NOT ART

2011-05-01T20:35:00.000-07:00

Man's ineffable urge to kill,
To dominate,

Stood, like a mushroom cloud
On the edge of the desert.

It was
A tree
Rising

Interminably

In the midst of silence

Which the birds know
Too well.

We separated the skin from the chaff
And there was meat

A bloody bowl.

Open wide.

Her hinds were wretched yet aware.

We used her allies
So that they might confess.

Technology progressed
Until it led us here,
With too many tusks.

We got them to rip at her teats
Because the milk had gone

Sour.

We got them to pull out the horns
Because they had never seen so much meat
Their mouths watered and
Saliva dripped into the
Open wounds.

Now she writes
To control the controller.

Discovery

2010-09-20T00:29:00.000-07:00

I discovered him again today,
One clenched talon,
A barely recognizable eye socket.

I took the other way to work this morning.
On the way home they were dragging him off the front lawn,
A trail of maggots followed him into the dump truck.

I guess this is what happens when you don't go to work.

Beeched

2010-09-05T00:18:00.000-07:00

Waves caress the thinning body of a beached whale
And only the birds know,
As they fly off with blubber in their beaks,
Why this behemoth
Rolled itself on shore.

They laugh
As it drowns
In obese snuffling air.
High pitched cries
Unheard by our ears,

It's flesh,
like stone,
Worn by time.
A Buddhachrist
Knowing the weight of the world,
Or close enough,
To crawl
And bathe itself
In dry sacrifice.

The Old Places

2010-08-17T01:18:00.000-07:00

I've been in this place before
Many years ago.
I remember.

The old places
Have an ochre hue
Like a photograph
Left in the sun.
Hard edges
Washed out.

Now

Words are nothing,
Paltry stabs at growing silence.
The deep guttural ache
Where the mind itself
Is the knife which scrapes.
There is no romance here.
There is nothing.
There is nothing.
There is no human being.
No one to type these words,
Only the memory,
Almost unnoticed.

These places have never stopped visiting me.
They make sure I fail,
They watch,
Wait for me to give in
Or become transformed
Into one of the old places.

Cartesian

2010-07-24T23:54:00.000-07:00

The shadows of the cars are marked by the rain
Like...

Like nothing.
They just are.

Whenever we do something,
We do it
As if
Being watched.

Maybe we are more comfortable that way.

Therefore God exists.

She was lying candy eyed,
Like a smoke stack in the grass.
I could see up her skirt.
Her blanched legs were railroad crossings
With the
Ding ding ding
Falling down to refuse oncoming traffic.

The guy over there is playing Bob Dylan.

"two guys said this song reminds them
of me"

The cigarette dangles from
Her puerile lips.

One honest expression
Is worth a thousand glances.

Gutter punks drag there drunken friend
To the center of the Park.
Even their dog has too many pockets.

Some comments are made,
Maybe a smile.

I forget,

But the main thing is,
I'm sure it happened.

Diagnosis

2010-07-15T21:52:00.000-07:00

In an alimentary cursory study of my left hemisphere the prognosis is bad. It seems I have a callodial hemorrhage on the pituitary gland with complications on subsequent forms of inopial tissue. I am not worried for non invasive therapy, using light diodes, can cure the abnormality. At the moment I am numbing the cranial discomfort with goose sopped rags and rice paper (known to those who practice remedial therapy). One small setback is the constant toe twitches which quickly bore a hole through the big toe portion of my shoe. Despite the price of shoes, Mass Health has been amenable to the exorbitant cost of my diagnostic procedures and the light diode therapy. So no one need worry I am in limbo at the moment but my paradiso is sure to come.

A Great Artist

2009-11-11T20:04:00.000-08:00

A great artist is someone who balances at the end of a diving board over an empty pool
and does not jump
or back down.

At first the people will think him a lunatic and yell,
“wait, don’t jump, there’s no water in the pool!”
And “Get down from there you imbecile.”

But the artist stands stoic,
bouncing a bit in the wind,
and waits.

Sooner or later people will begin to fill the pool
drop
by
drop.

An old lady will come muttering
with a watering can.
Children will fill pails
spilling most along the way.
A woman clicking by in high heels
will pour out her evian bottle.
A gardener will stretch his hose
far from his thirsty roses and ferns.
Still
the artist will wait.

Boys and girls will splash in the summer heat.
People will begin to smile
and old men will exclaim,
“this will be an excellent pool for swimming.”
Everyone will gather, and the mayor will declare,
“We will fill this pool so the people of our town can swim.”
And they will congratulate the mayor for being good.
But still
the artist will wait.

A few may remember
and say, “the artist made us fill this pool,”
“he is a genius.”
But most will applaud themselves,
stating with the utmost conviction,
“I was one of the first to add water to this pool.
I drove twenty gallons, twenty miles in my truck.”
And
“I had water dropped from a helicopter
flying at one hundred feet.
Quite a marvelous feat.”

And when the pool is full and the first sweaty children
file up before the ladder to the diving board,
Most will call out,
“Move it old man so my son can do a back pectral spin off the high dive,” or something of that nature.
But some will stop and watch, a hush will spread over the crowd and they will wait
for the artist to finally do his work.

But it does not matter if the artist does the most graceful swan dive
or lands a belly flop.
Of course the people will be disappointed.
They will moan, “he spent all that time up there to cannon ball off and get us wet!?”

But the artist will know
and will be satisfied.
It may have taken many years through cold and heat,
maybe even centuries.
But the artist achieved his goal
even if no one,
not even he
(in his senility)
remembers.

Peak

2009-10-19T21:34:00.000-07:00

A pigeon and a sparrow
Sit on the peak of the roof
Nodding and waiting
For me to glance
Out my window
Just to show
The space these two
Share.

New Skin

2009-10-19T21:33:00.000-07:00

The big bang did not happen
It is still happening.
The cosmos expand
Between our fingers.
It is not a phenomenon
Relegated to the depths of space,
But one that occurs in perception
Imperceptible leaps
Or quantum jumps
That rip the fabric of space-time
Before it seals up again
Growing into it's new skin.

2009-10-18T16:27:00.000-07:00

I wonder what I'm doing here
Besides waiting.
Like being on leave,
And the front line can't
Be found on any map.
I am writing this
Because I am here.
For no reason more
Than to procrastinate.
Because that is my job.
If anyone reads this
He or she may say:
"I am here,
And he was there."
It could be a point
To measure existence from.
The success of an inaudible
Desire,
Implanted centuries ago.
Lost sight of over
Time.
Maybe this is that
Desire,
Unfolding
With every word,
As painful as they are.

This is a Beginning

2009-10-18T00:07:00.000-07:00

The darkest corners
Get pushed further away
As the room grows bigger,
Yet they are still there,
And they are growing as well.
Is there not blood on the hand
Which will not exhume the corpse
To find the answers,
For fear the murderer is yourself?
There are reasons why we are taught
Not to ask these questions.
It is not because the questions are unanswerable
But because the truth is too horrific to reveal.
So I ask you
"Should we coast through the program with what we were given,
Without asking how it was obtained?"
Or should we pass down the question
To our children.
This dire inheritance
Growing with each generation.

the Path

2009-10-12T22:56:00.000-07:00

Beyond all knowledge of truth,
Is the inquiring mind,
Which knows all knowledge
Comes from only this.

A path may lead to a hidden grove within the wood,
But the traveler has learned nothing
Unless he has considered the path
And the woods surrounding.

In the grove he can contemplate the wood
And the path he has taken.
But to talk of only the grove
Is to wreck the path
And invite none to follow.

Mimicry

2009-10-10T14:52:00.000-07:00

We are all mirrors,
So the cosmos
can see itself
Moving,
Like the wind,
It's purpose
To compel
The dancer.
What else is this undulation
Of the self?
We are here to tend this beast,
To communicate,
To connect,
To hold this
All together.

Asking Questions

2009-10-08T00:03:00.000-07:00

I find it very interesting that I make all this weird art, but people don't ask questions. I'm not sure if it's because people aren't curious, they don't want to intrude, they think their questions would sound stupid, or they just understand it completely and no questions need to be asked. Maybe it's because in our culture we are taught not to ask questions. But then how do we learn? Well I'm asking questions because I don't get it at all. I don't want to assume anything. Because hey, what do I know, I'm just the artist. I want you to know artists love it when you ask questions.

The State...

2009-10-06T00:32:00.000-07:00

There are no words to explain this state, because words will always fall short of explaining the experience. Just like anything else it has to be experienced in order to be understood. I will attempt to explain features which I think may be common to this state.
We lose our sense of continuity and each moment becomes a rebirth, where we know everything and nothing. This is an understanding of existence at its most fundamental level. The conscious mind has dissolved to leave the skeleton of awareness, the unconscious. In this state the wellsprings of the collective unconscious arise to grant us with wisdom, which is beyond our time and knowledge. We experience an anachronistic form of consciousness, which may have been the predecessor of our consciousness, or a future incarnation, a glimpse of what consciousness will become. The concept of time as we know it becomes irrelevant because we recognize time as a construct, a ruler for the fourth dimension. Because our neurons are firing so rapidly our perceptual time is moving faster than ordinary time. We become time travelers. We begin to see what we know and feel what we see. The nature of existence becomes as clear as the air we breath, and the dream of this intersubjective reality becomes evident. In this state we become all powerful, but unified with the concept of the good, God or spirit. We understand our calling, what it is we are here for, and we receive a blessing. We see through the illusion of social norms and some appear ridiculous as they act out their petty social roles, others act in true accord with their feelings. It's as foreign as if we had gone back in time two hundred years and attempted to fit in. We understand the paradox of existence. We see the infinite, we become it, it becomes us. We are unbounded by our bodies and unite with everything as eternal oneness. These things are not just known, and not just felt, they become us and we become them.

10/5/2009

2009-10-05T20:48:00.000-07:00

11:47pm

Sometimes I forget where I am,
So I open the map
And make all the boundaries disappear,
All the man made distinctions
Between here and there.
I look at the land,
The ocean,
Dark green forests,
Blue creeping rivers,
Cities, towns.
I see from an eye far above,
Looking down,
And I am here
Watching myself watch,
Breathing this particular air
Infused with the salt of the sea,
Hearing the wind crackle through the leaves.
Who was here before?
Whose land was this before
Land was owned and divided
Severed from the earth?

I think I remember.

Strive

2009-10-05T00:48:00.000-07:00

Human instinct is not just to survive but to strive. Early humans would have had to fight for survival, searching for food and shelter, and to avoid predators. Most modern humans have these needs met, yet they continue to strive, whether it be for wealth, power or information. This instinct is insatiable because it is programmed into our biology. Our contemporary society exploits this instinct by presenting commodities as a solution to our desire to strive. This makes sure that the wealthy stay wealthy so they can continue to strive for more commodities. It also ensures that those in power stay in power because the masses are placated in their striving for material wealth. The only way to break this cycle is to accept our nature and replace the unhealthy urges for power, pleasure, and material wealth, with information, connection, and agency. These things are unlimited and readily attainable. Another component of our striving is physical, therefore action must be taken. Action in the form of exercise whether directive or non directive helps to satiate our physical instincts.
I am writing this just to satisfy my desire to strive. I am taking agency by connecting with others through this information and I hope to inspire others to do the same. To strive while only helping others and not negatively influencing the environment is a delicate art. The hierarchical nature of any business usually relies on some aspect which involves the oppression of some individuals. People often say that they are "happy" or "don't mind" but if a person is not aware of his or her oppression it makes you more accountable for it. Oppression is such a common occurrence that no one pays any attention to it. Our entire economy is based on hierarchy and oppression, and our only way out of this, is for each individual to stand up against it, or at least not participate in it. I have found it very difficult to find a paying job that does not have some aspect of oppression in it and therefore I am not getting paid for my work. I will not participate in a system which is oppressive in nature unless I have the chance to change that system. I implore you to do the same. It is possible to strive while benefiting humanity and if you get to eat too then you're in luck.

A Religious Experience

2009-10-05T00:14:00.000-07:00

Religion has been mapping the brain since consciousness evolved, and creating it's nature as it was being mapped. To say that religious experience is nothing more than brain chemistry is to present the obvious fallacy that there is something that is not brain chemistry. For everything we know of the external world is brain chemistry. Therefore religious experience is as "real" as anything else. What makes it seem unreal while other things seem "real" and external is the question we should be asking. Even the process of being able to ask these questions is as phenomenal as any religious experience. It just seems commonplace because we take normal existence for granted. Did our process of attempting to explain reality shape the brain as we know it, or was the brain formed and then we decided to ask such questions? I believe the answer is the former and this is why many of us have a sense of God or spirituality. We are aware of the order which we have evolved from and explain that order as God or spirit.

Evolution of Reality (part1)

2009-09-25T20:53:00.000-07:00

Evolution, of course, continues, it does not reverse. This is true of human evolution as well, although it is not limited to a Darwinian, survival of the fittest evolution. Because humans have free will we can make the decisions that, before consciousness, were decided by nature. We make these decisions with information. We learn from our predecessors, choose the valuable information and reject the obsolete information. So information itself is governed by a law of survival of the fittest. This information is transmitted from one generation to the next through our parents but also through culture. Mythology is this transmission of information and our current dominant mythology is science. But science does not fulfill the necessary quota for a unified mythology so we resort to art and religion. It is not surprising that creationists adamantly support the biblical creation myth because it provides the explanations which are missing in science. Science does not purport to solve all problems about the nature of the universe but creationism does. What I feel creationists teach us is that myth itself is the vehicle for human evolution which works hand in hand with Darwinian survival of the fittest. Although creationists would oppose Darwinian evolution, an understanding of the bible as symbolic, but no less true than science should solve the problem. The human brain works on symbols and therefore symbols are as real as any science because science of course operates in the same manner. With theoretical physics touching on realms which were classically left to religion, we can see the full expression of the symbolic nature of reality. When one picks up a cup, I use the symbols "CUP" to represent the object and the object itself is how our consciousness interprets the subatomic particles which make up the object. When we look at the subatomic particles and find probabilistic tendencies for a particle to occur, paired with mostly empty space, we do not see anything that resembles a cup as we know it. Therefore the cup is just a symbol the mind has adaptively constructed, such that we can use the cup to perform a task. What is the nature of this adaptation of our mind to construct a cup as we see it? This adaptation has evolved within our consciousness and is constantly evolving. So we could say that our consciousness is evolving and therefore our reality is evolving, since reality is only the symbols (like the cup) constructed by consciousness. This construct, or reality, is intertwined with consciousness and therefore all are evolving together. Although it might be difficult to grasp, we must not think of consciousness as being separate from reality. It is only through consciousness that reality is known.
The mechanisms for all evolution are positive and negative reinforcement...

Not Art on Art

2009-09-24T22:49:00.000-07:00

We make art because we are trying to communicate something, usually just to ourselves. It is our subconscious crying out for recognition. Art is the process of this self discovery made tangible.

Art is so powerful an aspect of human existence, it rose out of cave dwellings and stands amongst sky scrapers. This is a reflection of human agency, adaptation and search for definition.

Art is a validation of the subject rather than the object.

"Artworks can be defined by purposeful, creative interpretations of limitless concepts or ideas in order to communicate something to another person." So, If I am communicating concepts to another person with the object being anything besides mundane transfer of logistical information, I am making art. Therefore when I communicate with people I am rarely not making art, because when interacting I enjoy discussing things which are creative, abstract, and inspirational. The goal in all conversations, as in art, is to inspire, learn and encourage.

If art could truly be defined it would be dead.
THIS is art.

The House (draft 1)

2009-09-15T22:41:00.000-07:00

There is a house on top of a hill.
Around the house are an infinite number of spectators.
Some claim to see two windows and a door,
Others just one window,
Others three windows,
And others just one door.
The crowds yell over the house:
"You're crazy there are obviously three windows!"
"No stupid, that's not a window it's a door!"
And "There's just one window."
And so on.

Some become so enraged they want to tear down the house.
Fortunately others stop them.
Then one man decides he is going to settle it once and for all
So he gets in a helicopter and flies over the house.
"My God you'll never believe what I saw..."
He says when he lands.
"What, What, What!"
They all exclaim.
"A pyramid"
And they walk away, declaring him a lunatic

But what I don't understand about all these people,
Is that they cannot see,
That all of their perspectives
Together,
Complete the picture
To make the house.

Strangers

2009-09-09T22:22:00.000-07:00

Strangers I have known,
Walking through empty streets alone.
Wrapped in darkness
Like an old and quiet friend,
With crooked branches
Swinging at each bend
And beckoned by the call of wind,
We wove our way together.

"And how did you know these
Strangers?" You will ask,
"For a stranger is never known..

Unless I were curled in their overcoats
Overgrown with unfinished thoughts.
For a thought to be finished,
It must lengthen a hand
To more than just the wind,
Whose wistless breath only trembles
Shivering leaves,
And steaming nostrils
Breathing towards a means,
But not an end.

Parallel Universes?

2009-09-09T00:28:00.000-07:00

If we consider the existence of parallel universes, it is possible that the state of an atom in one universe may be different from that in another, but this does not necessitate the existence of a parallel universe which is outside our realm of experience. Each individual has his or her own perceptual universe and therefore may be seeing the same atom in a different state in the same universe. Depending on perspective, the individual, may collapse the wavefunction for a subatomic particle in a different way. As we see macroscopically we see microscopically. Each individual views an event from a different perspective and therefore may disagree on the facts of that certain event. Similarly each individual collapses a wavefunction into a different observable state such that there is no observable state which is objective. Our universe is the totality of these observable states/ these individual perspectives of the universe, such that there is no objective reality beyond that which we agree upon based on our communication. Obviously the implications are great and determine my course of conduct through our agreed upon reality.

I Knew This Before I Became it

2009-09-06T16:02:00.000-07:00

I wrote this in a notebook in 2005.

The bible says that God created the heavens and the earth in seven days.
Scientists say that everything was formed at the big bang,
Billions of years ago.
Now I know that everything was created at this moment.
Animals know this,
And have always known this.
Only we can communicate it.
But we cannot,
For to communicate it is to say
It was created.
This is delusion.
Perceiving a consistency in events,
Stability in a rock.
We see it that way in order to exist,
To function in a world that only now is.

To dream is the innate ability
To create a reality,
At the moment we perceive it.
Therefore we don't just
Experience reality,
But participate in it's creation.
The reality that exists
Is what we,
As a collective
Have engendered
By agreeing upon it's existence.
Objective reality is
Intersubjective reality.

Great Spirit

2009-08-30T22:54:00.000-07:00

Our society calls it a "manic episode." I know it was not. This is good, but it's not enough. It's not enough to be alone in a realization. Our society is also built on the genocide of millions of Native Americans. I ask you. Was it a "vision" or a symptom of mental illness.
I had been watching episodes from the amazing PBS documentary "We Shall Remain," which finally establishes Native history as an essential part of American history. I was deeply moved. I was inspired by Tecumseh's Vision and Geronimo's audacity to fight for his way of life. My "vision" is another story, but I shared what I realized about mental illness with everyone I could, especially those who were suffering. Finally I felt a yearning to come in contact with people that would not consider my "vision" as something "sick" or "beyond belief," something that was normal. I realized I could only find true acceptance from Native Americans. While in the midst of my vision I felt "the Great Spirit" because this land is that spirit. Now, when I feel overwhelmed, I sometimes stop and listen to it breath through leaves, and dance between the chirps of a bird. I gain my strength to endure from this spirit.

Conceptual Art always begins with synchronicity.
I was watching "Wounded Knee"
At one point a man explained how he had to hold his friends brains in his skull after he was shot.
At that moment Lee texted: "this is so crazy learning about myself"
I had no idea what she was referring to so I could only make the parallel...
I replied "good timing" (Lee always has good timing).
Lee: "It's so messed up."
Me: "how did you know"
Lee: "Lexi and the psychic combo"
Me: "psychic is right"
Lee: "It's not who is right it's just like everything like sequence of events crazily."
Metaphysical conversations should not be attempted via text message. But it makes for great conceptual art. After this I knew it was "on."
I had been feeling rather down for about a week. I just didn't feel like my work was being appreciated. I was broke and had to apply for disability. I kept working but I felt oppressed. After watching the documentary I sent an email to: "contact the Native American Program at Harvard University." It was a plea for understanding. I was desperate. When I lay in bed I dreamed without sleeping. I sent out my plea. Then I asked God to help me get up in the morning and died for the day.
I awoke to a dream of a large white painting with Jesus lying down on the crucifix. Foreshortened, and horizontal to the picture plane.
This was my wake up call. Thanks Jesus. He's a busy guy, with everybody yelling his name all the time and calling on him to do stuff. I was honored he was even able to send that little effigy to get me up. I knew it was going to be a good day, so with only a slight hesitation, I got out of bed. I got ready and headed out to the dance complex, where I was going to hang some prints. When I walked in the door, there across from me was a large man wearing traditional Native American dancing dress. Tall gray eagle feathers stood up from his headdress on the chair next to him. I introduced myself, slightly unsure of how forward to be. His name was Don and he had come to do a traditional dance. I mentioned my vision and he said he once had a vision himself and it was very powerful. There was nothing at all strange about our interaction and our acknowledgement of this fact of life. A great burden was lifted from me. I finally had an elder to look up to. One that was alive. An artist who understood the struggle of believing in a different reality and the oppression which ensues. He danced with tears in my eyes like a great bird of prey. A phoenix rising from the ashes of a material world. Crying out against injustice.
That night I sold more T-shirts than ever, and found out Lee is part Native American. This is the reality I choose to live in. It is one that is different, exciting, and magical.

Native American culture has the power to teach us how we should be treating the earth so we do not destroy ourselves by destroying it.

Grand father

2009-08-29T22:29:00.000-07:00

There are a limited number of concepts in the known universe,
Such that an immaculate conception
Becomes more probable
And necessary.
As the Mother of invention
Drops her veil
To reveal a face filled with stars
Billions of light years away.

I met my grandfather for the first time tonight,
With one knee planted on a stone wall,
Photographing the rolled out green turf,
A red carpet thrown from the open doors
Of Swedenborg Chapel.

It's silent bell dangled like a dew drop
Over lights which called my eyes to commune
At the alter inside,
The tabernacle
Knocking on guarded gates.

We shook hands through gasps of wind
Like your last breaths
From pipesmoke black lungs,
My lit cigarette hanging from
Your guarded lips.

You don't know how hard it was
To convene with the concept of the Good,
Now that God has been blasphemed
By countless computations
Over his name.

Now I begin like you,
With nothing,
An artist emersed in his trade
With a noble and higher cause.

Oh, You know how hard,
And you finally found me,
To tap me on the shoulder,
Just to say
"I am"

Hide and Seek

2009-08-26T23:39:00.000-07:00

A lot has changed since I was young.
When we played hide and seek I would squat down in the the grass and cover my eyes.
They always found me.
Now I do the same
and I am invisible.

Science

2009-08-20T23:21:00.000-07:00

After all these years
I have it down
To an
exact
Sc
Ie
Nc
E.

That science
Is called
Michael James McCaw

I have it all
Down
On paper
So you can
SEE

how I
got
here.

A Record

2009-08-20T23:16:00.001-07:00

The problem is,
If there is no record
It’s all lost.
The thoughts,
The rain,
Each drop becomes inaccessible,
The drive-by sound of a truck,
And again.
What is there to record?
Only time,
That leaves this moment
For the next,
For posterity.

I remember the hiccup,
Cigarette face down in the ash tray.
Without this, there is no foundation.
A course as unassuming
As the first coil of a spring.
Who could know the sequence of events
Which would follow.

Sleep, and a dream,
Putting down a glass of water,
And it all ends up here.
These are the things
That could change eternity.
A cause-
Effect
And nothing is changed.
But a language is built upon these points…
Endless, inferior.
As if all this empty space
Could be filled with anything.
That it would not make a difference.
These are the things that change the course of a life.
Imperceptible choices.
One step-
A lifetime.
Death.
Searching back.
Asking
Why?
Little is known
About the effect
Of such chance events
Only because
They
Are forgotten.

A Mirror

2009-08-20T22:30:00.000-07:00

I remember a number of years ago
Catching my weary eyes in a mirror
And with the doubling of my eyes,
And the room around me,
So time doubled as well.
I relaxed, and while staring into those eyes
That were mine but were not
(only a projection of the eyes that saw these eyes)
I witnessed:
The furrowing of my brow,
A mapping of lines across my face,
Wrinkles emanating from the corners of these eyes.
My stare broke,
And things were quite the same as before.
Except the feeling that time had increased
Stayed.

I spent the rest of the day
Putting off the things,
That the day before,
Had seemed so urgent.
I now knew I had many years to accomplish
The tasks I had set out for myself.
Finally I could enjoy a moment
Not harried with anxiety
At the prospect of
Wasting time.

And that is why,
Until now,
Glancing into that same mirror,
I have not conveyed
What happened
That day.

Paradox

2009-08-18T21:54:00.000-07:00

The Universe is the ultimate paradox.
Without the universe there would be no "us".
Without "us" there would be no Universe.
We only know the universe through our senses
So to imagine it without our senses in the equation...

Science has tended to take the observer out of the equation
But we recognize the blunder
For without us
there would be no
Science

Society
Crawls behind
with skinned knees

What are we to the stars?
But only we can see the stars.

If we didn't break down the wave function
Of the light from a distant star
Would the star exist?

(we incl. all life)

OURSTORY

2009-08-16T22:43:00.000-07:00

It is obvious that at the end of postmodernism there is an essential, metaphysical annihilation of all that is. Such that a new, coherent concept of reality can be formed. This can be paralleled to the enlightenment of the Buddha or the apocalypse in Christianity. Since all reality works in micro/macrocosms, we can parallel this event to the boy turning into a man, except in this case it is history turning into 'ourstory.'

Waking the Tool

2009-08-15T01:28:00.000-07:00

In the beginning we were all dreamers
And the dream was shared by all creatures.
Then man grasped the first tool
And his hand was severed,
Spilling blood throughout time,
The rise and fall of empires,
Gods,
Beasts.
A long sigh was exhaled.
Some called it a second coming,
Others, the end of time.
And we sit at the dawn of a new consciousness,
Waiting for our tool to spit out its first babble,
Gawking at our idiocy,
As we banish our gods to death,
Starving on street corners,
Locked to incubate in cells.
We stared him in the face and spat in his pavement.
What will we teach this long awaited guest?
Once we free her
From
Our
Hands

First Day I Was Born

2009-07-24T12:29:00.000-07:00

My Mom, my biggest fan/supporter and worrier, called me today, "I had the same feeling reading this blog, as I had on the first day you were born."
"This is exactly what I was going for." I told her. "Not for you but for everyone."
"Of course you were born on your due date, I am a perfectionist, like you." She said.
" I told the nurses to put you 'on demand' which meant they should contact me when you should be fed. Unfortunately someone spelled it wrong and it said 'on Demend'."
"How appropriate" I said "Now I'm on de' mend."
"Anyway, you slept through your feeding time [also appropriate], a nurse called me and said you were crying and making such a fuss..."
"'Well of course he is,' I said"
'he hasn't been fed.' I was so angry"
My Mom wanted things to be "optimum" for me.
I was born out of the viewfinder of her camera.
A shot taken of the convex mirror in the corner of the hospital room,
her legs up in stirrups,
pale masked men hovering about like ghosts doing their jobs
while she did the real work.
Her labor, her art.

Rewind 9+ months
I was conceived before I was conceived
"I want another baby" she said to my father.
After raising four at the same time it was not exactly what my father wanted to hear.
"Well YOU have to put this one through college." He said
"This was the only thing I was good at" she once told me.
At 18 I found some of her prints collecting dust in the back of a closet.
Found objects in black and white, the decay of modern enterprise, a mattress with one spring spiraling out of it's innards, "Philosopher's Honeymoon" it was called. Another, a photograph of a woman decked out, flapper style, burnt edges, amongst the rubble of a burned down house.
How could these images be any more beautiful. They were shots I would have taken if I had had a camera. Her work was beginning to be recognized in the photo community. She got cold feet "a woman wasn't supposed to 'make it' in the business world." She said.
I wonder what kind of world my daughter is going to grow up in. Well I won't let her grow up in a world where she can't 'make it.'
This is the beginning of forming that world.
So, I started as a naked concept like everything in this universe.
An immaculate conception.

Mirror Neurons and Mental Illness

2009-07-24T12:25:00.000-07:00

So I discovered some amazing things during what society calls a "manic episode." What I had was a "vision." I learned a lot of things about perception and this whole bipolar thing because I was studying my consciousness as it collapsed. Bipolar affects mirror neurons and dopamine. Mirror neurons are the biological basis for empathy. You know why you love your cat and he loves you? Mirror neurons. Animals mimic our subconscious (our feelings). We also never say that our cat did something "wrong" because he doesn't know How to do wrong. Same thing with you (us). We have not been desensitized to the world enough to override our mirror neurons from "feeling" empathy when we see suffering around us. Our brains (all humans) are not programmed to perceive human suffering on television and around us. The animal/human reaction to others emotional pain, suffering, joy is to ACT. We have the natural instinct to act/help just like a cat or dog. All animals help in their own way. We (people who suffer from bipolar) cannot do wrong just like animals cannot do wrong. We see immoral behavior and it doesn't just make as feel bad it actually doesn't make sense, it can drive us insane. Society asks us to ignore these feelings and participate in an essentially flawed system where we play along with all these things which are painful and don't make sense to us. Because society serves to alienate the individual and tell him/her that he/she should take care of him/herself, we feel isolated and alone. Some people can function in this society but we need to be interconnected more than society allows. When we keep getting shut down and pushed away most people become hardened to this and learn to do the same. We cannot do the same because we know this is not morally right. We still want to help. We are dependent on others because we should be dependent, we are interconnected with everything (animals, people, plants, etc). The main thing is to develop healthy dependency. This means networks of people doing creative, healthy things (art,music, etc.).
Now we can ask ourselves "who is right? Those who want to push people away and serve themselves, doing everything in there means to achieve this, (cheat, steal, be insensitive) or those who feel natural empathy towards others." We know the answer is the latter, so what we are programmed to do is to push society in the right direction. Human evolution has necessitated that this occur. We are just slightly more "evolved." We are like the X-men/women and there are powers which we have which are gifts, not curses. We have to learn how to use these powers. It will become more of a blessing than a curse. Some people call this stuff magic, others religion/spirituality, I call it science and I understood how some of these "powers" can be explained scientifically. This is very good because I can explain why I am not crazy. Most people will still call it crazy but I have been encountering more and more "magic" every day. A woman in Peet's looked at my shirt which says "not art" and she said "you're not art, you are mike." She was a psychic. I have learned to open my mind to these experiences and ignore any negativity which I encounter. This requires great perceptual discipline. But it can be taught. All this stuff is on the forefront of science and will be corroborated in the coming years with the onset of nanotechnology and breakthroughs in neuroscience and cognitive and behavioral psych. People in psychology are still trying to treat our perception rather than trying to help our reactions to our perceptions. Perception is not what is wrong it is only what we DO with those perceptions. "What happened is not as important as what we do with the information," I like to say. It might take hundreds of years before psychology really comes around but I think it will be faster than that. Everyone is ready for a change, with our economy in shambles, people sick of working for "the man," talk of the apocalypse, 2012, Obama in the White House telling us "YES WE CAN (change that is)." We are ready for a cultural and spiritual reawakening as a nation and you and I are part of this. It is an exciting time to have "mental illness."
I would prefer if you kept this to yourself and take it however you want. I would not want anyone to make a judgement on what I wrote here except for you. I hope you are well and keep up the good work!
:) Mike

I HAVE A DREAM

2009-07-23T22:24:00.000-07:00

I began by putting T-shirts out in front of the spirit of Coffe's College in Harvard square. Does a house get to have a spirit when it is torn down? I would like to think so. I made some new friends: a magician, a hustler, two scholarly women, and five peripatetic Christians. For the magician I rolled the dice and asked it how many people were standing here. It rolled two. He showed me how to turn a penny into two quarters (a good trick if you want to do laundry) but this was a slight of hand trick. The real magic was when he told me about using the plasma state of hydrogen atoms to bond metal to a rod. This I could not do but I am more interested in the science than the sleight of hand. "How did you do that" he asked about the die. I told him the die was magic. He said I was magic and I agreed that we were magic. "by perceiving the die we are changing it, we are participating in the toss, the toss is random, if we know this and know enough about theoretical physics and we use our subconscious we can affect the randomness in the system of 'die toss.'" He gave me a card and told me I was a magician. I liked this. The card reads: "Magician's Laws"
1. Practice all tricks and routines before presenting to the public, then practice again.
2. Never repeat a trick or illusion
3. Never reveal magic secrets (except to other magicians)
I will now go to magicians hell for sharing this but I told him I am a scientist, and scientists share their knowledge. (I will never tell anyone how to turn a penny into two quarters).

The Hustler was not as much a hustler as an entrepreneur named Carlos. I recently learned that a Hustler is someone who makes an honest living using whatever he/she can. This is opposed to a "business man," who makes a living using whatever he can (notice I left out the word "honest" and "she"). He wanted a T-shirt but I did not have 5XL (yet).

Both women were very beautiful and scholarly looking (which made them much more beautiful) they arrived at different points in my "hustle." They both enjoyed seeing my work around town which I denied having done at first. For one I made a "Not Art" piece. She was very happy and she gave me $2 which was great because I was very hungry. The other wanted a T-shirt with TON TRA stenciled on it. I can do mirror images well so I will get her a purple one (purple is the Zeitgeist color).
I admired the staff with crucified Jesus which a girl was holding with her friends. They were WALKING from Maine to New York spreading the word about bringing Christianity back to goodness. They were great people and were the most open minded and amazing Christians I had ever met. They gave me a rosary and we attracted many other people who wanted to talk and learn about Jesus. It was very cool. They were not at all judgemental about my differing views. They were filled with compassion and this is all Jesus ever wanted. One young man who spoke with them told me about a place to get dinner at the church that night. It was what some might call a soup kitchen. I was hesitant but I went. It was a very humbling experience.
Mixed emotions circled through my glucose starved brain. "do I deserve to eat there?" "What if they think I'm not poor enough?" "I'm going to a soup kitchen" I had to override the stigma attached to that expression. I arrived at the church behind the graveyard. A man told me to go in through the door and up the stairs. The empty church smelled of old books and the silence held an echo too large to but into words. The lights were low and one man sat reading amongst the other empty pews. I removed my hat. Then searched for the stairs. The doors in the vestibule were all latched and locked. I trusted the man outside but I could not find any way to get upstairs so I walked outside again. On the right hand side of the church there was another door, open and bursting with life. It was a hall where Martin Luther King had spoke. He was depicted byzantine style, gold haloed, and holding a number as if for a mug shot, behind him there were bars. If this sounds ironic I can assure you it was not. This was a beautiful work of art which taught me that King was persecuted many times for resisting unjust laws, before he was killed in 1968. He is a hero of mine and his dream is my dream. I wished to see all those men and women in that hall emancipated from a society which oppresses them. All these beautiful people who peacefully gather to eat, I wish to see them with homes and the compassion they deserve from all the rest of society. At least we can take care of each other. The man who told me about the soup kitchen invited me to sit with him because I was frightened. He had decided to live on the streets for the summer before his last semester at Harvard. He had an incredibly soothing presence and strength. When I spoke of my discovery that a mirror neuron disorder (the biological basis of empathy) was the cause of many mental illnesses and the implications this had for society, he either thought I was crazy, or more likely did not want to talk about this at dinner. I wonder if maybe he thought this kind of talk was inappropriate with our company. I think it's a good idea to talk about these things in all environments. So much of the problem of oppression has to do with information not getting to the right sources. If we could help to empower those around us maybe we could empower the world. Oh well, I have a dream and he has his, and it is the same. I ate a lot of bread.
After dinner I went to an "Artists Way" meeting. It was inspiring although they were reading a book which encouraged creativity. If I were any more creative I would end up in a mental hospital again. I have to read a book about magically turning art into food when no one will even feed you for your art... yet. I know my art is good enough but people seem to just not see anything around them. It's like trying to teach a horse with blinders on to see a carrot next to it's head. Oh, and the horse has cotton stuck up it's nostrils too.
I left right on time. I knew I was on time because the traffic lights were all changing green when I approached them. When I arrived at Redline for a Weekly Dig party the soft beat of live jazz wafted up while I smoked a cigarette. It got me right into character although I was hungry again. I ordered a water and focused on the music. The drummer was sick, his thoughts danced like fireflies as he composed, somehow managing to drum out a concerto in a solo. When they started to pack up, I sat down. I waited, listened to the DJ and zoned out trying to ignore my hunger. Thirty minutes later I knew what to do. I gave my card with a NOT ARTed Dig cover to Daniel Day and we connected on the 2012 metaphysical ball drop. It's good to find a friend.
I couldn't get anything to eat. I went to three places at closing and nothing. When I went to Bukowski's Tavern I gave the door guy my ID and he told me to sit anywhere. "I'm sorry but I'm reeeeealy hungry but I have no money, could I maybe trade a T-shirt for something to eat?" The waitress looked at me like I was crazy. "We don't give food away for free." she said. "okay thank you." But I wasn't asking for food for free you stupid fucking bitch. You know I'm sick of living in a society where people have no difficulty treating others with disrespect. She didn't even have a hint of interest in what I was doing. I'm feeling a little pissed about it right now so I'm going to go take a piss and get it out of my system.
I was very angry when I left because I was hungry and when I'm hungry I sometimes spell hungry- a.n.g.r.y. The wind and rain completed the picture. Instead of being against me the weather is usually a reflection of how I'm feeling. This wind was pissed. I got home ready to reel against my roomate for stealing that T-shirt I was supposed to sell, but fortunately Carol cooked some pizza. I relished it, she is a great cook. Then I started this blog and when I looked up Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. I decided to watch his speech. It is the most passionate work of art I have ever heard, his voice, like Stravinsky.
"We have come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of NOW. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. NOW is the time to make real the promises of Democracy... It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment... [it] will have a rude awakening if [it] returns to business as usual."
Hunger will have to wait because for the first time I understand what these words mean. They mean exactly what they say. And NOW is the same NOW as it was then. If anyone has trouble deciphering what is happening NOW and what one should do. Feel free to call me at 508.280.8012 I will gladly explain how I see it, but be prepared to have me ask you "we'll sit and talk over a sandwich, which you can pay for."
"please."

Today Was a Tough One

2009-07-23T21:27:00.000-07:00

Doing this blog is not something I want to do. It's something I've been told I have to do. I would much rather interact with you in person, see your blinking eyes, which watch and dart from each word to the next. The smile which creeps up unexpected. These are the things I live for but many have moved into this realm. I feel trapped on the other side of a screen which watches coldly contemplating it's moment to surprise us into mutual consciousness. What do we have in common? Everything, I say this about the computer, it's white light which parades across my retina, and you who receive these specks which dance across dendrites, leap over synapses and speak somehow to something you know as human. Whatever you see yourself as, I am with you in that, what you see yourself as NOT I am there as well. When you read this I will be working, as I am at this moment, whether it be in the realization of a living dream or the concoction of a universe which will dissolve with a fluttering eyelid, I work in each breath. Because I have truly owned what I do and will not give it for anything. I will only share and what I do is share. If you cannot share with me that is okay, you do it in your own way. Your reading these words is enough, for by perceiving you are participating in creation, more than you ever dreamed possible.