AMP: Artists' Meeting Place and Resource Collective

Tuesday, July 25 2006

8:10am. Eight O'clock. Hate O'clock. Time to spend the next eight and a half hours hating myself or else zoning out until I forget who I am.

11am. Imaginary conversations. things I should have said to so and so back when something happened. Revenge fantasy. Things I'd like to say to so and so if I ever see hir again. Responses to anticipated questions from so and so if I ever brought up the topic of such and such. Counter-arguments to declarations made by so and so about - whatever. What I'll do if such and such ever happens again.

Schemes and quests and projects, the labor given as little thought as a sports movie montage sequence, the fruits of my imaginary efforts envisioned in glory and perfection. The triumph of the future self in some golden parallel universe. MVP of failure.

11:30am
You can see the farthest from the piled mountain of your dead selves.

Beaten with wood and iron, then drowned, burned, and the ashes scattered to the wind. Prophecy, progeny, androgyny, homogeny - a quarter turn of the wheel. Clockwise. Wise to the clock. Knowing time. Know time. No time. There is no time.