OK reconstruction is happing gibber is transfered over here so sift through the mist what does it mean? did that sentence even make any understanding? DOn't look down...
The Unsung America Project: to fill you in a little...
Hello out there!To fill you in a little, I am treckin for a spell in hopes of eating random chances and confusing these life occasions into my head and eye then regergating them to you. Later this gibberish will be turned into a photo and skribble book about my jorney and some outlook on the spinning.A main theme here is to tap into the people of the smaller towns of this great nation, see if I can't find some common groove. Investagate and observate, phototake the candidates and with respect, see if I can't tell why there guts work the way they do.I do sit in Olmpia WA and my friendlies from way back. Time and distance diminish love only if you let it. The road thus far in the Unsung America trip has led me from "hell in Frisco" to "pound packing hitchhiker" to "a rocky mountain old man" to "train town and tree people" to "train girl" to "mad folks near the river with wine" to "just below heaven" to the "magic forest farm commiune" to here.I feel fortunaite (that i am not selfcounsiouiouioius about my spelling) when people give me the time of day. I want to spread my findings and mind fillings out all over the place. Well it's late and i've been hitting my head on this keyboard trying to understand the consept of this blog in my pants.Before I depart into the dark, a list of thanx from a-z, beginning with L. and there is an S. and a T. and an M, and a J, and a P, and many many more. Due to these ninjas I am here. With out eachother we are just a shitty tree falling with no one around.well.. toodles and rocketships
posted by A. Sailboat at
1:11 AM 0 comments Thursday, October 13, 2005
10-13-005
and the world would be completly unknown, and i'd a forgot about it. untill one day i woke with a terrible tremmor knowing i did not throw that hand full fo shit at the fan.
posted by A. Sailboat at
2:57 PM 1 comments Wednesday, October 12, 2005
10-12-005
If it could all slow down, it’d be all so important. The tiny triumphs and tragedies. The beauty in every detail. Appreciating the wait at a stop sign. That feels like dreams to me. The “most” is open to the timing. Raindrops must understand it directly inside there universal makeup. A lifetime longing for the fall. But it can not all slow down, because it is fast and we are moving with it. Are we? I bet ninjas say no. I don’t know, the wild of things moves so quickly, a firecracker of a week. To pause and draw it out in some form, to ponder the still moments. That’s a thought. Boogers boogers fart fart! Don’t take this lightly.My timing is moving me north again. Olympia needs to be investigated alone. I smell a strange brew here, and tomorrow must reach it’s nose. My people are so important to me especially the ones here. We got voodoo since before this time began. I only wish more time was in my hands. Love and fondness through time and distance go limp and weak only if you let it. Unless one or the other become pricks in the ass in witch case say bye to the moon to them. However this is not to be close to the case.More of this explosion to be had…Toodles and handshakes- travis
posted by A. Sailboat at
5:09 PM 1 comments Trails marked with the double yellow find me riding around Washington. A trek to Tonasket for a barter fair proved well for bringing the smile."I love the smell of hippy in the morning"Such a gathering of peaceful and point making peoples finding inventive ways with intrestto communicate colabrate and clobber bordem with bonfires and special bon bons.A vast varity of folk at this one.To the beat of a diffrent drum:At night there was this TP beating out the door came drums. With rythem this head of mine bobs in the opening and await apporval as I dance like a dork to the dum dum dum ddadum.Approval and we entry. One friend of mine, she crosses and takes keester in front a drum. I'm really gettin the groove off a groovy next to me. Fear, names, and ages had no place here. The music just flew up toward the top of the triangle tube. The fire was warm. My friend was recieving lesson to the tap, to her left the teacher with glasses and shirtless wailed and wallopped the couple of drums in front of em. Then the door then one more, quiet but the way a shadow is, his drum made noise. Then an older cat. He played a wood block. He seemed nervous to my eyes and to this I caught and made comphert by thanking him for us to be here. To his left was me. And then the old roudy. White beard protruding it explodes like perfume. He has the knack for good times and sees I do the same. Roaming was a man of many flutes and he sang them all. With wine and spirits we weave the kicks into the night.At this time adventrous souls steeping from a strongly diffrent culture climb into our cave. I take it apon my self to usher them in for the good time. In moments I would become an intrupertur and ambassator between 2 not often crossed worlds, and kick ass they came. Buzzin cousion grabs the drum. The subject of beat was not a forgin ground, but the TPs beat had a deeply diffrent groove. Not even funk. Not at all hiphop. The native ants are not enjoying the nasty dirt scramble in the earlobe. With names I slow Cousion off to calm the peircing waters. I inform him straight I like his is there. Quickly I tell him to back off the beat and bring it back in. I explain that respect in this coulture is not to come blazing until all the mics drop. He sees the integerity I think honestly. He gets my scent. To get a turn on the table ya got to know who's eating. I tell him. These people respect humilitly far beyond any fame. These messages have meaning in his mind he knods back and relaxes. I can speak many languages of english. His mate ignores me. This I make a irrignorable smile and chuckle that he also ignores. I like when I see this. This man has taken the hard front. Whitebeard lets the boy know that he never plays when he is fried. The clashes rumble in my foresight. To set up the diffuse and due to my honest nature, I tell Whitebeard that most of the greats were fried in some way. Toshay (can anyone spell to-shay?). All smiles with bumps and it is the best of times. We make our way into the night somehow and find residence in the green giant.Dirt and hay were the trails that wondered through the mass of vendors and selfmade vagrents. The sky was constantly moving throwing shade and shine, no one here is exactly on the same trip. No one anywhere really is. In the eyes of some I found the friendlies. Some was a vacent stare either drug or thought induced, or both. Some with lifetimes of banjos. Few had the anger that is present in most clusters of hampsters.The very young old wise one:One that stood out was named Helen, quick and savy I witnessed her with grace, embrace her friend. Her eyes and sponitainous smile showed her age not to be older than 22, but the wheelchair and wisdom-lines proved a much diffrent. It was clear from a distance she had fire. I politely poised my self obstrucively to interupt. Helens eyes caught mine directly and she was delighted. She knew. She knew it was good, what ever "it" was, and we took time to talk. She introuced her friend to me whom there was a story behind, but I had such a hard time grasping the immeadite destnation of her words. Her life buzz was louder than anything she was saying in the rucas of everything. This passion for life, and today with this moment and for those she knows a constant flag of example for what we can only hope for. To shove the uneven ground around on wheels with a companion who was clearly in tune enough to be there for her. Great! We attack the task of contact infromation. Could she know e-land? With a feirce and presise back hand she delievered the lingo. Elequent and fluent she did not miss a beat and confirmed the dots and commas. We had a hug or at least it felt like it when we parted. Unfourtiuately for you, her photo is on film and her smiling face won't be present until the book comes around.What a mad group of peple. A million funny brains. We walk. The trails of happy campers with makeshift mobile shelters and tents glowed with diffrnet hues. From a distance the voodoo must of caught just right for in the sea of silliness I shot an eye of a familiar family chop-lock of sideburn. One that I know well. But this is at a distance pro sports people throw to, and this was a passing moment, was it clear? I doubt it but call out. And It's mad and what a time and it was him. But late, the random carried us apart. See ya soon K.
posted by A. Sailboat at
2:19 PM 0 comments About Me
Name:A. Sailboat
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Tuesday, October 25, 2005
It's weird my existance now. So much at the mercy of the winds (and the will of my all). Proper edicuate is simply a true needed thing in all dealings. Washing dinner dishes is a mandatory for me, constantly look for ways to improve and build. mushrooms are sturctreus of becoming life.Trouncing around the farm with a little girl named A. (2age) and the folks B and N, all three are ninjas of hospitality and meaningful conversations. Approval and akonloagement was a ping pong game of life discussion in the mud around the mushroom stump. The names of these mushrooms are (i know yer all thinking it but...) not haloucniginic (yes i just feel like spelling like this, what do you want? cant you see it says comp;ete;y undetittitied?) sorry.the green grass grows all around, saw a bear, trust is alive and kickin. I still like pudding and soup is good food.rubber and toliet paper...
posted by A. Sailboat at
2:01 AM 0 comments Nov 3 005
I feel like I’m on another planet, every 2 years I look back and … whoa. Now 3 months ago feels like a home planet and I’m not. But yeah I am at home, DEM-699, and I’m a nomad.Like a speeding noun I scream an existence my entire life. So many speeds and it all happens now and fast. Urgency in the big moment blinks red.Everyone has there own voodoo and focus. Thank (name god here)!Dedication like the mind of a suicide bomber only with out any intent or will of harm to life. It’s in us all, even the ones who take the sloth’s ambition. I hold intention to make dents everyday in the remodeling of moments, always with love. Damn hippies.And of course while writing this the ever expansive bike gears move mad the mechanics of the here and now. There’s much work of that that needs done now.
As of present I exist in Spokane. Home turf of the younger days. Growth in the landscape and the frost is past the pumpkins and growing serious. The dollar signs are threat throwing critical so some time might tick here. Work is easier with warmth and friendlies. The flipcoin is that nature will not always accommodate to my whims. Wonder why? My plans were from the beginning to not have final plans until of existence placement until I was there. Thus I am right on time and completely with faith that somehow it’s right eternally. But don’t feed me that line at the wrong time of day, oh buddy- Rhythm is somewhere in the mix of dust and decisions. Somewhere.
EggsPbjBreadGood bye-
Ps been having the anger with abilities to post, it’s probably my own fault, looking into straightening the issue.
posted by A. Sailboat at
3:33 PM 0 comments Tuesday, November 01, 2005
I think this is working again.What do you think?
posted by A. Sailboat at
9:43 PM 0 comments repitious themes in nature and face thinking. these show below. however everything is too fast to tell this keyboard. ninjas everywhere spokane is grey and feels like a place i once new.don't know too much about the not updating pretty pictures for your viewing eyes... sorry.i don't know what to do execpt shake my fist.
posted by A. Sailboat at
10:47 AM 0 comments Why is love failing?Why are the hearts smashing each other?That chaos is worse for finding that harmony.DAMN a drink for all the heartaches and I would be drunk forever.Falling over, laying on my lips,Why is love failing?Why are the hearts smashing into each other?
This comes in regards to many days of our lives.To all my heart choked people, I’m with you. c+s r+s t+tmay we not find this to infinity-
posted by A. Sailboat at
4:34 AM 0 comments Wednesday, November 09, 2005
the world spins so fast to say it-
We really must talk of the walking times of Bellingham. Immeaditly with the Apache it was intense, followed by sunlight alleys and in the streets till dawn.Doucumenting the happenings is a full time job and gets heavy pepper in the form of blabing into a recording box.Becides I can't give away all the juice of my fruit.A few months in a dark bacement will straighten it out.I hope all my people that have brushed by have the good voodoo.I met a courages face with a friendly smile and may be trekin up to some grand fine thing.toodles from france
posted by A. Sailboat at
11:51 AM 0 comments now
earily morning, much still to be done in spokane, good to see the good people, colder wind pushes into my calander, the theme is running, running quickly while respecting the sent of the roses.
posted by A. Sailboat at
11:45 AM 0 comments Tuesday, November 08, 2005
picturez are still angry-
posted by A. Sailboat at
1:00 AM 0 comments Monday, November 07, 2005
A fast food moment
Oh yes, the burger house again. Spokane. There’s mild rain. The bathroom must be opened by a buzzer. This is apparent from the red sign on the door. This is no matter, there is an occupied in green indicator that flips over to vacant, just like airplanes, exactly like the airplanes. A man in socks, the kind with the heels marked with an off color wearing thick glasses comes through the door. With his big orange hair of course I’m glad to see him. He is thanked with my salute and I trade places with him.
Inside the cubed room, myself remove my coat of fur, my actions are to perform hygiene maintenance in the spatic light. A polite kid in the poocan booth exits, I did not know of his existence and my spine is slightly startled as he catches me looking up my own nose. Hygiene is important damnit. He takes care not to harm my jacket that hangs on the door hinge. Respect. I didn’t think it would be a bother yet he squirms out the door. I carry on with the routine. When I’m done I leave.
Steps out in the lobby find my face is clean and I witness 4 meth monsters approaching. In the exterior, through glass they are twiggy and moving in the same cage, the meth cage. Prisoners in the same cell and most are bitches. They reach the doors. A boy hovers near the girl as they use a bland clear water cup to refill and she sips it. The b-boy he sits in red jacket at a booth. The one with fire, he doesn’t enter. He holds at the door. As a sergeant of the devil he talks to dogs. “Come on, Lets Go!” the two move slow still shaken from the cold combined with destroying them selves. “Its warm in here.” he coos with out making the eyes of the very alpha addict. Orders are given and the march is on. A cold chill sent remains.
My friend with the socks has now applied running shoes and must return to the Lou. I find great comic relief as he knows the combination that seals off the locked door to the kitchen. He reaches behind the register much to the dismay of waiting customers. Much to my entertainment I clap in approval as the button below the counter is pushed allowing the buzzing noise of the bathroom door that must be opened by buzzer.
The boys eat and we leave.
posted by A. Sailboat at
12:04 PM 0 comments The day my face fell apart:
It was like normal with clouds except the cold air blowing around in the hole of my cheek.Everything was fine until the eyebrows, then I felt the eyes of objects,looking at me.My feet began moving me down the steep hill ofdowntown San Fran.At the corner I tried to stop and oh my face came off.All at once with out hero or question and my face came off.With awkward marks slipping in clumbsy chunks aroundmy fingers.They fell onto the purity of the sparkling sidewalks.
Just like to say hey and thanx to those I’ve met on the road.
(oh yeah clumbsy spelled this way illustrates the action better rather
than clumsy, please take a note of it.)
posted by A. Sailboat at
11:34 AM 0 comments straight from the book blop - oct 9 005
tonight i sit dimwitted and listening to the slightest nothing that exists inside, as i wonder what the next great proportion explosion is and when - what direction? & how!?mindless not knowing and havein one ace up my sleave, i plan to do the best things i can. i must achive income else the ace be worth a hole.creation happens and i can only be blown away by where it comes from... i don't understand anything and i see clearer than i ever had. an experience apon unordinary, repeatedly..well shit what else might i be doing at 1:41 am olympia time... bumps along the way, but it's good, and my friends mean so much to me - (said before)"its only distance and time if you let it... the rest is up to the world, and rambios, and other stupid hipppy shit...however good peeps rock out like neon,like they are your bodies of culture even if they've moved a few (both region and mental vision if apply).good peeps rock out like neon.latersitting on the ground kitchen now sourounding our headspace is completely filled with fun bubbles and wonderful consumption as the poetic game to throw beercaps into pint glasses presisted till the final loosing and winning of the game. this contained great throws with skill and the game was close though nothing really matters of the win under apartment dimly light. loosers drink more. koknee was the onslught followed by burbon and hacks of the old days, and about things to come and recent past. screaming like wild it's good for eachother. again found a previous youth under a psychosis of suds... the ultimate truth will never be found, constant keeps on changing, books are best left open, to shatter is an honor.
posted by A. Sailboat at
1:39 AM 0 comments oct 4 portland prade
eyes of others many brothers eyes of soft some stare... alikesome belong to mikesome pass on bikessome might be obligedthe eyes of otherssome hve seen thundersome eyes can calm the skiesmy eyes with hunger find...?
posted by A. Sailboat at
1:02 AM 0 comments Saturday, November 05, 2005
repitious themes in nature and face thinking. these show below. however everything is too fast to tell this keyboard. ninjas everywhere spokane is grey and feels like a place i once new.don't know too much about the not updating pretty pictures for your viewing eyes... sorry.i don't know what to do execpt shake my fist.
posted by A. Sailboat at
10:47 AM 0 comments
