two things for you, both in the expressive endeavor of writing. one is here, ( mine is the third box artistically responded by a certain m.n.o.)

http://www.intakeweekly.com/indyinterpreted/

the second is my stream of conscience response to anselm kiefers work. below. my response is below…..

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there would be angels on the streets of berlin in this painting. if it were a real place. i think anselm keifer would have liked this movie . keifer painted wings too. he had mystery like wim wenders, epic mystery…
i am not an angel, i don’t even believe in god,it takes so long to explain what i believe in. essentially, though i believe that the collective of energy is god.

would she understand my god? rigid in the shells of her upbringing. no, i am in the land of defense! but we are all angels. we are all suffering. we are all aware that our frames are leaning towards eachother. we are all sepia plains that flood or drought we are a hopeful crop. no, we are houses. we have frames. we should not be represented by a thing that occurs naturally, but by a thing that was created by our race that mimics ourselves. sometimes haunted, sometimes worn, sometimes gray on gray , sunless conceptual… sometimes witches live there in the woods, sometimes it is perfect and warm.

our frames, our houses lean inward. our hardwood floors have blood and pollen. a frustrating mess. there would be angels on keifers berlin streets i am sure. even though i don’t believe in them.

do they have foggy windows too, like this painting? there is hope in the crop. i know that anselm was one of the expressionists that wanted his german people to heal from the guilt of the war. justin said that guilt was the most unproductive emotion. but he was a jackass. a jackass that broke my foot and sent me reeling into a self loathing detatched baby. but that wasn’t his fault. i felt guilt and it led me to react that way. i should be more in control of my actions. but i want to heal too. i hope the fog on my windows goes away. and if it doesn’t i hope that it stays because of our breath.

only the freak emotional people would be attracted to this kind of art. where most people find it full of loss and dismal i find it at the most frustrating state of the artist. and that the fact that this work is actually made, that the artist has funneled his frustrating mess into this. so i can relate. so i can know that we are the same house. well, maybe not the same house. more like our houses in some layer of time took the same shape.

would everything dissolve in this gray painting? would everything just decay away to mean nothing? and everything? i don’t think it is gloomy in gray. i think it is majestic. it is a real breath to see real. the paint cracks. it is affected by time like us. us, the family. us the collective. us the god. i am another you.

i have been trying to make more careful decisions about what i absorb.  mainly in the interactions department.  hello, and welcome to the interactions department.

i have spent two semesters at this community college. this would kill “it” if i had to continue here, for sure.

i have been trying to choose what i consume more carefully. what i have other people consume of mine has been apologies. i don’t want a sorry meal, so i want to be done with that.