emergent writing exercise commence now. kerouac was on speed all the time and i can feel it when i read on the road and i didn’t care for it. i feel like admitting that might get eggs thrown at me. remember when getting eggs thrown at you was a worse case scenario. when did things get so serious? guns, hate, i cannot even write about it without cringing. help us, rest of the world. us loving people in this nation need you. someone from the outside come in and melt this bubble. and then that lens melts like a dali clock. dali’s spirit comes to me all the time. he likes to paint through me. lately michael white’s spirit is coming around, he is looking for somebody to write down his latest realizations on the other side. he sees something. should i do it? once you open up to the unseen world they start standing in line. everybody over there wants a human to do one thing or another. humans have all the power. repeat, slow mo….huuuummmaaaaannnnnssssssshhhhaaaavvvveeeeeaaaaaallllltttthhhheeeeppppooooowwwwweeeerrrrrrrr wosshshshshshshshshshshshshs writing s and h reminds me of green and red. the walls are melting on the inside. a heart beats cobalt blue and opens her eye to this realm wanting to be here from the indigo zine. the indigo zine is collection of stories narrated by humans not too much different than we are, but not dense. what are you capable of imagining? did you know that imagination and reality are the same thing looked at through different perceptions? only those who can juggle perceptions can see more than one and not drop the two balls….then three….then four. i am a dali clock on the wall dripping onto the floor. i am a surreal painting. i am here to melt your logic. theme: melting. melting butter. yellow. warm yellow. pee. poo. decay and now we are going deeper into the underthings of the dressing gown. into the naked shadow. my comfort zone. lilies on dark water absorbing the central sun’s light when she sleeps. the sun and moon are one down here. we look into this sun/moon like a tea leaf reader but we read light not leaves. we look into your world, we are curious, you are the ones who have projected onto us that we are thieves. we are not here to steal anything from you, we are here to return to you. we are your forgotten and rejected denied emotions. remember? sweet sticky honey. pour some sugar on me. in the name of love. love. romance. feeling the desire to fall in love loom large like a luscious hood rat taking off all her clothes and diving into the sea to be set free from her persona. cleansing love. cleansing connection. we become panoramic as kate bush says. healing love. sexuality that is something bigger than the teeny toddler way of looking at it and getting all trapped in the lower chakras and shit. also we are just being creatures and loving it. juggling realities. juggling balls. dynamic flow. i wanna get good at putting on a show. what is a show? you are. tag, you’re it. i see egg yolks and lemons. and it was all yellow. that song does get to me. i can be such a cliche and i don’t mind. i’m so hipster i don’t mind being a cliche. hahahahahahaahahahahaahahahahahahahaha.