Unreal City

they do! been inspired to write about writing and art since i’ve been diving deeper into the works of Charlie Kaufman. i literally looked up shades of brown and they’re names and they were meh so here ya go lol . . . all shades of brown sound ugly i used to think in quartets now theyre everywhere and after three laps around merrion square wild suffering writers blocking the way paving the way for destruction nothing is happening the writers make the nothing into everything in a movie where nothing happens tomatoes rot and stain your original mind look for it the art is within the banal we drown in singing voices the better the voice, the deeper maybe the best songs are buried in the ugliest of singers and yet the trees keep changing their look deciduously yet no choice but to keep telling this story theres no foliage of paper you just keep turning and the writer writes as though willpower is the only way to overcome the robots and coffee with extra sugar two cubes

when, now the peace disturbed by my sanity your clock is ticking tickticktickticking searching researching the banality of greatness boredom and other attributes of me to you i am no longer caught in the past those purple golden lights can no longer entice me with crystal clear eyes i pierce through the dark beaming yellow staring at the mirror now the fog has cleared up

foggy age the sounds fade away fatigue crawling up to my eyes words in clusters dont make sense the simple soul songs working class folk songs with easy repetitions smooth chord progressions classic guitar lets sing along the masterpieces keep getting printed in this day and age rampant with “information” entertainers and writers alike we claw for art and yet high art is somewhat foggy who appreciates the unknown dreaming of avant garde capitalism i’m too spoiled to write my poems on the back of fallen leaves i’m on my phone airdropping my feelings onto my macbook recording them posting them online gotta make a presence the artist is isolated and yet so connected the world does not allow for complete isolation the writer must live amongst the people write and tell the tales of those around one must write one must create one must put forth his writing one must keep writing speak to an audience while in my creative coccoon where no one can influence unless i let them in this coccoon i interact i socialize i express i perform and in this coccoon i amplify my emotions and carefully spill them splatter them onto my page one must keep writing in this foggy age

My good friend Malika joins us for the first episode of Unreal City: Citizens. We talk dolphins, travel, and our friendship.

Audio version from my Youtube video! Just finished watching the Tiger King documentary and just wanted to share my take on it. Enjoy!

New Poem! Spreading good vibes and good times.//ambages the ambages tumble all the way to colorado la and vegas and lost time zones including hawaii mostly pain swimming across oceans flying through radars never making it back jealousy and pettiness we wrestle aside the uneasiness and compromise we cant go outside yet the introspection is minimal it hurts too much the ankles cracking we try to find a purpose no mornings no weekends either just mostly mid afternoons dreamy midafternoons the sunset reminds me of nostalgia and retrospect and the romantic ideal i suppose

what now sometimes its cold and it feels like the sun never rises here and yet it does not so much on the green much of the city is rubble not from broken dreams but broken lives in search for the dreamless dream in maniacal psychadelic fashion the people of this city shed their dreams for the collective dream that is this city if the famous wall was a mirror in what shade would it color the ugly reflection what time of day for a city so well known for the darkness which person cause you can get lost in it too and that seems to be the charm yet all is quiet and the broken lives are left to be picked up by sobering insomniacs without any names

Starting a podcast! I write and record a poem a day so decided to put them in audio format as well! Enjoy! Text to follow/// stop motion mondays the writing seems bleak the wall is tapering off the yellow sticks no longer the phone calls are not charged and this connected word seems lonely at least to me the dawn sets on darkness and the sun doesnt rise anymore weve lost our touch living room to living room stubbing our toes on musty silence documentaries and narratives the prose doesnt flow anymore weve questioned art and automation the infinity of infinities truth and lack there of the whiskey messy we set this night to rest in another of these flowing moments we stop while the other walks