Modernism’s (temporarily) modern manifesto:
/Writing consists of endless ideas streaming in from all directions, deliberately illuminating unknown, unrecognized truths. Not always in a this-sentence-is-actually-referring-to-that sense, or a that-means-that sense either, sometimes in a simple that-is-that sense. A sense so fundamentally counter-intuitive that it becomes trivially complex. A truthfulness so brilliantly blatant that it becomes impossible.Truth apprises us that ideas, and meaning, and truth itself are nonexistent, mere syllable utterances affixed to useless intangible essences. Meaning must be conceived and explained and created. Contrived. Meaning is force fed, while truth is self-realized, truth is primordial and stands on its own, truth is. You can’t palpate truth like you can shoulder or sandal or syringe or soda can or soap or skull, truth acknowledges its own falseness.
The following writing is not a story, it is a word-portrait, a mosaic of words of various strokes and colors painting various pictures all on the same canvas. Stories hold meaning while word-portraits hold isness. Word-portraits are isnesses exhibited in the form of words.
There’s always a preference. In absolutely everything. (I thought of that while high on cannabis in my kitchen and thought it prolific.)
*honestly i got too high on marijuana which sometimes happens if i don’t eat BEFORE smoking and everything takes on a hideously insidious viciousness with fleeting glimpses of triumphant bliss despite the debilitating state of weed induced despair*( triumphant bliss is a product of absolute despair, only after extreme thirst can urine seem appetizing)
Illumination would be to realize the undisturbed still nothingness of trees and their processes and be content with that knowledge alone; being the knowledge of everything.
The word-portrait is the truth, you don’t write the grass is green because the grass being green means anything, you write the grass is green because it is green.
I glance at meaning and truth and spit in their fucking faces.
Modernism relies on relativity, in year one, there is no modernism. Modernism needs distinct features to distinguish itself from pastism and former traditions. There is no such thing as post-modernism. The modernism of now is post-modernism because it is proceeding the prior state of modernism. Modernism must be in a perpetual state of change in order to remain truthful.
My mate says I like to be touched like a girl. She calls me her bitch humorously.
*sometimes i think that im a great artist and i imagine people praising my genius and actually calling me a literary genius and my enigmatic responses to interviewers and… and inspiring a generation to adhere to my own ideologies and for scholars to dissect my work in their thesis and have disputes over when the original draft was written or what a particular phrase meant and when people ask my mother what her sons name is and she responds teddy duncanjr. they ask her if itsthe teddy duncan jr.*
Everything can be disproved.
-would you like a fork or a spoon? what’s your preference? there’s always a preference.-/ (end of the manifesto and beginning of the word-potrait under the title ‘A penny’s brief roll down a street beneath the lit up streetlights’)
Bustling Walmart..Insect precision check out aisles chirping waning scan beeps.. Check out aisles chirping waning insect precision scan beeps..Precision waning scan beeps insect chirping from check out aisles..Waning beeps waning scan insect chirping from check out aisles..Waning scan beeps chirping from insect precise check out aisles. Police cars police cars police cars.
Battered, consolidated smudge stained penny rolling on its perfectly chipped outer rim beneath lit streetlights. 1957 inscribed across its back.
*additional explanation and example of the word-portrait can be viewed at the Occulum literary journals’ website, published on oct.25thof this year*
teddy duncan jr / born and raised in poinciana florida / allen ginsberg disciple