since sociopathic tech people high on capitalism and adderall along with this fucking internet has killed san francisco cities jobs neighborhoods families what's left of america art music writing  porn sweetness romance real actual human community and eye contact and real conversation dead along with anything else sacred good and holy or sweet i'm working on starting a secret scene  returning to a local real world art dream offline away from ubiquitous photos  fucking documentation  i'll be back online in a more basic  attenuated informational and likely misdirecting form by the spring or summer  the best secrets are in real life and that's where us true artists must return to while a few of us remember how some of us must live life in the open but it'll be secret since everyone's bent over looking into their fucking phones anyhow  fuck the phone people   they are twitchy and creepy and can't finish a fucking thing worth anything all they are is short term memory resume talk  fuck the creepy psychopathic phone people the few of you troglodites left out there shivering like you're the last feeling crying sobbing loving human alive after the invasion of the corporate drone body snatchers it's time to stop trying to fit in throw away the deadening "fit in" medication so you can cry again grow your pubic hair back and cuddle like sweethearts and not hell bent hookers for a change it's time to find each other again   like the old days when you walked miles through drippy dark alleyways  take your milk money you saved for a particular fucking song or comic book magazine friend or life style i fucking remember how to be human do you do you remember when everything wasn't for sale yet   including your fucking self