And there really is no better way to start a sentence than to start it with the word “and,” or at least this is how I’ve been feeling & thinking for at least a year, maybe two or three, or four; it’s been a while now & my love for And has grown, never diminished, always prized & always inclined to use. There’s a context here. This doesn’t mark the beginning of my body of words, neither that nor is it the end. “And,” recognizes its middle stage of inconclusive wordage, message, & point. It states there is a before, and the excess of words post-And with little to no movement in any stable direction hints with strong under & overtones that there is & will be many words to come, “millions,” & neither the weight of pre-And nor post-And fall on my shoulders, not anymore, never again, just this word right now & now. And if it’s not the word it’s the stroke of it, & the way my breath is or was during it, if my eyes were glazed & resting or are or were they reflecting the manic dreams blue, were they paying attention. “How are you feeling.” Without the story, really focus on the feeling, nothing else. Really just feel the feeling, accept it, feel it, & notice the space you immediately create. It’s like a miracle. Breathe & don’t think, just feel. & watch how quickly the edge of everything goes away. It just goes away; it just goes like a wished miracle. It goes in the sense the feeling of sadness no longer feels like the good ol’ crippling sadness I’ve known, the kind attached & anchored to the present, this kind is just a feeling & it’s cool for what is & how it assists these so right now carvings of this moment. & how these moments blend together because of this like wierd way we hold memories, & the way we naturally percieve the space and distance of things in relation to ti-me. Even weirder, or “wierder,” is how it all can be reduced to the electron, like how things are simultaneous, all of these states of perception, from the simple to the intensely complicated, all simultaneous, all simultaneous shared time. To the boring & the fictional & non & descriptive & to the general and to the personal & the visual and the micro & macro, to red & to blue, now green as middle, are all then now no wonder stability is never out there. 402 words, on canvas, with so many mediums available–paints, brushes, pens, pencils, paintmarkers, oil–with so much blank space, so many options, so many choices, without limits. & damn do we feel wonderful carving them out with words in cursive. This is our medium.