Friday, November 30, 2012

Stained Glass Window Depicting Some Woman that Everybody Thinks Looks Hot Right When They First Look at Her


Stained glass window depicting some woman that everybody thinks looks hot right when they first look at her and it’s partly because of a facial expression she makes without meaning to, & she’s sitting at the campfire on a camping trip where she & her husband went with 2 other couples in their 30’s & 40’s that knew each other but not that well and she’s looking at one of the other women’s husbands like she’s trying to get him excited while the other fucker is telling her husband about a book he read that says there are 6 international borders you could change and about 20 resources you could destroy that would take away all the incentives for armed conflict for the next 50 years

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Some Woman that Everybody Thinks Looks Hot Right When They First Look at Her

Some woman that everybody thinks looks hot right when they first look at her and it’s partly because of a facial expression she makes without meaning to, & she’s sitting at the campfire on a camping trip where she & her husband went with 2 other couples in their 30’s & 40’s that knew each other but not that well and she’s looking at one of the other women’s husbands like she’s trying to get him excited while the other fucker is telling her husband about a book he read that says there are 6 international borders you could change and about 20 resources you could destroy that would take away all the incentives for armed conflict for the next 50 years

Monday, November 26, 2012

The devil looking out the window


The devil looking out the window in a different section of the time-location matrix, a dimension which has an axis that happens to cross an axis in the location-only component of the time-location dimension that we’re familiar with, the crossing of coordinates occurring somewhere inside what is at the time of this drawing a container store, and marking a point between the 2 dimensions which, though this has never happened, if touched by a unit while that unit is consumed in unproductive misery due to a perceived problem stemming from either an underestimation of others’ roles or overestimation of its own role in any accomplishment-like event or state (thus the possibility restricted to humans, quite likely other animals, and very likely computer systems in the future), would cause that unit to be, depending on its belief patterns, either flipped into that other dimension to be the object of metaphysical justice, or else sucked in and mangled at the intersection point by a set of foreign physical situations or states and then spit out into one or the other, or both dimensions as a pile of scrap or completely decomposed into molecules and dispersed into its surroundings as compositionally non-existent

Sunday, November 25, 2012

A Sorry Fucker on an Old Photo





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A sorry fucker on an old, about 30-yr-old, maybe 1979, 80, 81? photo, who, though not nearly as stupid as he looks, both here in the photo and still today, and has never really been unlucky, actually much the opposite, and by no means alone, still now, after many attempts, some successful, through the years at direction & outlook shifts, serious adjustments, as well as productive crises and periods of despair, finds that his life, now long after this photo, like so many other threads to so many other parts of his life, has been lost, is still in the crapper

Friday, November 23, 2012

Some Fucker Talking to a Bunch of Artists & Writers at a DInner





















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Some fucker while he’s telling a bunch of artists & writers at a dinner he’s at because his girlfriend got invited that he does a little poetry on the side but not very seriously, but still he can totally appreciate what they do because, like when he used to be a private contractor for landscaping gigs, it’s a career where you can get wasted on the job

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

From 'Fluß ohne Ufer' by Hans Henny Jahnn

“...What can one know about someone else? All of these landscapes promised to us in the hands, faces, bodies of others, remain forever unknown to us. No desire penetrates the fog spread over them. The memories of others are dense and numerous, and different from our own. Their time is not our time. Their origin is separated from ours. Their graves are not our grave. I feel the abandonment in which everyone lives; which we so often wash over with frequent appeals to others, which seems to disappear when a smile touches us, or a word, which appears to be a twin brother of our thoughts, reaches us. We can’t shake it, this abandonment; it’s our fate, which becomes more irreversible with every year. Harmony’s intrusive hatred of our tattered soul, our body, which has no endurance… Most people, when they’ve reached my age, likely experience, as I do, that the feeling of isolation is like a deep well, whose water leads into ever increasing darkness. Images pertinent to ourselves, clear to us just moments ago, dissipate. Shadows fall over the modest possibilities of happiness to which our mind is still open. With envious despair we try to force our way into the customs of a younger generation, to intuit that of which their hours consist. Their desires, their despairs seem attractive to us; we even love the raw, the filthy about them. We’re prepared, at all costs, to become one of them again. But between two blinks of an eye our desire has become bitter. No wish persists within us; a deadly emptiness gathers in the brain and heart; in vain we comb through the barren spaces of our tepid soul for light memories.”