reliable narrator

 it is so quiet, i can hear my ears. let's imagine outside its snowing, or raining; this is a lie, but we can imagine. we can set the scene however we want. likely in our power to do so. i can't escape all of my feelings, which feels like a fitting theme after a night of hockey in the arena where the theme was 'emo night'. i can't escape my feelings. why would i want to. well because of how they make me feel, duh. and how someone so distant from my intimacy, yet in a momentary blink sort of way enough intimacy to affect my feelings. perhaps we call these people the well known strangers of our existence.

chapter 1:

Hello Well Known Stranger,

I write to you holding a sort of pandora's box, inside it resides the word I never like to use. Because to use it reveals the core weakness of the human spirit, and also some big part of its salvation. Perhaps this was how irony was born. Does the iron actually remove the wrinkle from the soul. Have we discovered the meaning by rubbing two things together and understanding friction will one day lead to everything.

chapter 2:

Dear Future,

I write to you now totally free from what was bothering me. From what I originally intended. I have completed my great work and now it resides in the universe. Did it exist in the mind, and what was the difference between the abstraction and the reality when we put the atoms together. Amazing that no matter how many times

we hear, I love you,

a single cut above the meridian is all it takes to ravage the core foundation of our spiritual calm.

chapter 3:

The artist embarks on a quest. The goal to find that peace that has eluded him. We witness the spectacle of every facet an adventure can hold. I could say, imagine the best adventure story you've ever read, or heard, or experienced. Think about the places you want to see and be in, the air you want to breathe, the palaces or gardens, the natural wonders, nature, biomes, areas of noted interest, of historical significance. We can totally and forever add to to this adventure and make it whole, make it real. The artist at some point along the way grows weary and falters. Faces some great enemy or enemies. And finds friends along the way. Does all of this alleviate the pain inside him / her.

scene note: the audience now finds the silence deafening. like at the beginning. every single drop of rain or snow becomes loud. there is nothing else. what incredible horror as this silence escalates to a point of torture. 

we could write ellipse over and over here now. just representing that there is more, more to come, more to be, more more more. and more.

chapter 4:

Sometime grows from all that wreckage. It had to be felt. Was that the worse part and the lesson. That no matter what its unavoidable. Maybe we could realize that we only really truly exists within ourselves. And this would explain all the bad things and good things and pain in the world. This revelation would explain a lot of things. 

chapter 5:

I think

Its truly impossible to not care, and so we must love even when we don't.

When we reach that transcendent moment, who is listening but ourselves, and the reality of that, which is kind of really scary is that its only yours. Even if you see it. I paint a thing and I literally show you transcendence. Its a shadow to you of what it is to me.

chapter 6:

But really, its not. Its actually more. And we find a way to cross the divide. That's neat.

Epilogue:

 When I write, when we write, when we do anything that is more than just our thoughts, we fill the world up even more than it was before. Even by breathing we change the composition of the air. The rhetoric of the life force of this place becomes a little more polluted. And then out there something like a tree craves the pollution that we made, and turns it back into something good for us again. The mushroom eats the dead, the dead become reborn in the ocean of our origins. Grains of life maybe, it i didn't want to keep reusing some molecular definition like atom or quark or whatever can I say grain. Is there some poetry in ascribing life with the tiny bit of food that could become bread. That could be torn and passed around some wooden table, and a family shares in the warmth and goodness of breaking bread, from grain, which is just life, and a circle. 

Maybe the lesson then from this, what I learned in my discovery here, and what I share with you:

if there are no sides, then really, like really really so heavily emphasized you may roll your eyes. 

all of it and every single thing we feel and are is right. so what's really truly wrong, right? 

nothing is.

is that the power of a goodnight kiss on the forehead, someone sleeping, maybe on a couch or bed. you turn the light off, wish them pleasant dreams.

wishing you pleasant dreams from my core of inner being (you see the value there because i've taken so much time to describe what it is),

Sincerely, 

julian labounty 

chapter something, i, ii, iii

 everything around the house ready for sleep. this is the calm of the storm. i made it

another day down while also worrying too much about the end of days. the end of time.

i do not just want to see it all as just another day down. i do not think it is that, but simply

the idea that i do not have to do anything else now. but breathe. i could write a list

of everything i've done from yesterday to now. something about making lunches, doing homework

getting through every road and way and direction to every spot i needed to be. teaching (that could

be a whole other thing that requires sometimes the drinking and writing) and each task

and problem along the way solved. to reach that day down check mark. its doable. it happens.

i've watched the various instruments we interact with report various numbers that indicate 

some kind of statistic, dollar spent, or moment counted. it all happened to here. to the 

kind of lighting a house knows right before its fully shut off, right before. thinking,

hey, i can order a coffee right before i have to be somewhere, and watching the

clock just keep ticking; i messed up, i messed up, that could / can / like a moldy smell

problem that you don't even know where to start with starts. but its night still.

don't let our minds runaway from us. the kitchen still bright;

it is possible that a final snack could be required. some last dish stored from sink to dishwasher,

or not, depends on the dish and type. what about the floor. on a day like this, weeks of tired,

do i even bother with the Sisyphean task of cleaning the floor. almost nobody even home the 

entire day, so its still pretty clean right? right?.

when the wind stops, when the night is the sounds of cars moving almost ethereal in the dark only lit

by momentary flashes of street lights; i summon the tranquil nature of a brilliantly beautiful part

of my core i can run so fast to, so utterly peaceful and open. like eyes squinted in ever present

wonder. the outline of all the plants in darkness its a silhouette. same as the sleepers, and all the furniture

once those lights do shut. you always wonder, did i do right? was it a day well spent? am on the right 

track. what moments of glory do we strive for to not even wonder. to know we are the hero and

we were truth incarnate. we choose wisely, not poorly. what dreams we have as winners winning.

do not eat late at night. it will ruin everything tomorrow.

good night amigos,

julian 

galactic sympathies

 im so lost in my thoughts in

The musing of my this universe

And walking along the river of stars

I hear you, all of you and us, and i know you

Because we have always been the same

In that moment of explosive force

As all the particles of creation are ejected

From the stellar wish of life and substance

Being true, i know you and understand

Imagine a concept of the seasons

And all that we share, the discovery 

rapture! 

I promise i promise believe me so we 

Move forward to the phase of trust.

We are not enemies, enemy, we are not

Even in your hatred at some point hearts

mirrored in their beating. 60 seconds,

Rotate this circumfrence

Celestial cruising. 

I do not care about your failure

And embrace it, we all struggle and we all

hurt someway, it happens and together

in any instant of emotion are bound

by forces beyond control. No control

None whatsoever, i goosebump, from lack

of. Hold me any

body and let me know your warmth, even

if from a smile, or a simultaneous sigh.

I hear the sound of memory calling

I hear the ghosts of loved ones say my

Name. my god this moment

Could i save it eternal naly.

I surrender. Take thy bounty, it is yours

It wont matter dont you feel it?

All the same.

All the same loser

All the same hero

All the same victim of circumstance

Rounding errors

All that chance

How long was it before winning was

The soundtrack.

Cactus prick on finger soft

Deepness incoming.

 

 

big time matchups

 all the push to open

the seam in escorted bullish

blasts. Up the middle 

short tight motions

but not quite enough

before the beatdown.

Wheres the signal

Ring of the whistle

Where was down

In all that pile.

Eyes all glued to the fiercest

waiting and pause.

Cant stop the goaline

From being the finishline

So many cheers, loud

congratulations! 

ceo capital

 the ideal winner

the one on top

in the big chair

promising everything.

Heard first

through the ear

never once not. 

flying so high

in the bathroom stall

one eye turned to the toilet bottom

 gross bro, in those shoes, here. Bump

what victory brings:

monster weeks

private lending

yachty bill pays

invitation hoards

luminous kind beings

that volume levels knob 

ALL THE WAY UP.

She rolls over

beautiful. In your ear

hair below her waist naked

Eagle tango operator.

How does it feel champion?.

She dazzles your pathways.

In the morning, on the way,

as you tread, clutchin thumbs up crazy 

Signature on the line reads,

success, made it, smi.

truly 

3 Star Names

 The Dried Squid

Tail and Claw

Long Last Letter

Troubled Soul

Tableaux

Cul du Fe

Dear Emperor

Humor y Homage

The Quiet Spot

Eagle.x.Cell

The Fearful Pancake

Di Vine

El Fuego Lindo (first kiss, smokey eye / smokey light, they had cocktails in those glasses, remember? And that dress, who could ever forget, the candles, your smile, caught your hand in mine and feeling, going. Yeah)

- late august, monsoons, 

It smells like summers end

hidden inside, and all the spetacular

sights sounds flavors of dusk

on the pallete, splatch of red blo... 

the fastest pinwheel ever to spin. 

explorers club

 Five frames:

Rectangles, stretched tight, 

Debate, i think painted sides to match

the internal painted frame of each panel.

But maybe clean w/ tacks showing.

First, silho female, lashes / sparkle, 

*some internal images with rough / texture

on white.

Second, ocean / reef around the sides.

Pink coral

Third, sky and flock of seagulls

*used carved wood for shape imprint.

Fourth, castle island (is castle portuguese 

or a zigg?)

*emblems / awards / medals / honors in

tiny places.

 Fifth, exotic plants and flat landscape

Colors of note: gold, brown, sea blue, greens, touches of pink, white birds, the ocean, avoid black red unless.maybe one with red border could be good.

Dynamic in each panel in the color frame.

Title (revenge and convalescence) 

Make sure the entire thing feels like you were there.