' but all I can find is more of the same.

‘healthy one.

i: That is "ZERO" on the number line.

_I told them that Positive 2 is Zero.

find yourself, only you find yourself somewhere new.

«.-1T seems that everybody that I listen to is into "know-
ing" something, anything. Some want to know so badly they
will believe anything. There is so much information coming
at me all at once. Like the others, I try to focus but it

is all so close that I can't. I am looking for the source
Even my imagination
seems to take the same shape and plays an integral role in

the information organism. It may be a disease but it is a

I think about adaptation, immunity and survival.
In order to be efficient, only the most efficient endure, do

I have to become immune? Just as the hoof of an animal be-
came hard and flat to adapt to the surface of the planet, must
I become hard and flat on a sensory level in order to cope

‘with the pain of information overload which affects me on

spiritual, physical, intellectual, emotional and creative
levels? If so, then what is the difference between the

human and the concrete? I am beginning to believe that we
have created an environment in which the survival of the
living, breathing, feeling creature cannot be. On a spiritual
level I feel that the frequency (the beat) of death is
greater than that of the heart (life). My intuition is a

blue light flashing, refine, refine...I'm recomposing, cata-
gorizing, but it still all looks the same. I can't sleep
because this is the axis. There is no sense of gravity.

There is no pressure on the cells of my feet, just pins and

needles working from the inside out, outside in. Is this
total equilibrium or the absence of it? Me and my chair rise
and fall. Or is it the floor which sinks and folds, ever so

slowly, just as the earth rolls through an undefined universe?

We're not home yet. Home is the balance. Ya, me and my
chair smack in the middle between past and future, or on
either end (it doesn't matter). For an instant, when I

light the candle, I am there. There's no place like "AUM". -

I had to have four, or

was it five, arithmetic tutors to explain that the little car
drives along the number line to Positive 2 and then back
again to Zero. I cried because they wouldn't believe me when
Positive 2, Zero, every-
where, nowhere, like midnight on your birthday. Just an
instant, leading and following yourself as if time stood still
while you watch yourself turn. Then time elapses when you
Yester-

‘day's tomorrow, tommorrow's yesterday, "NOW" born from that

old "will get you everytime" future and past, positive and

negative, good and evil, now and then chaos where it is all
‘Greek anyway. So, now what? Shifting in my arm chair, the ol!
‘hip check. Decisions? I couldn't make one if I tried...

eeel am stoned on estrogen like the magic markers I use to
italk. But, it's not me talking anymore. It is neon in China-
town, and all those people in cars on the highway and all those
mouths on ladies' products at the drug store. Do you know what
‘they say? They say we've got your voice HEAR on this piece of
cardboard and way up here on this billboard. It's all lies and
‘all those people in cars don't hear anything. I won't look
better in a sweater washed in poison. We are overwhelmed by
information everyday, a conglomeration so congested with juxta-
positions that differentiation becomes merely humour. Words
‘become image in their accumulation. A newspaper becomes a
‘telephone book, I scan it for my name and yours. Images twist
into words just as clouds carve myth. There is a pile of
words on this keyboard but I can hardly find a sentence among

My notions are as fragmented as these letters.
I would like to write an essay, even a novel.
"Tf a pacifier is what you want then I can make ‘many

' them.

recommendations. If you are willing to challenge yourself as
you challenge me I will suggest that you begin with an empty
space, except the gallery space because that is what has con-
fused you.''*

So, I am trying to find empty space. Empty space is
probably like nothing or maybe everything, like chaos, where
there is no such thing as contrary. If thinking is cate-

-gorizing then it is true that thinking is destructive.
‘Thinking destroys the unity of the way it already is. So,
where is nothingness, chaos, and does it have the potential
for creation? If it is a measurement of the human mind can it
still be purely "nothing"? Words and numbers can only measure
the reality of our minds, not the reality of the universe, so
what is the language that will describe the universe? Will it
also describe empty space? Perhaps it is not a matter for
language in the traditional sense of a collection of units.

_ I've got to keep my hands going so I make books, like

16

-+-IT seems that everybody that I listen to is into "know-
ing" something, anything. Some want to know so badly they
will believe anything. There is so much information coming
at me all at once. Like the others, I try to focus but it
is all so close that I can't. I am looking for the source
but all I can find is more of the same. Even my imagination
seems to take the same shape and plays an integral role in
the information organism. It may be a disease but it isa
“healthy one. I think about adaptation, immunity and survival.
In order to be efficient, only the most efficient endure, do
I have to become immune? Just as the hoof of an animal be-
came hard and flat to adapt to the surface of the planet, must
I become hard and flat on a sensory level in order to cope
with the pain of information overload which affects me on
spiritual, physical, intellectual, emotional and creative
levels? If so, then what is the difference between the
human and the concrete? I am beginning to believe that we
have created an environment in which the survival of the
living, breathing, feeling creature cannot be. On a spiritual
level I feel that the frequency (the beat) of death is
greater than that of the heart (life). My intuition is a
blue light flashing, refine, refine...I'm recomposing, cata-
gorizing, but it still all looks the same. I can't sleep
because this is the axis. ‘here is no sense of gravity.
There is no pressure on the cells of my feet, just pins and
needles working from the inside out, outside in. Is this
total equilibrium or the absence of it? Me and my chair rise
and fall. Or is it the floor which sinks and folds, ever so
slowly, just as the earth rolls through an undefined universe?
We're not home yet. Home is the balance. Ya, me and my
chair smack in the middle between past and future, or on
either end (it doesn't matter). For an instant, when I
light the candle, I am there. There's no place like "AUM",
That is "ZERO" on the number line. I had to have four, or
was it five, arithmetic tutors to explain that the little car
|drives along the number line to Positive 2 and then back
jagain to Zero. I cried because they wouldn't believe me when
I told them that Positive 2 is Zero. Positive 2, Zero, every-
where, nowhere, like midnight on your birthday. Just an
instant, leading and following yourself as if time stood still
while you watch yourself turn. Then time elapses when you
find yourself, only you find yourself somewhere new. Yester-
‘day's tomorrow, tommorrow's yesterday, "NOW" born from that
old "will get you everytime" future and past, positive and

negative, good and evil, now and then chaos where it is all
Greek anyway. So, now what? Shifting in my arm chair, the ol!
hip check. Decisions? I couldn't make one if I tried.
++I am stoned on estrogen like the magic markers I to
talk. But, it's not me talking anymore. It is neon in China~
town, and all those people in cars on the highway and all thos
mouths on ladies' products at the drug store. Do you know what
they say? They say we've got your voice HEAR on this piece of
cardboard and way up here on this billboard. It's all lies and
all those people in cars don't hear anything. I won't look
better in a sweater washed in poison. We are overwhelmed by
information everyday, a conglomeration so congested with juxta-
positions that differentiation becomes merely humour. Words
become image in their accumulation, A newspaper becomes a
telephone book, I scan it for my name and yours. Images twist
into words just as clouds carve myth. There is a pile of
words on this keyboard but I can hardly find a sentence among

them. My notions are as fragmented as these le t ters.
I would like to write an essay, even a novel.

"If a pacifier is what you want then I can make many
recommendations. If you are willing to challenge yourself as
you challenge me I will suggest that you begin with an empty
pace, except the gallery space because that is what has con-
fused you."*

So, I am trying to find empty space. Empty space is
probably like nothing or maybe everything, like chaos, where
there is no such thing as contrary. If thinking is cate-
gorizing then it is true that thinking is destructive.
Thinking destroys the unity of the way it already is. So,
where is nothingness, chaos, and does it have the potential
for creation? If it is a measurement of the human mind can it
still be purely "nothing"? Words and numbers can only measure
the reality of our minds, not the reality of the universe, so
what is the language that will describe the universe? Will it
also describe empty space? Perhaps it is not a matter for
language in the traditional sense of a collection of units.

I've got to keep my hands going so I make books, like