transportation aesthetics

Public Transportation is oft a frustration. All around me are people staring at their smart phones. One guy even has the balls to bust out an actual laptop. I usually do all I can to disguise the fact I'm carrying one. I've heard too many stories of people getting their shit stolen by some desperate and confused 12-year-old with a gun. As everyone waits the 5-7 minutes for Bart to start moving again, it's hard to find a place to rest my eyes. Everything is so hideous. We're in a tunnel underground, on a rapid train. Rapid Transit. We wait. It's dark, so the windows only function as dark, dirty mirrors, and not a single nice thing to look at. The novelty of it's 'newness' has long since worn off, and all the colors are chasing each-other toward grey. The poster design is bland and boring, and people's clothing choices are the same. Mediocre and safe. Jeans and sweatshirts. It's like everyone bought their clothes from a thrift store 5 years from now. Jeans and jackets. Black and blue, like a bruise. Generic shoes and black backpacks. There is an extreme disassociation at work here. If this were my train, the walls would not be the color of sun-bleached paper. They would be bright and saturated with shapes and textures that make the body feel calm, safe, and content. The lights wouldn't be flourescent, and they wouldn't be so bright. They would be softer and hold more of the light spectrum, and that would absorb nicely into the colors of the walls and cushions. The light and colors in these trains makes me feel on edge. They make me feel so ugly and on the spot. So small. Like a deer frozen in headlights. I want to put sunglasses on--to hide. I want to put my hood up, cover my hands and mouth. I want to shove ear buds in my ears with music blasting. Anything that will remove me from where I am. And I am sure that I am not alone. I just don't have the option.

Everytime I get on this train, I just do what I can with my eyes, hands, and mind, and wait for it to be over. That's what my little red book is for.

the school of heart knocks

I'm attracted to the strangest creatures
The depth of the sea is in their bodies,
high walls protect their wells

I sense the water behind them
and feel life thrive
I bide my time

until the guards get used to me
until they invite me in

barter system

middle money man
money middle man
man money middle
money man

meddling

iphone junkies

on the train
out to dinner
waiting for a street light to change

in line at the bank
in the elevator
waiting for a burrito

there's always something to do
to update
to entertain
to investigate

you fit neatly in your demographic
snug in the statistics
helping the average
to achieve mediocrity

obese flamingos

Heading back to cali
the weather is transforming this car into a steamy glass box, with water worms chasing each-other across the windows. Ghosts of trailers, sedans, and SUVs whisper past with a hush. "Shhh...." though the secrets they're trying to hide are too sinister for curiosity. They're the skeletons you avert your eyes from when the closet door comes flying open. They are too dangerous to tell. Even more dangerous to know, and our individual bodies are too weak to bear the weight of this secret. It would pulverize. And when I look around at all the people; at all my people, I can't find a single pair of eyes. I only find my own staring back at me in the reflections of all these stunners. Hater blockers. There is too much responsibility in our eyes. And it just keeps on raining...

Huh-Uh Castles ep 2010

Huh-Uh Castles ep is released! finally, something!

it's cute, people. real cute. And cheap. 6bux. bam.

order here: (i'd put a link, but links never seem to post on my blog for some reason. so it's oldskool copypaste all the way)

http://kunaki.com/Sales.asp?PID=PX00ZS7FZ0

gun

I found a gun, last week. It was late and I was In Oakland. Drunk. Walking alone at night, carrying three days worth of stuff and costumes from performing for the 100K Burning Man crowd. I was running through nightmares in my head, playing them out. Being mugged, attacked, harassed. Ten blocks from my house, five blocks, two. As I walked under the bridge just past MacArthur, I saw something on the ground. Something with weight. The city is my shopping center, the ground is my bargain bin. I am a collector. And I welcomed the distraction from fear.

It was a pistol. Probably just a squirt gun.

I picked it up. It was metal. Heavy. The plastic was broken off of one side of the handle from where it had crashed against the concrete. Probably thrown from a car. The serial number had been burnished off. I could see through the broken handle that there were bullets in it. It was real. I put it in my pocket. I liked the weight of it, it felt good. Like power. A whole new series of thoughts came to mind. My fantasy attackers from earlier came back, but this time I had control. I had a gun. But it turned quickly. As quickly as it took to run through the scenario to the point where I'd have to use it. I don't know how to use a gun. I know nothing about them. And by pulling one out, I'm all of a sudden on their level. I'm a threat. NO longer a victim. Shooting me would be no longer murder, but self-defense. Behind that came another stream of fears. Whom-ever discarded the gun might be coming back for it. They would attack me and I wouldn't know how to defend myself. I had a weapon, but didn't know how to use it. I didn't even know how to take the safety off. I wanted to try shooting it, but was afraid it would blow up in my hands. Or perhaps ricochet and hurt me. But it was too late to put it back. This piece of power was turning into a large metallic demon in my pocket. Besides, I didn't want some angry and desperate kid to find it. I figured, if it was with me-- no one would get hurt. I made it home safely and immediately got it out of me. Away from me. I put it in my little dresser with the Barcelonese Mannequin painted on the front. I then cast it out of my mind and went to sleep.

gathering

These bounces are inconsistent
and dreams tatter
for the sake of dreaming

i've begun to fall
trsting that sand will catch me
and break bread with

singers and strummers
thinkers and speakers
players and layers

although cellular explosions
may distract our purpose
our hearts are aligned
and sharp as cupid's arrow

do not forget
we beam brightly

Space

I'm thinking about space again. The spaces between us, and the space inside us. The space that makes us, and eventually will break us. I've been listening to RadioLab shows and Ted talks and documentaries on the subject. I even watched a simulated trip to the farthest reaches of space, stopping at some key attractions along the way (pulsars, quasars, neutron stars, and mirroring galaxies). But there's one argument and re-occuring way of thinking about it that doesn't sit very well with me. Everyone from theoretical physicists to NASA scientists all have the same argument when it comes to encountering the far reaches and the chances of other life. They all fall back on statistics (1/1billion or something near it) chance of encountering other life where it exists while it exists. While these arguments have some validity, one thought keeps making me want to call in to these pre-recorded scientists as they spout their 'ones with a hundred zeros behind it' in regards to how long it would take to travel somewhere an unfathomable distance from here. They are still thinking of it in terms of our combustive engines and linear way of looking at the world. And I haven't heard a single mention by any of these well-informed brilliant minds mentioning in their travel estimates 'but this is just coming from what we know about space and how we know to travel through it TODAY'. When Columbus or Magellan or any other early explorer thought of moving around the earth, they thought of it in terms of months. I'm sure if someone suggested to them that in 24 hours, they could travel all the way around the world and end up where they stand, they would laugh in your face (and more likely, lock you up). They hadn't the technology at the time to be able to conceive of jet propulsion or carbon combustion. So what makes us think that we've got it all figured out at this point? What makes us think that linear combustive travel is the only way? just because that's what we've put all investment in over the past couple hundred years?

I just don't buy it. atoms can make a quantum jump. perhaps there's something that is out of our current sights as far as our technological advancement, but perhaps is just over the horizon

Delores Park

city youth, concerned with status and afraid of (or ignorant of) the natural world.

The real world
The rest of the world

Stamp clad in Urban Outfitter window displays crafted to emulate the used and discarded.

irony can sting, as the sun shines.

bad hair day

My hair is impermeable
impervious to rain and blows
moving up and out
like an atomic bomb
as perceived
by life's minutae

in s l o w

m o t i o n

Spare any change?

On my way to Bart yesterday, I had about five or six individuals ask me for my dollars and cents (sense?) in their individual unique fashions. Some to my back as i'm passing them on the sidewalk, some sitting with a wagging cupped hand against a wall, some approaching me in the opposite direction. I had my Beyonce shoes on, so I must have been looking like money. Perhaps I was feeling like money and they were picking up on that shine. Or perhaps i'm white and normal enough looking. They couldn't see my teeth. I had left my bike in the city, so was hoofing it in Oakland, not something I do very often. Not that it's an unattractive thing to do, I just prefer the zippiness and intensity of bicycling. But walking is certainly a reminder of what's happened to people. The last dude to spange me as I was reaching my destination had all these candy necklaces on and needed just 50cents. He reminded me of the methed out under-belly of Spokane. Hell no. Gag me with a burnt spoon. I just gave him a weird facial expression that said 'what? who you talkin' to, bro?' and a flick of the wrist that added to the expression and continued on my way. To my back he began to get aggressive and verbally violent. I couldn't understand what he was saying, but it was angry. And i'm pretty sure I heard the word 'bitch' in there. If I had a nickel for every time a total stranger called me a bitch...I'd never have to work again!

It made my stomach tighten up and my peripheral vision open. Just in case another perfect stranger decided they needed to get physical with their frustration with me. I wanted to be ready. I was running through it in my head--what I would do, what I would say. And then I realized i was just getting myself worked up over nothing. Over someone else's issues. Some total stranger's baggage. It makes me sad, what's happened, but I can't let it ruin my day. I'm sorry that society has done this to you. It hurts me. It makes me think about the chain of events that has lead to this degradation of society. The hierarchy that exists in all situations. The totally confused priority list on the desks of world leaders. The fact that crazy people run the world (if they weren't crazy to begin with, the power they obtain is too much for their fragile human minds, and it drives them nuts) It's like the chimps in the Congo when they tirade on neighboring land with intimidating screams and gestures. Is it because they're curious what their neighbor's figs taste like? They want a different view of the jungle and don't want to share?

We are not so far from the chimps emotionally. I see it every day. Every time a woman gets cat-called, I hear the screams of monkeys. Or when a group of dudes decides they're gonna fight, I see gorillas beating their chest and pounding the ground. Or when someone yells profanity at my back for bruising their ego.

And yet we've got this frontal lobe that has helped us to figure out how to build weapons and computers. How to manipulate power dynamics and lord over lands we may never have to see or visit. It has given us foresight and afterthoughts and "genius" (which has a big scary "I" behind it).

I compare it to chasing skills as an artist. Your ideas never match to your skill level, so as your skills grow, your ideas grow farther and you keep getting better-but you will never catch up. And this is what keeps us in progress. I see our brains as our emotions chasing our frontal lobe. The logic center of the brain has developed past our emotional ability to handle it. We're smarter than is safe. So we're like baby spiders with a gland full of toxic venom that they don't know how to control. We don't know how to be smart about the gifts we're given. We don't think things through to the end, and the current world is the accumulation of that. We're nearing the end that we didn't think things through till, so no one really knows what to do (except to keep doing what they've been). It's one big "told you so", only the voice that's saying it is in our DNA and is hard to make out because we stopped listening to it so long ago, it's become a part of the white noise. And our elders and guides--we've killed them, squashed their spirits, turned them into alcoholics and drug addicts. Or we ignore and invalidate them. We decide they're not relevant. But I think more and more people seek the connection with the earth that we used to have. I know I do, and i see that thirst all around me. I see it in the feather earrings the ladies are wearing, and the moccasins for sale at Urban Outfitters. I see it in the wolf t-shirts the hipsters are wearing and the immense popularity of the BBC Planet Earth series. Perhaps the bay area is craving more of this than New York, but it seems like the intense urbanization of the world is having it's polarities as well.

People are craving a deep connection to everything, which was something that people used to get from religion, but more and more generations being born are learning (or have learned) not to trust religion. It's a shame what we've allowed to happen with religion. I think the origins of each spiritual school has thought (doctrines) meant well at their inceptions, but as a snowball accrues more than snow when it rolls down a hill, each new interpreter of each doctrine put the fear, inhibitions, judgments and other baggage that they've been carrying around in their cells in-between the lines on the pages. And corruption can ruin the most genuine of intentions. The lust for power has formed many facets of the world we now live. And the confusing thing is that it's not even about money. Money is just a means to an end, the end being Power. The thirst and quest for Power (which doesn't even exist) brings my hands to my head and causes my fingers to clench and pull at my hair till i'm fighting tears. And the fact that we as a people--as a society--allow others to keep climbing the power ladder until they are so high up in their castle in the sky that they have no frame of reference to what's happening on the ground. And yet their decisions are what's forming what the ground looks and feels like. They destroy the drinking water, kill the loved ones, and poison the food of its inhabitants and we allow it. Not only do we allow it, we contribute to it. It comes back to not thinking things through to the end. While hiding lies between insignificant truths and negating significant ones, and keeping the people contributing to genosuicidal social behavior, what is the silver lining? Is it the comfort of our day-to-day? Is it the certainty of fast food chains or iphone apps? Is it the expanding tourist industry? Or youtube videos? How funny everything can be? My cup runneth over, even with its leaks and cracks. Perhaps that's it.

Tralfamadorians

I am 29 years old. I am sitting in an entire apartment occupied by me. I am definately feeling my 22 year old self. I realize more and more each day how small, short, and simple this* is. And yet I feel compelled to produce. I dedicate my life to it. And I keep wondering 'is this right? what if i'm totally fucking up right now?' but that voice never really knows what it's talking about, so it's credibility is iffy. And if i'm not making the most evolved choices, it simply means i'm not evolved enough to make better. Which means I need to learn more so I can grow. Which means I need to make mistakes.
*this species, this planet, this window of time


Lament nothing lost
for there is no such thing
(as loss)

loneliness is yet another human experience that isn't based on reality. Because part of me is connected to all life, all love, and every creature that gave birth since the first splitting of cells. And another part of me knows that regardless of emotions, I will live until I die. And all that will be left in the end is whatever beauty I managed to conjur, and whatever impression I managed to leave. So I intend to make it better as much as possible, otherwise what's the point? if you're not making it better, then what are you doing? While the pretty girls are busy breeding, I intend to help make the world more beautiful. Or rather, to inspire humans to be a part of the beauty on this planet. To motivate to move away from being just pests, sores, and termites. We have the brains to inhabit, or co-inhabit, intelligently and harmlessly on this planet. We just lack the foresight. Our perception of time must expand and stretch longer than our short lifetimes and our limited capacities to learn will allow

it brings me back again to the Tralfamadorians as Kurt Vonnegut described in Slaughterhouse Five. We can only see a tiny pinpoint of the landscape, whereas the Tralfamadorians can see the entire beautiful and vast expanse.

"I am a Tralfamadorian, seeing all time as you might see a stretch of the Rocky Mountains. All time is all time. It does not change. It does not lend itself to warnings or explanations. It simply is."

which helps me to realize how unimportant my blotchy skin and crooked teeth are. My frizzy hair and thick legs. They're just another element of this temporary human experience. and to seek those that would be deterred by these causal details is counterproductive, as we are unaligned in our intentions, goals and purposes. Which would either result in conflict, despair, or destruction.

And I so very deeply need to be held, like a little girl by her daddy. I never got that. My dad was distant, my grampa was cold, my step-dad was gruff. Everyone kept their distance. No one really knew what to do with me. And those walls kept growing...

but as ancient cities were protected by their stone fortitude, perhaps mine can serve as somewhat of an 'Iron Man' suit to aid in my mission to express, encourage, and manifest our shared experience into growth and wonder for the future.


I wonder how many thousands or millions of years it's taken to strip our DNA down to what it is. And why are we striving for mediocrity? We strive for moderate political views, a strong and large middle class, and mass media. If we look at this, it seems as though being disagreed with is what must be avoided above all else. When extremes are avoided above all, and a narrow and banal approach is taken, people are forced to make extremes out of what they've got to work with. Thus: Reality TV. Are we turning ourselves into these shallow, dramatic, narcissistic people that we love so much to watch?

this is an important new way to think about our motivations

This is from Dan Pink's talk @ the RSA and Ted. They animated it

A few thoughts on this Oil Spill

When the earthquake hit Haiti, when the Hurricane hit New Orleans, when the tsunami hit Southeast Asia...the people came to aid. Even when the government was slow to arrive, the people did what they could. There were foundations set up, rock stars, movie stars and scientists showed up with their ideas and their checkbooks.

This oil spill is no less dramatic, no less tragic. This is, in fact, worse than we can even fathom. So much death is occurring and will occur as a direct result of this costly mistake. It is as if the oil industry has waged war on all the world, and we're just trusting them to do right with it. We're trusting the government to slap their wrists. We allowed this to happen! We are all responsible.

Do we really trust BP to take care of this mess that they have 'accepted complete responsibility' over, just as they were trusted to make sure they knew how to be 'safe' with what they were doing? Oil spills have been happening since the beginning of oil, and yet no oil company has been truly required to have a legitimate clean-up plan (except for some nonsense on paper)? The past spills have easily been swept under the carpet (or swept to sea in this case), but not this one. Even a blind man can feel the heat of an atomic bomb.

If we continue to trust the government to regulate this industry, and the industry to regulate itself, then we have learned nothing. We need to be pressuring our government, pressuring our congressmen and women to increasing regulation on industry! To change energy toward the clean, or we won't make it. We have to stop allowing the thirst for profit and progress to destroy our homes, our livelihoods, and each-other. And 'we' are not only humans. We are all life come from the muck some 3.8 billion years ago, and we all call this spaceship home; princes, paupers, and pigeons alike.

We have nowhere else to go if we mess this one up. We can't buy a new one. What good are your profits if you have no food to eat, everything you've ever known is dying or dead, and there's nothing left to live for?

"When all the trees have been cut down, when all the animals have been hunted, when all the waters are polluted, when all the air is unsafe to breathe, only then will you discover you cannot eat money."
~ Cree Prophecy

(And think of what 'happened' to the wisdom of the Native American Indians. The same tactics have been used to manipulate the public into supporting the ambitions of the few for far too long, and if we don't snap out of it and do something soon, we're not going to have a future to look forward too. Billions of years of evolutionary work, to just end down a short bumpy road that could have easily been avoided? How embarrassing)

Soundcloud

Soundcloud is awesome. So I put up some Huh Uh stuff on there. I also put a Hailey Gaiser account, but right now it just has my songs from huh-uh (as I haven't recorded my new songs yet and put them up. It's in the works) Anyway, here's the link to the soundcloud music i put up there.http://

Mine!

Why is life such a heart breaking experience? I was reading a book to sweet, dear Huxley about the wind protecting us and the trees absorbing toxins and releasing oxygen for us to breathe and the earth holding us--and it made me want to cry. It made me want to cry because we cut down the trees that we need. That the term "tree hugger" is used as a derogatory disvalidating reference to those who understand the power of nature and our symbiosis with it. And we can't seem to figure out how to work together! Children fight over toys screaming "Mine! Mine!" They fight over balloons, balls, puzzle pieces, star wars figurines. Stupid material possessions that don't help us in the least bit, and yet children as young as two are establishing power dynamics and exhibiting hoarding tendencies. Why? Is it so innately natural? I don't believe that. Perhaps its being printed in the dna over generations of hoarding and fighting, but if kids spent more time in the woods the objects wouldn't be used as much as identifiers. Our identities are so closely bound to what we own in the cities and towns. In the deep woods, the earth is providing for you, and everything has its season, so its impossible to cling so tightly to things. What has happened to us?

fighting for what?

American soldiers don't die for their country. They die to keep capitalism going, to keep the people subdued and trapped in their financial cycles, and to keep certain people very very rich. Their homes often times are in hideous and desolate suburban spreads, homes with no vibrancy or community. How is this a home worth fighting for?

Buncha animals!

We all derive our energy and are lit by the same source. We're just different outlets. We're not as special and individual as we often believe. I know we each have our uniqueness to contribute and that our smallest actions to effect the whole, but we're each still one of many, elbowing our ways into the world. We flood the streets, pollute the air, strip the earth of its ancient and natural beauty and breed, all the while trying to be special to someone or someones. Some of us desperately need to be loved by millions, while others are okay with a small few. Are we the only species with such specific and acute egocentricity? Does the queen bee give herself airs for her unique place in the hive? Does the alpha of the wolf pack attempt to conquer other packs once he's succeeded in his own? Or is it because they don't know the difference anyway that they remain content in their positions. There's no anternet or tiger t.v. to facilitate in inter-species quantum communication. The seasons are their guide, their media, their providers. And the creatures less affected by the seasons are trapped in the cycles of survival.

In our own cycles, there are ghost prints of these earlier tighter days. We write love songs and put on make-up and get crushes. We react when we feel threatened, and binge in times of excess. And we covet our possessions as though our young. We're so in love with our creations in our culture of congratulatory egotism, where our human worth and value to each-other moves further from skills, reflexes, and ingenuity and moves more to aesthetic standards and power posture.

No wonder our brains are shrinking!

We hold the world in our hands. We each need to be aware of this, and start treating it with love and respect if we want it to live. It's as easy as being conscious about the products you buy and the words you choose. Jane Goodall is fighting the good fight. STILL!

Jewel

Mountain of Woman
Majestic streams
Light like consciousness
Flow from her brow

Her head held high,
She pulls at eyes as she passes
They'll never have her

They can't hold her heart
So gentle
Or please
All the women she's been

Her nature is to destroy
So something may begin

There's sadness in beauty
To be her friend

Planet Earth

I'm in my loft, David Attenborough speaking through my headphones with his soothing voice and comforting accent, explaining the cycles of the northern seal. As a seal waits for shoals of fish to feed herself and her young--shivering in an Alaskan snowstorm, I sit in layers. my blanket cocoon only giving way to the electric heat pumping out of my space heater. The image on my dvd player takes me around the planet and demonstrates its complex, dramatic beauty. I hear the muffled exclamations and song'n'dance rehearsals in the main space for Slim's "Super Secret Circus Social Club" grand opening "Klown Alley Muppet Show." But I'm pulling away from people right now. I want to be alone and do things that I want to do: work on my bike, make collages, read, domesticate, and watch Planet Earth. I am reminded of my time spent in Italy, alone and often in loneliness. But I was more productive than I have seen before or since. I am revisiting this place of productive alone-ness, only this time without the loneliness. I just want to feed my brain and be productive.

Animals breed when times are good: when there's plenty of food and good weather, low predators, etc. When chances for survival are the highest. These times are predictably cyclical. Each year has a high season and a low season. In the high season, when food is abundant, conditions for breeding are at their highest. The seal experiences its high season in the summer. The polar bear, winter.

For us here, food is always abundant. It's everywhere. The abundance that we require for our cycles is CA$H MONEY. Some with low cash crops may breed as a way of receiving income (welfare). Some others who are without breed for lack of education in connection with their religious beliefs. These poor keep populating the planet with armies of sheep: Capitalism's brilliance in action. And the educated poor (such as myself) may never breed for lack of stability and consistent income. Kids are expensive! It's not a shoal of fish or seasonal blooming algae that I wait for. What I wait for is financial abundance, as it was created for me by those that built the system and those that keep it going. And, like the polar bear swimming in search of seals in northern summer seas, I swim into the wide open with no intention of turning back. Doom and Fortune await me just over the horizon.

This is what optimism for the future has become. Just the opportunity to evolve and for other species to share in that opportunity. I don't understand how it's been possible for such control, corruption, and destruction to occur so sneaky and blatant. People work as a team to manipulate the many to feed the will of the few. These are the organizers of our systems. Like the humpback whale 'bubble fishing', tricking the fish, trapping them and feeding, these people harvest our time and our skills. And we, like the herring of the Pacific, enter into the trap. We're driven by our own needs and wants, and are too short-sighted to see what is waiting for us in the darkness ahead. This cycle continues around and around, though our cycles aren't with the seasons. They span generations, which gives plenty of time to distort it just enough to keep it going.

I'm playing games with my heart strings again, all in the name of warmth.

but i've got to remember the hologram: the closer you get, the less you see (until it all disappears).

Even these times that I let myself fall in, I have to remember I am human and it is my nature to fall. All is falling. Every moment rests in the tension between our free will and the tug of the earth. Every second we are fighting being swallowed by that which holds us.

"The fool who persists in his folly becomes wise" -Wm Blake

Letting go

I keep having to remind myself to let go. I feel like my life has been lesson after lesson of letting go, and i'm still struggling. Letting go of love, letting go of items, and letting go of homes; places. I've let so much go recently, and i am reminded of what life is. If we didn't let go of each breath, we'd never pull another.

Hollis is awake!!!!

Hollis Hawthorne is out of her coma! She is awake and alive and bubbling! This is amazing news! Tell everyone you know! Read her blog.

Stars of Stage and Screen flier

Stars of Stage and Screen flier, originally uploaded by hailingcomets.

Once again, Hailey G and Micha D will be celebrating their birthdays as one. The theme is Stars of Stage and Screen, so be ready for your close-up, dahlings! We'll have a photo booth to immortalize your glitz and glamour and entertainment that will sweep you off your feet.

Micha and Hailey will be waiting to take this dance, so be ready.

This party is free, because it's our birthday and we love you

And remember, this is a dance space so please
NO HIGH HEELS AND NO BOOTS (or you will be asked to remove your shoes. They trash floors.)

yours,

Hailey Marie Gaiser
&
Micha Devlin Grainger

antiangiogenesis

This day is turning out to be strange. People. Animals: reacting to each-other as we're all swarming around in our tight comb. Every second we're fighting off the urge of our animal selves to rip each-other's throats out with our teeth and nails. Because, in order to survive here, at this density, we can't be erupting into monkey fights over every minute squabble over space. We are domesticating ourselves in order to survive. Becoming docile and peaceful in our very dna as a direct result of our evolution (when violent people die young, they're less likely to breed.) Yet even as we domesticate our dna strand by strand, the animal dna is still whispering in our ears, boiling our blood and keeping us on our toes. It lashes out, marking its territory and fights over food. It lusts for a mate and gets in bar fights. It also has a desire to be close to the earth, to toil and harvest. And, above all, to love.

our deepest fear

The things we need to remember the most
are sometimes the easiest things to forget

Q: Who Am I?

A: I am Hailey Marie Gaiser

A: I am everything but Hailey Marie Gaiser



Our cells are constantly living and working to fight off the Atmosphere. Disease, bacteria, and viruses jump between spastic molecules of gases that want nothing more than to tear us down. And yet, these gases keep us breathing, keep our hearts pumping blood to our muscles and brains, while our fortress of skin does its best to protect our fragile innards from exposure to the dangerous air. And while all of this is going on, we still consist of mostly space, a micromirror of our universe. So if we are mostly space, how can we say we're anything at all? Other than a bunch of globular bodies floating around other globular bodies, suspended in glop? circles within circles within circles. circles living in cycles. Is the secret to the universe as simple as a shape? It might be.

My World

It makes me sad how full of sadness the world is. Strength in 'Economy' (whatever that means) seems to produce all this glitz and glamour, flashing lights. All this industry and production. But it's filled with an emptiness. The nothing. And everyone keeps trying to fill the nothing with stuff--which just causes the nothing to grow. It's swallowing everything whole. Our sadness grows, and yet we all keep standing and smiling, like robots. Everyone is smiling, but no one is laughing. I laugh sometimes to keep from crying. Dusty was telling me about this faux newspaper in New Orleans (like The Onion, but local for New Orleans) called "The Leavy," who's slogan is "We don't hold anything back." which made me laugh, I thought it was so funny and clever--but only because of how fucked up and sad it is. It seems like somewhere behind every good joke is a pile of carcasses or a pool of tears.

The world we live in is so beautiful, but they're sending rockets to the moon to search for water. Why would want to live in a weightless desert with unlivable temperatures and no life? A place with no rivers, lakes, animals, or plants. How is that a reasonable choice, especially when we're trillions in debt to China and unemployment is running out the door?

I suppose "they're" just setting it up for themselves, in the event of an apocalypse. And they must know one is coming, or they wouldn't have bothered with it. The class-elite can go sit in their bubble with their worthless money and fight over air and water.

No thanks. They can have it.