Hey Kidz --- I know it's been eleven days since my last confession and it's time to kneel before you guys and dolls (while I'm sitting on my ass) and to get you updated on the Comings and Goings of Grampa Whole Ass. My "selfs" have been scattered because of my volcanic activity --- you wanna believe that I can get and KEEP my shit together but that's warm yak shit and cool camel drool. You Gize KNOW I pride myself on my ability to STAY Insane, Insanity being the hall mark and floor register of "Outside the System". But sometimes my supposed "Diamond" Mind gets faceted and returned to nothing more than lumps of coal, not even anthracite but bituminous, the soft and shitty kind. It seems that Prevailing Pressure subverts the authenticity of Pure Intent, reducing it to Escapist Cynicism and NOT the Good Kind either.
My make believe "job" is to render perceptual fat into viable Essence, meaning, the Contaminated Sensory Bombardment we experience through Media Artillery MUST be "reduced" from GIGANTIC interpersonal ex-PLOSIONS, to bite-size assimilation-al morsels. When Information is "weaponized" it is necessary to provide a protective filtration system that diminished its af-fects and ef-fects.
Thing with me is, sometimes the bombs "done blowed me the fuck UP". Frustration, (in me), begets a Fury over which I lose control. I can't THINK when I get fucked-up. The Media Explosions, trump's relentless Sensory Invasion, destructions a Chaos where Confusion blinds us from ANY Location of Reason, Pure Sight, and True Sound.
By the time the dust settles and the smoke clears, eleven days have transpired.
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