THE KIDS

LOOK AT THESE ART CARDS, I HAVEN'T PUT THEM ON ETSY YET, I JUST FINISHED THEM AND WANT TO HAVE MORE BEFORE I MOVE. HAVE TO STARE FIRST.

top left to right: don't drink monster, old boy, cry kid, mom kid w/gun, bum boy, bookkid

my studio

the studio before the gigantic ping pong table showed up, and which will be pushed out side as soon as these f-ing rain&snow showers are ended, take a little peek into the studio, isn't it lovely, and plywood colored, if you come over, we can play some ping pong, listen to 8-tracks, drink tea, and look at the Art&surf board museum.

first grade dare

the sea's teeth

for years i've been collecting these little smoothed round drift wood pieces for a show, about La Push Washington. i'm going to make these into belt buckles and tie clips and pendants, what do you think?

the best part about these little jewels is that they only come down river in spring, get pushed on to the beaches with the crab shells, and bark, spring time at La Push is the most amazing, the whales come back, with babies and rub their bellies on the oceans bottom and you can surf with them, have you ever smelled a whales breath? or looked one in the eye? these moments are what the show is trying to capture and why i am having such a difficult time.

UNICORNSKULL TATOO

the above image is canted i know, but that's what i love about hand drawn stuff and crumpled up trash, it can be all screwed up and yet look so great, what are you doing today. if you want you may use these drawings as templates for body art, but i wouldn't recommend it. the older you get the more idiotic art becomes. the less hardcore. everything loses it's seriousness.

i'm done recommending books

the sun is shinning and i'm driving around town, and i really don't want to think that maybe all these books i'm recommending are way too autobiograpghical some how, trying to piece together all these stories i've been pushing on to people with explicit love could in fact betray some underlying defects, within me, or just too much detail.
the road for instance comes to mind and now i really get it, it's not about some mad max future america, dummy, it's about the fears of father hood, the fear of failing to raise these boys correctly, the dread of this future, the fear of future, this year anyway, with the economy all sad and treacherous, no body having a job, medical problems all the very real aspects of life i have always keep away from. thus the sci-fi dreaming, the space opera wishing, the crappy poetry submissions, the van living diaries, all very escapist, and then, the road pops up and perfect, it's just you and your family shoved into some world you can't even see, let alone understand, what is this, money?
we've always been the people with enough to live, to have a home to have cars, but not much more and not really wanting more.
but what do these books say to people of who we are, you give me a book about horrible childhoods, i give you a book to read about paris in the 1930's, do i think i'm Henry Miller? do i think, i'm Micky Spillane, did i buy an handgun? what do books really mean, when it comes down to the psychology of recommendation's, maybe none of us should have ever read any books, maybe we should all just live,
in capsules of pure white and silver, forever, that's another thing about sci-fi that really pleases me, no one ever reads or listens to music, goes to see bands or watches television in the future, they all seem very busy saving their own lives or others in big elaborate road novels, the road being outer space the cars being intelligent space craft, no body goes to bars to find out who killed the blonde who stumbled into you, in the rain soaked morning, when you were just out walking, trying to piece together a meaningless life.

guns are not the problem part 5

i had had this fantastic idea to get away from it all, had just met this beautiful film maker from Romania, named after a flower, and like i had said i had to get away from it all, the drama, the stupidity, summer was coming,and i liked to swim across things. so like the swimmer, i was going to swim across the country.

out side the new river gorge we found a great cliff to leap from and in Mississippi i swam in water the color of coffee and as warm as sperm, but none of this has to do with guns being pointed at me, which leads us to a little reservoir outside of Albuquerque and as i always do when i get to lakes, i thought i would swim across, so i'm swimming and it's wonderfully cool in this hot desert air when a boat pulls up to me and slows way down, and a bull horn screams at me, get in the boat! and theirs no way i'm getting in the boat,

You can't swim in the lake

I am i say and keep swimming, when the boat forest ranger pulls a gun and tells me to get in and i say, i'll swim in, i swam out here, i'll swim back,and i turn around and swim back pissed off, your going to shoot me for illegally swimming across a country. in a blue pick up truck with the hot air blowing against my eyes,

i had three guns drawn on me, that summer, that was the first,

the next time, we had been driving all night and pulled into some camp site late and someone called us in or saw the head lights, so while standing around stretching and getting ready to build a tiny pocket sized fire, a spot light blinds us and Hi, i say and wave,

and here i am talking to another forest ranger, when he pulls his gun on me and he thinks my belt is a flashed gun, so he searches me and points his .9 at my chest, never says sorry, but tells me the park is full, get the hell out.

we don't stop at national parks from then on, or anywhere civilized only country roads, and farm stands for tomatoes, sleep in the truck, and drive, i don't know what we're doing.

crossing the boarder from Texas to somewhere, at some immigration tollbooth, we get pulled over, the truck gets searched and as i stand in the shade, watching them search my truck, smiling, the cop watching me whips his piece out and Freeze.

he's going to drop me and Hands up.

i raise my hands.

What's in your pocket?

and now there are two guns pointed at me.

take it easy guys, there's a pen in my pocket, and someone lifts my shirt and pulls out my pen throws it on the ground and shoots it.

fuck you America, you'll never be free.