my cabbage roses

 

Oregon trails

The sky was always full of ash there;

waiting at bus stop on the way to work at Rare Earth in Ashland

Self serve, the best tomatoes; there was a cash box and their trust

My Goat friend in Talent on the walk home

my knee and a Mountain View eating lunch

Ashland bookstore 

 

i fear I am so dreadfully sad. i do not think i am ok. and the enormity is stunning ….and cannot, shall not, will not utter aloud to anyone because they would never understand

is there nowhere left to breathe.no place to rest a heavy head no warm shoulder; this cold world

What if —as a human race— we lose our memories because of AI ?

deaf/initions lost

Those chapters that you flip through ….in a dictionary; the thumb-cuts at letters to save time; shut the dictionary—snap! Then open again …..Electra ….like Alice they recall through the pages. They do not exist. She is lost in that vast abyss of nothingness ….invisible

nobody sees her.she doesn’t exist —she slammed the door on her but they didn’t feel it….quality of life —who has the right to rob anyone of that? The will ….of the human spirit is the individual’s right to be. All stars in the galaxy.

There was this sense ….like a compass. The needle. It just wiggled there—like the Bermuda Triangle. And with it, the scent of the riding saddle from the back of the primary blue Hyundai hatchback ….his autobiography stolen from the library ….on the passenger seat…. a dizzy surreal sick waxing feeling with prickles of electric on face and hands. Sweat. Fear. Dry mouth.

Like waking up to a whole new reality that everybody has been covering up

 Who was that?

 What is that? Who is what

   —who was what?

Lately I have been thinking about ‘Voice’ and how any of us of whom walk this earth has any. 

As an artist.

As a thinker.

As a citizen of this planet …. And The Love Letter We Leave Behind ….

it feels like 

        there is something important to preserve that —may be is becoming lost. Is this the role I should take then. 

There is so much futility. I don’t wish to add more to the heap. But still—no….it feels lazy to shrug it all off ….not my problem, not my generation, not my place, not my role; and it could be true. But I ….can’t. It seems I just can’t. It seems I am unable to sleep at night because I am haunted by the sense….I just did not play my part as I should have, and it won’t shut up so it could be it’s just a mental dysfunction I have…. DNA memory from dear old dad. Believing I needed to make an impact on humanity. I ….could have just inherited the delusion and it’s time to snuff it out….but….it seems wrong;a waste; an irresponsible attitude after everything —all the shit of the past.maybe I’ve been aware all this would happen and would have to first ….before I gave my voice 

24 Janusry 2025/Jm muse chron

Today I get a message from Josef asking me if I could remember to pack up some things he forgot to bring 

That is more than just one message; there are several in just that humble seemingly innocent request. 

I see it come up but I walk across the room. I think again of Manhattan —how long has it been …. 

The penthouse renovations would have been completed six months ago. Ilya has her hands full with three kids now. But all the carpentry and some interior details took the longest to complete. Historians had to be consulted to match colors and fixtures with the era 

So…. with the shadow Interpol director pretending to retire and wasn’t it Jörn who claimed he was his cover? Which poker face is not bluffing? They play off each other don’t they ….the sun on the longhouse from the dream ….i remember now.  The Folkmoot ….

It is usually only the boat and the hut from those dreams but ….there was the voyage and the stop at the ….island 

Everything though feels different now in such a way that lifts me and bathes everything in a brighter light…. I’ve been sketching again, and painted twelve hours straight on the mural …. I am me again or is it that I feel accepted fully for me? What peace this allows. Such flow of inspiration is renewed