Present: SLC floating. Snowflakes taste, Past discussed, carry on -

A wild and ambitious trek trek from Moscow, ID. Moscow was the wild trip in a night. Unwinding and natrual chaos that all makes sence stupidly but poeticly. This night must be more dwelt on and spewed at the later time. Access to these computer points is angry due to a back talking and dumb dumb wierless connection that grants my connection but the ping pong numbers are flabby and useless. blah confuser gibber. Oh yes I was saying the travel trek. Mad and unplanned mob out. Speedy travels took me out of Spokane over much farmland that spoke softly in a day fog. A light intention of Boise stuck in my mental hrizon. This is until i meet Moscow. Collage town, i've visited and had the gad time in before. But what if i keep driving? This is what i do, until a mile out of town then turn around of course, completely used to whim and reasonless u-turns. With phone calls to my Uncle it is proven i have a cusion whom i don't know from anything. But he lives there and is not home. Thanxgiving you know. So call call. Roomate answers, hello? Well I drop with athority my situation and relation and what not. I enjoy the use of some aggression knowing that this is a weird out of the blue "how do you do?" So this makes it fun and i have license to be heavey. After my chunky drop of info, being that i have all the basies covered i ask the favored question "how does that make you feel?" his responce is uncertain but accomidating. "Great! see ya in five. It's more like one or two not more than that. I know the address and have allready sunk about to understand the place. It makes sence. This leads to our meeting. A massave Joe, well his name is we'll call D. Damn good man too, bouncer with a heart of gold. Top in my book. But i must depart to attend mission in other regoins alone. The light is fading as usual, but I enjoy these dark alleys with bulb light casting phone line shadows and confused looks by people wondering what the shell i am doing. I find the good shop called "Tie Dyed evertthing" and it's true. She is great and the vibes flow for the short spell. This leads to a coffee hip resturant in the same building structre and some computer time is dewlt. Rumor has surfaced to my attention about a show tonight and there is a cover that i decide i will bypass. And this gets done. But not before observing the cool girl that acts with mannerisims of a girl i knew in high school to the exact T. This is to my liking and her parents and family came in to feast and shoot breeze. This girl, I had a dream of the school girl, whom i hadent thought of in years, a day before this. Strange and i like it. Moving on... A free movie "finding nemo" good movie but only a few chugs causes antics and will to move and do. I find the band. blah blah. yeah, OK. and it's done and there good people. More rockandroll, madness and dancing and chumpy folks, but only a few that feel the backside of my charm, and do not like it. I'm not sorry they need the cage to be rattled. They find damn in that there dual number and indivisual size does not intimidate, I feast the moment until i jump on stage for a quick progression of photo that i hope can blend with the show, and the band gets smiles. Shooting is not full time though. Madness is bueaty in the swaying and the hopping to the music with pretty girls. Entertainment is found in my jacket as it contains a hole in the pocket for the stashing of the many brew. Nine to be fact. One of the bartenders was off duty and chillin. He may or may not have had this infromation leeked to him by my own self. This is when i thought he was a civillian. He is kind and eraces any memory of this. Good man tops in my book. More madness and refills in the bathroom. Durning one of these instances I am reading aloud the various writings of the wall.Thumping can be heard by fist on wall, i believe in rythum to the music. "yeah right on man thump it!" but these thumps were aperently war beats toward the nature of me. I do not know this and satsfied with a beer topoff i resume exiting and moving back to the action. However brother bathroom badass taps my shoulder. Smiling and having all the good times i turn to greet my new friend who stands a full head taller but there is never threat. "You can't be fucking around in the bathroom!" puzzlement perfumes my brain and amusment lifts as i see deep into his eyes his genuine anger at my commentary and reciting of bathroom hierglifics. I laugh and let pause. "what's that?" I want defenition into these circumstances. "you were fucking around in the bathroom!" I'm not at all angry only entertained. "Just chillin doing the good thing you know! Having the good time what do you care?" my freshly loaded pint is in my left hand awaiting smashing of beer blinding to be joined with an immeadite strong straight right if he dosent back it. He retorts this, "I'm from Alaska!" he does this with thumbs siginfing who he is taking about. This adds more smile sauce to my meal. "Oh yeah? Alaska?... good." He sees that this little known fact is without any relivant merit to my mind cells. And he is still close. I don't like his breath and his brashness is anoying me with speed. He squals again. "I'm from Alaska!" to this my answer is quick. "Piss it buddy" and i point. "Step off my face." To this his face is stern knowing i'm a little shit in his sudsy psyche. Not knowing that the left is in the disision motion when the ninja and respectful bartender (not the memory erace one, a diffrent one with large guage ear lobes.) this man is the metal wedge of peace. Alaska is the first to be emasapated from the union. I didn't fear I was to be in that boat. I dance and groove in a quiet way till the dark hand of fate is apon me. He is serious and i respect his postion and policy, he mentions others were talking of me. He allows me the finishing quickly of my beer, and I make the disision to keep the glass as the advice to leave out the side and walk away down the alley because Alaska is waiting infront with bros. With much politeness I make no hidden agenda about lifting the mug and to sooth the barkeeps brain eat out of the second door. To this alley i turn to meet this big cold dumb state. His intolrence for a good time by all has cost me the warmth and secruity of the jolly bunch. I want to hear more wisdom and debate indephly his mental and physical structure before reacting to a surefire insurgance with and more equal and oppsite reaction. Applied karma. I round to the side walk where he sees me and i see him his back is just turning and i may have said something but a wall of raving lunitics nudge by him like he was a log amongst trees. These people are the roud and waving, and i know this is my ride. With out effort or premission i join the band and begin pulling beer after beer much to the wide eyed from my coat pocket. Friendship is shouted and walked down opencontainer streets. The hill is upward and the path is not straight. The blocks are few and we atain the house. Dogs and blah blah blahs are entertained. A Pyeernees dog like my dogs growing up. Sweet and mamoth. We find the bacemnt that is desigined by unfisished workers and band mates. Drums are the crashing with also the falling of a human and beer. The lights are dim and red. Wailing for a while and i write on with permant marker on a wall and it is accepted. This slows my enjoyment and the urge to move upstairs is here. I find pizza and scarf one. Quotes are written that were meaningful on the wall. I worte my own. An eating cat is near my feet, some medical procudure was obvious and the colors were of a baboons ass. Bright red and blue. To this effect i make the comment. A bet was made that i could not hold the cat for fiveminutes time, the wager was to my loss nothing but to my reward a beer. Of course i took this challenge and the timer was watched and i lasted 2 minutes that they were impressed with and awared me the prize that i gracefully declined due to my incompleation. I did take two minutes worth in a glass. The hair in my ass convinced me we should go back to the bar. When it was said and done only two others would join. At the bar the there was all the everybody from the day. The tie dye lady, the coffee girl, some faces of random that were visualy familiar form the day. The coffee girl had friends, she made me friends. Her best friend wanted to thumb wrestle and i had had the conversation on the early side in the coffee shop that i had the best training by a Russian who taught not only strenght but will.

i will finish this blither later-----

Now I’ve started what?

Now I’ve started what? Trouble with substance and wit. What is behind this wind blither of wander and malpractice? I find the locals sparse and on the move. The winter wind is in effect and the temperature is well below skin comfort. The pavement contracts and grows colder. The peoples eyes shrink in diameter slightly narrowing there point of view to complete objective, mine too. How can you not? Spokane in this mid November works the same as it has for some time. The few months of defrost have expired much as the microwave cheese foood in the unit. It’s completely come to this. The Unabomber having lived in a warmer climate might have held a productive job. This weather is built for manifestos. Perhaps it would be an appropriate climate to construct the gibber into a readable and printable completion. But to live with out point here… might make one blow something up with fire. This is not to slander those who dwell here but damn I lived for 18 years and nearly put a bullet though my teeth. That was the plan, though the teeth. Seemed more integral. Seems sick now, what with the warmth of the SoCal to melt away the mind flu. But this trek. What of the people? Our races are all different and not in some idiot skin tone, but the brash adrenaline that courses us to our immediate point on earth. And then some. Where in fact is this mind bus taking us? Currently I have clue but akonloeged no permanate outcome as to what my years will bring. Making sense out of words. Simple letters to prove what? That my mind can leak? Yes exactly thanx for asking. That I might have any profound point is irrelevant when post marked. You the simple viewer has the attention span of a nat’s life, even quicker if you blink more. And it’s all dribble, the presidents puke in some toilet on a bender contemplating rationally whiskey and world domination sqwed with coke and trippin power hits. Cavemen knew as much. Simplified. But now we’ve multiplied and broken ugly doors down opening things we may not have been ready for. A new rubix cube glowing with radiation that we play with and throw in our near by compost heap turning our losses into drastic fertilizer. And still there is no point. A drunken bum face down on a sparkling sidewalk has the same number of bones you do, so what? Creative appreciation has little to do with skill. That’s not true. But people… Bukowski? Burrows? These people are fucking Neanderthals. Who gave them a pen? Who? Initiative. And a damn thank you to those who took the time to sift through the garbage. Some of the best treasures can be found in the trash of americA. But does anyone stop to smell the garbage? Yes. And until appreciated are looked down upon by Bill. A. Dollar. And that’s supposed to be a name. What a bitch. Art has died and been reanimated many times perhaps we are all clones of a different planet, that we are just refabrication of the genuine, the dinosaurs in the earth, merely yabbadabba doodoo of a different planet, a pet graveyard. Trash globed out of zerogravity until crust and us formed. A shadow of a memory. Trash. Trash with art and soul, so that gives us hope. Add hope into the ingredients and anything is possible. The remake of a million things has 2 million possibilities, maybe more. How many times has the wheel been mocked and called original? The wheel was spinning before this mud heap began to dry, round and round in circles. Revolution. Give thought to that. Advance I think can only be made when harmony is out of whak. What? Yes unbalance is the key to our history, and we manufacture it, starting but far expanding from out own will to walk as a child. Pushing ourselves, the uncomfort of out existence. Willingly! Damn if we are not our own best friends posing as our own worst enemies. To push us. This I’ve learned from a teacher in high school his last name translated directly in my memory as viewing from a vantage point above. Should I print it? Yes, Highsaw. A current world affairs teacher. And all the shit he threw, was it honest? Was he deep down republican? A deep hearted jock? In my face I know he was. In my heart I’m not sure. It was because of his relentless good points disgracing my ideals until I found the checker to jump him and was in return jumped twice that fueled my fire to strive on. God bless teachers, all of em (I meant all the gods not teachers, some of those wenches should be burned at the stake, god bless em) And It’s true they have the arrow wounds and they push on. There is not many positions that I hold in high regard higher than the highschool teacher. Now we find that action has reaction, individuals to the whole. We find that we can change the world and do change the world in our every movement. What a disaster cluster fuck it’s bound to be. I mean whose at the wheel here? If taken we will find the time line of all things and when we move far enough away we find with our primate eyes the facts point to are actions stemming from pure blither anarchy, and not anarchy on some political earthcurst surface. No, in the guts of the hangover, in the evolution of dirt, in the math that holds our skin together. With our random (at least to human comprehension) without random actions, my face would probably fall off. And of course this makes no sense and is of course not fit for a scholastic term paper. (props out to Nicole who observes and is working in this chain to eventually surpass this and make a significant dent in the whose who of respected written literature) None of us are. Fiord is just a druggie with a degree and some appreciated blither. Marx wants us to kick it and is aggressive. Gandhi the same with the skew to move it non physically. I know some hippies with good pot. So what? Published dents hit harder but not if no one reads them. So what’s the point. To me it’s drastic disharmony blasted to find order to then take a breath and throw the shit at the fan again to outrage our properly working ant farm that we might evolve and become birds. Then with a little hope the nature of it all will evolve beyond the point and blast us all to the next archaeological dig. Best of wishes to all and your frivolous indevers, fuck the heros, long live bums.

Very sincerely

A. freaking Sailboat

postin

adskjlf