words
birdmad http://adaweb.walkerart.org/project/holzer/cgi/pcb.cgi?lament

Jenny Holzer installation pieces on LED message boards

blather personified, i think
010205
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grendel though i disagree with certain lines 010205
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guitar_freak words are my soul 011126
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arinna dry up in my mouth 011127
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argo Jenny Holzer gets on my nerves. I'd rather blather were http://www.ychang.com 011127
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birdmad yeah, i kind of wore out on the polemics

i'm sorry, maybe i'm too nihilistic, but i think that most people are deluding themselves terribly if they think we as a species will ever truly shake off the more base and scary aspects of our nature

we're still just animals

eat
fuck
kill
sleep
die

ad infinitum
011127
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Webley What keep us here 020511
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blue star it's just a simple line
i can still hear it
all of the time
if I can just hold on to life
I know that nothing
nothing survives
nothing survives

I think I'm turned around
I'm looking up, not looking down
and when I'm standing still
watching your run
watching you fall
falling for me

Am I making something that might
leave this place?
Am I making something that might
end the chase?
I am displaced
I am displaced

And she's my friend of friends
She's still here
when everyone's gone
she doesn't have to say a thing
we'll just keep laughing
all night long

Am I making something that might leave this place?
Am I making something that might end this chase?
I am displaced
I am displaced

It's just a simple line
I can still hear it
all of the time
If I can just hold on tonight
I know that no one
no one survives
no one survives

azure ray - displaced
020512
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silentbob right now there are three 030929
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nom i tired of talking to someone who wasn't there 060327
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mindpop Here are some words that I said right after my stroke.

What I was trying to say: outpatient
What I actually said: amphibian

What I was trying to say: surgery
What I actually said: veterans

What I was trying to say: Dilantin (my seizure medication)
What I actually said: golub jamun (Indian donut)

If the words coming out of your mouth are not what you intend, who’s talking?
120930
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no reason i was thinking about this; my mind does it sometimes. today, i almost accidentally addressed a work email to "jello" instead of "joe," and then i just said "envelope" when i meant "moustache."

there are other brains in our brains, perhaps.
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Pilgrim Internal File Server Error: Control Alt Del: ReBoot In Progress: Please Wait.... 121024
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raze soldiers on a battlefield
set them up
knock them down
at least tell them what they're fighting for
they'll die easier that way
after they've left your lips
130129
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past the words i have are not the words i need and i don't want to give up the ones i have because i think once they're out then the ones i need will run away, but they won't come forward until the ones in the way move.

how many pages left?
131121
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Risen I don't have my words anymore.

They seem to have deserted me. Maybe as a byproduct of the way my mind works now. Or doesn't work.

I don't think anymore. I fill my time, my attention, with as much as possible. I watch the same movies over and over again. I click around social media. I do a few trades... but I don't think.

For most of my life, I wondered why people never thought as much as I did, and now I am there. No thoughts. Nothing beneath the waves.

Well, not nothing. There is a hell of a lot under there. Things I should or could think about, but if I think about them... if I start thinking about where I am, where I could have been, where I am going, what has happened to me... this wave of anger and frustration and profound, deep sorrow threatens to drown me.

So I swim on the surface and I don't think. I survive. I exist. I don't live. I don't go outside, I don't speak to people. I don't read books... I haven't even unpacked my books and we moved house over a year ago. Because books are for exercising the mind, and I don't have one anymore.

Everyone tells me to have hope. So I try. I have a little bit of hope, but invariably as soon as I start to plan for a future that is more than solitary confinement... something happens. Or nothing happens. It gets harder and harder to hope every single time. I get angry at people who tell me things will get better, because they don't. They haven't in years. They have gotten so much worse. Worse than I could have imagined in my worst nightmares.

So I have lost my words. I want to write something deep or witty or interesting. A few years ago, I would have tried to reach out, or encouraged her to. Not given such bland responses. But the truth is I don't want her to know me like this.

I want her to remember me as I was then, and not see how low I have sunk. Because me, broken in a hospital bed with months of rehabilitation and pain ahead of me is a more uplifting image than me now.

It isn't about pride. It isn't about wanting a nice story. A part of it is not wanting pity, and a part is about wanting to have left good memories behind me... although that may be wishful thinking.

If my daydreams coming true would be a nightmare, because that would mean my reality would be... more real. Everything was more real when she knew it. It would be too much to bear. I can't think about it. So I couldn't talk about it. And the pity... knowing I was indeed a bad bet... the self-hatred in me that says I deserve all of it...

How do I even begin to put that into words?
170601
what's it to you?
who go
blather
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