There's a wolf waiting for me at the end of the highway...
There's a wolf waiting for me at the end of the highway. Pay up carnivorous age. Doesn't mean I took a wrong turn.
creation
Creations are the products of art, but creation is a process that feeds on all past, future and latent creations.
There's a wolf waiting for me at the end of the highway. Pay up carnivorous age. Doesn't mean I took a wrong turn.
Artists, the real ones who would have something to say, hate the world and won't say anything to it, right? And it's much better that way, isn't it?
Attempted social evasion | There's no room for social chatter here. Not even on a good morning. And that's just as well.
Start by undermining the basis of my nature. Set the moral high ground and wait for the... cement to set... the wide asses of the cows that live here...
The path to hell is paved with good feelings as much as the road to the Wizard of Oz is paved with sparkling golden bricks. Nociousness.
I'm testifying from where I am. As a good archaeologist, I create my own ruin. The loneliness of the fields of childhood is not the same as the loneliness of the fields of adulthood.
There is no project, there is no object. It will always be like that for me from now on. Because the canvas enlarges and stretches the weave of my mental space to the point of making new skins that do not need to be sewn together.
I am a program. I am a program. This + this + this + this. I don't decide it. I am not the master, just the guidance counselor...
Writing relieves the tension of over-thinking, stops the bleeding, cauterizes the sense, temporarily closes the still moist wound.
Artists die like so many other endangered species. Their territories are restricted, their voices are discreetly silenced.