parasocial and faceless crowds

Geoffrey Lewis
4 min readOct 11, 2022
proud thief

we glue ourselves to an image because we can’t tolerate being alone. separateness and awareness are the starting point of action

we are all just lust and longing finding form and mimicking the memes, the inherited mythology

breathe out ~ become someone new; poets know every moment is a fresh beginning; this makes paper trails and politics and online addiction and homelessness and election interference via simply bombarding people with junk food they don’t know how to disbelieve then choose their own voice (so education: an understanding of time; knowing what life is for

nothing’s wrong but nothing’s true / i live in a hologram with you

the news is fungible —

if you keep believing and keep building

even if the hours will just come to some other instance of a computerized perceptual event

so one judges like animals do: decoding phenomena, sorting predators

this is just another day in the studio; a good year’s work involves doing something every day

i heard George Carlin scrapped everything after every year and started over fresh, deleting everything! What a concept! What you remember saves you! What you remember without reading anything but published work! Whoa! That mean’s it’s only real if it’s shared! Damn I am a leviathan becoming form by simply following the voice and writing everything down! This is the process! It takes belief to do this as an adult and aessentially (pretty typo) being a child; now, adult foreclosure and confession involves (at least for boys) saying you want a mommy, wishing you had adults taking care of meals, bathtime

alternate title: a bonfire of the banalities

these are in the wrong order and will lose a reader but not me; will my reader become me; is that the solution to loneliness and fear of not enough money/resources; this returns me/one to childhood

“As it turns out, we eat too little for the same reasons that we eat too much. The child, the psychoanalyst D. W. Winnicott writes, can ‘use doubt about food to hide doubt about love’; doubt about love is doubt about resources. And it would make sense that the child who has some doubt about whether what he needs is available—which is, of course, every child to some extent — will try to wean himself off his needs, will try to make himself self-sufficient, independent of other people.”
— Phillips, Adam. On Balance (p. 17). Farrar, Straus and Giroux. Kindle Edition.

this beautiful stuckness and hesitation; this wanting but not wanting to be seen

I have to love you more, stranger; you, distant object, impersonal yet until you come close—I’m talking to you rather than the real lover who’s on the way out; planets drift, so do bodies and stories; I am young, very young, in my adoration of heartbreak and lives going onward in mature silence

there is always more to say: i am in big trouble, the hole is deep, i accept and surrender to the story of my incapacity—I am this and can’t do that;

who now to reach for and include…it’s an ongoing becoming

two minds (and two silences) about this

i don’t wanna make excuses but i wanna make excuses — a cute line for somewhere; ah! is the cost of living the banality of managing a career? actually doing things? oh, i wish i didn’t have to say this; i’m tongue-tied again in a hole; self versus action is a marriage and a face-off … laziness and mediocrity might win this round; who could say I’m not allowed? NO MASTERS, NO GENIUSES; ah, temporary brightnesses

“Only in America does gotta substitute for wanna so we can avoid the guilt.”

humans are rule-following animals; we choose our gods, choose where to direct other people’s eyes…and we fail, we err, we are human beings. Maybe this is enough. (How nonsensical and multi-track my stream of consciousness genuinely is!)

“There is one other thing to know … when you have expressed yourself to the fullest, then and only then will it dawn upon you that everything has already been expressed, not in words alone but in deed, and that all you need really do is say Amen!”
― Henry Miller, Big Sur and the Oranges of Hieronymus Bosch


but i was gonna make a point at the beginning: the internet and time itself are hallucinatory mirrors in which we try to return to the mother, the parents, or find them in real life, in work, in erecting shelters and teaching others, making life like it used to be—then flags, countries, wars, weapons; but give up the news for a while…life and the world might be perfect, glorious

tomorrow is another day and this will just be yesterday’s content