One of the strangest part-time jobs I ever had was surveilling an art installation in a blue-chip gallery in the western parts of the city. I would arrive there at 10.45 and get dressed in my full black suit. The gallerist was obsessed with lookalikes and I’d been hired because I looked just like someone else. She wouldn’t tell me who. It was ridiculous. She’d just unfavorably look over at me whenever I’d arrive. “Get dressed darling”, she’d say and I’d slide into the straitjacket of the day.

You can always tell when affirmative language has been hijacked. It’s like the vowels have gotten drunk in some outcast place of the city, and then crawled back to the bright light, asking for permission to never go stray again. That’s how you become robotic. You ask for permission to never fuck up again. In order to receive that permission you need to sacrifice. I’m not sure what was with this woman but she paid my bills and she enjoyed dressing me up like her little mannequin. She never asked any personal questions, took absolutely no interest in me as a person, and smiled mechanically whenever I answered a question of hers with more than a syllable. For three months I guarded an installation in her gallery. It wasn’t like I was her gallerina, or assistant of any kind, I was profoundly remote from any kind of intellectual property the gallery solicited. I was just there, in the white cube corner locale with its wide windows exposed to the side-street of the fanciest high-street there possibly was, at least in my bank of knowledge.

For a solid 8 hours I would walk around the art installation in the middle of the space. It was a mini-version of the gallery, with glass windows and with a plush-sculpture of another janitor overseeing the space. The plush-janitor had been squeezed into the same uniform I’d been made to wear but wore a bunny head and angel-wings. So much for the lookalike. In hindsight I find my own role in the piece ultimately perturbing. But at that time I just didn’t care. When you’re part of a crew - I mean whatever that means to you - like you know your place – wherever that is for you – all other places just come off as obsolete. Like being in love. Your sight gets smudged for better or worse.

People would enter and I would greet them, tell them some words about the exhibition, and ask them to step into the simulation once they felt ready. Within the cube they received some VR-helmets that kept them occupied for approximately 40 minutes. During that time I would just stand at some place in the gallery, often with my hands interlaced, lightly resting on my sacrum bone, looking at the people walking by on the outside.
At 21.30
I crush a pinch of poppy seeds
and sprinkle them over
a cup of warm water
If I feel festive
I add a teaspoon of honey

By 22 I’m asleep,
to let my subconscious take pleasure
in four of the most productive hours of the day
these four hours could be described
with the scenery of the road sweepers
that clean up the remnants
after the closing hours of an amusement park

During these hours I’m elsewhere,
gliding through landscapes
while the frequent hum of machines
take possession of my muscles
For the remaining 4 hours of my sleep
I enter a lighter state,
I glide into a more apprehensive mode
this is where I’m able to see myself
levitating from my body
A coy moment, a moment of play,
as I ease back to my awake life

There is departure and return,
beginnings and ends
and in between there are two separate lives

In my sleep,
I feel like I dream things into infinity
When I’m awake
I learn to systematize and structure,
I study and write
I tune into her thoughts,
and we explore these things together
We exist side by side as this happens,
and our hearts melt into one,
heartbeat at the time
my even heart pace,
deep asleep, calms her

But recently I’ve become aware of something different
as I’ve transitioned into our shared fabric
It’s a shift in tone,
her voice carries a sub-narrative
that I haven’t been informed of
It’s so subtle, and at first I was just convinced
it had to do with me
Was I too cold to participate?

The more I’d started to spend time with her,
the more I’d come to understand
that the zones she traveled through were mnemonic
it was a technology to store memories,
and to access them again

Sometimes I would walk next to her
for a long time
until she’d become aware of my presence
that would give me the benefit of observing her

After she’d welcomed me in,
this was more difficult
as we became one
At 14:22
I make myself tea
from some of the leaves
I’ve managed to keep dry
between the pages of a book
I wrap a blanket
around my legs
and I sit down
in my ergonomically friendly chair
to write

Little did I know
that turning the shape of my torso
into the letter “S''
would have such an impact
At the present moment
I’m a firm believer
of keeping a position
where your head is straight,
your eyes are focused,
and your jaw is relaxed
You know
whenever my jaw is clenched
I’m reminded
I’m trying too hard,
including being too forceful
with these routines
That can really make me feel
like an extra
in my own life

Sometimes I just feel
secondary to the plot
That I’m the kind of person
who resides in the peripheries
of any bystander’s
attention span

Actors,
they’re not there
to merely mimic
natural expression
and plausible scenarios
they act to create tension,
to tie a thin rope down your throat,
and gently pull up your intestines
one by one to lay them out
on display for you

But recently
I’ve come to learn
that I am necessary
to a greater plot

At 14:30
I start my writing session,
just like a pianist
who dexterously spends hours
warming up her fingers
through repeating scales
and memorizing the work
of other composers,
computing apprehension to detail
I’ve learned that
14.30 is the exact time
when I’m well able
to veer into my own work

In my writings
I like to revisit places
and situations
In the past year
these places have become more
tantalizing
They’ve been coated
with a pungent flavor
hard to really place my finger on
I know
that the voice
speaking to me
is leading me through
imaginary landscapes
for a purpose
that is not mine
The memories aren’t mine
but I lend her stories
from my life

There is not much conversation
between us,
it’s an intuitive act
and therefore it’s crucial
that I start at the exact same hour
every day,
one that I’ve come to know
as a playful and light hour

I’m unsure whether her place
really exists on this earth,
but it feels very familiar
She feels familiar
It feels too easy to say
that I feel like we know each other
“from a past life”
but I say it anyway

I find comfort
in documenting her version
of a life

One day she tells me;
My routine is dear to me,
shoot me!
I’ve come to rely on routines
In the absence of external
and seasonal change

At first the adherence to routine
prompted a sense of memory loss,
as I’ve taught my memories
to accompany the patterns
of seasonal and cyclical
metamorphosis
then I found a mnemonic routine

As I like doing from time to time,
I went to see my neighbor yesterday,
one of few left in our street
She invited me to relax on her sofa,
with her cat
playing with the paper wraps
from an old hamburger,
and asked if I’d eaten
as I looked boney
gazing at my body
as trying to pierce through all my layers
I’d twined myself with

My neighbor’s apartment was right above
the former McDonald’s shop
and as desperation does to people,
she’d recently abandoned her
nutritional ideologies
for frozen burgers
from her former in-house butcher

She said she was tired,
couldn’t make plans ahead any longer
and no crops
would grow at this temperature
Even the greenhouse
that she had built
was too cold
and the glass was starting to break
Regulated temperature is fine,
when you know things on the outside are shifting,
but I can’t find myself breaking from my lethargy,
she said and asked me a third time
if I was sure I didn’t want something

After we’d shared a strong drink
we said goodbye,
embracing one another
She asked if I was sure
I didn’t want to spend the night?
Despite my yearn for another body
I returned home to fall asleep
at my regular hour
Knowing that I’d need to be somewhere
within the hour

<3 - 2023-12-29 13:36:28 - <3<333333

adolphus50@moneysquad.org - 2022-10-06 00:56:37 -

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adolphus50@moneysquad.org - 2022-10-06 00:56:35 -

joan14 - 2022-10-06 00:56:35 -

Developer - 2022-10-06 00:56:33 -

Developer - 2022-10-06 00:56:25 -

shannon_boyer@moneysquad.org - 2022-10-06 00:56:09 -

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shannon_boyer@moneysquad.org - 2022-10-06 00:56:06 -

joan14 - 2022-10-06 00:56:05 -

shannon_boyer@moneysquad.org - 2022-10-06 00:56:03 -

joan14 - 2022-10-06 00:55:57 -

118 Yundt Burg - 2022-10-06 00:51:14 -

- 2022-10-06 00:51:14 -

118 Yundt Burg - 2022-10-06 00:51:13 -

Suite 574 - 2022-10-06 00:51:12 -

118 Yundt Burg - 2022-10-06 00:51:11 -

Suite 574 - 2022-10-06 00:51:03 -

lonnie46 - 2022-10-06 00:50:45 -

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lonnie46 - 2022-10-06 00:50:43 -

nico.franecki@bdcimail.com - 2022-10-06 00:50:42 -

nico.franecki@bdcimail.com - 2022-10-06 00:50:40 -

lonnie46 - 2022-10-06 00:50:38 -

lonnie46 - 2022-10-06 00:50:21 -

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lonnie46 - 2022-10-06 00:50:17 -

baylee_harris@bdcimail.com - 2022-10-06 00:50:15 -

baylee_harris@bdcimail.com - 2022-10-06 00:50:13 -

lonnie46 - 2022-10-06 00:50:08 -

E - 2022-04-11 00:22:06 - so beautiful

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*_* - 2022-03-31 12:01:05 - I love it!!