Pike Place

Pike Place Market · Seattle, 2019

it’s strange to think this time next week i’ll be back in america. it’s going to be an interesting fall.

it’s been a strange year

everything seems too contained, traditional in terms of expression. lacking a depth, a meaning. something.

the time is nearing to push outward more.

i guess sometimes it takes sitting on a bed in a basement apartment somewhere in northern Denmark thinking about that time the cat died and the speakers could only be turned up to maximum and Drew was getting stoned and nothing was enough so now you’ve been around the world a couple times but here you are asking yourself what the fuck am i doing with my life to realize that question follows you no matter where you fucking go except now i’m 36 and People would want me to type in proper formats of capitalization and formality would no longer understand why i’m still not a capitalist

(this type of shit really does happen quite frequently. one time when I was in Spain—basically only to connect on international flights—the new King had his coronation and big parade and drove by in front of me. I just bought my tickets for Berlin and they’re right in time for Art Week, totally unplanned.)

Revisionist History

First page/cover inlay for Revisionist History

the most difficult part of wandering is not having a constant studio to make art and/or music with. as I approach a return to the States, I’ll be able to focus the various energies and ideas I’ve manifested over the past months toward finally getting some new work out there. Looking forward to it:

—first while still in Denmark, giving a presentation on art&community in America. I’ll be previewing a bit of the manifesto for Anticapitalist Expressionism, as well as playing a bit of piano. Upon return to America, I’ll be showing the work I finished in Ireland at October’s First Friday in Portland.

November will see an asterisk tour with my buddy Drew, likely from Seattle to Los Angeles and back, and in December I’ll have a solo show featuring the last of the Valence series and the release of Revisionist History, a book of poems and photographs made throughout this season in Europe. Chances are there will be some new music as well, but I’m still working on those details.

I’m hoping by the end of the year to release Arson, a publication I’ve been talking to Noele about collaborating on, which will see the finished version of the previously mentioned Anticapitalist Expressionism manifesto and a variety of sociopolitical and cultural essays I’ve been scribbling while on the road.


first friday, april 2019, portland, oregon at the warehouse.

this was probably the best thing i did with the last few years of my life. i look forward to being a part of it again.

At The Tate

“In Real Life”

man, the Olafur Eliasson exhibit is really something. it’s so strange how intersections of life occur—the last time I was in London was on a trip in college with Jessica and we were stunned by “The Sun”—which just so happened to be Eliasson’s project as well. Fifteen years later he gets an entire exhibition and I’m still walking around trying to figure shit out. I guess some loops take longer than others to complete.

apprehension, insomnia. soon, back on the road again.

at its core, the temptation of Ireland is good: What if I lived in America and it didn’t suck? the similarities between Ireland and the US are easily found in small towns, however in the States one might find a Wal-Mart whereas the franchise domination that plagues The Land of The Free has yet to claim the Republic.

it is pleasant to not face the daily anxiety that is living in America, the disgust of knowing every action taken is somehow contributing to the motions of late capitalism. that the State still retains some sense of responsibility for the people, and that not everyone is just out to get one another. it gives life the sense of living so often lost in the grotesque theme park of profitability that is the USA. it forces a sense of clarity to the question: what am i doing? where am i going?

(and to that end, I still do not know, which is perhaps the one thing I will take from this space. just because there is clarity does not mean there is an answer, and that I may be asking the wrong questions, or perhaps framing them in the wrong way. after all, the way that which I analyze things is essentially still American, a loathesome trait that I wish I could figure out how to rid myself of.)

though I do hope to return to Ireland, I also know that life has its way of constantly changing and it’s often impossible to keep a plan in motion once it has been even slightly altered. my time here has been noteworthy, regardless.


Pierre at MacCarthy’s

the length of my memory can be measured in segments of losing touch.

Everything ends. it isn’t that this idea disturbs me anymore, or even that it comes as a surprise. When you live in a state of transition, the general idea is nothing can be permanent. regardless, the to and fro of people is never an easy wave to ride.

Pierre was here for a few weeks and now is gone, and I’ll be next to leave the work flat.

Accumulated interactions, sincere but short-lived. I wonder what, if anything, this is all leading to, or if this is simply a road that doesn’t end; if I’m even still on a road at all. Like something out of an old cartoon, I’m a bit afraid if I look down I’ll see the earth far below, the ledge behind me; that I missed a turn along the way and just kept running, head stuck in the clouds, now with nothing left but the fall to take me.

Most Recently is how I have decided to qualify my answers in conversation these days. on the Road, one of the most common questions asked is “Where are you from?” and to this I have never had much of an answer—however outside America, nobody really knows the difference between Portland or Alaska or Massachusetts or really any of the places I’ve lived in-between.

Throughout the history that saw me in those places, among many others, which have now arrived me in a small town in Ireland for the past six weeks, the circumstances of my life have changed so drastically time and again that one would think I would be more accustomed to it. But being caught off guard is, I think, not something anyone can adapt to. It’s only about how one deals with it.1

…and it is slightly ironic, that not days after I’d shifted my mentality—from being in transit to temporary resident—now I am, at least for the time being, forced to shift back into my more transient nature.2

months shifted, lost into the ether; plans that only lasted 48 hours are sometimes the ones that impact for years. there is still Much To Do; I have no clue what it is or where it will be, but it’s usually worth finding out.

  • I sit down and spend hours focused on code and rebuild this website. It’s what I’ve done since I was 16; twenty years is a difficult habit to break.
  • The laws regarding visas are so dumb. I’m not going to complain about my issues with immigration shit given the concentration camps in the States, but the fact this all just has to do with capital makes it even more annoying.