we sing despite there being too much music to listen to, if you want to read and write and do the dishes, watch TV, do the other things you've been told are necessary to participate, to be enculturated, like bacteria, like raising a family chosen or biologic, or finding out what the Internet is about, smoke weed and wormwood, perform the necessary medical ablution before you return to you to your gods or ore mine the self-help books as if they'll ever touch the emptiness which is a feature not a flaw, the gap of you which reminds you, you’re not just a particle but a wave in the depth of an ocean stretching everywhere, everywhen at once, headphoned, vibrationed, impossible without your ancestral commons, machines remain deaf no matter how deep the trembling Kundalini shakeshake travels through matter, don’t forget, a synthesizer left looping beneath a fallen tree makes no sound if there is no-one to feel/hear it; NOW without letter or title who are you before stick hit stone? Con/Jur/d on the 250th anniversary of a subterfuge labeled freedom just there the sound selected by live creatures with undigitated ears somewhere deeper than the cerebral cortex. you ‘hear’ it and something answers left of your heart over the meteor blackened proteins, past gravity wells roads elliptical and slingshotted thru the BLACKHOLE at the center, beyond theory words are a joke together, we sing.
mechanism Con/Jur/d, 6/21/26 mind/body the old fake yet, handy dualism, we called the question of the flesh (high on CRONENBERG) those days of youth, remanded relics still concurrent slip/slip streams how, even unhealthy coughing, spitting, HACKING concerned heart might stop . STOP still, for all purposes, at least from this angle, through 40 years of rainbowed cut crystal prismatics some belief in future immortality years to learn, only NOW it lies now, THE MECHANISMS say my HRV has been low for days, my cholesterol concerns my French cardiologist, who doesn't seem to perform doctoring rather a particularly fearfactor informed acrobatic statistic SPONSORED BY 9who else?), wants us to be afraid to fear like he does, with another 20 years of practice having left immortal-me in the past this is my body/this is my brain at first, we wanted to play along one should resist the meddling of amateurs the absence of healing, the doomsday speculations of strangers yesterday, we forgot to push the floor button on the elevator, declared THIS IS WHO WE ARE NOW living here, going up or down subject to mechanical habits, still there is the one who watches the one who the lablists, the engineers call soul, the attention who attends sees the auto in the matic, who sees the one who pulls the lever, pushes the buttons gates, gates the electrons, and pumps, pumps this blood who laughs when we say it’s all mechanism LAUGHS harder when we knee-jerk, deny it. .
Much love,
Con/Jur/d, 7/4/2026 (day after kidney biopsy)