I am not an artist. We are all artists. I sit and I drink coffee in the morning and I think about things and then they get written down. I think about many things, but lately I have been thinking about the whole world and that is what I write about. That is what these pieces in this journal are about.
I do not want to explain my poems or short piece of fiction, really. But I do want to say that nothing is really all that beautiful because everything else is just as beautiful. Except for humanity. Humanity is pretty ugly.
I write in a notebook that does not have lines. It is really not all that liberating, but I just think lines are kind of jerks, so I avoid them. I avoid all kinds of lines, not just lines on a page: fast food lines, border lines, etc. Lines are jerks.
I hope to one day start a movement. We will not really be going anywhere but we will be moving faster than everyone else. Moving places, everywhere, is what we will be doing. Move over, we are lost. Without maps and compasses and lines we know exactly nowhere we are going.
I would sing our anthem right now but we don’t have one yet, Ian Reynold is writing that hit right now, MTV here we come. Also, when I die, Tim Crisp is going to write my memoirs, pretending to be me—still alive.
We are doing things because no one else wants to do those things. We will do absolutely nothing because no one does everything. Be on the lookout for us. Read more poetry. And lined pages are for high school diaries.