welcome to my closet, here's a black dress

Discover power beyond the possible AKA Day Thirty-One

2020-02-14T12:00:00.000-06:00

We constantly seek validation
Confirmation tat the path we walk is
Correct, tat we are not trudging in the
Wrong direction or chasing ghosts, but
Who can tell us what is right?
How do we know what is real?
The perimeters of our
World and the laws we
Choose to impose, while
Necessary, are suggestions and
We cannot let them hold us
Back. Would birds ever
Have evolved from dinosaurs
To soar through the sky
If they had listened to gravity? Who can know if
The road ahead will lead us
Somewhere magical when all we know is
Whence we came? All we can do is clasp the
Hands of our fellow travelers and
Thank them for keeping us company

We must all become more involved and informed regarding the seismic shifts in how societies work, to navigate the reorganization of what we have traditionally known, to gain deeper understanding of the evolving technological landscape, to connect and interface with our chosen leaders and each other. that is how we create our revolution AKA Day Thirty

2020-02-13T12:00:00.000-06:00

Perhaps heroism is too much for mere
Humans to achieve, we must leave the
Large acts like saving the world to
Supernatural creatures, to
Aliens or gods. We should accept our
Limitations instead of pretending
We ave the answers. Maybe
Step aside and let another
Species lead for awhile. Maybe
The answer is here on earth, just
Not among us primates.
The orcas seem to have
Ideas about culture and
How to live one's best
Life. Capitalism is not on the
Menu, but salmon is
As well as swimming and singing in
Languages that cannot be put on paper
True, they have not invented computers, but
They also don't have war.

It is imperative to hone abilities, think strategically, and expand knowledge. revolution is happening. our future will be what we make it AKA Day Twenty-Nine

2020-02-12T12:00:00.000-06:00

Indulgences and excesses
Distract us from our pain
We warp our bodies into new
Shapes to accommodates the
Concrete and wrap our brains in
Fiber optic networks
We call this progress and the
Future, credit ourselves for
Advancing society, insist this
Civilization is the height of
Achievement, never stopping
The constant influx of
Information, always moving forward as if
Chased by ghosts and history
Like sharks who die if they
Cease to swim, we must
Continue to consume, to
Conform to the demands or risk
Falling behind and being
Crushed by our technology

I am your mirror AKA Day Twenty-Eight

2020-02-11T12:00:00.000-06:00

Reflection is imperfect
It shows more than we
Reveal
Not simply a reverse
It captures what we
Conceal and
Throws it back at us when
We are not prepared to
Receive the
Blow. All the
Lies we tell ourselves in a
Straightforward, head-on fashion
Dissolves at the Edges
Truth mocks and asks
Questions from the periphery
Who are we?
What do we really look like? Is this
Glass painted in silver any
Less tricksy than the
Rippling surface of a pond or the
Corneas of our lovers? What do
We fear will stare back from
Behind the polished surface?
Who lurks inside waiting to get free?

Although nature often drastically alters objects, looking closely can reveal a wealth of information, piecing together past and present, raising questions about the embodiment of transformation AKA Day Twenty-Seven

2020-02-10T12:00:00.000-06:00

Change is the only constant
All of us are forever moving
Passing through each millisecond
Or so we believe. We tell ourselves
The person we were yesterday and
The person we will be tomorrow are
Connected by the person we are
Today, but what if all those
People are all their own
Selves, each one singular and
Alone? What if we aren't
Engaged in a cycle of eternal metamorphosis?
What if time is just a serious of moments, a constant
Destruction and recreation?
Nothing as obvious as a
Phoenix and the flame, but only because we cannot see
Down to our quarks and there
Are limits to the speed of life which
We cannot go beyond

One must do whatever is necessary to create AKA Day Twenty-Six

2020-02-09T12:00:00.000-06:00

The inky black void taunts us while
Wisps of inspiration float by, so
Close their icy tendrils change the
Temperature of the surrounding air
Perhaps one will stop long enough
To wrap around, change shape,
Leave a mark, a record
Most, however, dissolve into
Whatever ether created them
Oh yes, we would love to tell the
Darkness that it is us, that
We invented the light, but that
Is just us boasting for we know
We are merely vessels. We
Hope for the spark, the muse
To make us glow, to shine
Briefly. Then we pray for more because
We are addicted to the brilliance we feel
Inside when we burn bright

The way it was meant to be seen AKA Day Twenty-Five

2020-02-08T12:00:00.000-06:00

Dreams have a way of
Disguising their true
Intentions. Short circuiting the
Logic portions of our brains, letting
Emotions run the show, and stopping
Our bodies from running away. We are
The very definitions of a captive
Audience. Like all performance
Pieces, some are more
Memorable than others. Some
Indulge in socking us while
Others are so well-crafter you
Wonder how much time your
Subconscious spent creating the
Elaborate tale while others are
Just weird or boring. Given the
Sheer number of shows the brain is
Forced to produce, you know they
Can't all be hits, though some may be
Deep cuts and though we may not
Remember them, they leave us with
Scars we can't explain.

To really understand these processes requires more than one nation can do AKA Day Twenty-Four

2020-02-07T12:00:00.000-06:00

We surround ourselves with
Luxury, of a sort. Not quite
Gold leaf and polished stone, but
Indulgences which distract us and
Numb us to the manipulations to which
We are subjected. Even when
We see pain inflicted
We are only momentarily
Outraged before another
Analgesic is delivered and
We gulp it down with abandon.
Though we distrust our leaders
We assume they are capable of
Protecting and preserving the
Illusion we have of ourselves
Of keeping us safe and pretending
Freedom is more tan just
A word and that we have not lost. But the
Lie may be too elaborate, the
Delusion too grand, the
Fiction may be too much for
Mere humans to maintain.

Obsession as as much to do with true love as a train wreck has to do with time travel AKA Day Twenty-Three

2020-02-06T12:00:00.000-06:00

That land of pain and longing
Once so familiar it almost
Felt like home, is now
So far away that I can't even return
Through music, I only catch
Glimpses and flickers in
Dreams. My memory is faulty
Deceptive and imperfect
Adds beauty and sparkle to
Feelings which, at the time,
Were almost boring and
Certainly unwanted,
In no way lovely. But the
Intensity of it all, I recall.
How much it hurt and how I
Thought that made it real. I
Believed I would live there
Forever, but time heals and
Change alters everything, until one day, I
Forget all the details and just see the
Space left by the ache that is no longer there.

unacknowledged narratives of exclusion over time mights become invisible might in effect disappear AKA Day Twenty-Two

2020-02-05T12:00:00.000-06:00

So much has been forgotten or
Purposely destroyed. The
Enormity of what has been
Lost is too great for us to
Know much less comprehend
A whole universe of stories
Which are gone forever
Never to be told again and the
Languages which can't be
Spoken-except by the occasional linguistic
Archeologist, though most
Are well and truly gone for good.
While we can say what has been done
Is all in the past and our
Future is bright, we should
Consider what tomorrow has
Cost, the price paid to get here and
Who was forced to pony up. We think we all
Understand each other now, but maybe we still
Silence the voices that are not our own

Bring The Outside In AKA Day Twenty-One

2020-02-04T13:27:00.000-06:00

The doors are mere suggestions and
Locks can be breached quite easily
Borders are just lines on a map and
Boundaries, well, those are simply
Unspoken agreements which can be
Renegotiated at any time. So
Privacy, such as it is, stops
The moment you open your mouth
To speak a word, for you
Cannot trust that which happens
Beyond the parameters of your
Body. A secret only exists
So long as it remains
Unshared as once it becomes
Known to one it will not rest
Until it is known to all. This
World we have created needs
Data to survive and we only have
Language because our ancestors
Craved gossip. It isn't paranoia
It is the price of being human.

Uncanny interactions occur across time, making startling connections. Enter a new dimension. AKA Day Twenty

2020-01-30T12:00:00.000-06:00

When that star shot across the
Sky, what did the dinosaurs think?
Did it catch them unawares or did
Their technology give them fair warning?
Could they see their ends in computer models
Replicating the event and its aftermath
Or did the winter take them by surprise?
Perhaps the believed their
Gods would save them or
Called the meteor and
Subsequent fallout a
Punishment from the heavens for
Sins now forgotten
Or maybe they thought their
Science would save them. They had lived
So many millions of years at that point
Surely they would survive this.
At least they had lived so long
They would leave something behind
To let those who came after know
Who they were and what they had achieved
But civilization is surprisingly
Fragile. After 35 million years
Even the plastic breaks down.

At a time when authenticity is prized photography would seem to be the perfect truth AKA Day Nineteen

2020-01-29T12:00:00.000-06:00

What's realer than real? Is there
Even such a thing as truth anymore?
Or are we just all prisms made of
Water filtered through our beliefs?
You say "Up" and soon that is the
Only direction and gravity is just
Another opinion over which we
Agree to disagree. When even the
Nucleus of an atom can be
Broken into pieces, how can mere
Facts withstand sustained
Barrage? Sure we all can
Feel the fallout and the invisible
Damage being done to our psyches
Is not unknown, it's there for
All to see, but we cannot put the
Genie back in the bottle, we all
Want a little bit of the magic when
The sparkle works for us, then it's just a
Tiny enhancement, it hardly counts at all
It's only fake when it refuses to conform
To our own version of reality

Once you eliminate the interruptions, your brain will reach a calmer state in about 15 minutes AKA Day Eighteen

2020-01-28T12:00:00.000-06:00

It's so easy to get sucked in
Our weaknesses are so easy to
Exploit and society has us
Programmed to respond in
Predictable ways. Anyone who
Insists they are immune is
Really just announcing they
Require different stimuli, but
Once they swallow the bait they
Won't even feel the hook. The
Biggest mistake we all make is
Assuming Dunning Kruger, like
Hell, is other people, not us
No we are too smart and
Likeable, we are the ones with
Wisdom and charm, we can't be
Manipulated by flattery and attention,
Not like everyone else. It's reassuring
To find other who understand. Who
Think about these things in the same way.
You can always trust them, right?

The Butterfly Look Is My Ultimate Must Have AKA Day Seventeen

2020-01-27T12:00:00.000-06:00

We never talk about how
Painful metamorphoses can be
How everything we think we are
Turns to goo or how the
Only thing keeping us together is
Our shell (which also feels
Alien as it only exists to
House us through the change)
No one actually prepares us
For what comes next, How can they?
Each step along the way might be
Known, but still, information is not
Experience and until it happens
It's all just a bunch of words
And why do we assume the
Transformation was desired or that
What we will become is preferable to
Who we were before? We never got a
Choice, the body changed and we were
Forced to fly away with only our memories

We immersed ourselves in the unpredictable and thrived AKA Day Sixteen

2020-01-26T12:00:00.000-06:00

We swam through all the
Dark matter we could not
See, but knew was there
Lurking, making all our
Plans go slightly awry unless we
Accounted for it in our thoughts. The
Unknowable demands it be
Considered even as it
Refuses to reveal its secrets. So we
Kicked against the nothing and
Found our way across the
Void. We knew the odds were
Never in our favor, how could
They be for we were mere
Specks, blinks in the eye of
Forever. Yet we encountered solace and
Grace in the hearts of our
Fellow wanderers and though
We knew it to be hopeless, we
Found value in the journey.

Society could be remade through means that are ephemeral AKA Day Fifteen

2020-01-25T12:00:00.000-06:00

We always look for hard
Edges and concrete acts as if
Human interactions were
Like our buildings, constructed with
Stone and steel, but overlayed with
Glass to give the illusion of
Transparency. Just as we ignore
Alternatives, calling all that
Came before or elsewhere
"Primitive" or "rustic" or
"Unrealistic for present needs"
We fail to see our flaws and
Assume we will exist forever. We
Think our hearts can stand up to
Hurricanes even as the seas pour
Over our walls. So confident in our
Structures are we despite all evidence of
Breakdown and despair. Our souls cry out
For something old or new or borrowed while
Our brains deny anything is wrong or blue

Somewhere Nowhere Nature is Space Place is symbolic Place is space imbued with human meaning. It comes and goes. It is not something fixed. It's precisely an endless kind of art

2020-01-24T12:00:00.000-06:00

Somewhere Nowhere that's where
I'll be. Waiting to relive a
Dream or, perhaps, a memory.
You'll recognize me if you
Try, I won't wear a
Disguise. My aura will
Span the spectrum, you
Won't even need to use
Your eyes. I'll tell you
Everything you know
Even things that you forgot
We'll expand beyond
Infinity, we'll contract
Into the smallest dot of
Matter at the heart of a
Black hole from which nothing can escape
Forever waits behind the curtain, if you pull aside the
Drape you'll see it, though, be warned, it's so much
Bigger than your brain can comprehend, so ask yourself
Is Nirvana worth the pain?

consider the enterprise of witnessing and culpability invasive surveillance our place in the world Which Side Are You On? AKA Day Thirteen

2020-01-23T12:00:00.000-06:00

We're always so careful to
Lower the blinds, pull the curtains
Shut the door, duck behind a screen
So private we are, so concerned by what
Others may see if we fail to be
Vigilant. Yet we disrobe online
Invite intrusive prying eyes
With every click and like and
Every quiz which promises
To match our answers to some
Passing fad of pop culture-just
Give them access, it's nothing really,
Why be shy? After all,
Your data is already out there
For everyone to see. Aren't you
Curious what you'll look like when you're old or
Whic F*R*I*E*N*D you might be?
Come on, baby, this quiz will tell you who you really are
Like Myers Briggs or Astrology, but faster and you can
Share if you agree!

we exist in environments at much larger scales than we experience in our daily lives AKA Day Twelve

2020-01-22T12:00:00.000-06:00

The trees must find us so
Exhausting, so filled with
Expectations of immediate
Gratification. So noisy we
Never learn to hear with
Anything but our ears. So small
We never really succeed at
Living in the world we
Conquered. Sure, there are
Things we think the trees don't know
Oceans, Space, Quantum Physics
But that assumes the trees
Depend on movement and sound
To gather information. What if
The sun communicates directly using light? What if
Chlorophyll acts as translator? What if
The universe's secrets are embedded in the rings?
Maybe every wildfire is a catastrophe of
Alexandrian proportions, deleting all the
Celestial knowledge saved in terrestrial bands. Or
Maybe the trees descended from those who
Survived mass extinction events inherited
Some knowledge of survival. What memories
Do they have of the dinosaurs before they became birds?

I Am What I Make Up AKA Day Eleven

2020-01-21T12:00:00.000-06:00

All of us are wearing masks

Constructed facades intended to

Present ourselves to others

Not as who we know we are, but

As the people we think we ought to be.

We create a mold and

Pour ourselves into it, inhabiting all the grooves,

Hoping we can just fit in and gel,

Keep our skins from crumbling and

Revealing the gooey ugliness underneath.

Some manage better than others

Those who are blessed with more

Emotional pectin will hold their

Shapes with ease, they will

Wobble and jiggle with the bumps of daily life, without

Fear of liquefaction, no risk of

Revelation, their structures are so solid. The

Rest of us must be vigilant for our internal

Selves never quite manage to grow hard, we must brace for

Potential missteps which may turn us into

Puddles of our pretenses, forcing us to start again.

All Manner Of Pleasures Have Become An Unlikely Obsession AKA Day Ten

2020-01-20T12:06:00.002-06:00

At some point they must have realized
We all had too much stuff
We were crushed under the weight of our
Consumption, buried beneath our
Well curated collections, suffering as our
Closets closed around us.
They started selling us
"Experiences" and called it
"Self-care." They reached deep
Into our psyches, sifted through
Our boring fears, told us that
We "deserved" the best, we could
Spa away despair and stress. They also dreamt up
"Wellness" and gave old diets new names.
Peddled supplements to cure disease, promised
"Detoxing" all impurities would mean we'd never age. We're
Managing this brave new world which
Profits from our pain, accepting every avenue offering
Escape so we can forget how much has changed

Round and Round The Corpses Go As The Carousel Continues To Spin AKA Day Nine

2020-01-16T17:00:00.000-06:00

Textured technicolor surfaces
Lit up with fairy lights and
Flashes lures you deeper
Away from safety. Just another
Step, just a few more minutes, for
Outside this hallucinatory jungle
Exists the cold gray world. Of course
You do not want to leave
This place was created to
Pleasure you, it wants you to
Forget your worries, it sings
To a spot inside you which
Perhaps you'd call your soul.
It offers calm and safety
All you have to do is tell
Your secret details, one's you hardly know are there
First pet, your favorite aunt, mother's maiden name
Favorite food, religious views, isn't this a fun game?
You can stay forever, you'll never miss what's gone
Until you wake up, but by then it will be
Too late to right the wrong

Why would you trust your face to just anyone? AKA Day Eight

2020-01-15T17:00:00.000-06:00

The image in the mirror is a
Lie we tell ourselves, a false
Reflection we create over time
The light shot through a prism of
Dysmorphia and regret, for there is
Nothing quite so warping as the
Familiarity that breeds contempt.
Though our egos and self love also
Shape the visions we see
We stare and stare just
Hoping to see the person we call
Me. Of course we cannot trust
A stranger in matters of the
Face, The planes and angles cannot be
Enhanced or erased if they are
Invisible to the eye that does behold. For
How can they show the world your truth
If they cannot see your soul?

If Coachella had been a pit stop in Homer's Odyssey AKA Day Seven

2020-01-14T17:00:00.000-06:00

We once relied on storytellers to
Bring us all our news
We gathered together at their feet to
Listen to their views about
People who died long ago or
Never lived at all, about
The ways the gods destroyed
The ones who dared to grow tall and
Challenge their supremacy or
Questioned why things were,
How punishment was meted out
To those who caused a stir
The stories entertained us and
They taught us wrong and right
The stories told us who to love and
Told us who to fight
It really wasn't that different from
The way things are today
The ones in power still use entertainment in order
To get us to obey