july 25

directing the art like traffic, separating the sane from the insane the spectacular from the mundane and we are given random colors and shades, spectres of existence, inconsiderate, thoughtless. but we are aware and thinking logically in streams, down lazy wandering rivers and upwards through intense valleys, barely able to stand, guaranteed to fall down the stairs in a clusterfuck, no answers given until the end of that blessed meeting. are there any words that can describe this infinite regression? the hard to avoid distractions from a daily load of work, all of the available options to kill those lights, the flickering ideas above tops of heads, granted we are at a huge advantage anyway, we have the studio equipment available and the time rented, all planets align and we are calling out those names of enemies and granting wishes to the elderly, the crippled, the hopeless individuals who let dreams die or had them slain in front of their eyes. We are riding the crest of something new and refreshing and non-violent.