Third-Coast

I've been deconstructing a lot of my work lately. It's developing into a passionate project of mine. I would love to invite everyone to view and submit glitch literature, cyber literature, and experimental literature to GlitchLit. I'm a very grateful contributor and hope to create a strong network for this new place in literature and poetry, where artists can creatively break down their words and pixels and rebuild and develop their style. Check it out!

I'm thinking of doing some cleaning around here. The cupboard is looking dusty. What are we to do with all these keys?

Take a look around. Look deep into the dusty corners. Find stuff you don't like, stuff that puzzles you, stuff you think is broken and can be fixed or given away to the digital gods as tribute.

Anything I can redo? Anything I can remove without feeling guilty? Anything that just annoys the hell out of you on here?

Pick two or three or five things that I could get rid of. Let me know. Be honest. But know that these are my children: don't insult them openly; I alone have that entitlement. And some of this was written in a very weird headspace, so you're probably not telling me anything I don't already know. I just need some fresh perspective.

Thanks, y'all.

Frito B.

And Happy Halloween!

I keep finding keys in my brain.  Little silver keys, brass keys, gold keys, skeleton keys of all shapes and sizes.  Hundreds of them.  Some are missing teeth.  Some are never used.  Three or four are plastic and look like they're only good for one go before they break under the scrutiny.  For the longest time, I thought they all belonged to me.  I feel so silly and so selfish now.  I'm going to put them in here, in this cupboard drawer.  Give them a try.

It's finally summertime, and things are finally coming around.  Read my long-term horoscope for this year and realized that the darkest hour is over.  The planets are turning a new page.  I'm rediscovering my long dormant love of writing.  I'm remembering what it felt like to spend a whole summer day writing about characters that I know like siblings or distant relatives.  It's not something that's going to go away any time soon, I'm beginning to realize.  On the first day back of Spring Semester my mentor died, and I dissociated from people and the only way I knew how to cope was through this page.  Like some strange symbol straight from a novel, I heard about Jason's cancer at the beginning of Autumn when the sky became gray and the leaves turned brown and died.  I prayed through the winter, and endured the rites of spring.  Now there's sunshine and green leaves, and I got my first commission to write a play.  I'm getting paid to do what I wanted to do since I was 8 years old.  There's a lot of work ahead, but I'm confident.  My prediction will be realized:  This is going to be the best summer I've had in a long time.

So I'm going to order an overpriced coffee with the last few dollars I have, I'm going to sit myself down, and I'm going to write about the journey of Springtime into the darkness of Hell.  1, 2, 3... go.

It's hard to say what it is that's changing.  It's imperceptible-- like the melting of ice on cold days.  You know it happens when no one is looking.  Slowly the delicate flakes are no longer white and winking.  You turn and they've ganged up in clear, hard armies of ice that will not be deterred by the first kind strings of Spring.  Things are changing, and I'm not talking about weather patterns.  Low and high pressures and storm fronts are making their entrances and exits in double time now.  Spring is a hard season.  But what happens in spring determines everything until the next Winter.  I've fully receded into philosophic mode now.  I came to this yuppy coffee and bagel store to do some long overdue homework.  To buckle down and get serious.  But I'm becoming pretty serious about not being serious nowadays.  I've had to say goodbye to some very important things lately.  A teacher; a shield of intellectualization; my Platonic Cave of comfort.  I am the shadow maker now in that cave.  There I go, putting up that shield again, hiding behind my metaphors.  

Anywho.  Hopefully that homework will get done.