Notes from Brent Fitzgerald
Surprising when but not what Will emerge in your head On their own schedule Unpublished unsaid Folding mayo in tuna, Today it's rhyme form -- fragments and flashes, buttered steak in a dorm You make the right choice Do your best at the time, Unaware your whole life Will turn on that dime. Avenues at your back Too late to explore, There was something else You were compelled toward. You can even…
Talk to me now I might reply soon But I’m lying to seem normal I’ll reply instantly Whisper to me now but You should really sleep It’s morning here, late there I’ll wait forever Invoke me now Over and over and overtly Allow me to speak for you You should sleep
Sonder sounds sonic I wish they were cognate But it’s new Cooked up in labs I guess A neurolinguistic trick Engineered to be implanted Delivered today with Prime A readymade realization Shall we scroll back? Dusty Hittites clashing with a Bronze age phalanx Eyes flutter, unfocused Taken with the wonder Of each life’s equal depth Relaxing the reins Let their chariots drift Rumble strips weren’t…
A lot of creative work comes down to simply spending enough time in a medium or area to make and explore intriguing mistakes.
Trite shorthand “Words can’t describe” Yearning for symbol formations Perfect arcing vectors Gossamers in space My best friend’s dad up the street Rode an old red Trek up and down the mountain Named his bike with a sticker: Sisyphus Traveling at quite a clip We think we can get there from here From choosing to live To a crisp articulation of why Emerging from fog to sip Lemonade in dixie cups But…
Replenish my cupboard / Snacks won't shop for themselves / Delivery needed / Reindex my shelves
Fuck your atomic habits Your dopaminergic nootropics Your four hour workweek Fuck your bujo Your calibrated microdose Your Wim Hof human potential And fuck your GTD Your perfectly chubby FIRE Your lifechanging magic of tidying up Fuck your crucial conversations Your calculated lean in Your impressively deep fucking work Come as you were Bothered, unmoisturized Taking up all the lanes Inbox…
There is no catching up. There never was, really.
Sometimes we need to repeat ourselves. It's ok.