Deleuze Versus Bernard, A Conversation.
Bernard: I'm really tired tonight, but remind me to talk to you something about Riot Gamez
The wanderer throws his seed in the air in the field. Birds eat of the seeds. The seeds crack in their beaks and the sound is pleasant.
(Joyful fractures from nature’s infants)
The wanderer’s face is old and rough, chipped out of marble, tough and wise, the face of an emperor. He listens to the sound of the birds eating, his hand atop his dog’s head. He listens and sorts out the noises.
(A flinty, filthy fool looks at the birds)
The wanderer’s dog keenly watches the birds with grey eyes, one paw lifted up as if to dash forward at an instant, snout in line with the flock. The dog leans forward, trembling slightly, but knows better than to dash forward. The dog hears much more than the wanderer, yet does not realize the meaning.
(Dogs seek but never find)
The fog machine my friend broke out in his apartment set off the fire alarm, which freaked me out a bit so I peaced back to my dorm room, the following is an account of the things I saw on my walk back and the thoughts that followed on a Saturday night in April. It was the first nice night of the Spring Semester.
5:03 minutes (6.94 MB)
So I got bored during all this time of rain and just started ranting to my computer mic. Musical sounds behind are Minor Threat songs.
What Punk Rock Means To Me.
i had one of those lucid dreams again that i found myself tugging along the late hours of the morning. it was raining, like real life, and the water droplets that hit the oversized puddle by the shed sparkled like firecrackers, glowing with reds and blues and golds. somehow the rope would get loose and the dream would take the form of things i purposely don’t think about, like losing him and wanting to reconnect with them. i saw a flickering of a lighter and the plume of smoke and my heart ached for something i hated. in him and in me. and i stirred... and i’m left thinking about the fragmented remainders of what the dream wanted but i regain a hold of that rope and pull pull pull the damn thing until the slack is gone.
have their own order
and their own
as the order that binds them
the pieces from the darkness
between the spaces where they were
and as if
in loving care
guides and whispers, soft persuasion uses,
to the new born blankness
of shatterings oblivion
to postures new and