Upside Down World

When I realized I was a reflection I wasn't sad, it answered so many of the questions buzzing in my head. Questions like why the goals I chase run away, but things I wasn't thinking about come effortlessly.

Why a dry heart produces tears? Why dirty hands create beautiful works that inspire purity?

Once I realized I was a reflection, that took all the pressure off. The outcome and I divorced. The journey became the love of my life, the destinations alone the way - just friends.

Once I realized I was a reflection, I wasn't even curious about who the "real" person was at all. I figured it didn't matter. Religions chase that real person, philosophies question he's existence. I guess knowing who I am is enough.

I figure just as long I do me, this reflection will always have a smile on it's face.

photo taken w/ iPhone 3Gs, Hipstamatic app (Melodie, Pistel)

Code Orange

It's been there for hours. People started crossing the street to avoid it. Whispers directing traffic.

No police were called in to investigate, just self imposed butterfly caution, zip-zagging around an unknown unknown.

When a man came with money for the meter, folks at the bus stop laughed. Feeling stupid is funny. Irrational fear and moving in herds opens a million year old window into us.

Sometimes the van is white, sometimes brown or beige; but to our mammalian eyes the unknown is always colored bad.

So we avoid and whisper, til some happenstance reveals the situation then we laugh, but we don't learn. The next van gets quarantined as well.

Only the drivers recognize this pattern, some exploit it, some try to teach. Historically, teachers are eaten by the ignorant because they get too close. By those standards the exploiters seem wise.

Let's not be afraid of the van.


photo: taken w/ iPhone 3Gs, Hipstamatic app (Melodie, Ina's1935)

Black Tea

Shadows and radio voices dissipate. Doors slam on black Explorers. Caravan moves with the White House in the rearview, Mr. Obama has had his day.

Taxes are raised by the new guy - silence. Middle and working classes carry an unfair portion of the national debt - crickets. Wars on borrowed money from China and Japan, but the media is hard pressed to find protests against fiscal irresponsibility.

There are a few chapters here and there, but mostly Black and Hispanic members now. They didn't realize that tea time was over once Obama left office. So the 'diversity' in the party was left holding the last tea bag.

It was never really about the money...

photo taken with iPhone 3Gs, Hipstamatic app (Lucifer VI, Ina's 1969)

The Commute

This cold wet suit, this nightmare of questions. How will I do? Will I remember the signals? Will I hear my guide clearly through this clay?

But I sat long enough in the sun. I've feasted on colors unknown in this dark world. I've heard universal intent like a bass in my chest. I have tasted all knowingness. Now I must go back.

Vertigo, spinning on this flesh wheel as the body develops. My thoughts go inward, I kick myself. Had to be done though, some things must be lived to be understood.

The time is near... Time? What a ridiculous concept, such a distraction from the happenings around you. Maybe I can ignore it this.. time.

Ok, remember the landmarks, will feel like Deja Vu. Remember my classmates, will be my friends. Remember my teachers, I will hate them. Oh yeah, must remember to cry, I hate being spanked on the ass...

photo: Metro platform subway. Taken w/ iPhone 3Gs Hipstamatic app (Melodie, Ina's 1969)

When We Were Kings

This is my first time in a time machine. "No it isn't." said the proprietor.

"But, it's very simple really, just put your money in the meter, select the time and place, hop in the vehicle and whoosh you'll be 'transported' to that era. How long you stay there depends on how much money you'll willing to spend. The scenes from your past appear on the windshield. And whatever you do, don't get out of the car."

I am alone today, my girlfriend... Who am I kidding, don't have a girlfriend. That's why I'm here. I want to see myself when I was on the prowl. I've allowed my work to dull my senses to the warmer sex. Been feeling off balance without some consistant female energy in my life.

One hour, I believe one hour of conversation got me into Melissa's sanctuary. I was pretty hot then, in my late 20's. Didn't spend a weekend alone unless I wanted to.

Ok, this is a rough guess, but my diary says I met her at this coffeehouse, at this time.. 100 credits for an hour.. In the car and here we go..!

Damn, I was slim back then. There she is, Melissa walking towards me, our eyes met then.. she turns away. Damn. That would have it for me if that happened today, but my past self seems intrigued by it. Ok, so I did go after her.

"Excuse me Miss, but you missed me. I was siting right there.." Ahhh, the shy type eh? I see I'm trying to get her to laugh, right there in the middle of the coffeehouse, a crowded coffeehouse.

Ok, my boldness gets rewarded. She agrees to let me buy her coffee. Hmm, a few more jokes, a compliment and the defenses start coming down.

Don't remember her touching me so early. Ok, I get her to come to the movies across the street. Some chick flick.

Aww, she crying on my shoulder. Oh Damn, no I didn't just look up and thank God...

Ok, I see now. Funny, don't even remember all the girls that turned me down. Guess winners do write history, even in our minds.

photo: taken with iPhone 3Gs Hipstamatic app (Jimmy, Alfred Infrared)

Secret Window

Found this haunted house where all the ghosts are on the outside. Ok, maybe that makes it a haunted yard, but inside the house is amazing.

It's warm in there, very pleasant colors. The walls are ornate, its quiet, sound seems to get lost down the hallways.

So, how did the ghosts get on the outside? Two enemies shared this house back when it was new. Over time their hatred led to both killing each other in the house.

Some years later, children of the two found love and married. They moved into the now long abandoned house. A priest came to bless the house and discovered the disquieted spirits. He asked the couple how to proceed.

The couple had ignored the slamming doors and chairs moving by themselves. They were fearless. Once it was determined who the ghosts were, they had them exorcised, but not completely, just to the yard.

The idea was if the malevolents could see their love through the windows. Perhaps they could learn to find peace.

After that night, no doors slammed, no chairs moved, but the roses were trashed, grass turned brown. Even as the couple approached their golden years, flowers still died in perfect sun and soil.

Within three months of each other, the couple carried their love to the Other Side. But the stubborn generation continued to fight over rose petals.

So that's why the house is so warm and peaceful, because it's haunted by love. And why nothing grows on the outside because its haunted by unforgiveness. Funny, to some people even a rose garden can be Hell.

photo: taken with iPhone 3Gs Hipstamatic app (John S, Alfred Infrared)

Artificial Dreams with Commercials

"Don't go to the Light! It's a trick!" my roommate said. Guess it's not a crime to be pessimistic on your death bed. But I could see the light, even with my eyes closed.

The light I saw had character, lights within lights. Nuances of color, nothing as garish as a rainbow. These colors were whispers of intent and they expected something of me.

Once I saw a man in the light. He made it clear that "his skin" was reflective and what I was seeing was my own projection. It was awesome.

Later, after much more listening, I didn't need the illusion. I perceived true spirit. Don't know what "he" is other than a friend.

When I spent more time in the real world than this dark one, my medication was increased. That made it harder to concentrate on our dialogue; I would drift off into artificial dreams with commercials.

I willed a pair of scissors. Slowly cutting each silver thread that kept me from floating away. My family weighed me down with prayer and ego.

A wise preacher moved these bricks away with psalms and comforting words for my loved ones. I became a mist - at last.

Wish I could tell them I'm really awake now, but they can only hear me in their dreams.

photo: taken w/ iPhone 3Gs Hipstamatic app (Kaimal Mark II, Ina's 1969)

Zen for Critics

A train indecisive up a hill. I study her, she ignors, forward and upward. Stream whispers. I know it's just a dream.

In this hot kiss of summer, I sweat memories. Rewind buttons drip toward earth. My companion in this exercise, struggles against her own ingenuity. A little closer to a perfect angle. A little more naked before god.

Memory and whispers answer to no one, a free expression of mindlessness - zen for critics. When we lose ourselves in our labor, we be. We really just be.

I see the ass of the train, a beautiful way to imagine a brief companion. Whispers can't be seen now, must have stopped talking to herself. Convinced, of the rightness of her expression.

photo: taken w/ iPhone 3Gs Hipstamatic app (Helga Viking, Afred Infrared)

Lion's Den

Sometimes I see more clearly in the shadows. Not because of any special ability, but because human nature is nocturnal.

I work and live amongst beasts who hunt their own because they think it's a famine. Fang play, smart remarks and digs made within ear-shot of bosses. Words that wound, warning newbies to shun alliances with this one or that one. If you have some talent, they want you in their Pride.

There's an abandoned temple just outside the city. It's long been taken over by lions. I go there but don't stay long. I'm not exactly a member of a pack.

We hunt together, that's it.. and only antelopes. When they start in on the weak, infirm cats, I fade to the savanna. Tree shade is my heaven. Work is my only hell, but it's not like it lasts forever. No hell does.

Alpha males and females are strange characters. You need my vote to stay at the head of the alphabet. I defer, I don't endorse. Because I don't need you like that; just want to learn from you.

In this shadowy place, I see the piss-lines drawn, lionesses hunting together, lions lounging talking shit and me, a lion with no pride.

I've been here 10 years, but still feel like a visitor. Strange as it seems, that's my most comfortable space. A Bill Bigsy outro, five days a week.

Rrrrr.

photo: taken with iPhone 3Gs Hipstamatic app (John S, Alfred Infrared)

Tunnel Vision

Had this vision of the future. It was filled with a communities of people who spoke in twitterese. They viewed their blogs, open mics and photography as their life's work and their 9 to 5 as a necessary evil. Success is getting off the plantation. Everybody was counting down.

There was a these souls walking under a beautiful black sun, eyes a flame. Sharing tales of their escape and messages from the North star.

We huddle around the water cooler, warming our hands with stories of publishers returning calls and concert dates. Dreams are fire.

When one left the plantation. It was like we were all half way there. It made the electronic cotton lighter, backs ached less, vision got clearer.

I see the route for my escape. It's a five year plan, but should keep me and my family out of servitude for generations.

When I close my eyes, I see stars I need to follow out of here. There's joy in this journey and thorn scarred fingers make great fairytales.

photo: taken with iPhone 3Gs Hipstamatic app (John S, Pistil)