1. “As I get closer to it (the debt) the wind picks up. There are dead dry leaves in the air.

The wind is a natural force, representative of the real superpower, nature, which not even economic forces can control.

2.  It seems so far away, it looks like a huge pointy skyscraper, pointy, sharp at the top.

The distance and the pointy form were hard for you to approach, the walk was strenuous because your fear slowed you down.  The Pointy form in the sky is reminiscent of a sword growing out of the earth instead of plunging in like King Arthur would have had it.  Is it a weapon that protects the earth from us by slowing us down with guilt and fear?

3.  It’s gray, no clouds. Farm fields surround it, the ground is dewy, bare, with short dead grass.

The environment seemed like some type of aftermath caused by the debt form.  It was withered, tired.  It was not alive, but was it dead?  Had it ever been alive?

4.  I’m completely alone.

Isolation from other people, you were the only person who could see this debt.  Debt is individualized, it cuts one off from others due to feelings of shame and responsibility.

5.  As I get closer the atmosphere turns to fog. There seems to be a power coming from the building, but it’s behind it or from within it, it is hidden.

Fog, mysterious power distorts your perception, creates fear and privacy, clouds transparency, keeps you from truth.

6.  I’m at the front door, I can’t see the top of the building.

Perspective lost because of the grand scale, you couldn’t really see what you were looking at.

7.  The farmland goes right up to the building, the building goes deep down into the ground and up higher than I can see.

Deep relationship with the earth, the growth of the debt out of the earth, or at least its rootedness deep in the soil represents an awareness of a force that develops like nature but with different energy and consequences.

8.  At the door. It won’t open, there’s no handle, no hinges. It’s cold, I can push on it, it’s set inside of the building, just a little bit. I don’t want to be around this building.

Repelling qualities remained even though you continued to approach it, you are afraid of it but you won’t let it stop you

9.  The building is made of a hybrid plexi-glass, mirror and metal. It’s very cold, metallic blue.

Metallic materials are a representation of power and wealth, sterile, conductive, reflective, slick, sharp.  Far from human.

10.  The building is pristine, like no one has ever touched it. If I touch it, it hurts my fingers, it is so hard.

Pristine, impenetrable un-organic, inhuman, artificial, toxic.

11.  It’s been here for a long time.  When I look at where the building meets the soil, it looks like the soil was placed around the building, because the building has been here longer than the farmland.

Longterm existence indicated by its existence preceding the land, this is an ancient social construction

12.  It feels like it landed here. It is not a human’s project. It is not permanent, it could leave.

Alien origin is not ‘natural’ the way we think of nature, but is not man-made either.

13. The only thing that could move it is itself. A million people couldn’t change it.

Un-changeability, powerlessness is indicated by its long staying time and your awareness of your relative scale and strength.  You knew by looking at it you could not defeat it.  This is a sign of surrender, which is your choice.

14.  I have no idea what is inside of it. I can’t see anything inside because it’s so silent.

Mysterious silent contents didn’t let you understand the interior of the structure, but you were still privy to its power—it communicates its power in different ways

15.  I can’t climb on it without sliding down. I get delusional and believe I can climb it, but then I can’t.

Passive relationship to it did not allow you to mount it, or have any lasting effect on it.

16.  I feel defeated by it. Nothing can grow because of it. It’s causing the farmland to die.

Defeating of self, you didn’t allow yourself to defeat it, but you were able to leave it and return to your life.

17.  It’s sucking life out of land. I want it to go away but I don’t know what’s inside it that’s killing the environment.

Killing everything the toxicity of the form, its mysterious murderous powers decimated the landscape, leaving you as the last living thing.  You have to be resilient to avoid the same fate.

Stopped judged the original choice

There are no people around

It’s easy to walk but I don’t want to get there

The thing I’m approaching is floating

I’m pretty floaty

It’s disconnected from the hill, it’s supposed to be on

It’s foggy

I’m below it but there are buildings between us

Crossed Cesar Chavez on Guerrero

I’m there but I can’t see it

Big huge white apartment building

I lost my focus, I don’t see it

It looks normal everything looks like it didn’t happen

I’m crazy, this happens all the time

When I’m next to it I can’t see the whole thing

The edifice seems short, the facade seems really not human scale

Broke off a lamp out of a kind of metal that crumbles

a soft aluminum alloy

seems easy to do, like it’s a prop

The bricks are still hard

The wood is falling apart, it’s made out of crap disintegrating

It’s made of a network with air pockets

Network of saw dust, when I’m that small it feels harder

White and pretty, it’s build sideways into the thill

Maybe there isn’t anything inside

Other people’s debt is there too, they don’t know it

I would like to take a jack underneath to lift it up and tip it so it falls down the hill and into the bay

The 101 got in the way, so it’s leaning up against the highway, a traffic debt jam

Flying on google street view, I’m having trouble.  I keep slipping into the sidewalk, so I am concentrating on the sound of my feet on the ground.

Oh I couldn’t stay on the ground.

I’m on my parents back property—a dirt path, dark and dusty, looking at my feet.

It smells good, and fresh.  I have moderate energy, uphill and downhill.  It sounds like wind in the grass.  There are no people around, maybe not for a while.  You can hear animals.  I seem to be walking over the same part over and over again.

It goes through darker swampy things and ends up at bottomless lake that has no bottom, has hidden stream underneath.  It looks cleaner than I expected it to look— natural gross not toxic gross.  It is current, not future, it is outside of future.

No this is not it.

Physical limiting, an aura, dark small domestic, it disappears when thinking of the future.  My apartment, thin walls, dark, small constricting.

It is a current packaging, clothes, trapping, an aura or actual stuff, can’t step outside of it.  It completely covers but doesn’t touch, opaque like a space.  If i had a handful of it, it would be dark.  And crumbly like coal, sparkly and pretty.  A crumb up close would be even darker and more crumbly.  Infinitely more crumbly and dark, like black chalk.  It would leave marks, it would be all over the surface of whatever natural substance.  It would stain my inside if I ate it, it would leave black.

It is just a space, apartment or room.  But it is constricting.

Hillside going down in Tilden Park, it’s light

Eucalyptus grove, dark and cold

Darker and wet, pretty engulfing, trees tall, leaves up high

If I step I’ll be inside something large, claustrophobic, canopy on top

Not completely confined, a bubble 

The air is cold and wet, nobody’s been there for a while, I can hear the trees creaking

Eerie, creepy

Debt as a familiar place

Something I’ve always dealt with

I’m small compared to it, it’s overwhelming and familiar, 

I recognize it, and am attracted to it

Eucalyptus is weeds, they proliferate, drop seeds and grow and grow

Take over

Really hard to get rid of it, 

Seems pretty old.

Hilly tall grass, hot, no trees, sunny.  Not sure if it exists.  Nothing around me.

Soil is wet grass is green. 1pm sun, slightly to the west.  Tired, a happy tired.

Barbed wire fence, disrepair, wire is hanging to the ground.  Really old, wire is dark dark brown, same.

Where I’m walking used to be someone’s property.  No one’s been there for a very long time, it fence is standing but sagging.  There’s a dirt road behind me.

The color timing in mind is different, color is higher contrast. Like a Gus van Sant movie.  The aerial perspective is causing the debt area to be a bluish grey. The grass is rolling like there is wind but there’s no sensation of it.  Going down steep incline, grabbing onto things.

It’s a few miles away, it would take a long time to get there, you’d have to sleep outside.  It’s an unreachable destination, nothing can get there.  There are no landmarks between me and that.  Can’t adequately judge how far away it is.

It’s so far away you can’t make out grass, it’s a gray shape in the distance (holds up hands to make the size of a quarter).

I’m not bothered, I’ll wander around a little, if I make it there, I’ll make it there, and if I don’t, I don’t.  

This is a go-to place for mental wandering, a place of aimless wandering, useless in all ways— in a satisfying way, no other people ever exist in it.  It feels more solid than I do.

The debt doesn’t actually feel like a real thing, it’s just a motivating point, no way to reach it, but it doesn’t really matter.  It’s a theoretical destination.

Interdependence of photos

Future self is paying

When I was a kid, my future dad was going to pay

Will anyone pay, will kids pay, after the benefit is over?

What is the motivation to pay after the value seems to be used up?

The value is my life

Hard to imagine not doing it, its weird that it has a monetary value or a trail of debt

Heart races when passing, 

There is a murky cloudiness, a wall coming from ground far ahead, over my head

It has a Richard serra leaning to it.

Instead of a sky it is a steal plate sloping down

Cold and smooth, no give.

It is a false front, on the other side is reality

Some windows up high above, no force could move it

Maybe an earthquake, but in order for it to move, it has to break completely

It levels everyone, kills the computer with all the info, from outside of its own system

I don’t know it if meets the ground or not

Misty, foggy, small, on the ground, I have to crouch to get it, if I push my hand in further it will get warmer, heated, dry heat, night, its a warm void, a bubble, I don’t want to step into it, I feel uncomfortable, I see this gray hazy ball, amoeba-like juxtaposed with the white and yellow lines of the crosswalk, (which are beneath), friendly, it’s been kicked, it just traveled, it just got there when you asked about it,

I feel like the atmosphere around it is a whole new setting, it’s not like anything I’ve imagined or seen, there’s something lavendar about its essence, it’s confused. It follows me, I try to stay away because I want to touch it, “He can fly?” It seems so stuck to the ground, a hazy pile of mush of a warm fur, I’d like it to be a happy nightclub scene, but this is not a party.

It can stretch, it’s amorphous, the size of a small dog, if I put my hand in it, because part of it— less of a mist and more of a blob, it’s stuck, it’s like a large pile of lavender gum, smells like clean linen, can’t grab it because it’s hard.

It came up off the ground on its side, it ripped off the yellow striping of the road underneath.  There’s a hole beneath the lavender gum, deep into the ground.  The fog in the air is getting sucked into the hole— it’s like a draft from a vaccuum, getting sucked in, it’s dark.  The debt is in the hole, the gum was a decoy.

All I hear is the sucking of the air into the hole, it’s not quite mechanical, not quite wind.  It is the sound of inhaling, slight suction— it is a wafting.  This hole was made by shovels, jack hammers, it is a dreamworld inside.  The hole is the size of the mound of gum (a small dog).  The layer of paint revealed the hole, the hole was between a layer of paint and the street, it looks shallow but things are being sucked into it.

It is ominous and cartoonesque.  I wish I could pull money out of the hole.  I can spit in it— it just goes for a second, goes splat on something hard.  It’s empty.  I knew it would be.  It’s like a pothole or a sinkhole.  I’m wondering if I am the only one who can see it.  It feels familiar but its completely confusing, it doesn’t feel like it’s going to hurt me, it just seems like a xxx.  The gum on top just marks the place.

I’m in the panhandle—walking towards the tallest trees in the golden gate.  I typically run here, tend to be on the grass, it’s nice because it’s uneven, feet being at different grades.  There’s a breeze, influenced by the real breeze.   And sun.

I have lots of energy. 

Have usual happiness, aware of task.

It’s patch.  There’s spots where there’s dirt, lept over the ground the dirt is on top of another city.  More asphalt under there.  Maybe we are on top of endless sidewalk and buildings—human stuff.

It’s uniformly cloudy out, one big bright cloud

I just passed a park with babies and parents, nannies, others are walking and hanging out.

There’s a light skinned guy, in his teens or 20’s or 30’s, sunchapped.

He’s laughing, with other people, drinking.  Oh, he just started following me.

Found a stick on the ground, it’s green like it was still alive, without being peeled, it snaps very easily, snaps into pieces so easy, tasts piny.  I offer it to the guy, he thinks it’s weird that I did that and agrees that it tastes like a tree.

We’re coming up to an intersection, like we’re a bike, walking to a brick median crossing road, the sun is shining and it’s very bright.

I floated a little, but spinning a little, I made the trees rustle.

People say Hi to this guy.

Headi˜g to a patch of redwoods by AIDS meadow.  My hear it beating faster and it is strange to have this other guy there.  

We keep getting closer.

There are trees, a circle of rocks in the dirt, we went there once and made a ritualit just might have become night now—it is flickering.

I have to tell this man about where I came from, he didn’t do education and I cant tell how old he is.  I think I feel guilty about my privilege.  I zoomed into him like a person, like a biology image.  I saw the muscles in his face, little people inside of him holding him together like he’s a construction site, little ropes and ladders.

I’m insdie of him now.

I don’t know if its his stomach but there is a black pit.  

I must have shrunk, going down a ladder my heart is beating fast, climbing down a ladder my awareness that he is on a rock still by himself.

He knows that I am inside of him, he is still a calm and letting it happen.  He stood up.

The ladder goes down forever.  Down to this pit—it’s lined with muscle.  A cylindrical pit, a uniform thickness, I don’t know if its narrowing.  It feels like a dream but the visual surroundings are not familiar but it’s something I’ve felt before.  Before I was watching myself, not I am in myself.  Now I am myself going down.

I don’t know where the pit went, it’s a tube all around, like a slide.  Not quite body-like, it’s horizontal now.  I’m climbing backwards through this tube- now it’s yellow and green.  I don’t know if I made it to the pit now, I am being sucked into a pit, dropped off, free falling into this pit.  There’s light on the top, not hitting the side, it’s a little thick I think I am still inside, but I don’t know anymore, I don’t think he would know what I am doing, even if I

I’m inside him, I am alone. 

I think I hit the bottom and I am back to muscle space, 

A weird flow of water inside this body, there are some rocks.

I pick one up, it’s kind of spongy, dark pink.  A body.  Flesh pink.  It doesn’t seem healthy or sick it is just sort of a soft triangle with three corners, not equilateral.  It’s big  but not heavy, uniform, I think there’s another rock inside of it.  A real rock, a gray rock.  Inside that is a really tight black heavy thing, it emits a blackness that goes outside itself.  The blackness is warm, velvety enery.  It’s more natural than artificial, more supernatural than natural.  There’s a tny black inside it that is turning everything black.  Casing from a bullet.  Shrapnel, I keep seeing thinking shrapnel.  I think I opened itbut I don’t know if I ripped it open, the pink stuff disappeared, I visualized the inside before the other stuff disappeared.  I have it on my hand, I feel like I have to hold on it, the black stuff is kind of nice.  It might be a similar feeling to being a kid finding rocks, not knowing what to do with it—pretty when wet, not when it dries out.

Here I am with this body pit holding this rock, it might be inside of my self.  I found it in the other place and went into myself.  

I was in one person who was every person.  When I was someone else I did not want to violate the walls.  When you asked what I wanted to do I started to punch the walls of my self but corrected myself, wanted to cry, leaing my head against my wall, holding the rock, it’s not black anymore, I can see, I kind of want to swallow the rock, follow it to where it goes again.

(holds hands to mouth)

Free falling down a pit again, giant tube shoot, following the rock, it’s bigger.  Very dark, narrower than the last tube.  Head first, this time watching the giant black rock into the giant pit, tube curved, slowing down.  

(deep breath)

Back to soft muscle bottom, sitting next to giant rock, it’s like a boulder, as tall as I am, but wider.  It’s about as wide as it is tall, boulder shaped, texture less than shiny, more than rough rock—hugging it.

It’s alive the way rocks are alive—in an organic way, =emitting a frequency, a vibration, I can’t feel it move but can feel the energy, hugging the rock, face on it, it’s cool to the touch.

(Oh god I don’t want to know what’s inside)

It has the pink thing inside of it, actually it seems that the pink thing inside is that same spongy pink thing with another black rock.  This black rock is bigger because I shrunk.

Also because it grew when we got to the bottom, as tall as I am it did grow.

This one is more brittle, like charcoal.  I wanted to draw with it but then also to chuck it to the bottom of the river.    I would be drawing it on myself, this river is werid, 2-3’ across, sometimes it is empty.

I wanted to chuck it but also have affections for the rocks, they are handshaped, do they belong there?I want to swallow it again but don’t want to go through that same tunnel thing again.  I am looking up, it is really far up.

Layer of bone under the flesh, I actually think there is actually skin under the bon or under the bone more stuff, more city stuff, people stuff, detritus, building materials, dug up from the planet and bunred back in.  It’s all in my body, the shared human body, I can feel it in my legs, it’s my stomach lined with bone.

All the stuff from the buildings we use it, endes up being garbage.  The space got tighter, rock disappeared but came back.  I’m in a flesh egg.  Epidurmus type skin around me from the outside it’s skin color.  Caucasian, a little darker than my skin, more olive.  Enclosed in the egg, it’s comfortable in a womb way. 

But when you asked my chest tightened because I want to get out but where would I go?

Maybe I’ll puncture it.

I could punctue it but it might hurt because I might be in my own body.  But that’s ok.  I have a knife now.

But I don’t know how I got it, I will cut one straight cut but just I should do something with the rock, I could crush it but I don’t want to.  But I know I should.

I broke it in half.  Now there’s two.

You can tell where they were broke.  They fit together, identical in size, one slightly heavier.

I’m going to put them out before I put them in one hand, cut the skin open.  

Throw them out with my eyes closed. 

(makes cutting motion, forehead to floor, tossed them)

They flew out of the egg in different directions, I don’t know where they ended up.

It’s slow to walk, seems far off, hard to remember how to get closer.

I’m floating, I don’t feel my feet.

Light breeze.

Cows, no smell.

As I get closer it gets muddier, it’s very sludgy, not like clay, like hard wet dirt, it slides out, it’s kind of oily, it’s hard not to look at the thing.  

It’s a broken down machine, yellow and rusty, grown into the ground, very muddy, next to a road.  It’s not larger than me but when I picture it, it’s all I can see, when I think about it, it’s like I stuck my face right next to it (like the way Ren and Stimpy zooms in way too far)

I can’t touch it.

I never thought about what’s inside it.

It’s really dark inside.

It definitely doesn’t feel like it does when I’m in there.

It doesn’t look like a real object

When I look inside it starts to fall apart

Sounds like metal to the touch, hollow when I rap on it

Can’t break a piece off of it, it’s very hard.

It’s grown into the ground.

The thing came first, the grass came second.

It could have been there, the grass, before.

It was left there, it stopped working right there and someone just left it.

It feels very cold, it’s not ever really cold there. 

It’s been there for about 25 years, it would take a lot to move it, I don’t know if someone likes it there.

It’s become a part of the area, it’s been there so long.

Its form is changing, it seems a lot larger than I would think it is, it’s as if I was a child, when things seem so much bigger than they are.

Especially how it’s bigger on the inside than the outside

Usually you can see through it

like a drawer that went into nothing like there’s nothing going into the object, the more I walk around it, the sludgier the ground gets.

Maybe the ground had been undisturbed for so long, it’s not where people go

It goes a little further into the ground, but not infinitely— it has an end, but I can’t feel the end.

From under it, I don’t know if you could enter it.

A really large metal saw could go through it, it’s something huge and heavy like a jackhammer.

Parts would be easier to cut away than others.

Mud sticks on it, the machine is very dry

A lot of the paint is chipped off.

Texture is gritty like sandpaper.

It’d be hard to climb on it, it’s big, I think I can 

I can visualize myself on top of it but I can’t picture climbing it.

I got on it, I can see a lot more, I can see over all the trees, the landscape is really cool, yeah its windier up here than on the ground

It feels very dense on top, it makes a sound when I jump on it, like bing on a big metal box, all I see is the field and it’s all clear, it’s very picturesque

When I’m up here I don’t look at what’s directly below me, very few clouds, very clear sky

I’d like to completely remove it and repair the soil.

It would take a long time 

assuming I’m moving it my myself

My girlfriend shows up, it would still be hard, can’t do it with just bodies.

Two people could deconstruct it over time, can’t put an estimate on how long.

Just looking at it feels like a while, an ambiguous time.

There are places that could take it apart

Even if you take parts off it would be hard.  

Carry it away or cut it up into small enough pieces. 

It’s a lot of management to take it apart.  (a huge team of muppets)

I would definitely help.  It’s like 15-20-30 feet taller than me, I can’t jump off things twice as high as me, girlfriend can help.

Stairwell on roof of childhood home, scraping some paint off the wall—

Cement blocks, behind that is open space

White paint is rubbery, brakes down into flakes

The ceiling is high, narrow, small space.  There’s a light fixture on the ceiling, cable on the outside, on the wall where you can reach it.  You know, it connects to the switch.

There are some doors on a narrow wall, open like French doors with two openings with textured glass.  Open space, very familiar, the only way out is going through the doors.  .  This is where I grew up.  I spent a lot of time there, I don’t want to go there.  My brother and I used to play there, made a space ship in a barrel, on the ledge, a door on a table, seats with cardboard.

The barrel stayed there for years, I took it.  I could go to my mom’s apartment downstairs.  She lives down there.  This property belongs to my family.  There are six apartments.  The whole building was built by my grandfather.  He left it for everyone.  When he passed there was a family fight about it, and it pulled everyone apart.  Mom’s sister wanted it all.  In the end my mother just got half.  Gave an apartment to me and brother.  I used my apartment to pay for my life, and it allowed me to dedicate myself to my art.  

On the first floor is the garage.  Big space, tall ceiling.  We used it a lot for games.  It’s dark with soot from the city.  Very blac floor is cement, has red stripes.  A design?  It’s cement also, oil stains from cars.  I can hear activity outside.  There’s a cistern below the floor and the sewage has to be maintaind.  If you left it you can watch the shit go by.  Below that is dirt, foundation, metal, ducts from city.  

It is such an old place.  Now I walked into my mom’s apartment.  I’m tired of looking at these old plants, furniture on top of furniture.  It’s sunny and it gets hot so the plants are happy.  Many kinds.  

Going to my mother’s bedroom.  Her dresser drawer.  There are medicines in little containers, little toys.  I pick up an ointment, fruity and mild.  I put it on my palms and I begin to wipe it on the top of the dresser.  It makes it really, really wet.  Almost like water.  It really stretches out.  It’s shiny.  It keeps coming.

I try to dry my hands on the curtains, but the curtains quickly get saturated and begin to drip.  Now I am petting everything, making it glossy and dripping.  There are glossy puddles on the floor, I’m also completely wet.  

The shininess will last, when I tough it, it stays.  The dog is shiny. 

This is adding a layer, that is wet, moist, ad replenishing.  It is still on my hands.  It has to run out, if I get a towel I’m going to get it wet.  I have to see what it does.  It’s like a skin.  It will dry up and peel off.  I’ll sit on the bed and look around as it starts to dry.  From the top of the room you can see that it is already less wet.  

I’ve put my hands outside of the window.  I reach to a tree.  The wetness doesn’t go on the tree when I touch it.  Maybe it can only be in the room.  I don’t want to leave this room because it feels wet.  It doesn’t feel like water in the mouth, more like jelly.  Fresh and cool taste, not water.  I can taste it on my lips.  It’s fluid.  Like a second skin. 

I imagine its made of microscopic balls, together in a flow of viscosity.  

So there’s fear that they’re moving all the time with the heat of my hands.  That heat made it run. 

It will naturally all dry up, I don’t want to fight it.  I have to wait for it to dry.  The ceiling is dry, not shiny.  It’s still wet, but its neem more absorbed.  It’s getting brittle, breaks down very easy.  Gets dusty.  

The dry areas are getting very dry, like dust.  It flakes into chunks, tap it with my own finger and it crumbles.  It’s clear, you can see through it, no smell.  I better clean it before mom gets back.  Shake the curtains, beds, walls, it comes out east.  I’ll go get some big bags and a broom.  There—I have made a pile of the dry stuff and it doesn’t look like skin.  It’s very transparent.  Not natural, artificial.  It’s artifical and I’m gonna save some.  It’s something I’ve never seen before.  I’m going to put some in my pocket, put it in a box and display it with my knickknacks.  

The ground is crunchy, can hear the wind hitting the corn

Walking down a hill

I can’t see the horizon I saw when I began,

It’s obscured by the bluff

I can hear a bird, it’s starting to rain

It’s getting darker

I’m moving slow

Wind is coming from behind me

The sun is still out, in the distance a quick storm

Damp and chilly, fresh spring air

Im in no hurry

I don’t anticipate hitting the horizon anytime soon,

it’s at least 3,4,5 miles

Starting to go uphill, there are some deer in the crops, there are houses in the distance

it’s darker where the debt is

walking along a drainage basin I just floated up above where I was but I can’t see the horizon, there’s not a lot of visibility, I moved the clouds, now there’s sun in the horizon, still have the wind at my back, moving slowly

I’m not getting closer, it maintains its distance

I’ve never been out there before, the distance is only as real as I imagine it

I’ve only walked as far as I can float

I feel driven and motivated, it’s pretty clear, taking the path of least resistance, it’s not the most direct path, all I can see behind me now is corn

If I run it will be slippery, the ground is uneven, 

I lost my shoe, I’m walking slower.

It’s everywhere

It’s not mine or everyone’s it’s been around for the last 12 years, it will be around

condense it into somewhere

it’s on the ground 

it’s a dark pulsing blob

overtime I look at it it grows

I don’t want to look at it

It concentrates and dissipates

It’s made of the earth, it’s an enlarged version of some fungus from the corn 

Corn smut

I would not want to eat it, it smells musty

You could remove it from the blob

It’s dense, it’s like soft foam

It’s made of spores, it is a fungus

It spreads out, makes more spores

Malleable, you can break off sections

It seems familiar to me

Other people can see it, it has to be doused with gasoline and set on fire to disappear

It won’t start on fire, it smells bad

It would float in water for a while but eventually sink and get slimy, it wouldn’t die

These spores are alive, it lives on its surroundings as a parasite

If I burned it, the outside would burn first, shrivel, melt down into a dense version of its former self, you’d have to throw it into an active volcano

Poke it with a prod, flexes a little, moves.

I don’t want to poke all the way thru. 

Dense gel on the inside now that I burned it

I want to bury it, it won’t go anywhere if I bury it.

Put a pink flag so I know which hill its on.

Warm and balmy, the air is salty, walking on the beach.

The sand is coarse, no shoes.  It’s the beach I lived at when I was 22.  I often romanticize it, it’s idealistic, the picture I have, im walking towards a different beach.  Going towards the ‘black rocks’ big black rocks, hard to walk, the sand is coarse and sharp.  It’s not white, it’s not fine, lots of broken up debris, near a reef, plant debris, flotsom.  Fishing line, drift wood.  

No people on the beach, people far ahead at the marina, calm, the water is clear.  Sunny and still, it’s tedious to walk, slipping towards the water, it hurts, I can’t even really see it from the close point of view.  I can see the wall.

Zoomed into the sand:  every piece is so smoothe on its own even though it is so hard and sharp.  There’s a lot of colors, 10 meters of sand below, with lava below, 

red magma hot, 

crusty layers, swirling, 

cavern/tunnel.  

The lava tube is completely inaccessible.   

To dig in the sand is futile, one handful of sand out, it will get automatically refilled, it seems very foreign.

The lava tubes would look like veins.  There are places where they reach into the ocean, maybe the whole island was made by the lava squirting out

Now there’s a piece of glass below me, I’m on top of the lava—its not welcoming.  “they”

I’m so glad the glass is there, it’ thick

Like when you walk on an aquarium or a museum

4” thick, it’s very Indiana jones

people are dying, it’s wrapping around all the buildings, like cake batter

I have explorer boots, gentle thud, stepping lightly

I want to get off the glass, so I made it go under the sand

Now the glass is under the sand

Alex

.:”:::….

Lava

No people, maybe a dog, a black lab

I heard it more than I saw it

I stopped moving, explored vertically

Now I am fascinated by the glass thing

Cross section view of  the glass 

Its hot and sticky, the sand sucks

You can only walk towards the square cut out of the ground,

Sand waterfall, you could look down or look up

Sand

I don’t particularly fond of sand 

Gets all over your stuff

Walking long distances in sad I despise

Its really hot, gets on your stuff

Always a balancing act

How do you eradicate sand,there’s something

A giant machine, heat, pressure, acid

Going with lightning, hits the beach, creates a glass shard—shaped like lightning

It’s structurally unsound, fragile, brittle, shaped like a lightning bolt

It’s glass, the sand particles have been fused together

I break a piece off, 

It’s obsidian, flaky

3-4 feet tall, it’s stuck into the ground vertically

I layed it on the ground,

It’s completely otherworldly.

It is a heavy object, there’s something about it that is very attractive.

The fruits of the debt.

The beach widened

It’s warm, flavorless like licking a warm plate, different faces, different edges, bumpiness where the most granules connect.

The most striking thing is the heat on it, charged up, all the sun’s energy is in it.  Shaped like an electric lightning bolt, turning into a sword, sharp enough

Held it in my hand and it turned into a sword.

You could never swing it, it would just shatter.

It seems to have a unique relationship to it, it doesn’t bump or stick to the sand

The sand recognizes the kinship, the sword’s lineage.

You have to be careful with it, it could cut you.

It has a nice weight to it.

It’s totally harnessed the skies.

It’s a ceremonial object, no utility in it.

It has a mystical ability, I could hold it up and shoot power

It could sell for a lot of money, to a ceo, for their display case

You can’t swing it but you can jab someone

I want to go snorkeling with it

It seems like something I shouldn’t keep for myself

The best place is in the ocean, maybe someone will find it, I wont try to hide it.

And that little piece I broke off, I will keep it, the dog stopped barking the whole time I drew it from the sand, he could sense it 

I’m in the water the water is shallow

I went to the shelf the waves are breaking

I don’t want to toss it, if I tossed it, it would sink down

I’m trying to justify keeping it, no one would know how it was valued

They’d see that the value was unusual, financial value etc., it’s a rare and beautiful thing

I don’t know what to do

I left it at the wall, on the shallow side

Where it can be found

I do want someone to find it I guess

Im happy to be back at the beach, it’s warm and it’s land.

cold air, it’s dense, very moist, not windy

the ground became clear, first it was cement and sand

I’m above the ocean

walking on plastic, in plastic

Same material is all around me, the top is open

It’s sunny and warm, can’t feel elements

Cant go through it (this material), wouldn’t be able to reach (this material)

It’s long, it’s like a basket, as I walk it moves with me

You can see it, but when I reach for it it moves with me

It’s hard under my feet

I turned to see if it wanted to turn with me now

We’re walking along the beach, a long beach

No one is around, the waves originally were not moving

The plastic thing softens everything around me, protects me from elements

It wants to go in lines, walking along beach

It feels like its in the translucent matter

Artificial substance, in this environment it seems more natural

It’s made of little bubbles/spheres, they’re frozen

It’s not really a plastic, its not as brittle

I know what it feels like though I can’t touch it

It’s like a rubber spatula

Itls transparent but if I didn’t wear my glasses it might not look right, it’s hovering.

I don’t feel scared but it doesn’t feel like it’s there, but it is there, it makes me feel like I can do anything

If I pay attention to my feet I can tell I’m not walking on the real ground, it changes the way I look at things, to the left or right I can’t tell what I’m seeing

It’s a little warped, like an old window

I don’t think people can see it on me, I’ve never seen it on anyone else, maybe other people have it

Everyone has them under their feet, like hover crafts

It’s like a transparent magic carpet with sides but not a front or back

I’m kinda driving it, if I see it, I have to move to see if it’s really there.

It feels like it could change forms, it’s always there somewhere.

It would be weird if it wasn’t there.

If I turn it will turn.

If I lay down it goes under my back, supports me,

It feels like it knows me, we’re always together.

I can’t step on anything through it

but it just moved a little bit so I could drive.

It makes me a little taller than anyone else everyone at the dance club has one.

Some people’s are higher off the ground than mine, it doesn’t go into anyone else’s, stays separate.  The edges feel more solid than the thing itself, it’s always there when I put my feet down.

I’m just walking so I don’t notice it’s there.

Over the situation it’s gotten more solid, less spatula, the edges are straight, I feel like I’m getting more cautious of cutting things, hard to get it through the door, it’s sort of uncomfortable.

I see some light burst through trees, rippling shadows.

It’s dusk, it’s across the street, it’s getting a little warmer, as I cross the street the warmth touched my face, breeze, sunset on left.

It’s outside of a building, maybe in the yard.

It’s hard to make out, a pile coming up to my chest, 5 feet.It’s dry, it’s not stable, it could change (the material) 

It’s made of particles, you could take a handful

It leaves a sticky residue, I want to get it off my hands

Whatever the substance is, I can’t get the particles off

Theyre almost moving around eachother, ike electrons but slow

I could step in it, it’s the size of a car, it’s dull there are parts that are shiny, I would sink in if I tried to climb it, it goes far into the ground, parts I can’t see.  There’s another sunstance the particles turn into, fluffier, the whole thing is transforimgn because I’m in it, fluffy like fake cotton, I’m feeling more comfortable.  

It feels new, it’s a discovery, it is articicial, something new kind of material, supernatural- not natural to the earth.  It could have grown out of something already here, mutated, it’s not scoopable anymore

It could be vaccuumed and suctioned, I wouldn’t be able to move itwith my hands and get all of it.

It’s whispier now, it’s almost floating, it’s over my head, I don’t know if I will sink into the ground or not— it’s a familiar feeling.

I don’t want to fight it, I don’t know if I want to get out.  I could if I wanted to.

I can see out of it

It’s become a cocoon around me, it’s really fragile, but I don’t want to break out of it, I’m protected.

I could rip it.

If I put it in my pocket it would dissove.

It will naturally erode, the wind and earth and animals.

I think other people have similar cocoons.