentality that isn't aimed at attention, but rather connection in relation to the process. We'll see though. There are a lot of earth angels, who with the kindest of considerations, can have any such mentality thoroughly wrapped up into their nice-nothing hell. Meaning, regardless of the work I put in and the approach, and the consideration, I do seem to have a following that would prefer to belittle my activities, narrate what they are, review, and denounce. Sure, I'd like to consider most people genuinely good, but incessant smiling tells all to me. I think most of us want to be good, but to get there, or to exist as an earth angel, doesn't leave much room for the deemed others to exist as good, which isn't so nice. This is what I mean even among the mentality, of embracing these matters of intertwine-ment, contradiction, and being at ease with non-universalism, which again isn't a rejection of universalism. I think too we all want love, but I tend to defer to Bettie Davis' "All this and Heaven too" of the ending scene (or that look as she smells the flower on the movie cover), of a non-literal moment, among the minds desiring the literal confirmation, of which indicates a bit of sarcasm in the title. When you need to know, you know you don't know, you know you know...mathematical sublime, mobius rather than circle? I think of dichotomies like pure and impure, and yet, to be among the gossip. They seemed to be the 2 mobius strips at opposite chirality not so concerned among literal demands and mirror play. Must have been nice. The "Unhollywood" Hollywood "love" scene. It seems even if one desires or considers these things, it's Hollywood love for all now, a regular golden corral of humanity, coupled with any kind of affirming TV show you could possibly imagine. For me, at least I can focus on my oil painting approach, which is coming together quite nicely, wax art, and acrylic open impression too. I'm at that stage where painting moves in a fluid manner, with quick setups, quick transitions, and the ability to shift quickly into differing approaches...something about the harmonies contextualizing space that color the sky a realizable blue. Something that wouldn't involve Hollywood affirmations. Painting though, in terms of interacting among an audience, seems to be...something I want to remain intimate. Not so, public, even though I am someone who enjoys museums and galleries. I want to have a voice in public settings, involving something that I don't want to be so intimate. Meaning, I paint in a way where I enjoy and connect in silence. Think of this like a very different form of entertainment, that, instead of TV, I spend the vast majority of my time doing something like this, though, I do have a guilty pleasure for Real Housewives...Still, after witnessing a tiara fight, I return back to something that is much better than the backlight screen, my paints, my color work, my editing, my projects that work in relation to both public and intimate forum. Life is good; Mobius, Non-Universalism and all, even if, a group intends on figuring out everything I do to simply mock my very existence of help, in such a literal fashion. To be so outward, among one's existence, I would consider what this all means...it must be hell, with a smile. I mean, to win in this world...and yet, there would be people who even follow what it means to exhibit a trajectory, of one's process vs observe, copy, and imitate. One can do that among those who can do whatever they like. I mean, when there is no standard, maybe that "feels" nice for folks, though considering, no, it doesn't. Something else would be driving that behavior, thoroughly disconnected. And yes, you could say I have my reasons, and yet, what did I do? Reason insofar...contributing to the development of language, considering the emergence, like that of the Summeric, Egyptic, etc...as language develops. Culture is one matter and Civilization another. Matters of civilization are useful to the upcoming generations. Specifically, language would be that matter of civilization, of which my work, right or wrong, in relation to a method, the mere representation of a dynamic form of the language development, in relation to dynamic medium certainly does contribute to the further development of civilization. I did that. I know what I did as I moved away from the notion among interactive paradigm. Our language is incomplete among this Talk-Talk, and yet, even as I Talk-Talk, I sign post, and detour in a way, that among those with enough rigor, they can actually open up away from their "know all" absurdity and connect, which includes following how certain behaviors, if they were on the receiving end, wouldn't be at all acceptable, and yet, some are so "free" in applying the behaviors they wouldn't like to receive themselves to others, all the while, professing we should love our neighbor. Things that make you go hmmm...So there is that aspect as well. It is talk-talk, yes, but there is also a walk-walk, among informatic modeling, textiling, art, academics, music projects...so why pretend among insecurity? Why not, live and let live? What does one achieve when the "achievement" is we figured it all out, to embody the one's process? Did you? Emergence is the same as a copy cat play? In what way did this assertion come into being? And this would be the same activity? Disconnected. Moving beyond the absurdity, I remain connected to the mentality of the Iris Apfels of the world, the Herb and Dorothies, the Bill Cunninghams, where a mirror to any and all is an omission. Much like the ending of Bettie Davis film, among that title. To get it...To actually connect. It just seems, there indeed is a grouping, that needs me to disappear, with all the smiles, with all of the underhanded play, with all of the disengagement they can muster. I can't control them. I have to focus elsewhere, and I have...and it doesn't seem to sit well with them. When I consider matters of disconnect, I suppose the literal assertions in relation to me can help. So there is a need to hold a mirror to me? I'm not the first, nor will I be the last. Why this need? Assuming, there is even an awareness of the behavior, which considering what I have observed, couldn't actually be assumed, but when you know, even when you can't know what you don't know, hey, you know! The Universal, like the circus, has arrived, and you, the top hat among the rings. I'm painting...and developing in relation to something that would differ. Who needs to be good or right, when there is a genuine sense of connection. Granted, there is television's the road to self-realization, much like copy cat plays of observing an emergence, and treating the mimicry as the same endeavor, which doesn't even touch on one even recognizing the fact they wouldn't respect or appreciate someone treating them that way, and yet to a deemed other, totally fine. Why? What, within you, or lack thereof, makes that permissible? Again, there is this disconnect, among literal know all mentality, which wouldn't involve the symbolism of the Mobius or my practice of Non-Universalism, or even my work with the language arrangement that asserts this form of knowing remains without full development, and yet we know all, including knowing all about this deemed other "who knows it all!" How so? It's not going to be about me. This wouldn't be a polemic of the past. Rather, the language remains without a full development, so the basis of claim in that sense that inspires a need to act upon, to assert, to gossip about...I remain curious. How did this come about? Considering what has changed today, why this comfort, in pretending the current form of language achieves some form of universalism? And yet, there is such a need still to bless me, among personalities, who find it easy within them to be so loving in that way that isn't so loving. How did this, ever, come to be?
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