December, 2008

(archives)

late. early. same thing.

– brianprince

growing up every
thing was late
parents waited
until thirty-two
to adopt the infant
with the big blue eyes
starring at them
from then on
it seems we were
always
late

leaving our excuses
in the offering plate
or even earlier in
the holy water
it didn’t bother them
they were used to
it as they left
excuses in their
footprints
on the way to
school in the
parking lot
at soccer
practice it

was just normal
thought nothing
of it as they bought
our christmas tree
on christmas eve’s
eve getting rid of it
in exchange for when
four-leaf clovers
came good day easter
savior april fools

we were late again.
but then
again
it’s only time.

nowadays adulthood
everything seems
earlier happening
before it should
got pregnant before
marriage had to install
a dvd in the van due
to us arriving earlier
than planned always
there to help set up
help out clothes
still damp from the
dryer premature
warnings (bzzz)

putting our excuses
in times doubts realities
were the future holding
a late past whipped in
the principles office
tardy slip-fearing
b.y.o.b. but, the
party was there
and the bathrooms
weren’t even cleaned
we get

our christmas tree
while we still have
left-over turkey for
Christ’s birthday new
years resolutions already
made before we
unwrap gifts the
only one out of our
friends with kids
and responsibilities
no fooling we
always get
the worm

we’re always early.
but then
again
it’s only time.

belief. disbelief. same thing.

– brianprince

for as many years as i can
remember, santa was
real. Santa Was Real.
there was no doubt
santa was real.

until the first day of the third grade,
it clicked.

for many more years i
convinced myself that
Jesus was a vice, a crutch,
and church was a sunday
morning hobby.

until my first son hit the third grade,
it clicked.

experiment executed

– brianprince

The day-to-day whether
it’s face-to-face or
to-phone as sitting
in a café, a fireplace
flickers

The rain outside whsys’
stem i find myself listen
ing to my pen jotting down
the presence of flesh is
evident

Yet, it’s only sound that
matters/subjections/directions/
rejections/opinions of the
people surintegrated critical
analysis

Of Brion Gysin and the Cut Up.
His tructure that tells the
story of not one, but of a culture,
thus, pages of words, developing a
dialog

With them sitting aroun this
is not the definition of a Cut
Up, but certainly seem digesting
photographic memories and
everything

Seemeds of the Cut Up, depicting
the rawness of the age we
live in, Picture this Waking
to four or five conversations
simultantechnique

Of cutting multiple texts and
rearranging them in baspers sweet
nothings to the six-foot windows.
Theothly as the hazelnut latte made
it’s way

Through myowever, it is where
I am now reading many books,
many random happenings/emotions
feelings/objections’d this little table
minutes

Later i’ve realized my mind
was rounding me. Sporadic input
aligned on the page in o’familiar,
so comfortable, i could just
fall asleep

Creating a new story. i called
it Panera Café 2008eously creating
chatter, each speaking to each
other ins to be a fine
qualification

For nomination for the evolution
008 it was 1959 when Brion
Gysin discovered the — k into
one space — the Cut Up
don’t blink

experiment explained

– brianprince

Sitting in a café, a fireplace flickers and the rain outside whispers sweet nothings to the six-foot windows. The presence of flesh is evident yet, it’s only sound that matters. I sit listening. Now, this bears no relation to my research-integrated critical analysis of Brion Gysin and the Cut Up. However, it is where I am now reading many books, many pages of words, developing a dialog with them sitting around this little table. Minutes later I’ve realized my mind was digesting photographic memories and everything seemed so familiar, so comfortable. I could just fall asleep.

Picture this. Waking to four or five conversations simultaneously creating chatter, each speaking to each other in the day-to-day whether it’s face-to-face or to-phone. As smoothly as the hazelnut latte made it’s way through my system, I find myself listening with my pen. Jotting down the random happenings/emotions/feelings/objections/subjections/directions/rejections/opinions of the people surrounding me. Sporadic input aligned on the page in a structure that tells the story of not one, but of a culture, thus creating a new story. I called it Panera Café 2008.

This is not the definition of a Cut Up, but it certainly seems to be a fine qualification for nomination for the evolution of the Cut Up, depicting the rawness of the age we live in, 2008. It was 1959 when Brion Gysin discovered the technique of cutting multiple texts and rearranging them back into one space — the Cut Up. don’t blink.