Unreal City: Recent Episodes
Taisei Igarashi
All things Tai! Mostly poetry but other things to come as well. Come join this ride of a young aspiring writer finding his way through life in Berlin.
they do! been inspired to write about writing and art since i’ve been diving deeper into the works of Charlie Kaufman. i literally looked up shades of brown and they’re names and they were meh so here ya go lol . . .
all shades of brown sound ugly
i used to think in quartets
now theyre everywhere and after three laps around merrion square wild suffering writers blocking the way paving the way for destruction nothing is happening
the writers make the nothing into everything
in a movie where nothing happens tomatoes rot and stain your original mind
look for it
the art is within the banal
we drown in singing voices the better the voice, the deeper maybe the best songs are buried in the ugliest of singers and yet the trees keep changing their look deciduously
yet no choice but to keep telling this story theres no foliage of paper you just keep turning
and the writer writes as though willpower is the only way to overcome the robots and coffee with extra sugar two cubes
when, now
the peace disturbed by my sanity
your clock is ticking tickticktickticking
searching researching the banality of greatness boredom and other attributes of me to you
i am no longer caught in the past those purple golden lights can no longer entice me
with crystal clear eyes i pierce through the dark beaming yellow staring at the mirror now the fog has cleared up
foggy age
the sounds fade away fatigue crawling up to my eyes
words in clusters dont make sense
the simple soul songs working class folk songs with easy repetitions smooth chord progressions classic guitar
lets sing along
the masterpieces keep getting printed in this day and age rampant with “information” entertainers and writers alike we claw for art and yet high art is somewhat foggy
who appreciates the unknown
dreaming of avant garde capitalism i’m too spoiled to write my poems on the back of fallen leaves i’m on my phone airdropping my feelings onto my macbook recording them posting them online
gotta make a presence
the artist is isolated and yet so connected the world does not allow for complete isolation the writer must live amongst the people write and tell the tales of those around one must write one must create one must put forth his writing
one must keep writing
speak to an audience while in my creative coccoon where no one can influence unless i let them
in this coccoon i interact i socialize i express i perform and in this coccoon i amplify my emotions and carefully spill them splatter them onto my page
one must keep writing in this foggy age
My good friend Malika joins us for the first episode of Unreal City: Citizens. We talk dolphins, travel, and our friendship.
Audio version from my Youtube video! Just finished watching the Tiger King documentary and just wanted to share my take on it. Enjoy!
New Poem! Spreading good vibes and good times.//ambages
the ambages tumble all the way to colorado la and vegas and lost time zones including hawaii
mostly pain swimming across oceans flying through radars never making it back
jealousy and pettiness we wrestle aside the uneasiness and compromise we cant go outside yet the introspection is minimal
it hurts too much
the ankles cracking we try to find a purpose no mornings no weekends either
just mostly mid afternoons dreamy midafternoons
the sunset reminds me of nostalgia and retrospect and the romantic ideal i suppose
what now
sometimes its cold and it feels like the sun never rises here and yet it does not so much on the green
much of the city is rubble not from broken dreams but broken lives in search for the dreamless dream in maniacal psychadelic fashion the people of this city shed their dreams for the collective dream that is this city
if the famous wall was a mirror in what shade would it color the ugly reflection what time of day for a city so well known for the darkness which person
cause you can get lost in it too
and that seems to be the charm yet all is quiet
and the broken lives are left to be picked up by sobering insomniacs
without any names
Starting a podcast! I write and record a poem a day so decided to put them in audio format as well! Enjoy! Text to follow/// stop motion mondays
the writing seems bleak the wall is tapering off
the yellow sticks no longer
the phone calls are not charged and this connected word seems lonely
at least to me
the dawn sets on darkness and the sun doesnt rise anymore
weve lost our touch
living room to living room stubbing our toes on musty silence
documentaries and narratives
the prose doesnt flow anymore
weve questioned art and automation the infinity of infinities truth and lack there of
the whiskey messy we set this night to rest
in another of these flowing moments we stop while the other walks