are you willing to bring a melon to the king of hell?

we have two homelands:  the one given to us at birth and the one we create through negation

the artist is not properly a creator but a site where words and visual forms inscribe or install themselves

so an autobiography should not show the creator but rather the sensations that occur on the site the creator occupies

the ego cannot occupy the place where the world should be; the creator’s task is to make room for the world … asking questions of the i that came somehow to ensconce itself on the undignified dais of interiority becomes a method for this making room 

gifts bounce around, never unrequited, never simply reciprocal, but promiscuously shared puncta of pain 

any culture that separates dream and root manufactures itself to fall into the defile between them

the creatings of artists, thinkers, activists, mystics are aesthetic food, available for entering digestion, necessary nutrients getting absorbed, integrated into molecular structure, the rest expelled … and from this modified body, these renewed energies, expressions emerge, as naturally as breath, becoming creatings for further ingestings …
    ... this clonal body, pando of art

overheard from a 6-year-old in a montréal café – my mother’s a monster and my babysitter’s a vampire

all art is found art

no necessary angel has fallen like necessity

aesthetics is for artists what ornithology is for birds

i become concrete on a level that is not that on which the world is planned, i obtain myself in the concretely possible that exists within abstraction

knowledge is not a means to intimidate, as among the common tyrant classes of thinkers and workers, but a movement toward joyful unknowing

philosophy lingers at the brink of the unknown while hoping to domesticate this threshold as a habitus for thought

the earth has lost a tenth of its wilderness in the last two decades … but … humans? … haven’t they lost almost all theirs, or canned it in cinematic coitus and war? mental illness rises as a necessary simulation for the wilderness we’ve destroyed with the tedious clubs of our insanities. so all exploring now is of interiority – the poles, icescapes, passes of ourselves, the modern explorer setting off from shore, as always, without maps, guides, certainties, and about return only memories, with limited supplies and infinite destinations, the voyage    the voyage

are you willing to bring a melon to the king of hell?