The J. Francis/Kubrick Correspondences - 03.12.1957

J. Francis to Kubrick

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March 12, 1957

Stanley,

Paths of Glory is the most honest film I’ve ever seen about command. You didn't just show war—you unmasked it. It reminded me of something I scribbled years ago: “floating is just sinking in denial.”

What you’ve made is more than cinema. It’s an x-ray of military myth.

—J. Francis

What If the Kennedys Went Punk?

CONCEPT STATEMENT FOR VINYL V

I’ve been mulling over ideas for the next vinyl show and even bought my record—but last night, it all clicked at once. Eureka—I know exactly how to proceed.

For the upcoming Vinyl V: Cut Corner show at ABA Gallery, I’m diving headfirst into a new black and white oil painting on vinyl (no time for color)—an original copy of the Dead Kennedys’ Bedtime for Democracy (1986). But this isn’t just about putting paint on a record again. I want to do a bit more, beyond the Iggy Pop 'The Idiot' vinyl I did in 2021, where I complimented the artwork with a dangling microphone and Fender amp below the piece. This is going to be a full-fledged alternate history experiment.

In this imagined timeline, John F. Kennedy and Robert F. Kennedy never enter politics due to their fathers financial collapse in the 1930's. Instead, they never reach the political podium, and instead follow other pursuits only to later find their voices in the raw, defiant pulse of the 1970s London and New York punk scenes. Together, they start a zine called Rebel Sons—a manifesto of rebellion, commentary, and blistering social critique. They become fixtures of the movement, influencing its aesthetic and anarchic philosophy.

Beyond the painting itself, I want to bring this alternate history to life by creating real copies of Rebel Sons zine, started in 1977 (black and white) for the gallery—available alongside the vinyl. I'll start with issue #4. 

I’m going to need to build a narrative timeline that tracks the brothers’ rise as punk provocateurs. I plan on crafting a fictional interview with some period scene writer, and even writing some articles by JFK himself for their zine under the pseudonym J. Francis—think "JFK on Anarchy vs. Order".

This isn’t just a record with a double portrait of the brothers—it’ll be a relic from a universe that never was, a set of documents of a parallel rebellion. I’m excited to push this concept beyond the canvas (vinyl), to let the punk-era Kennedys walk among us, fists in the air... shouting.

Heavy Possessions

MAILING TRANSFERRAL

March 29, 2025
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BARKER - Hollywood Schaefer Collage (4x9 postcard)

A Treatise on Fine Art vs. Commercial Art: The Artist’s Responsibility to Themselves

Art, by its very nature, is an intimate act of creation—an extension of the artist’s perspective, experiences, and inner dialogue. It is not a service rendered but a statement made. As such, I do not believe it is the responsibility of the artist to simplify or adapt their work to fit within the framework of the viewer’s familiarity or comprehension. The burden of interpretation lies with the audience, not the creator.

When I create fine art—the work I do for myself—it is born from personal exploration, symbolism, and often, a nuanced language of references that may be obscure or layered. Some viewers may find my works and even artist statements daunting or esoteric, while others may find them familiar and resonant. This disparity is inevitable and, more importantly, acceptable. Art is not meant to hold the hand of its audience; it is meant to exist on its own terms, regardless of whether it is immediately understood or even understood at all.

To clarify my perspective: not every viewer approaches a work with the same knowledge base. Some may recognize the symbolic weight of a specific material, while others may only see its surface. This variance in interpretation is natural and, in many ways, the lifeblood of art itself. The viewer brings their own narrative, biases, and insights, meeting the work where they are—whether at a glance or in deep contemplation.

However, when an artist alters their work to cater to the broader expectations of accessibility or clarity, they cross the threshold from fine art into commercial art. Commercial art serves the masses. It seeks to be understood, to resonate with the largest possible audience, and to offer immediate familiarity. This is not a lesser pursuit—it is simply a different one, often bound by external objectives. But in my own practice, I reject the notion of tailoring my creative output to meet the interpretive ease of others.

My fine art carries its own language—sometimes cryptic, sometimes accessible—but always honest. I offer my thoughts and process through my statements and works, but I feel no obligation to dilute them for the sake of universal comprehension. The artist's role is not to render meaning palatable; it is to express it authentically. If the viewer cannot or does not wish to decipher it, that is their choice. And if they do, they have engaged in the very dialogue that makes art enduring.

Thus, I remain committed to creating work on my own terms. Whether met with understanding or bewilderment, it will remain a reflection of my vision—uncompromised by expectation.

Thomas Arthur Schaefer — 2025

Six Premonitions of the Faminine Facade

ARTISTS STATEMENT

Six Premonitions of the Feminine Facade is a deeply personal exploration of entrapment, fragility, and the eventual reclamation of self through ritual and preservation. The work serves as both a reliquary and a warning—a visual spell that captures the echoes of a fractured relationship and the transformative alchemy of will.
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At its core, a real spider web, fragile yet hauntingly intact, is suspended on black paper beneath glass. This delicate snare, simultaneously ethereal and confining, becomes a spectral symbol of emotional imprisonment. Much like the web, the artist found himself ensnared—estranged from friends, family, and his own creative passions—slowly becoming a vessel for another’s desires. The glass, a barrier both protective and impenetrable, speaks to the tension between vulnerability and self-preservation, while also transforming the once-trapping web into an artifact of control, framed and contained.
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To the right of this spectral centerpiece, a brittle composition of rotting wood, twigs, an abandoned hornet’s nest, a dried white rose, and a scattering of cicada shells clings to a rusted metal post—a relic salvaged from a former shared home. The decaying materials evoke the fragile remnants of a disintegrating bond, while the cicada shells (exuviae) symbolize the hollow residue of transformation. Their absence of life alludes to both the shedding of an old self and the lingering imprint of what was once vital. The white rose, once a symbol of unity and devotion worn as the artist’s wedding boutonniere, now preserved among these remains, transforms into an artifact of dissolution—its withered petals a memento of vows undone. This assemblage of natural decay is juxtaposed against a Con Edison construction barrier—an industrial warning sign. The stark orange and white panel cautions the viewer, symbolizing the overlooked omens of fracture and the necessary vigilance to heed them.
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Beneath the spider web, six glass reagent bottles rest in compartments housed within a custom multi-faceted black box frame—ritually burned before assembly. Each bottle contains an element associated with ceremonial magic: salt, frankincense, myrrh, copal, styrax, and Aleister Crowley’s Tetragrammaton Incense, composed of galbanum, onycha, storax, and olibanum—each representing an elemental force. The salt, recalling Crowley’s Gnostic Mass, speaks to spiritual purification: “Let the salt of Earth admonish the water to bear the virtue of the Great Sea.” It is a reminder of the alchemical power to sanctify and transform, while the incenses evoke both invocation and exorcism—a symbolic act of burning away remnants of the past while simultaneously reclaiming power through ritual.
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Ultimately, Six Premonitions of the Feminine Facade is a testament to both suffering and sovereignty. It bears witness to the slow unraveling of self within a relationship, yet also to the fire-forged resilience that emerges from it. The work captures and preserves the haunting fragility of loss but also enshrines the willful transmutation of pain into wisdom. The viewer is left with a cautionary relic—a sanctified scar—both a warning and an invocation of personal reclamation.

I’ve Tried My Best To Give You A Good Life

ARTISTS STATEMENT

At first glance, I’ve Tried My Best To Give You A Good Life appears deceptively simple—a sparse arrangement of vintage Fla-Vor-Aid packets and meticulously recreated M&B Laboratory Chemicals potassium cyanide bottles. Yet, for those who recognize the history, the banality of these objects becomes suffocating. The grape-flavored drink, once a symbol of childhood sweetness, and the pharmaceutical vessels, once instruments of healing, are transformed into haunting relics of mass death. Together, they embody the grotesque synthesis of commercial innocence and pharmaceutical finality—the very tools Jim Jones used to execute his apocalyptic vision.

The sculpture speaks to the sinister mechanism of cult manipulation—religious guilt sharpened into a weapon of absolute control. The three cyanide bottles, representing the Christian Trinity, reference Jones' perverse corruption of spiritual doctrine. His promise of salvation became a grim parody, where faith was reduced to obedience and self-sacrifice became the only path to grace. The title itself, I’ve Tried My Best To Give You A Good Life, echoes with tragic irony—perhaps Jones’ own warped justification for the mass murder-suicide. The words feel almost parental, soothing and remorseful, as if spoken to a child moments before administering the poison.

The piece also reflects on the cruel entrapment of the Jonestown community—devoted individuals who, through cycles of fear, manipulation, and rehearsed death drills, became prisoners of their own faith. The “White Night” drills, where Jones coerced his followers into staging practice suicides, blurred the line between performance and reality. When the final night came, the community, already psychologically broken, had no escape from their orchestrated doom.

In this work, I explore the devastating interplay between ideological devotion and pharmaceutical complicity. The chemical industry—through the cold banality of the cyanide bottles—becomes an unwitting accomplice to religious extremism. The grape-flavored packets, an all-too-familiar symbol of consumer culture, serve as a haunting reminder that mass tragedy can be wrapped in the packaging of something familiar, even sweet.

Ultimately, I’ve Tried My Best To Give You A Good Life reflects my ongoing fascination with the fragility of free will under charismatic domination. It is a reflection on the horrors individuals can inflict upon a willing population through the slow erosion of personal agency. It asks how one man’s paranoia, fed by religious dogma and mirrored in militaristic drills, could reduce hundreds of lives to nothing more than empty packets and discarded bottles.

The Archway Ofrendas

ARTISTS STATEMENT

The Archway Ofrendas is a series of five mixed-media panels serving as reliquaries dedicated to the five owners of the brewery where the works were displayed. Each piece blends collage and painting, with a central portrait of an owner backed by radiant gold leaf, reminiscent of religious iconography. The portraits are framed within an archway, where a pentagram—an ancient symbol of unity and hidden knowledge—serves as the focal point, evoking the esoteric nature of brewing itself, where elemental forces transform humble grains into something transcendent.

The collage elements, composed of tabloid paper and reconstructed black-and-white prints of massive fermentation vessels and mash machines, offer a subtle nod to the industrial alchemy of the brewing process. The panels are further imbued with elemental associations: air (yellow), fire (red), water (blue), earth (green), and spirit (white), each represented through color and symbolic materiality.

Before each panel stood a small ofrenda—an offering of reverence—featuring a wooden cube, a glass reagent bottle filled with colored grain, and a hexagram star candle holder, all color-coded to match the corresponding element. During the exhibition, the candles were lit daily, and patrons were encouraged to leave offerings, transforming the space into a participatory ritual of honor and devotion.

In Archway Ofrendas, the tradition of the ofrenda—a sacred offering typically reserved for Día de los Muertos altars—was reimagined as a living tribute. Here, the reverence was directed not toward the departed, but toward the living figures who shaped the brewery’s spirit. Through its fusion of religious symbolism, alchemical references, and ritualistic participation, the series blurred the line between art and sacred space, transforming the brewery into a temple of craft and tribute.

Into The Lost

When it comes to describing artworks that I no longer have any reference material, communication, or documentation of—whether photographic or otherwise—the right phrasing is key. The challenge lies in selecting a term that accurately conveys the nature of their absence. Are these pieces merely obscured and adrift, or are they truly lost, erased by time itself?

To determine which term best captures this state, let’s break down the subtle but significant difference between "Lost in Time" and "Lost to Time".

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"Lost in Time"

• Suggests being trapped, suspended, or adrift in a timeless state
• Implies ambiguity—the object or artist is somewhere in time but obscured, not necessarily erased
• Often used for mysterious, mythical, or forgotten things that could theoretically be rediscovered

"Lost to Time"

• Implies permanence—something that is irretrievably gone or erased by the passage of time
• More final and absolute
• Carries a sense of historical loss or oblivion

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After weighing the nuances of each phrase, I believe "Lost to Time" is the more fitting term moving forward. It conveys a sense of permanence and historical finality, accurately reflecting the works that have vanished without trace—those that are not simply obscured but truly beyond recovery.

This is the terminology I will use going forward for works I lack any reference material on, besides my own memory.

Forced Clearly

About the Donut Works

Triadic Exploration: Conception, Perception, Reception

These three words form a natural triad in the life cycle of an idea or an artwork. They exist in tension with each other, both as a collective whole and as opposites.

Conception – The birth of an idea, an artwork, or a form. This is the act of bringing something into existence from nothingness. In a mystical or alchemical sense, it is the moment of divine spark—where raw material meets intent. In the context of these preserved donuts, this is the initial impulse: Why preserve a donut? Why choose this medium? Why do some ideas become artifacts while others dissolve?

Perception – The moment of engagement. Once an idea is formed, it exists in the world, subject to observation, interpretation, and distortion. Perception is the filter through which meaning is derived. It is the lens of history, personal bias, and cultural memory. The preserved donut is not just a donut; it is seen through the layers of nostalgia, commercialism, humor, and even memento mori.

Reception – The final stage in the cycle. This is the way an artwork is received, how it embeds itself in memory, critique, or consumption. Some ideas are celebrated, others discarded. A preserved donut might be viewed as absurd, profound, or grotesque—its reception is unpredictable. This phase also includes decay—not physical decay in this case, but the erosion or transformation of meaning over time.

Together, these three words form a self-consuming loop—a donut-like cycle. Conception begets perception, which fuels reception, which in turn influences future conceptions.

 

Hearts Howling

SITE UPDATE LOG 02.23.2025

The core CMS naming structure has been reworked with 3-letter prefix to visually indicate the sets prime data array location. These 3-letter prefix relate to the primary navigation L1 hierarchy.

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365 Pixelation Project - Page added to Series
Peeps - Page added to Series

Wrong Worm

SITE UPDATE LOG 02.22.2025

Working to unify naming on core CMS, it has been screwed up from the start but now is on the right track. 

The central 'WORKBOOK' for all art cataloging has been re-established. All content stream from former applications and text areas are being injected. This master FILE is also now updating and controlling the sites CMS.

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365 Pixelation Project - Data set added
Archway Oferendas - Data set added
Peeps - Data set added
Donuts - Data set added

The Stubborn Mark

The hand itches, the mind protests,

The flaw remains—a slight unrest.

To press, to squeeze, to dig too deep,

Might wake the wound from restless sleep.

So hush the urge, embrace the blot,

Let placement make it what it’s not.

For some defects, when framed just right,

Become the spark that shapes the light. 

Moist Towelette

UNEDITED VOICE TO TEXT MEMO - 02/12/25 23.38 EST

New recording three4 fuck whatever these are I need to start thinking about goodness my voice is very hoarse right now. That's all right. I'll drink some water out of the CocaCola glass. These voice memos aren't supposed to make any sense to begin with, so you can list of my action and try and understand or maybe see what the video might have been of this, but all you get is my fucking not even audio, but uh written audio with a hoarse voice. It's got a really hoarse voice right now. Anyways, the uh the quick idea that we're gonna put it in this post tonight is um gets back into condiments and packages left in your to go food or just also seen on sidewalks or in your train stations or buses anywhere else. Uh I considered to just doing drawings of the packages themselves for a long time who had been collecting them and thinking about what what of a collectivist action of an independent drawings of all the same catchups or a similar drawings of all the the same or different mustards. But that's not the point that the thing should be um the drawings point should be what is given at a certain moment in time. These drawings should be about time and place. So they will always have a time stamp as the title or place as the title location, place for them both. God, my voice is really bad right now. I sound like fucking Clint Eastwood. It's uh I might even post this thing as a not text voice is just more of the fucking voice. It's kind of funny., hang on, let me drink some water. Maybe I well, I'm gonna drink some waterways cause I wanted but here I shouldn't. If I sounded like this at work, people would maybe listen to me for a while, and uh you know, if I if I kept doing what I'm doing right now, cause I know I sound like Glen Eastwood and well, I know I sound like Clint Eastwood, but uh, you know, I kind of I kind of take my time and emphasize certain things and make sure that you the perpetrator of whatever might be the vile deal that you've done understands. but besides that, the idea of this is that um we're not going to draw individual condiment or um condiment or uh utensil or utilitarian things, such as moist towelettes, we're not gonna draw them individually. We may still, but they're not the primary focus of these works. The only way to individualize these works as to think of it is that at any point of time when I get food to go, I must ensure that that food to go is dispensed up and eaten. What I need a procurement or a a disposable a disposal to procurement manner to ensure that the artifacts of the bag such as fancy ketchup or fancy tomato ketchup or monogram, uh moist towelettes or, you know, uh cellphone bag of a spoon fork, knife, salt, pepper, napkin, combo packet. uh, uh or displayed as they they they fall out so there should be a suitable situation in terms of the performance and they're dropped and they're just as they fucking are. And as an artist, you photograph them at the same fucking angle or you draw them at the same angle, or you figure out some singularity that you focus on. And the singularity of course, can be a point that's always moving, but the point is we're not going to worry about a fucking single ketchup packet or a single packet of of of mustard from a monarch company established and in 1863 we're going to worry about the load the load that comes from uh the to go food at times because I I'll look at it tonight and I have a sure to be a quote sure to be lovely hamburger with dater tots. But what's interesting is I've got a beautiful cellophane plastic packet of spoon, knife, fork. salt pepper, napkin, wrapped. What if we actually look and there there is a monogram instance in here, which is interesting. I've never gotten it from this place before, which I't disclose in this post, but you know where I was, if you're looking at time stamps. I've got a very wonder oh, I'm just I'm actually g I'm unfolding the slab of shit. uh condiments that was in this bag and I just unfolded them and it's actually a nice three two one rhythm. So it's three fancy tomato ketchups to two mustards to one craft mayo. and uh outside of the utensils and your salt pepper mix up napkin clean up. I've got a beautiful monogram cleaning disposables, moist towelettes and it's actually lemon scented. How about that?

Future Past

Happy National Popcorn Day. Enjoy the show!

 

Rusted Foam

Last night, I had the pleasure of visiting Arches Brewing's new location at the historic Atlanta Utility Works building in East Point, Georgia. The occasion? A casual friends-and-family gathering, offering a sneak peek at the space before its official opening next week.

While the interiors are still very much a work in progress, the raw energy of the space is unmistakable. The building itself—a former industrial hub—brims with stories, its bones steeped in the patina of age and industry. Rusted beams and weathered brickwork add a kind of gritty charm that feels ripe for artistic intervention. This isn't just a brewery in transition; it's a canvas waiting to be activated.

As I walked through the unfinished halls, I couldn't help but imagine the possibilities for gallery shows here again. The new format is markedly different from Arches' previous space—more expansive yet filled with its own set of quirks. Those quirks, like the rusted pipes and industrial remnants, could be seen as obstacles. But to me, they're opportunities to create installations that speak to the history of the building, inviting dialogue between the art, the space, and the people who gather there.

Of course, the vision will have to wait until the space is fully realized. But there's a clear sense of potential here—a space where craft beer and craft art could coexist, each amplifying the other. It's a reminder that sometimes the most compelling creative opportunities lie not in polished perfection but in the beauty of transformation.

Stay tuned. Once the dust settles, this could be a place where the rust sings.

Story Walks

Big moves are happening—my domain, thomasarthurschaefer.com, has officially been pointed to its shiny new site builder. After spending the entirety of 2024 revamping the site using Wix, I’m thrilled to finally see it come to life. Why Wix? Let’s just say I got tired of hand-coding everything. The original site, born in what I can only describe as my "digital stone age," was a hard-coded relic. It lacked an SQL database to organize my work and information properly, and it was designed exclusively for desktops. Back then, mobile web browsers were about as reliable as a car running on two flat tires—they just didn’t do justice to anything remotely artistic.

Fast forward to today: the new site is fully optimized for both desktop and mobile platforms. This isn’t just a redesign; it’s a rethinking of how I share my work. Admittedly, I hadn’t added substantial updates to the site since 2015—aside from the Works on Paper series—so this overhaul was long overdue.

For the past eight years, I’ve run the ABA Gallery website on Wix and appreciated the platform’s flexibility. Now, I’m bringing that same versatility to my personal site. One feature I’m particularly excited about is the ability to integrate custom JavaScript. I’ve already coded a dynamic script that adjusts the horizontal height of images in grid and gallery views. It’s a small detail, but for someone obsessed with presentation, it makes all the difference.

Looking ahead, we’re also adding an online store, slated to launch within the next month. My ABA Gallery shop proved to be a hit, so I’m stoked to bring that energy here. Expect to see sneakers, shirts, and other merch, alongside large-scale Works on Paper pieces—specifically 48x62-inch canvases. For those who’ve already snagged a piece from this series, you know what a statement they make. It’s about time I shared more of these works with the world.

Launch Countdown: January 19, 2025
The site is set to go live in just 48 hours, and I couldn’t be more excited. Transitional moments like this always feel charged—both personally and globally. I can’t help but reflect on how technology, culture, and even art presentation have evolved since I first started coding my own sites. What was once a purely desktop experience is now a seamless, fluid design accessible anywhere.

Passing Through

David Lynch passed away today at the age of 78. The world feels a little dimmer without his enigmatic presence, but his legacy remains luminous. My friend Aaron Barker said something that struck me deeply: "We are so lucky to have shared the earth with him and to watch his movies come out in real time, in theaters." I couldn’t agree more. Experiencing Lynch’s films as they debuted—a new puzzle to unravel, a new dream to inhabit—was nothing short of a privilege.

Beyond his films, I’ve always been drawn to his other creative pursuits—his paintings, sculptures, and the raw, tactile worlds he created outside of celluloid. I’d love to see some of his larger works in person someday. There’s a visceral energy to the footage of him painting on his patio, cigarette in hand, surrounded by Los Angeles light and shadows. Something about that scene—the juxtaposition of his methodical chaos and the serene environment—feels universally appealing. It reminds me of how creating art can feel like carving a sanctuary out of the ordinary.

Of course, Lynch’s patio was perched on Mulholland Drive in Los Angeles, a place that served as a muse and backdrop to much of his work. And here I am, on Dogwood Drive in Hapeville. But perhaps that’s the beauty of it—art blooms anywhere, in any space we carve for it. There’s something serendipitous about reflecting on Lynch’s creative spaces now, as I’m contemplating setting up my own. A little haven where ideas can ferment and evolve, where raw energy can take shape, and where the everyday can be transformed into something extraordinary.

David Lynch taught us to embrace the strange and the beautiful, to find the sacred in the surreal. He showed us that art is not confined by geography or convention—it’s born of a desire to create, to understand, to connect. Today, as I think of Lynch and his patio, I’m inspired to build my own space. Maybe it won’t overlook the glittering lights of LA, but it will be mine. And that’s enough.

Rest well, Mr. Lynch. Thank you for the dreams.

Cold Fusion

TIME HERE
LINGERS
CAN TRACE WITH
MY FINGERS

A CIRCLE, A CIRCLE

AROUND THE SUN

THE, THE SUN, THE SUN

Dominus Obsequious Sororium

ARTISTS STATEMENT

Dominus Obsequious Sororium is a sculptural meditation on power, corruption, and the insidious allure of devotion. At its core, the work draws from the NXIVM cult’s disturbing rituals, using symbolic forms and decaying matter to confront the viewer with a haunting visual allegory.

The piece features a pyramid of oranges, their once-vibrant surfaces marred by the seared imprint of a sigil—a brand inflicted upon female members of the cult. From certain angles, the scarring reveals the hidden initials of its leader, Keith Raniere, and actress Allison Mack, a high-ranking member. This dual-layered symbolism mirrors the cult’s deceptive facade: what appeared as self-empowerment concealed a sinister hierarchy of control and abuse.

The pyramid—a classical symbol of power and divine ascent—becomes corrupted in this context, its rigid form echoing the cult's tiered structure of dominance. The rotting fruit, flecked with mold, evokes the inevitable putrefaction of innocence within such a system. The once-lustrous oranges, symbolic of abundance and vitality, transform into vessels of decay, emblematic of the poisoned promises that ensnared NXIVM’s followers.

Beneath the surface lies the motif of forbidden fruit, a biblical allusion to temptation and transgression. Like Eve's bite, the members’ initiation into DOS marked a loss of innocence—a coerced act masked as empowerment. The oranges, marred by their sacrilegious branding, become relics of betrayal, their decay mirroring the corruption of trust and the slow collapse of the cult's fabricated utopia.

Through this piece, the visual language of branding takes on a dual meaning: both a literal searing of flesh and a metaphor for psychological ownership. The oranges bear the mark of subjugation, their disfigurement a permanent record of submission. The mold creeping across their skin echoes the festering consequences of coercion, corruption, and blind allegiance.

Dominus Obsequious Sororium is not merely a reflection on the NXIVM cult—it is a broader commentary on the fragility of free will, the deceptive seduction of power structures, and the spiritual rot that festers beneath the surface of blind devotion.

Space Junk

UNEDITED VOICE TO TEXT MEMO - 08/30/2023 23:19 EST

House recipe fancy tomato ketchup, 333, 336, a fixed orb of seven Portraits, net, brass standing cup and stand on memorial. The great beast sits as a Buddha. He sits counterbalance by an Arby’s sandwich, and and and a diagram for a jet engine or something that deals with maintenance or circulation The crackers are old too old. I wonder what got into them mice in sex where are they now it’s been 12 years tile pattern top sirloin boneless pork chop stuffed. Alex is looking at me but he’s gotta really goddamn bad blackeye I wonder who punched him sure shit it was a Mitch McConnell, it’s comatose but there’s a lot of goddamn booze surrounding the owl. What a pissing on trees in the redwoods hope they’re taking their pills. The owls are everywhere 1 to 4 and five they’re introvert and extrovert polar opposites around the sun. The great Buddha wants to pull an electrical current into a center but the Yacamán bomb Refracted, perhaps a pineal of eight or fix the situation, but Monsanto corn and Whitley Strieber‘s communion will probably not tell a real true story but what else is new cassette tapes blanked VHS rewritten over sci-fi films and oranges are rotting. Three celebrities keep their mouth shut, while one puts her tongue out, but they’re all smug, should we light a candle for them or should we let them grandstand centered in their cautionary tale to face triple 1st face is beyond dimension beasts are these the great beasts we all great beasts a set of strip, Beez sits in my kitchen, Miss September, Miss June, Miss February Some smile some close mouth a 2006 sweet tooth reformed Saturn alter plaque stand be I NAHOI count the clamps on the next set 12 major 3456 major 78 9,10 major 11 it’s ready to be slotted tomorrow will be instituted in and installed Then the question of a pure halter top is it stick item strewn the kitchen floor or is it a neutral lab? There are notes written across the cabinets in sustainable food sitting on top of an empty refrigerator, covered in unfurled, paper towels, a cherry boy and cocaine Spider-Man from Spain, was it Mexico when I cross the border illegally with them now painted silver HGJPAC and I hate to say it but MC you may just become a ritual piece that gets done after the fact and under a day you sit in the studio and stare at me, covered in a net in scones by brass items bought over the years for hundreds of dollars But Marjorie, my dear Marjorie, your butter pad of butter you melt you’re nothing but a Sunday brunch. You’re a cluster of Safra that number and seven just like the parsons are questionable. At this point perhaps the net throne overview is a conclusion to have Epiphany or juxtaposition to another realm McDonald’s meals large solar, phallic symbols radiate but you don’t you’re still you’re so still perhaps my invocation is not enough but I won’t give you all that is the great trick and I placed you in my home studio next to an Eros EROS, a volume of which forward produce or a woman with a face X doubt through Photography negatives stares back at you an iconic mole on her left cheek a smile taken too soon death to the Kennedys says the corporate industrial complex establishment by consume. Listen to what we tell you you’re a slave, you’re a nerd, a rainbow colors a true Roy G Biv delightful to eat or give one color increases the fun handle one by 160 cal get in touch dextrose sugar, malic acid, corn syrup, carnauba wax blue one lake blue to Lake red 40 lake yellow five lake yellow, five yellow, six gum, Acadia egg I have to go record video cassettes for posterity. The Internet will soon be killed. Your bank account may soon be killed, but at least volumes one through 12 may be lifted onto a pirated VHS cassette may be sucrose and potassium nitrate. May combine with fire take you beyond where you are, but perhaps you will still wear the smiling face smiling face of a Monsanto consumer or perhaps you’ll read the complete books of Charles fort for these are the Damned wide range ignored orthodox explain the way improperly Panna Tobar, 31st 1908 the planet Venus was four months past inferior conjunction, and so it moves far from nearest approach but there are vague stories of strange objects that have been seen in the skies of this earth localized New England back to the time of nearest approach in the New York son November 1, 1908 is publish the dispatch from Boston dated October 31