Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

So many sins
so much time
Rainy day knees
and rainy day nightmares


Mr Blue gave me this knee. On a scale of pain I think it is the worst pain I have ever endured. I don't why I used it as a metaphor for my worst dreams. For pain it is a bench mark. Some conscious link to the Terra incognito of my fear.

Lost
yes it makes it so much easier to be lost
to know I lost

Yes it is too late
whatever the hell it is that I been searching for these pas fifty years don't matter anymore.

Now if I could just lose this
as long as I keep a text box open
and sit with my fingers on the keyboard
the answers to life's questions won't appear out of this blinking cursor moving across another open text box.

Such a small little text box world I live in
this little gap into the ether either neither here nor there
is there anyone one else hear
someone to reach for the submit buttlon
what about a life alert button
help help I am typing and I can't stop
I can't reach for the mouse to click submit and get out of this text box
because the blood has dried on my fingertips and now they are stuck to the keyboard

Don't get hurt there, Jack.
I don't want to think sad thoughts like that, I want ya safe and in one piece.
It makes for a hard night when worry is the shadows.

Is that what it sounded like to you?
Not to worry dame
I was just letting my fingers run wild on the keys imagining a little needle like point on each key as I struck the keys they would each suck a thought out of my unconscous down through the nerves in my hand back up through my arms to my brain and back. but unfortunately the keys get sticky with blood.
Why read this when there are so many fine things to read on Studio Eight.

Want to read something really good check this out:

http://studioeight.tv/phpbb/viewtopic.p ... ay#p138932

Dig that picture the key looks like he could be sitting in Lucien Freud's grandfather's office, dig the hands?

No don't worry about my dame I am safe as houses.
You can count on it.

Just typing like I was driving down the boulevard, rolling rolling just seeing what I can see.

Thinking about mortal sins
Pogo died for my sins
Do you remember Pogo? Kind of like an adult version of Pooh.
Yes I had the little professor syndrome
you got that right.

I don't know what I'll think about his hands, they resembled some sort of large crab. Might be image enough it'll seep in my sleep. Last night I woke up thinking of a name and counting it out, then realizing it didn't fit the count, was trying to solve how I could get it to.

K, I'm glad you're safe. I been so damn worried about you lately, it's been a big sir on my mind wanting to know you're healthy and living. Jack stay lively, and sweet dreams.

If you are going to worry then I wish you would not read them.

Or maybe I should not write them.

I don't know what to think about it.

I probably won't have any more lost dreams

Eureka.

Stop worrying or stop reading

Learn to love the bomb.

I have thought about that magic keyboard for years. It is almost perfected.

I am working on my crazy.

All week I been thinking about G Strings and Guns. Nietzsche laid it all at the feet of G d.

Nietzsche is Dead but god is still on our side.

the inevitability of patriarchy I read somewhere.

Good luck girls.

File this under the god file.
Under an Angry God

Those hands look like they are crawling towards somebodies throat, his wife's probably.

You meanie!
I don't likes you anymore. So there, get lost.
I might even decide to stick my tongue out at you before leaving.

I always knew you were too smart for me.



imgage source

I don't want to be a woman today.

I think you should have a choice

It's really hard to get inside a guy's head,
I've only managed on rare occasion, but the muse has gots to be heavy.
Men are so tough, women so tragic.

I'm sorry I was a meanie, a big ugly girl and hope you'll forgive me.
I could have taken a breath, counted to ten and inquired, instead of meltdown.

Do we or do we not live on a yellow submarine
Were you a blue meanie

Thinking Kafka's machine, in one of his stories, the penal colony was Kafka or Stephen King. The machine with all the needles

I am going to bed early tonight

I am pooped, and if I stay up I will just keep eating.

I am looking for "the big bang burger bar at the restuarant at the end of the universe"

are muses always women?

My muse is a man.

My muse is tripping more than your muse
My muse moos Camus
She chews Redman Tobacco
She is a red neck girl
with a pearl

My muse has your muse with a big appetite.
My muse is a brat who looks more and more Picasso
and less and less Mari Monroe.
He grabs women by the hair and says,
"Say uncle, say uncle first."
And he gets an overload of sunshine.

back when I was " light and breezy
and knew what to say"
silent woman smiled on me
warm as the sunshine
then after the abortion
Carol King was singing
a different tune:
"It's too late baby"

I been thinking about taking one of those personality profiling tests again.

I flunked the last one.
I got this question wrong.

True or False
Question:
People can often feel my power?

And this one too.
I know why stars twinkle?

And this one also
I know how to use a microscope.