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newport pagnell (U.K.)

birds everywhere. at least twelve new songs. clock ticking. slugs nestled into mud puddles. Lush, in short.

i have applied to a mad amount of jobs, it is the system, my tick, oversaturate then choose via exhaustion or luck.

just want a bit of peace, a piece, small piece, of the pie without getting sucked in, labour, free economy, marketing and pr and . . . and . . . it's ok to work in business, in that world, just so long as i have mental space, mental spaces, for my writing.

art is a re-arrangement, a reshuffling. i write to see, or i write instrumentally, and seeing requires mining and mining requires minding the gaps and the gaps contain blocked energies and . . . well . . . unblocking blocked energies can get downright messy.

I'm looking at language now, how, it creates, now how i can recreate and how now
in this world of false limits and limitless faults

how i can choose


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