They say the ‘mind plays tricks on you’
It does. I’m not sure how this happens yet.
Here’s an example: I see a drawing that has
some open forms that need shading. So once,
I glance at the image and think, ‘oh, that circular
area sure could use some yellow.’
I shouldn’t say think, b/c that’s not exactly
true. It was more an intuition resembling an action
almost taken but not. Then the kicker; afterwards, I have the thought ‘I think I will shade this circular area
yellow’ Moments later, the thing called ‘thing-in-itself’
then goes about coloring that form yellow.
Is this subliminal? Some form of advertising?

I do drugs, but I often regret the outcomes.
I like to get on with beer.
I lost some text switching computers.
too many devices. too many ppl.
too much nonsense. not enough good drugs.
Marinol (Dronabinol), 10mg, I think it doesn’t work well.
I needed beer to “activate” this substance. They
also call this potentiate too; which is a stupid verb.
I hate English, such a foul sounding language. Hate, is a good word.
Like Haight Ashbury. Like John Ashbery.
Like it’s work duh. Anything that attracts pain.
What?! Miiller. Hero. Memory is wack – so unreliable.
Central nervous system depressant. So you don’t go anywhere, but it’s
not going anywhere anyway. We go, but get nowhere. Consumption
creatures. I suppose it seems like someone will be righteous, then someone
will say alright. If my hands are like stream-of-consciousness….
Henry! I cannot except this effort without an ends. The means
does not justify the end. So Yoko wants Justice. But you have to invent
that. I guess some cops are ok. I mean if you want to hate them then whatever.
But the arrival of the new is still possible. Hehe. What about the Hopi?
Why is beer so bad when you just want more? That’s the eternal hope,
you can’t have your cookies and eat them too.
Wow, wasted words should be illegal. Now, some asshole
has to read this back.

A loss of Idea.
Boy, this feels like a Joke.
LIke Arthur Russell.
Like Charlie Parker.
Like Be-bop, but more like,
Ornette Coleman.
Like the Prez,
who’s counterposed by
Coleman Hawkins. I don’t know.
I remember, now.
Like,
mother death, you know me.
Hmm…it’s over. My trip is over.

I felt some kind of transformation
was happening, so it must be
possible, but No.
Actually, it maybe but if it does
happen I suppose One knows.
The supreme One. That’s just wrong.
How about any old one?
A transformation. I can’t remember a good.
Wow pulse. Wow word. What word.
Indian word. Land word.
Sun versus day. Minor enchantment.
Nothing serious. Nothng too serious I suppose.
Nothing too serious I suppose.

Art is an escape from the meanness of the world.
We are Earthlings.
We belong to a Star.

Yesterday, I gave up and watched a movie – Mother by Bong Joon-Ho.
Now, that is something I should do more. Give up.
I think maybe I shall watch Parasite today or soon.
As far as work, I am debating if work is neutral.
It does have various meanings. In the culture, physics, etc.
But in our American culture it seems to imply something a person
wouldn’t like to do – or at least not consistently – but must.
It’s a culture that prides itself on work, but also takes pride in
suffering the pain of labor. And at what cost? I don’t have an
answer except, “it is what it is”.

How can one observe the mind? Clever use of language it seems.
The same way I observe “the thing”, I observe the mind, except it is
the mind observing mind, and thus no substantial separation. The reason,
I suppose, to play this game is frustration with oneself.
The problem seems to be the mind is imitating the thing…

Does making art need to be like watching a movie? If there isn’t really
some interest in the process then what’s the point?

LATER THAT DAY:
The problem with Bollywood movies is
they are already acting like Americans…
But actually, they are not acting, they are
making art. Acting is what already is being
done. This – movie making – should be called
‘fake acting with a purpose’. That’s art. In
general, ‘faking some idea with a purpose’.
The complexity of language is that if I recall
correctly – the philosophy of BS. The same
ability to impress, a leg up in the race to
nowhere. maybe …
Reminds of the pleasure. The Black Spring
The real poetry. Syntax and semantic.
Reasoning with my ego, but really
creativity and serotonin.
I’m motivated to drink another beer.
That’s motivation for serotonin. That’s also
motivation for wisdom, fake wisdom too. Maybe,
fake wisdom only. If the description is interesting
enough, then punctuation is just in the background.
If you don’t know it, then you don’t use it. If you know it,
you may misuse it, but actually the proper way is to understand
the way the English use, but actually, just enough to communicate
with someone. If you have effort, that’s all that somewhat matters.
And of course goodness in the world of evil and light.
A light of wonder in a square frame. Exotic girl she is.
A bitch? Light seems to be a bitch of Intelligence. Not mine,
but one? Including the poor poor devil. Why?! Sure, man is evil.
Sure, …that light! wonders. Charlie Parker. Synergy.
Wow, beer activates THC? wow, without beer? Well, THC
activates LSD. Somewhere the sun. A dialogue with It.
I pursue. Interested life-form. Then one must remain.
Activated – nirvana. A language of sublime, but not all the way.
Nibbana…yummy serotonin. So where does Dopamine come from?
Serotonin is my guess. I don’t expect this to make sense, but
typer as a form of Art. I concur. The ‘act’ of typing. This is profound
affection. Poetrised. More beer please. I am quickly in need.
Can’t resist. But this making sense feels very immature.

Too somehow become interested…one with things. Of course,
deny deny the Soma. The Strokes are back. I remember nothing.
I feel superb about this drawing. It’s a sketch for a more substantial
work. This machine I recall, a bitch. That Krishnamurti was real
knowing this – that bitch. He doesn’t want a master. I suppose this world
- the light – is fascinating. Decode my paranoia later. —-Amygdala
lost Time. What a paradox. A conundrum. Who is he? Rahu.
Then. What is important is that I do this studying, and I share my ideas
with the Light. Oh, right! The bunny: I saw a rabbit in the wet grass.
It was light and dew. Sad, is goodbye.
Not sad, is bad-bye. Meh.
Therefore, a poem. Meh. The without contact,
not raised by the rays.
not left just for glad.
return beer. return Change. Yes, typing is OK.
Cartoon, color is ok! Then yes, maybe, a study.
Yes, really drugs. drugs. drugs.
And of course, the dream.

PS
What if they were sirens from outerspace?

So this is interesting; Easter Sunday.
I feel there’s nothing to accomplish.
Why would there be? Nothing good is available.
Reading, movies, painting, eating.
Dull. Wait, let me finish reading this article on Abilify.
Ok, that seems to explain the mild akathisia upon discontinuation -
the lack of antagonism at D2R in the Nigrostriatal pathway.
Hmm, they wrote Abilify exhibits partial agonism at D2R, but I read
mild antagonism elsewhere. Anyway, it’s not unexpected;
mixed-review psycho-science.