i dont think i could have created a better life, even if someone gave me a manual.

my true love and i will someday turn Lovebuzz into a duet ballad to be reckoned with.

what fascinates me more...

the love we have shared
as friends
as lovers
as discontent unsatisfied lost
mid twenties youth.

the entangled
misunderstood
disenchanted
of what we find fascinating.

your talk of poems
as they become.
your disassociation
with reality.
and me.

what do i know
of writing poems
of realities
i have yet seen?

privilege threshold

miss the kid

the direct approach

Robert Lockwood Jr.- just a little bit
R.L. Burnside- little babe
John Lee Hooker- im in the mood
James Brown- try me
Otis Redding- dont be afraid of me
The Shirelles- be my little baby
Slim Harpo- i got love if you want it
Wanda Jackson- cool love
The Temptations- sugar pie honey bunch

i have two big hands. and a heart pumping blood...

street artspiration

distract-in moderation

a moments perspective

 

this moment is separated by less than a minutes time.

one with glasses. one without.

i could have just seen it with.

i could have just seen it without.

i chose to see it as both.

shoe story.

white after labor day, oh my.

she is bad ass.

makes me miss my red cowboy boots.

with only minor hesitation

when deciding to change the world.  consider whose world you want to change.

fragility throughout self identity

i cant acquiesce to the present.  and i cant realize the future.

scream for the dean.

i am out of uniform.

 which reminds me i should probably switch my load.

my day was long.  i anticipate a full weekend and it is only wednesday.

i am having a hard time writing the closing to my paper.

i went to the (441 killingsworth) deli today. i was welcomed to the family.

i have presents expected in the mail.

i like throbbing gristle.

outliers tomorrow. late.

friday i must find my black beret.

the real dilemma:

garage rock at someday lounge or burning man decompression for saturday.

im sure it will unfold smoothly.

at least for sunday i know i will be eating waffles, listening to live piano while talking to the gals of portland.

face west child

the view from my nest.

my first day.

i love that i can walk into a place and tell them to make me whatever.

and when they do, its perfect.  all hail the Deli.

a drawing by zachary baldus.

through an issue of new mutant,

he got to live in the marvel universe for a month.

 

new seasons grocery oh my.

three schwinns. all blue.

like......

i couldnt find the black beret i need to have.

so i settled for blue to keep me warm these cold portland nights.

someday.

their is no place like home todo.

the best contribution that a lover could offer would be to force me out of my cozy bed and into the sidewalks of responsibility.  my to do list has slowly grown into a novel and i can only find two things on it worth getting putting clothes on for.

the Deli
find a Record Player
import compact discs
buy groceries
cash checks
mail stuff to people i love
email people i care about
put up shelves
find a rug
paint a wall
make a Sol LeWitt piece to channel my true love
tell emily that two men want her

the Deli.  the concept.  a cooperative run deli that makes it by, by young individuals offering their services as volunteers.  this group in the community is beautiful. inspiring. and a stepping stone to the future of creating more intimate spaces for more beautiful. creative. young people.

how many of these could i find in my house.  i probably shouldnt keep grocery shopping out of my own refrigerator.  i think the record player  found wobbles.  i can steal the cabinet doors from the kitchen to make shelves.  i can import compact discs from bed.  i can channel my true love from bed, but that isnt as romantic as putting string all over the wall and dreaming of dreary days in north adams.

get me up if you love me.

(thats what he said)

the ______ goes ______.

so i opened up the see and say that i stole from this child i know.

unfortunately.  it kept shorting out.

not sure if this means it is a not possible.

which will take a lot to convince me.

or just a pain in the ass and i dont know what i am doing.

which seems more convincible.

like candy

these really are like little candies that i so wonderfully get to unwrap.

when i open them, rather than stimulating my taste buds.

they stimulate my ears.

peter pan dreams of this.

all of those bottle caps could be contact mics.  but they are not.

if they were. they would have picked up the roar of my laugh.

the joy from my smile and the grace from the beat of my heart.

pickled food on killingsworth.

leave it on the dresser.

late night and bent

the view from a mirror

for (whats) real

moving green.

i finally live somewhere.  i rode my bike cross town.

a bag on my back. a bag on each arm.

im an easty now.

oh yeah. this is my new racer.    bad ass.

coaster brake.  no slip with the wet, wet rain.

morning at the roxie

 the only thing to bring you out of a bukowski night is a hemmingway breakfast.

the crave, the view, the dirt

there is a place in china town where the food looks like the picture.

but it tastes better. and they have duck hanging in the window.

GOOD TASTE.....

was the answer after wandering around for three hours craving chinese.

black widow

this is the black widow.  but due to high costs.
a complete lack of progressive values from airlines.
i could not afford to bring her to portland.

but for the future:  http://www.bikeleague.org/members/bikesflypolicies.php#policies

it doesnt have to be fancy

this

this is the contents of a well thought out travel bag.

finally after the last year as a vagabond, i have achieved some sense of meaning.

First circuit bent keyboard. Goodloe Byron, Revisions Of. Envelope from james containing cards, two polaroids of nearest thing to home u.s. map. chargers. Compact discs: salon style, gay tastee, dave van ronk, the books, many releases from poobah records, complicated shirt. Pomegranate perfume. Nail polish. Jewelry. Pens hat. Ipod. Three journals. Music box. Camera. Scarf belt. Eye glass case. Cables. Nathans tooth. Crown Now, Realicide tapes. Contact mic. Two mini cassettes. Mini cassette recorder and my pedal.

we are pawns to someone.

Finding love through passion.

fragile yet furtile

finding home. portland is perfect. it will be complete once i find a station. i walked through a record store today. cannot wait to have a place to put them. until then i listen to this.

bill withers: aint no sunshine when shes gone
(i am sure someone has lost there sunshine since i have left)
r.l. burnside: just like a bird without a feather
(the cock and the canary)
sam cooke: someday somewhere
(there will be peace, there will be joy, there will be riches... when we reach that city)
slim harpo: still rainin in my heart
(thinking about the part all the boys have played to get me here)
otis redding: send me some lovin
(please)
nina simone: i put a spell on you
(i think you know who you are)
lead belly: where did you sleep last night
(off the burnside bridge)
junior kimbroug: lonesome road
(finding solitude)
billy holiday: come rain or come shine
(i only make promises i can keep)

heart beats.

this is "little annie" made by nathan of idmclassics.net of boston.
contact mic and cables included, heart given seperately.

around the bend

i added two brass nails and two wires and now it goes. 

"eooheeooooeaaahhoooeoeoe."

when you hit a key and rub your finger.

(must admit i was helped)

presents from boston

this is where my weekend ended up.  despite getting drunk for the first time in a month.

lets just say that night ended poorly.  who ever thought i should have a phone was wrong. 

saturday was a bore, ie: parent trap on disney, matrix on mtv AND bravo, followed by an e! special of miley cyrus. 

 Nathan got into town sunday. spent the evening with my mother for her birthday, then over to vickys for fucking around in the basement. (this was pre Purple Rain)  

presents came with nathans arrival:

realicide tape, contact mic, cables and my "little annie"

the heart is the best setting.

Switch seat.

noise: the thump your heart makes after pumping the pedals hard.

noise: the tick of a clock when you are past that.

valentines. september fourth.

i think i may be playing my first show. very early. very short.

with salon style, todd is new each moment and tough: featuring american on drums.

.for the boys. maim terrain

wednesday noise

it is here. it is everywhere.

call me junior.

as nathan put it best, "you know what its like to be a ten year old boy".

so the baby is, well, the babies fucked. but i think therapy may save its soul.

this guy. i think something cool might come out of him,

but i have to learn what i am doing first.

new babies.

my adventures in bicycle today.  i went to For Pete's Sake, a treasure of a thrift store that is part of St. Peters Hospital. They usually have amazing things. clothes. knick.knacks. bags. house stuff. jewelry.  

 today they happened to have a schwinn varsity.  "as is."  what i was most in love with,

 second to the green, was the height. super short.  i pick it up tomorrow.

i put the first coat of primer on my raleigh.  it is sooooo beautiful.

starting somewhere.

so as i am leaving victorias this evening she pulls a baby out of the neighbors trash.

this is it. i have no idea what i am doing. but i have to start somewhere.

i should name it.

practice.

i got this estey electric organ from goodwill for three dollars two years ago.

it was great until one day it was dead.  there is a plastic thing that was supposed to spin.

i assume to generate wind to make sound.  the attatchment was broken.

so today i soldered it.  still a no go.  eh.  the motor still creates a wonderful hum.