GUNZ

(Bamboo Forest, Maui, HI, 2007)

Perhaps now more than ever I should tell you this. And this is how I will feed you clues, hints, or stabs at something that perhaps I don't even know yet. But we'll get through this.
Was the image attractive enough, was the title alluring? Either way you're reading this, right now, and my hands are no longer typing away, I don't know what they're doing.

It is up to you if this next paragraph exist, if you are giving that much more, giving me the time to finish what I just might say, what I might get at here. I almost lost you there just now. Thank you for staying with me.
It isn't just the factor of the stranger or the anonymous, and how I escape your name, my faceless reader, it is an act of bearing everything I have, without knowing truly why, and just an act of action. It is the way the words come out, as if a thought ran its way across my body and through my fingers in these dexteral movements; pressure here and pressure there, as these characters appear. It is how their represented, how the formation of them is iconic, and how they escape aesthetics and mediate on exactly what they are, language of communication. I want to talk of communication, how a stone is thrown in the air and travels to another surface to scratch it, to push it, to make its mark, and to transfer a movement and energy once completed within it and now is transcended through its direction, its collusion course to another rock, and that rock is now moved; taken in by the energy of another, as it now moves where one stone stopped. I ask what is this whole system, this dance, for? The stones eventually erode each other until they are frail and can no longer bare the impact of another, but their will to stop does not hold back the world around them, and with or without that frail stone's approval, another stone will come flying at that aged surface and crack and break apart that stone to dust. What remains is not lost, but the reminiscence of this dance, and when we look closer we can see the kiss of every stone to fade this surface to dust. We see the places this rock has been, the earth of distant lands, and the many rocks that have crashed into it. We start to see the history of an existence as we study its age and experience, and through all of this that pile of dust and tiny pieces of stone are put back together and taken with us as we collide with other surfaces, chipping away, and resonating with the world as our bodies echo a dance that has been going on for just about forever.

I wanted to share this to you.
Thank you for coming this far.