Posts

Snowed and Smoked

by Dan Uppetreloc Blowing cigarette smoke out into the falling snow I realized that smoke is snow is smoke. I say this because they look similar, especially when a wind is blowing the snow. My breath, of course, drives the cigarette smoke as it dissipates into the falling snow. What is the line between falling snow and smoke? What is the line between you and me, reader? It could be a lot of things. I improvise these lines and you, I suppose, peruse them or maybe even interpret them. Right now, as I right this, I cannot tell you where I am going. How does, or perhaps "should," this affect your interpretation, if, indeed, you feel like making one? It's all as relative as a roll of the dice, which is, of course, dependent on fingers and wrists. Any line is partly random and partly intentional, I guess. Speaking of lines, what is a line of poetry? How does it relate to the difficult-to-discern line between smoke and snow, especially on a blowy day? For a line of poetry is, li

equal signs

guest post by Reynaldo Ishiwasho   just feet from me sit three women talking in a coffee house about this and that and other things I pay little attention to   they are mere feet from me   on the table next to this spiral notebook sits my phone a powerful computer more capable in itself of the super power sent on some early apollo missions   with it I can push buttons communicate instantaneously across the globe with some compatriot who I know only by those buttons and a pixilated image on a social media page   should I celebrate this strangely small world or should I mourn for not knowing these three women whose real voices and concerns I pay no attention to and instead think only of these pixilated images of unmet compatriots   I am confused   I know I communicate across the world on the basis of mathematics a two-0digit system where everything is translated into a zero and one and then back again   back and forth back and forth   mathematics masking and unmasking my possible words t

gee

by Red Rocks IV gee y'all Red Rocks here feelin'— well topsy-turvy emotionally as if strange yes foreign emotions & moods are taking possession of me way up here in not Manitoba & knot not knot not maniiitooooba 'cause Manny ain't one ain't too either Manny is manny things ands I not (k)now as Red Rocks banish these intrusive emotions and moods from me somehow someway to be me yes me without them bye bye possession HELLO! Groovy hello glorious yes yes yes Red Rocks signing off to have a groovy & glorious day to the extent possibly oh, y'all, I mean to say "possible" gee gee gee gee _______________________________ Guest post by Red Rocks IV today. --- Jay Paul, schizophrenic, uh, schizoaffective, whatever

On Time and the Body

"Time dilation," reportedly discovered by Einstein (or, more probably, Einstein's first wife), in the early years of the 20th century, refers to the relativity of time. Put simply, the faster you move, the slower time passes. At the speed of light, time moves so slowly as to be nonexistent. For something barely moving, time moves quicker, quite literally.  "Literally" means literally—astronauts traveling in space actually experience time moving slower than they do on earth; however, they do age quicker because of the stress on the body. Speaking of body, parts of the body experience time differently. Think of the nervous system as it pertains to skin. It almost instantaneously responds, in some sort of rhythmic way I suppose, to outside stimuli. Right now, I type this blog post with my fingertips, which instantaneously respond, rhythmically to the keys and to my unfolding ideas. (Where, oh, where do my "ideas" come from—what rhythm helps them to emerge

A Pithy Statement on How Not To Interpret Our Writings and Drawings and Drumming, etc.

 1. Do not interpret our artworks and essays as advocating cruelty to any being, including dirt and plants. 2. Do not interpret our artworks and essays as in any way fascistic. Do 1. Interpret our artworks as playful celebrations of the boundless complexity of being and beings, while realizing that sometimes life can be quite difficult. by Jay Paul, Raymond Wavish, Jefferson Hansen, Red Rocks, Jake Reeds

On Breaking my Arrowhead Earrings

by Jay Paul Strange things keep happening to me, and they are not my imagination. The other day, I ordered breakfast at a diner, then stepped out for a cigarette. In the early morning darkness, I struck up a conversation with a man who happened to be standing outside the diner. He had a skateboard. After joshing me about being high on cocaine the previous night, we exchanged pleasantries about our family and work situations. At that point it got strange, but in a pleasant manner. He asked me if I were eating at the restaurant. When I answered in the positive, he said he would pay for me. He never asked my name, and I never asked his. He followed me into the restaurant. I ignored him. After I finished eating, the waitress informed me, "that guy paid for your meal." I say this only to illustrate that my life is often odd, filled with off-the-wall occurrences and coincidences. Perhaps what happened to my earrings was not a coincidence. Perhaps there was a message hidden in both

How I Deal With Hearing Voices

  by Jay Paul Recently, I learned that my diagnosis has changed—from "schizoaffective" to "schizophrenia unspecified." Whatever. It's still the same old thing. Yes, I hear voices. I suppose all of us schizophrenics come up with techniques to deal with and overcome them. Here, I will point to one that has worked for me. As always, I caution you that what works for me may not work for you. We schizophrenics need to talk to each other about our techniques and experiment, trying out various ones until we happen upon those that work. Anyway, my best technique is not to ignore them entirely. I recognize, acknowledge, and listen to them for a time when they come—which, lately, has been a good part of every day. After this greeting, I then tell them—quietly, of course, so that I don't look "crazy" to neurotypicals—that I am going away to attend to other matters. I then force myself to concentrate on what I need to do, whether it be meditating, doing the di