one day i was walking to work and you called me, depressed about life again, asking i-dont-know-what of me, and the snow was hitting my face, and i could barely even see, and i just yelled at you with this huge smile on my face i said nothing matters, nothing matters, none of it matters, trust me it doesn't, and you were saying something but i could barely even hear you, and that's how i feel sometimes still, when i'm on these long beaches i forget that they end and something else worse starts somewhere else, staggering like a fool with my knobbly stick carving words all around for someone to find but to not care about, find balloons and tampons and refrigerator parts, after enough of them i come back to earth, walk back, it's just like walking into the ol soup store again

in a place i had been before, maybe
on a dusty red road
this feeling crept up which i've felt many times
a most uncategorizable feeling
like the oddest form of yellow
so this yellow-like feeling crept up in me
and the wind started a gust.
mixed with the yellow-like was coming this great fear
rising up like the coming of sick.
the clouds swirled about, and there they came as I was sure they would
they surrounded me at a sort of distance
close enough to alarm but far enough so I knew what I was in for
one after another they came down from the angry sky. some white, some deep deep grey. thin and long, huge and stout
any and all kinds, they were.
whimpering, i cowered in fear and panic
searching hopelessly for a space to wedge my body and wait for the end

what have i done?

HI MOM

Ottmann: You live very removed from the world. How do you feel coming to a place like New York?

Laib: For me the choice is to live outside of a village. I really want to be independent from a situation, a city. I feel that living in a city makes you more or less dependent on what the actual situation and the actual thinking is, and I hope to be outside of that, to be more independent. Then when I come into the city, into different cities, nowhere really is my home. I can see and watch these things much better from the outside. I’m not really belonging anywhere and this gives me, I hope, an incredible freedom. Also, when you live in a place like New York, where you see all this art around you and you go to all these exhibitions, I think that’s very bad. I can do that for two or three days but not all the time.

an itch feels like it can't wait but yes,an itch can wait

the time my brother mowed a crop circle in the front lawn,

the time my father told my brother to put earwax on a coldsore

like your cheek against an old stone, the satisfaction and coldness of that. you are doing nothing for the rock, it doesn't care.

a gentle slope downwards,

a warm red place to put up your knees,

IT'S NOT THE END OF THE WORLD,UNLESS IT IS

what greg has given me

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http://www.videodetective.com/TitleDetails.aspx?publishedid=00469631

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