do not idle

they've actually managed to build new gods
painted brown
i'm sure you've all heard the tragic news, from Canada, that i, did not win this years 3day novel writing contest~ and if the truth was known~ i would confess to have taken only two and a half days to write a genre bending surf-s-f novel~
so~ in honor of failed novels, i shall be excerpting passages from some passed failed novels~ cover your ears and cut out your eyes~
cars kill over 30,000 people a year, just in the USA~ we should outlaw them~ or start a war against them~ somebody already has~ good for you giant fist
dumpster bookends

of all the things i see out upon the streets~ this is what i wanted to drag home~ not my van or my rock thrown thru glass
found a million artists ~ better than me
i replace you with a robot army. you are all plastic dolls.
and he remembers the future.
i wonder how my government would react if a million of my friends took to the streets demanding~ that the leadership step down~ that we wanted third party choices, we wanted~ libertarians, socialists, Communist, Greens and anarchists to run the country~ do you think our police would disappear ? do you think our military would protect order rather than attack the kids ?
she is on her bed eating butterfly sandwiches
what are we little American robots, next we'll all get tattooed and want to grow up and be rock stars and vote and shit on toilet seats, and own things and wear things and do things and be something, look at you and me, we're sitting down, we're talking, next we'll sleep in beds with sheets and blankets and softness, i suck, how dare you let me feel emotion, we're all collaborators, and stooges
next i'll tell you that i'm a vegan Buddhist revolutionary, that i like football and shopping
your cute, like cartoons~ she tells time by headlights
the desire to own things~ of which you can't have/ don't need

A} capitalism/ lust
this human world is my zoo~ my natural history museum
i have known people who have truly glowed in the dark
slap stupid sunglasses on plastic and sell
we all walk around with the ideas of ourselves lost in our pockets
whole societies can be judged insane
the spit collector

we should hold hands and ignore each other. we should carve letters on our foreheads, and swing from ropes, from our necks, in rain storms when we are always nine years old, exuberant, grab a knife, grab a stick pick up a rock smash all the bottles, break out the windows, automobiles, cut down the trees, fly invisible flags, destroy art, pray to insects, swim in puddles full of blood and poverty, eat nothing /shit out clean clear poems of wonder, intoxicate innocent worth stares fall down stairs jump push backwards fall honestly without promise of reward /the world ends tomorrow, the world is upside down and backwards
you are a surprise. tomorrow wears a dress
A} to match our couches
i turn over all the cushions~ looking for you and change
within all the shades of sand, dust and shadow~ ladders to roof tops like faith in anything

he's writing a will /a suicide note /reports for work, letters to imaginary friends, name tags for strangers, ingredient labels, words to describe things he's never seen, explain the emotions he has never felt, notes of excuse for failing, love letters to trees like blasphemy
the worlds gift wrapping wallzines

the outside
the inside
a Sunday morning prisoner~ the album cover
hold on a sec~ i have to make something
art booths~ no quarter required
tree choker
big shame hunting
today the robots only exist to take our money in exchange for privilage
poor ghosts /sit on the curb on crappy furniture / grass carpets / evicted
try to never win

my log

i haven't been riding this tanker, lately, not since my back started hurting from carrying it down the beach, this beast must weigh forty pounds

but i love it, sit outside alone and catch waves before they even ripple

a ten footer, four inches thick, hatchet finned, supposed to be an exact replica of a Weber performer '66

floating on glass

one inch Mahogany stringer and triple glue line/ heavy glass job

Hatchet !

Jeff sold this to me years ago~ i sure miss that shop~ when it was under the freeway on eastlake

that lake is cold this time of year~ i can wear my 4/3 but have to use gloves

i wish i was that big again/ i'd paddle that thing across the lake everyday

landlocked NE!L~

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