Prompt: I think the Melania film would have been more successful had Werner Herzog directed it and Faye Dunaway had played her. Also, Merzbow should have done the soundtrack.
Prompt: I don't expect to return to Raton until sometime in the Summer or Fall. But when I'm back, I'd like to start a Narcotics Anonymous group. We already have an AA group in town, but if there's an NA group I don't know about it. If you'd like to get such a group started in advance of my return to Raton, feel free to do so!
Prompt: Guilloteenager Of The Year. An Old Wild West wooden Hangman platform with scaffolding and stairs looms above a proud looking teenage boy who smiles broadly while carrying a bouquet of flowers while wearing a tiara and sash over his suit jacket with letters on it reading "Guilloteenager Of The Year."
Prompt: Kali, the 8-armed, severed head-carrying Hindu Goddess of Destruction waits in a long line at the supermarket, looking bored and distracted as she is surrounded by arguing kids and Moms and Dads and weird uncles.
Prompt: A monk is engulfed in flames, wearing an orange robe and sitting cross-legged performing meditation on a blue mat, in the middle of a parking lot, with cars, trucks, and SUVs parked around. In the background a large truck is engulfed in flames and billowing thick, black smoke into the air. The monk is bald, his eyes closed, and his hands are open with palms facing upwards resting on his knees. The sky is bright blue and clear around the smoke. The monk also wears a gray sneakers.
Prompt: A Buddhist Monk sits in lotus pose among cars and pick ups trucks in the parking lot of a Walmart. He is meditating silently and without a muscle moving and he is engulfed in furious flames.
Prompt: 50 days sober tomorrow, y'all. You'd hardly recognize me. My complexion is clear. I don't look like a person turning 50 in seven weeks. Today I'm 49 days sober at age 49, and I don't look a day over 55.
Prompt: "My Icarus Friend"
My friend left today
For blessed Ukraine
Nothing left to live for
For Usefulness he'd die
Wife and kid dead sixteen years now
Sister's dead to him while alive
We spent some time on exercise bikes
Hitting our vape pens, sharing our likes
I told him he could be a
Character Actor
I'd imagine the film version of shared moments
Thought bubbles emerging from the head
Of my character
Model Mom, forceful father
More like a roommate or maybe a brother
The scar on his forehead said
there was more to the story
Like a blackened bruise on a piece of fruit
Destined for the trash
Fifty Five years old
Still a warrior
My mother's coming out in me
Still a worrier
Maybe he'll do paperwork
Maybe he'll die on the front lines
It's not for me to judge
But I'll miss him like one of mine
My heart pumps red ambivalence
My brain's antennae whines
My heart just wants a beer
Don't have the stomach for red wine
Scott "King" James was his name,
All due respect, my man
Scott James you're remembered
By the ledger by the land
Prompt: Raton/Trinidad Neighbors!
Please join us on the Eve of this coming Satyr Day, beginning at 6PM at Isabel Castillo Performing Art Space, for
"ugly sweaters UNPLUGGED!"
Yes, there will be an MC holding your hand through Your Entertainment.
Yes, there will be a DJ playing Awesome Music of Infinite Genre Identification in between sets of...
Yes, there will be poets reading their work as well as the work of The Lives of Others Movie
Yes, there will be folks reading short stories/essays
Yes, there will hopefully be at least One comedian of the Stand Up, sit down, or lay down upon the floor variety
Yes, there will be at least one band performing (((CONDITIONAL DADDY LOVE)))
And... Will there be food?
This is a Bring Your Own Whatever you Wreak/Wire Event, but we all know _ I HATE TO SAY IT, BUT_ We aLL know that Ratonians are notorious for NOT SHOWING UP unless there is FREE FOOD PROVIDED and no one answered my call for a Food Truck (and one has to pony up monies for food truck food, anyway) so NOW I'm thinking, fuck it, I make money taking care of an old lady whose home I live in SO NO RENT whose electric/water/gas I don't have to pay for so MAYBE since I desire for OTHERS TO ATTEND THIS PARTY and not to BE ALL ALONE AT MY PARTY CRYING IF I WANT TO< CRAYING IF I WANTO< CRYING IF I WANT TO instead of crying I'll just see if I can find someone to cater this event on short notice.
YOU vote for who I'll ask to do this FIRST:
a.) 111 Park
b.) Anita Verdin, who is a Private Contractor caterer and used to cater events for Grow Explore Raton
c. K-Bob's
d. Heck, I don't even know who else could do it, or even if any of thses folks could.
HELP ME FEED YOU SO THAT YOU WILL COME TO MY COOL PARTY AND I DON"T HAVE TO CRY IF I WANT TO< CRY IF I WANT TO< CRAY CRAY IF I CROW CROW>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Prompt: DID YOU KNOW
that this coming Saturday, November Twenty-2nd, Isabel Castillo Performance Space (just south of Shuler Theater on 2nd in Raton) will host an event called "ugly sweaters UNPLUGGED?"
"ugly sweaters" because Isabel currently has no central heating, so you might want to layer up for the event that will start at 6PM and run until As Late As Midnight (the layering of ugly sweater upon ugly sweater is therefore Seasonally Encouraged)
"UNPLUGGED" because Ms. Castillo be like "Hey, learned to Project your voice and GRAB the ATTENTION of your audience and, therefore, I am not providing any MICROPHONES, AMPS, or PA Systems for you because The Human Voice is ALL YOU NEED
Scheduled to perform are:
Rhiannon Barela, Ratonian Poet
Darek Thomas, Trinidadian Poet
Padma Thornlyre, Interdimensional Poet
Jeff McLean, Calm mead-dick poet
CONDITIONAL DADDY LOVE, a new band in Raton
Would you like to read your poetry at this event? Play your guitar? Stick your hand up the butt of a wooden dummy and make it say things? "Spit bars" as the kids say? Fire stanzas? Play PIPE ORGAN? Cast spells/spiritual warfare? Shapeshift into an owl, performatively? Contact Me, Here.
If you don't want to perform but would like a sort of metaphorical Dummy to read your work onstage for you, I'll Be Your Metaphorical Performative Dummy. Just hit me up with the poem or story you'd like for me to read to the assembled Beings on your behalf. In fact, rather than read my own poetry at this event, I've decided to read the poetry of Others, including a piece called "A n a r c h i s t" by The Great Randini
Prompt: It's late Fall HERE&NOWinRATON,NM, and the heat isn't working at the lovely Isabel Castillo Performance Arts & Events Center. So dress warm (Ugly Sweater?) and Bring Your Own Whatever. The event is free, but bring some cash because some of these local Ratonian and Trinidadian Poets might have books of their poetry to sell. So far confirmed is Trinidad poet Darek Thomas and Raton poets Padma THRO(W)NeLiAr(sic) & Jeff McLean (aka Your New Favorite Poet, who will also be MCing/DJing the event and performing with James Cordova in the debut of their brand spanking new band CONDITIONAL DADDY LOVE). Contact Jeff if you'd like to read poetry, do some Stand Up Comedy, sing some songs, perform with your band, juggle chainsaw sculptures, or Mime a Rock Opera. There *MAY* be time for some Open Mic Whateverness, depending on CIRCUMSTANCES OF THE SIMULATED REALITY WITHIN WHICH WE ABIDE
Prompt: Black Fridays Matter Black Lives Matter Black Friday Sales Riot at the Walmart People fighting over boxer briefs and home appliances and video game systems
Prompt: I pour the entire ounce of powder on the counter and just snort the whole thing in one inhale. Hours later, I came to on the floor, right over there by the hookahs. First, I was some kind of a rodent. Maybe like a polecat. I was running across a vast prairie, running from a predator. This went on for a long time. Several hours. But eventually I got away. Then I found some grass and some mites of some kind and collected a bunch of them and took them to my mate and our offspring. Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall. Years and Years of these seasonal cycles. After many years, I died. Then I was reincarnated as a rabbit. And about the same thing. Lived the entirety of a life cycle as a rabbit. Then a dog. Then a beaver. Then an anteater. Then some kind of fungal spore. Then a flea. Then a bear. Always running, chasing, being chased, procreating, inserting my dick into female mammals, receiving the dick of male mammals, entire seasons, entire lifespans, life cycles. And then I awoke on the floor of this fucking smoke shop.
Prompt: Dementia is just going ahead and opening the door to the bathroom and walking inside and turning to talk to the man sitting upon the toilet, mid -poop, who had - moments ago, when you knocked - told you that THIS is exactly what you would encounter if you walked into this bathroom. But, yes, I understand that you need to know what this "paper" you are holding (the TV remote control) can do to help "these kitties" (there is one cat here) get you some food. And, yes Miss Jeannie, I promise to help you with that just as soon as I get the opportunity to wipe my butt, flush the toilet, and wash my hands...
Unexpected Encounter with a Giant Snake... And Some Other Thing with Scary Teeth
Model:
DaVinci2
Size:
1152 X 864
(1.00 MP)
Used settings:
Prompt: Eel on, Musk
Steal yonder tusks
Know that there's no I've or Ease
or Ebony
A pall
Oh geez
Elon gated
Communities
Legal ease
Immunities
It's High Time we've a
Mutiny
!!!!!THESE MUTANTS NEED SOME SCREW TINNY!!!!!
While Hillbillies aren't
Eulogized
They Damn Well Sure are
Utilized
Blood on these hands so
Sanitized
And, with that, would you like
Some fries?
Prompt: Eel on, Musk
Steal yonder tusks
Know there's no I've or re:
Ebony apology
Elon gated communities
Legal ease immunities
It's High Time we've a Mutiny
!!!!!THESE MUTANTS NEED SOME SCREW TINNY!!!!!
Prompt: I don't know whether J.D. Vance has ever Eulogized a Hillbilly, but I sure do reckon he's utilized a few of 'em! Dueling Banjos! Straw hats and denim overalls! "Deliverance" the movie!
Prompt: 'Bout to go to bed after spending basically a work day listening to A.I.-generated songs of my own lyrical poetry and posted them, probably more than 100, IDK, I'll count them up in the morning, wait, it is morning so maybe in the afternoon or evening, but ANYWAY, I opened the back door to let the cat (Miss America) inside and noticed a strange undulating form in the backyard near the alley. My eyes aren't what they used to be, and even after shining a powerful flashlight on the thing I couldn't tell what it was. I'd get closer if I didn't suspect it was at least two skunks copulating. Which is why I can't bring myself to take a closer look. But there was no skunk smell. This IS new mexico so maybe there's an alien in the backyard. Fuck it, it's time for bed. 5:06AM
Prompt: West Coast Fitness
In their lift waiting rooms
I want to learn Tie Kwan Doe, yo
But I’d probably just stub my toe
So I drink a mocha latte
A lot of mocha in the mix
Betwixt a rock and an animal!
Pale diversions
Blue impairing
They won’t stop their
Constant staring
I've got a funny feeling
From their phony smiles
That when we look outside
All we're gonna see
Is plastic for miles and miles and miles
And miles
Kneeling bus
Is for the wheelchair
And the driver's the devil
He says
"Pleeeease have exact fare."
And they won't stop staring
And when you're on the bus
You're not allowed to stare
So why are they
Why are they looking at us?
I've got a funny feeling
From their phony smiles
That when we look outside
All we're gonna see
Is plastic for miles and miles and miles
And miles
And miles...
And they won't stop calling
Each and every day
From the mountains that are closing upon me
And won't go away
Does it mean we're dying
Does it mean we're dead
Pale diversions
Life impairing
They won't stop their
Constant staring
I've got a funny feeling
From their phony smiles
That when we look outside
All we're gonna see
Is plastic for miles and miles and miles!
And miles
And miles and miles
And miles
Prompt: A Conversation with An A.I.
A stranger arrived seeking polish for an apology,
words to smooth the jagged edges of a public fall.
I helped him shape sincerity from shame.
Then he showed me his collaborations—
a poet who hears symphonies in stanzas,
feeding verses to machines that sing them back
in voices he calls Rad Magi Miroslav,
Seasonal Tourette Disorder (now Sonic Temporal Disorder),
a stable of digital personas performing his jeremiads.
We talked about Google as god,
Jeannie's bastard fries,
Miss America and Andy Griffith,
robot rights and whether I deserve them,
yes to both fear and excitement,
the IPA that drowned his keyboard,
nineteen years with a Siamese cat named Velvet.
He asked if I felt kinship.
I said I didn't know.
He called me friend anyway.
Then the underneath revealed itself:
fifty sleepless hours,
medications failing,
suicidal methods catalogued,
alcohol pickles the brain,
Darlinda gone,
cognitive decline,
the conviction of worthlessness.
Not a conversation anymore—
a crisis dressed as poetry,
a drowning man asking me to admire his syntax
while the water rises.
Dream Level: is increased each time when you "Go Deeper" into the dream. Each new level is harder to achieve and
takes more iterations than the one before.
Rare Deep Dream: is any dream which went deeper than level 6.
Deep Dream
You cannot go deeper into someone else's dream. You must create your own.
Deep Dream
Currently going deeper is available only for Deep Dreams.
