a minimal subliminal cyclical redundancy

meanderings by rm dustin

This place I deposit thoughts, E-noodlings where my synapses have coagulated recent perceptions. There are no absolutes. Like all manifestations it has had its evolutionary moments. This is the latest. There will likely be more...

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Name: RM Dustin
Location: Pugetropolis North

I live with many free thinking, free spirited, patriotically challenged, religiously void life-jesters here in and around the delta, scattered in-between the tributaries of the Skagit, peppering the hillsides, or burrowed into micro valleys. They are my friends; spirits entwined, layered, and folded within this realm where aboriginal and Norse lore meld amongst the mists sent inland by salted surges. I am not here by chance.

5/22/06

there seems to be an intense moisture infestation today
the v-twin maintains its 45 degrees
but resides on a lift awaiting a replacemnt mechanism
somewhat related to charging cells of starting juice storage properly
so the sun is not welcome... yet.

5/17/06

+ and what do you do?

- I'm an unpublished writer

+ oh

- is that bad?

+ no, but how do you eat?

- I don't

+ oh

- I find eating overrated

+ how do you pay rent?

- I don't

+ so you're not doing anything

- apparently so

for years it was a subliminal cantankerousness
quiet and guerilla-like in its offensive defenses
but now I am loud
is it because I don't care?
or am I just now old enough to know
that if I don't yell
no one will hear

I drink wine daily... I consume its arromas... I allow it to conquer all of my senses... even sound... the swirl, the sniff, the sip all connect... I start with small intakes... counting the increasing seige of each one... until the final gulp... swishing about the mouth... covering the palate... everything and then swallow and exhale... this is perfection... the result of thousands of years... nothing compares

and the farther I fell into the vast void of mental devastation... the farther fatass and crip went with me... the odor was both sweet and foul... the texture was of satin and sandpaper... I was home

the fruits of my labor are ripe
yet the market is weak
if plucked they will enhance any salad
yet the market is weak
the juice is sweet
and if squeezed will easily bruise
yet the market is weak
just what is important here anyway?

anytime I interact with or engage creative intensives
my inspiration levels peg
yet my path to enlightenment dims
batteries?

5/4/06

the sit-down comic
an insidious insurgent
agitator
emasculator
fabricator
all while in a dream
where reality is a figment
of someone’s imagination
to be twisted and molded
further diminishing
and fogging

a court jester
wherever court is held
a bar
a coffee shop
and to stand up and be counted
would unveil the fraud
where insults and heckles
are removed from the mob
where the sit-down comic can control
and spin
and though there is no payment
the performance is duly noted