Solid Quarter

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Monday, August 31, 2020

Who dares sing for me?

Day 31:

This is where I was born, under waters, blind and lost of any mapping. Dropped into consciousness from pure chaos and trying to return, we should have forgotten more but we retained too much to be here safely. Like I told you on Mardi Gras day as we walked these streets so deeply in love: I am New Orleans. I have always been here and will always be here. And that is to say: I am Nothing. I am No Thing and always will be.


Process Notes: 

mu bandwidth for survival is not accident. i practice it every day. if you ever really want to know what love is, i will tell you: it's a consistent interaction in time.

love isn't an emotion.

what can we do with neglect/ it took them 5 days to even begin to come for us

weeks of nothing but helicopters pointing guns on people trapped by water.

"what we believe is law and order is an illusion, a mirage/ law and order is what happens when people live right"   -D. Shortes

if we know our paths before hand, we will always try to change them. but we cannot. the paradox is we are always here and we always experiencing here as new.

what is more beautiful than death?

fear transforms into compassion. pulled up over time's fold, we fifteen years out, held our breath against return. and what arises is sea changed.

having swerved from and now to walk these same streets holding out to those who have lost as we lost, we say, here take everything i have to give.

because your survival is my survival.

have you seen this too? have you felt it in your lifetime: fear will be transformed into compassion.

the heart will shatter and then it will be able to hold this too.

i sat for 31 days in the clearing of this city. i have held you all of this time.

and what of it.

tell me the song you would dare to sing now.

Plague Journal:


no one can survive multiple lifetimes. you would have to build a container to hold them to remain sane. to be able to function.

they want the rat in the maze not solving the maze. not rats escaping, mind you. 

a plurality is a net. [within a net.]  
                                     a network. 
do you know what a web is, a webbing. a browser. 

it's a place where the more you interact with it, the more you are caught in the net. 

and life is imitation. this illusion is a network. the more we interact with life from our emotions thinking they are a kind of truth, the more we are caught.

What is more beautiful than death? 

What does [redacted] want...

clear channel to a hacker.

it's not a computer code. it's a mantra. hacking into reality.

you can call it a poem.

we are tracking reality

from no beginning to no end.

we are a purging.

we are plurality.

we have always been here.

we will always be here.

there is no time without us. there is only chaos.

Poetry is the virus in the programming. 



from 31 points on the city's map: 
may we be safe, may we be well, may we be at peace. 

for all lifetimes. until we are free. 

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