Write text, edit by copy and paste and whatever and however the text is either repositioned or pasted, I leave it alone – altered format and all.
I am only concerned with the text itself, with the flow of words and their implied meaning.
The nuance, the presentation, the visual style happens randomly, sometime dictated by the order of karma or energy or some other mysterious force, sometimes by sheer beautiful accident.
The mission for me is to get these words up on the mountain –not fixed but moving upward somehow into someone’s eye or mind; penetrating another part of the brain where there might be a little less resistance.
The trick is how to create and destroy at the same time.
In redefining myself, in trying to consciously make an identity and present one to you – I not only transcend lies or fantasy, but I imbue the imagination with dignity and courage again.
The harshness of words, the resilience of the human spirit, the trauma of life, the beauty of a form gives way to many things, sometimes art or expressions of love or the impulse to rebel and reach for freedom is one of them.
There is nothing wrong with taking one’s self serious as long as one understands it will only matter to them; the groups, the masses, the mobs do not sanction goodness, they do not write operas or make paintings.
At best they applaud, at worst they hang you. Somewhere in between is a vote.
In directness, there is a responsibility.
Unafraid, one can champion the urges one feels inside, the sentiments one can’t let go of. This may be the only truth you can rely on out there in that Tubes–filled-space-age spreadsheet of the Internet and your sowl.
Doesn’t matter: we’re all hocked.
But you can still choose the length
of your mercenaries’ fingers.
DLK May 13, 2012-05-13