mitered phrase

"reflection unleashes the trappings of experience."

"experience" and memory being all that preceeds the moment(s)* of reflection. otherwise, usually, generalized and referred to as "childhood." the phrase above was developed by necessity and intuition to try to keep the idea to a concise form(phrase) for use in communication. mainly since this "idea" keeps reoccuring in convserations with myself and others.

*pluralization put into parenthesis because, to me, there is no "moment" but rather a stream that continues to push us along. the mind is wildly abstract in ability to think beyond static limits and concrete forms. it is therefore curious how human cultures tend towards associations that do not emulate our organic forms.

straight forward and obvious

"all word and action reflect the rhythms present."
(“present” meaning “in existence/occurrence” as well as in time or at any given moment)

credit

i have no idea- my credit score. my “rating.” this prompts a topic about me that is too gorgeous in content for this particular writing.
but, of things credit, i have observed this about myself: pride and credit and the ego that is served by such foods, has no meaning for me. no feeling. well, no feeling initially. to be sure, there is no positive or negative feeling initially, the negative or adverse feelings and reactions i may have to limelighting develop well after my initial feelings. i believe it is the intuitive knowledge of experience and understanding that frames thought into reality; and in that realization of context comes my repulsion. the feeling is honest; not influenced by fear, control, or comfort. at times i feel lonely by it. but it is my gathering, the result of everything that has contributed to me and i appreciate that immensely of all things. i observe that my reactions, my feelings are not something i command. it is, at best, something i can influence.

there is nothing for the result of eventuality. ultimately all things are by way of the essence of evolution. that which exists does so as a result of all that has contributed to it. the contribution could be the absence or addition of something, context, etc.
persistence-of-something and product are results, indicators, reference points in time and moment. these “parts” are not the whole. they are abstract and static representations of the whole, just as the individual is a reflection of the whole. and the whole is infinite.
following the social standard of what “credit” is (having accomplished, completed, or done something), i do not feel it in me to make claim to. it would be like claiming credit for having moved appendage, waking up, or going to the bathroom. and although those things are considered “automatic” and based in instinct “without thought,” for me having completed a thesis, invented a new device, baking, developing new areas of study in mathematics or social-economic models aligning diverse classes of people, etc. (to any level of quality or recognition) is just as “resultant” as those parts of our nature that are usually taken for granted.
however, i am human- and thus cannot help but appreciate the celebration and familiar-made recognitions of events and happenings.

emotion...
i appreciate the attributes that make things what they are. and in this i find the importance through my bond with the “social group.” and i have come to appreciate more these attributes, these differences and similarities in myself. it helps me to get past my intellect, to derive nourishment from the cooperation of everything that thinks my brain. and so, versatile rhythms are revealed to me that welcome unity rather than separation. It is not marketing or “whatever i need to tell myself,” it is a deep and honest connection formed without force, intellectual purpose, or design. it is understanding and acceptance, something that is exponential with, and benefits from, plenty of reflection. whether the reflection is direct or indirect, from others or oneself, reflection is an amplifier of observation and experience.
emotion also amplifies. it does so with awareness beautifully. it may be anomalous to a god, robot, or alien – “those humans are so silly, so inefficient with their dubious chemical logic” but that is what we are. that is who i am. the “balance” that i continue to talk about, the inherent balance borne into our nature- the one affected by the dynamic of our evolution(or as i like to put it “instinct and intellect”), is our medium. it is we. it is neither excuse or absolution of responsibility or any other kind of intellectual construct. it simply “is” our state.

my mind draws a blank upon checks of ego. the bond of familiarity, however, creates a wealth; one that cannot be claimed or controlled. it exists only amoung the connections of those bonds. its wealth is exponentially grown the more that is added to the bond.
or
i don’t care about popularity or if anyone knows of the things i create, say, have said, coined, or done. but i do care about sharing my experience my “gatherings.” connections made for contribution to the whole. and the more people that connect with each other the more diverse and amplified the collection of experience they have. the connection, the bond – is inherently protected from those who would try to control or covet because once controlled or coveted the bond fades away leaving behind an empty carapace of perceived comfort.

a conversation with intuition

ultimately, if anything, more energy is spent in separation than is in union.
which my intuition developed when trying to say:
the obscene becomes when it is hidden. and the hidden or unknown promotes fear. unresolved issues, and the collective experience of such, give intuition an unbalanced ability to kindle the elements of fear, control, and comfort to beset(decorate) ablaze and obliterate reason (balanced intuition).

the initial phrase also speaks of the “social group” in humans(specifically – but probably applies to all creatures that would evolve to this relative level, on earth at least). that “together” is much more efficient than “separate.”

altered genesis

i'm a weird boy in a weird land.

person.

the ruffled wig enjoys the chance. resting atop awareness, influencing the continual animation. delicious sensory and responsive articulation enable the temporary gathering. overwhelming input balanced by repetition being able to combine similarity; allowing contribution and inherent influence that makeup the medium of life.

exception survival

using post-it notes are like attaching bushes to my expression. in the oubliettes of job, expression needs disguise.

surreality

sometimes i feel like a fart through a red brocade curtain.

self-talkings

[old thought]
i feel the term/idea "happy accidents" is better captured with the phrase "intuitive discovery"

[old writing]
proximity is destruction
idle is destruction
completeness is deadness

process is our lover
process is our love
process is our voice
our language

boy eight bologna

“the yard is endless world.
boy collects pocketfuls.”

the wonderful of being a boy. glad for it. what else for it?
awareness, richly.
my feets are boy. my heart is boy. my thoughts are boy. my loves are boy.
when i do, i do as boy.
confused and certain
muddy, boy.
and i romp, and fly, tied to stream. send me nonsense possibility
round-about, twirl and not. picking apart and invention.
robots and far away, rockets and explosions
boy is kicked dirt and secret captain cave
couch galleons and old oak forts
boy is monster that can’t behave
ruffled hair and maybe quirky
boy is nail, bent and smirky
dirty clothes and melted candy
grass stains and lots of laundry
skinned knee is patch of experience
frogs whisperin’ mischievous secrets
and boy is boy
no more than boy
adventure and love all in one
crash and burn
the phoenix learns
and away to wonder he returns

keys

the idea of “keys” or there being a “key” element to anything is relatively irrelevant.
a “key” implies an absolute. and it is my understanding that absolutes are nonsense. "absolute nonsense."
but to dial it back down from the existential, there is a need to communicate in relative terms of recognition. accepted and understood words and ideas are needed the more diverse the audience.
thus a word like “key” is used. but the issue lies in the fact that humans, in general, tend to relax on ideas, institutions, intellectual devices, or social staples. a key, literally and figuratively, is just a tool- a medium. ultimately there are no categories. a tool is as static as that reality it is based on. and that reality is ‘all’ we know. this awareness of flux and dynamic finds us rhythm amoung the process of our occupation. to find balance with the dynamic of existence turns distinction to white noise. awareness moves beyond intuition.
to "stop thinking" or to "let go" gives rise to intuitive adaptation. evolution through experience.

uncover the soil of social and intellectual content to discover the existential balance beneath. then leave it be, covering it back up with understanding and experience... which grows intuition.

surreality

sometimes i find that i feel like a silvered spoon inside a mug full of water.

medium scratchings

my sensitive is tickled by the delicious of influence. it all and surround. it is me and else. and, well.. words and articulations fly away to join the vague gatherings. the present nothings full of sensation saturate and resonant change. the quieter, the louder. the calmer, the more intense. subtle is integrity. simplicity is foundation. repeating patterns equal one, and solids become many.

this is what culture is a part of; this immensity, this happening that i find awareness to. the process and culture of anything is continuous and abundant. i sleep with it, i wake up to it, i enjoy it with moon or sun. and furthered time that filters through makes acute this awareness.

the street.
the “street” represents a more isolated abstract from the whole of cultures abound. the street is the breath of concrete, the nudgings of alley, the tenet of building. It is the sound of shoe on toothy grounds, it is the choice of path and treescape found. It is random and distinct. It is expanse and succinct. It is the workings and movings, the action and process. wheels turning... imaginative blankets of sky roll past into canisters of perceiverie. an exponential net working and living; existing, sound.
foundation of organic dynamic. hard and soft. earth to ore, iron to cloud. reciprocal softness cradling cerebralism that inspires a mechanism to manipulate and grasp, that reflects the activity of elemental cousins.

skateboarding.
the culture of skateboarding was initially introduced to me by my dad and, around the same time, random skaters crusin’ down the sidewalk with the tell-tale bip-bop sound of the wheels rolling over concrete seams. later on the culture was shared through the mid-80’s popularity. transworld skateboard and thrasher magazines and places like “the bare cover.” i had my share of powell and peralta gear, skate rags, rector, and my long lost tommy guerrero pro model in metallic blue. to fondly remember my first board for a second: it had not just a nose grab but a nose bone, ribs/rails, skid pad, copers, and a truck skid. eventually i had to rip all that crap off of there. it is my belief that the store took me (and my mom’s wallet) for a ride at the time. not only that but they tightened my wheels so tight that I couldn’t even ride the thing initially. i eventually got an elephant key, loosened the wheels, and then proceeded to knock the first wind out of me as well as bite my first bit of concrete. It was a nice little patch of grass that sent me flying. All these years later, however, I have not lost my love of skateboarding. i still only weakly Ollie and my pop-shuvs always make my ankles cry a little, but i love cruisin’ on a board. Finding hills or taking flats and gliding about. stop-rocks? Yeah, who doesn’t dread them, but scared of them? no. they are reminders to live fully, maybe learn to identify and heed certain dangers but then to let it all ride out. the only magazine i seriously and continuously will contemplate subscribing to is a skateboard mag. and i find it’s not really about the skateboarders, tricks, equipment, or writing, it’s mainly the street- the urban culture i like. “urban.” i shouldn’t isolate the feeling of culture i love to a word like “urban.” It’s more like “environment in the human influence.” though i do like nonhuman influenced settings as well. there would not be a magazine produced that highlights “street.” books, yes. but a magazine, no. but skateboard rags do that well, and altogether with the writing, the equipment, tricks, it makes for a great saturation of culture. an experience.

writing (graffiti).
writing or graffiti was introduced to me after skateboarding. it existed in the neighborhood and surround that i lived in. by the time i was in middle school and got my first big surge of energy for this culture, the graffiti in my neighborhood was already 4+ years faded. though, back then people didn’t go over each other and/or clean the graffiti up. most of the graffiti that surrounded me back then was up in places that weren’t so obnoxious yet still visible. it wasn’t until i was shelving a new book that my highschool library had just acquired did i really get the sickness for writing culture. i was a teacher’s assistant and the book was subway art.
the book immediately took hold of my imagination (or probably the other way around) and flew away into ideals and adventure and fantasy.
it is still this way for me today.. but then that is how many things are and have been for me.

underground.culture is the center for me. generally a rich culture is one i have found, stays underground. It can be cultivated but it cannot be pulled up above ground without hastened oxidation. the roots remain underground. street and especially pool skating as well as writing (graffiti) are fine examples of this.

effortless action

it is my effort to contribute to the influence of my humility. to not take myself so seriously.
it is not for the feeding of happiness or gratification but the service of intuitive artifact; an element of balance. balance that i believe is embodied in vague and dynamic mediums. continual mediums; undescribed, unconfirmed, fleeting, and changing.

i have been in those states of balance. i have felt them around me. in me. a presence of those dynamic rhythms.

i wait too often however; lazy and preoccupied with nonsense littlery and maybeness. but the moments are upon me, at least i identify them as "the moments." those of relative distinguishible change, and notably, change towards a more experienced balance. i can feel this. though, over the last week or so, i've lost a bit of the momentum i started, in my mind or heart i feel the immediacy. that current of continual flow. that stuff that i've been observing and gathering for so long but never having truly followed myself.

one step in front of the other. one at a time. continual, persistent. discipline.

but i think about the way human intellect phrases and frames things for the purpose of understanding and communication. a vehicle. a medium.
ultimately it is in the is-ness that things exist and not in the defining or understanding of them. they are without so much understanding or category. regardless of human.
because i think of the "journey" and the "steps" and "obstacles" and it appears to me that the individual never really moves; that intellectual constructs of layer and perception, or context and experience, project the mirrored-kaleidoscope sphere of influence we generally believe in.

basically: i(we) try too hard. we are "gifted" with a balance. born with it. intuition built of experience, information. so simplistic. but our attributes are tested by natural selection/evolution. what will out? what will persist and survive through adaptation? we are too momentary to ultimately decide that. we live the balance and existence will hold the almanac.