Finally Art

Over the last three years I have been apprehensive to post Art here.  I've done it a few times if I had other attachments to go with them such as poetry usually.  I've been looking around for a proper site that was properly free but I came close.

http://eganclick.imgur.com/

Heard you Calling

#1

Hey I heard you calling from over there.  I was just staring at where the blues diminish the grays and the mountains are different shades of peas.  No no I thought I heard your voice but maybe I was mistaken.  There are so many different bird whistles, from the Cardinals to the Blue Jays, to the Ducks and the Snow Fouls.  It was to early in the morning to actually see you.  Only the noises could be distinguished from the monotony of darkness.  Did you not say something from behind that oak tree between the two bushes that produced those thorns.  The one’s that have dug into my skin from before.  The kind that can get stuck into your skin and dig, crawl in between places you didn’t know you had, extra storage, the fleshiest pieces of skin.  Can’t you just come back out and tell me your question.  Was it how old am I?  Or how bold was the Mayans?  I could only pick up the syllables between the whirring of the leaves, the peddling of the creek, the wind just under the horizon.  Only the murmur could come in contact with my ears under my knitted hat, and I was a little uncomfortable at the time too.  But then when I say that orange, blood clotted circle appear, the wisps started to scatter, you know the whispers, and the dew driven gnats passed over the horizon, slowly lifting above our atmosphere, passing into unilateral time, never to be, only, seen again.
***
I saw the words on the other side of the stars.  People usually say stars twinkle but their light remains constant, as an object, and if they are transforming slowly, fading and awning, that means they are only passively entering death.  Stars have options before they die like words have many ways to be interpreted.  Each second I stare, the wind passed over the clouds, usually pearl white, now hardly distinguishable between the midnight purple of space and the blackness of the clouds.  It’s as if the words on a page were being wrapped underneath the spacing between lines, were missed between the message of a sentence, the massage of senses.  It never truly made any remarks, no remembrance of my past, no insight on the future.  Just letters illuminated under my own two flashlight eyes.  Letters I have never seen before, only touched with my hands, only smelt being spoken from chapped lips, from a parched mouth and a salivating tooth.  I thought I saw it again, even when I stare at the same spot, just north of Orion’s belt, after every blink, looking until the dirty particles project into my thin veiled plasma obstructing my lenses.

The Equation

I've been writing a new album and also been working on the music too.

Here is what I have so far.

http://staticparticles.bandcamp.com/track/pews-through-loopholes

http://staticparticles.bandcamp.com/track/316

http://staticparticles.bandcamp.com/track/future-ghost

http://staticparticles.bandcamp.com/track/two-for-one-beat

http://staticparticles.bandcamp.com/track/just-look-back

Update:  It's an EP and that's it.  If you get a cd from me there will be an intro track called Drum Core.

Don't Steal My Thunder

Chapter One:  I was born with it

So, yeah, I was born.  I've been born for twenty two years.  I'm sure you know if you have been following but who has the time.  I don't even have enough time to reflect.  Maybe I can find a few moments to retell you moments from my life.  I can't always hide behind these black shirts and black pants with black shoes.  It used to be hair .
Long brown curly hair would cover my face.  I had it long since the 6th grade. Not much upkeep, it would just form by itself.  It started because I wanted it.  I didn't really know if long hair was cool or not but by all means, it definitely was on me.  My hair didn't let it grow out into a bowl cut.  The curls would flow down my face onto my shoulders like a women's.  At work I would mistakenly be called a girl from customers because of it.  It was pretty cool.
It would grow and grow and I would hardly notice.  Teenagers spend all their time looking into mirrors to pop pimples and fix their split ends.  I didn't.  I had my own shield, a mask that served me many functions.  Kept the sunlight out of my eyes which helped me nap in class.  Long, thick hair to look through so I could cheat on chemistry tests. But the more I used it, the more it started to identify me.

T-Shirts

I did this one for my band/site. It came from a design I made in my notebook about a month ago. I've been thinking a lot about what Static Particles means since it's become more then just this blog. At first it was supposed to be a group of my friends, all writing and putting work up. Static Particles was derived as a term to explain us. Static being in place, set in and primarily finished. Particles is the idea that we are all just in our own atmospheres and tiny. But when particles relate they form a community. But then it just became me. It wasn't really a moniker but just a place for us particles to react to. Then I published a book under the site name. I view it now as a different state of being an artist. When writing I go under my actual name, Egan Maxwell Click. That is who I am. Static Particles is the particle I give to. It's a one spot shop for me, Egan. I do music underneath the name, writing. It's pretty much just my publisher of everything. And here is one I made for my buddy Dakota which moved to Martha's Vineyard and Danny is taking a trip out there. Here is there music http://mammothrecords.bandcamp.com/album/for-the-floor-of-your-car . The shirt says Twin Pipes and it's from a design I made on paper from about a year ago. Here is some Twin Pipes music https://soundcloud.com/halucigens/sets/twin-pipes-two-strangers

This is just between the Audio and the Speakers

cigarettes and opportunities

static particles

this goes out to all my bum fucks
post grads with all the talent but no luck
working to jobs just so we can keep ducking
them bills, saving up for some cheap thrills
but my moneys in the bank still
so i can spend it on my saturn
and we used to go by the name lantern
friends forever
artists are better
because we stick round
for all that bad weather
and we experience
this experiment
live by the thrift broooil
outdoorsmen niche
no response
just battered only ever underweight
like a disaster
the paint stays splattered
because art is just art
it's not smart like you're bladder
and the worlds fatter then me
afford the super size
with two sides
and you're still blue right?
because happiness never gets too stick
around for the food fight

bitter like a radio transmitter
during dinner
because you were a so so winner
you're the difference between a heavy binder
and a reform sinner
now your off in the distance
picking pockets, sucking odd dick
behind the laundrymat's kids
but back to business
you can't act weak
behind your egotistical innocense
bend the fender
and i'm just trying to keep ripe like bananas
yellow in a blender
smooth too smooth us over
but the dirt was just too rich for our land rover
now just sand over
because i can't do these bars over
at my own apartment
that last place we almost got charged with arson
and i'll never hit the target



bored like a bored
i am too sure
to be investing in ore
yah poor?
what to expect
yeah i'm poor
and no i can't get blown
i need to stay responsible
so i can pay back my student loans
supposed to be a writer
but i walk to what i love
like a hiker
and use my own energy
like a biker
none of us were supposed to end
up like this
and i smoke between the breaks
between both my shifts
because i just want to kick it
fuck sleep
i'm still dreaming about
all my wishes
and trying to come up with my
life's wish list
is implicit
yah gifted
get back to the end of line
where all the grown kids is