Where to begin…with the good or the bad. I needed leadership. I needed the role of a dad to be leader. Financial supporter wasn’t enough. Bread winner wasn’t enough. The money created opportunities but look at how those opportunities were treated without leadership! I know we’re all just doing the best we can or could, but dad…he was absent, he was not the leader…there was no leader. Brother fell suit. Mom wore so many hats. Hats that couldn’t have ever fit. The role of the father is, as I’ve been reading, to the child & to the family, the leader. No greater opportunity of leadership will pass a man. For the child, for the family, no greater possible leadership figure will exist, compared to that of the dad. And like, all those hours I spent in my room sleeping. Sleeping off the time. Punished in there. Time traveling…Maybe it was good for me though. Maybe having no direction allowed the kind of room that no exists: spaceless, timeless, & unlimited-ness. All that sleep… All those games…. Both are still a part of my life though I’ve made conscious efforts to put a stop to it. The only game I play now is soldat.pl; sleep I still try. But its embedded. It’s removable. Maybe after lots of therapy. But like I almost mentioned…maybe there is good in it. The way the opportunities of childhood were blown off; the way those teachers had no influence. My creativity protected. My freedom internalized. No one to follow. No one to disagree with… it might have been a blessing. And we’re talking about myself too, now that I’m a Dad. Maybe the real blessing will be seen in my child. It will be irrefutable: the blessing. I don’t know completely how but I know why, where, when, & what. And it’s not about retribution. Or making anyone feel bad. It just is. Detached. I’ve forgiven. I’m just really trying to anticipate how. Because I know how important I’m about to be. And not to use my example as what not to do, but in terms of leadership…We shared moments though. Like when we would go to the charlotte checker’s games. How I’d fall asleep on the way home. The basketball games…But when I got cut from the 7th grade team where were you? Where was anyone? I don’t know the smallest things are so to big to the child. And the child needs that leader. I’m going to be that leader. I might not have money. I don’t. But I will have leadership. Of the house. For this is my house. And for me and my house, we will be spiritual, we will create, we will support each other, & we will advance our collective nest. Collaboration. Involvement. Trust. Creative outlets. Positivity. Intention. And who is to blame? I’ve haven’t asked but I bet that leaderless life began before me, before you became an adult. When you were a child. Did you have a father figure leader? I have never asked. I don’t blame you. It’s the chain. It happens to so many & it’s so hard to break. Generation after generation. But, maybe with all of the financial support, you created an opportunity for me to break the cycle when or if I recreated. You caused an awareness. You allowed that space. And what of the other 50%? Of my DNA. I’m whole brain dominant, that’s how you shaped the way I work, mechanically. To balance out that creativity with logic. It’s a real beauty of a blend. It’s hard sometimes to assimilate with society. And to follow the rules of others. To follow at all. To obey. I see it right through it. It’s taken time and lessons but I’ve learned how to do it. Because of the abundance. Now as we discussed I am much less the potential artist than mom. That’s because of the logic. But, again, as discussed, she chose something else. I’m not choosing something else. Creating, leading, inspiring through prolific abundance of words & visuals & family. Making magic out of thin air with our hands. And our voice. And the way we do things. It’s no one’s fault. I forgave a long time ago. I forgive. I forgive you. And I love you. I will always. I appreciate everything you’ve done & sacrificed. And how you tried your best. Thank you. Now it’s my turn. For the hive!
Antoine reaches for a smartphone from his back pocket. As he reaches and twists his right shoulder he says: “I don’t know why, I don’t know…why, but for the past ten minutes I’ve been thinking about survival…in a way I’ve never thought about it before.” And more so than the thought itself, Antoine, after sixty years, wonders where or why the thought never thought before took so long to be thought. All of a sudden; ten minutes ago. For the past ten minutes and for next 83021 hours he will think in this way about survival. A semi-permanent shift; until the next shift occurs. “Survival,” he says while reaching & twisting, “survival…for some people survival is food & water, meal to meal, and shelter. But for us, the highest privileged, survival is getting that time to read a new book… for the people who live in ready abundance, survival is the possession of infinite choices & not-talked-about-limited-time to spend however they like. In a way, a large population living right now has transcended the needs & requirements of life, because of the abundance, and will either live to advance the universe’s knowledge by creating or live to detract from the universe by dispersing their life’s energy over time through a short but full series of breaths in the pursuit of take take taking from the earth & each other for luxury & benefit by All The Things. Twisting, “It’s incredible, really..”
During the move from there to here the k120 fell apart. The ‘Ctrl’ key, bottom left location, fell off & locked its ability into permanent engagement. Thus when I tap the letter A the k120 responds ‘CtrlA’. And I get it, I get what it’s saying & meaning. K120 knew I had backup keyboards: the 700 & T3A002. It knew of my attachment, to it, to k120, and it knew in such times of radical change–these times– control must be lost, & the one who forgoes control must be okay with losing it, must adapt. I’m not sure if the story of k120 has been written yet so I will go ahead & carve out this piece of non-fiction for the first or second time. So you understand. First, where does the name “k120” come from? It doesn’t come from being crazy. Sorry to disappoint. k120, as with most other things I name, is the model name. And so you know, for the other things when the model name doesn’t exist, or if the model name exists but it’s deemed unsuitable, I look for a sequence or pattern & create the name based on my findings. Sometimes there is a gap of interpretation. To mean I at times, with meaning, draw connections & make conclusions to bridge it, to, for example, notice a damaged corner unmasking the material underneath, then to draw the connection between the way the damage splinters in sections of 3, & then to complete the process by detecting the name through an intuitive, at times blind, tapping movement of finger ends against key heads. So, as it rests, k120 is the model name. It is printed in the top right hand corner. White letters against a black surface. Now how did k120 gain significance? Prior to August 2013 it was just a keyboard. No name, no significance. It had use & purpose, as a keyboard attached to my main computing rig, but this is all. It worked through The Chronicles and 44v1 and the things. I do not remember how it was acquired. Or when it was acquired. Now, for the significance piece, & I apologize I am running out of time. There’s only eight or so minutes left before I must put this down & abandon. Only three minutes now. The shower must be fast. The significance of k120: in middle school I acquired a flask of holy water. In the day of August, before I began the divine translation I opened the flask for the first time and dumped its holy contents onto & into the soul of k120. It was a direct pouring, right into the keys, & with an ecstatic euphoria the keyboard was blessed. And in blind style, I put my fingers down onto the wetness & viciously translated for minutes as the holy channel of god.
We created space. To how much each requires space, is it dependent or universal, this is the question not to be answered at this time, on this day of days…on The Status of Things. Larry packs his socks. He folds them first in halves & presses them with an aged right hand. The deep blue worms just beneath his thinning skin move to the adjustments of pressure along the ends & folds of his socks. As he quietly packs them. And pauses, to stare off. He reengages the socks. He pauses to stare off. And just like this Larry spent his morning, all two hours before, “I must leave soon. I am leaving…I must go soon, I must go to work.” His teeth, now unbrushed, to be brushed soon. Cleaned for future stains. Breath cleared. Disheveled describes his hair. Lost is his demeanor. We find him at the intersection of intense presence & abstract absence. He comes forth & leaves just the same. He is here but then he is not. This is The Status of Things for Larry. Weeks ago he left the hair of his head behind, to be flushed–& it was–and it will clog a future resident’s drain. He is the ascending part of a rollercoaster; he is the descending part of a rollercoaster.