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

Jenny Holzer installation pieces on LED message boards

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


ad infinitum
Webley What keep us here 020511
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
silentbob right now there are three 030929
nom i tired of talking to someone who wasn't there 060327
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?
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.
Pilgrim Internal File Server Error: Control Alt Del: ReBoot In Progress: Please Wait.... 121024
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
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?
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?
what's it to you?
who go