Category: My Complicity

2023 January 27

For my sake I need mention I am using three different sized square watercolor blocks, 6×6, 8×8, and 12×12 which I cut to 11.25×11.25 because the scanner I use is 17×11.7. They all appear the same size here. I constantly look through here rather than rifling through the box of abandons when I want to remember a particular square or something new I was working on but got distracted and moved to next, I can remember what media I used and probably remember correctly what size the canvas, but just in case this one 11.25×11.25, the one below 8×8, laugh, starts now, this as far back as I’ll do research on this

2023 January 17

To stop myself thinking about it I bought an Arches 12 x 12 hot-press watercolor block which, if I’d thought about it instead of thinking I needed to buy it, is too big for the bed of the scanner I use so I can post the squares here and there and too big for the laminator I use so that the squares can be handled without fountain pen ink staining fingers, the above is the 12 x 12 cropped to 11 x 11, fine metajeffphors abound

2022 November 21

Finished my daily two-dimensional box, time to write
my daily two-dimensional poem
Width my dimension lacking, some would argue depth, I say, Death
to the Either/Or, my gag and epitaph.
I divorced the life of juicing stories and limited my experiential interactions unless
I lie, I’ve tried, I try, I can’t, am a ham liar
Worry stone daily, hollowing, not widening, the thumb niche

2022 November 18

I am the only Jeff I know.
I meet other Jeffs often
through work or Subaru
service managers who
insist their name is Jeffrey,
please don’t confuse me
with them, I’m not a James
who hates Jim or a Charles
who hates Charlie or a Robert
who hates Bob or a Margaret
who hates Peggy or a William
who hates Billy or a Stephen
Steve or Michael Mike
or David Dave or Edward Ted
or Eddie. Please call me Jeff.
I’m the only one I know.

2022 November 15

Should I write about my marriage at some point? Is this
tonight’s poem? It better be. I love her when I’m with her I
love me most when I’m alone. I’ve tried to make that not
true. She is not here with me now while I write this
poem and I will not show her the poem and I’ve never
asked her to read any of my poems. Tomorrow we hike
the Appalachian Trail through blooming mountain laurels

2022 October 14


*		*****
You only *thought* the local helmetball team’s owner was a despicable shitsmear*
*Reminder: helmetball, and your slavish devotion to it, the finest metaphor for Shitlordistan
Reminder: my obsession is with the shitlord that owns my local helmetball team until recently named the Racial Slurs, one that started when the shitlord illegally cut down trees on National Park C&O Canal land to get a better view of the Potomac from his mansion, I thought, this is a smear worth watching (plus the helmetball as best metaphor part, the local team named the Racial Slurs)*
*The ex-slurs play in an hour from when I type this, I read that for the first time in their long history the Bears will wear orange helmets, reminder, I’m obsessed with uniforms, thank you Paul Fussell, while the helmetball game is starting I’ll walk up one flight of stairs and find GT1900 .F87 2002 and reread
The local helmetball ball team, whose identity color is burgundy (but not burgundy, halfway between crimson and burgundy) and has new uniforms did not wear burgundy as primary color (in fact, wore mono-black from top to bottom first) until their 5th game because they are the local helmetball team once known (and still called by exactly the helmetball fan you’d expect the Racial Slurs) (for correct colors, see orb below)*
*It will take twenty-four of thirty-two of shitlords who own more precious than all eight yachts, nine houses, two Lear jets, to own one Helmetball, Inc franchise, thirty-two only, an NFL team’s a shitlord’s ultimate club ring
Marie, hiking with us last Sunday, says to me, you sound like them talking about you when you talk about them. She told me she can’t believe that crackers believe what they say, fentynyl in halloween candy, and I said, lies in the service of truth are truth to the faithful, embedded in daily prayers. O god, said 99. I have been a cracker bigot since 1973, I continued, first introduced in the seventh grade by future farmers of america (and offensive linesmen) to cracker practice and, yes, forgive me my role as antifa member 86 (married to 99), I’m giving away free fentynyl Halloween night. Marie laughed! 99 sighed*
*Reminder: every penny of rent shitlords squeeze from immiserating the help divided equally between investing in new and improved sadistic models of immiserating the help and a sociopathic determination to out-shitlord all shitlords in what the accumulation for accumulations’s score, their faith holds dear the zero-sum game as god’s table
*Assuming I’m murdered, will it be a cracker or an officially deputized cracker? Gambling problem? Call 1-800-GAMBLER
******

2022 October Whatever

Just ordered from Marshall Street:

  • Champion Sidewinder, 169g, orange
  • DX Sidewinder, 167g, pink
  • XT Dart, 169g, purple
  • DX Leopard, 167g, white

We’ve hired a handyman to fix shit we can’t and L disappeared my first five discs of choice and second five discs of choice compacting, I played Seneca Monday with a Star Beast, DX Leopard (love, love love, dope), Champion Roc, DX Wolf, Champ Aviar dug out of a box in the trunk of my car when I normally Champion Sidewinder, Champion Leopard, Champion Roc, DX Wolf, XT Dart, the same model Roc and Wolf in box for reasons (weight, hex, respectively), and I played happy enough to suck spectacularly next time but I did not go OB once much less need creek fish for disc, nine 3s, four 5s, fourteen 4s, Seneca still 2/5ths in A, birdie 13 while you can, the only thing I choose to do than disc golf is hike with L

Screen shot of fitness band I complicitously let map my movements, all 27 holes!

Feels like I’ve stopped painting