Unsung Gibber

cold trees

2006-05-04T00:32:00.000-07:00

I drank vodka today and worked at the pie shop

2006-02-23T10:41:00.000-08:00

too dumb fooling idiot
ching chang change two cents
pie o and loath the whip cream
sinking in young flesh and pie
oh and where is the writing when
business has sucked the soul out?

different fogs float left brain right brain
does anything seem like home
all a drift at home in the drift
i can put my feet up i can toast with wine
and write

goop and withdrawal
relative and distant relative
needles plunge the fat of lips
truly hungry scrape the bottom
when no one is looking
and the cold feels more than the air
bobsleds and five rings old men don't slip on ice
hopefully not often
kind eyes and soft spine
in buzz the recliners exist inside
gum is on the ground
the gutter is there
some one wrote "dumb smart" on a wall
hands tilt with drinking eyes
eyes change glaze to girls
girls change to monsters
and the hookers make for conversation
nothing in the joint
only distant tales the teller can't remember

dogs and tacos and distant hot days
unknown eyes behind
a furry in type
the bold font,
the bold font
the freaks are loose in the land
and we hold there hands
damnit are the losses
damnit are the losses
drank vodka and pie sales
talked much with people
showed some photos
stole 2 pot pies
thats whats to reprot on this day
thurs, feb 23 2006 3:19am

Library and beer.

2006-02-21T23:43:00.000-08:00

I am in movement up the stairs of the U’s library steps 7 beers in my backpack. 4 in my gullet, one in my hand dressed as Arizona ice tea, the kind with the green wrapper disclosing anything on the interior. This is perfectly normal and not at all my fault. I am not an enrollee. I am not of the check out caste. And I must read Bukowski!
I decipher the dewy decimal system while driving my open container down my raspy and throat. There is a thick head due to improper pouring procedure in the parking lot. One dyslexia can wander with dewy for quite some time what with the letters and numbers and all. I am on the right path almost. The dual letters are correct and the numbers growing closer.

Can it not be helped that carbonation especially with big beer head results in the silent belch from time to time? Can this not just be overseen, call it courtesy by the masses at large? Why I do see the nostril of the tall man with knit vest and trousers expand wildly outside the realm of normal? I see this as he passes me. His muscles clank ridged. There is now some mysterious stick in his poop hole. He makes further steps in his venture then thinking he can no longer walk. “Some thing must be done, some act against this boy and his beer” This man composes this thought in a few still seconds. His brain is unhinging. Then he realizes that he has stopped, and it startles him. I amused continue the watch. His heads turns with all the grace of a rusted bolt to make my eyes then he rubber bands back into action. Out the glass doors he goes and towards the stairs. Then wait. His squirrel brain freezes. He holds his nuts in his throat and changes direction. To this it is clear he is to be the pansy nark.

Now please do not think me slovenly in these actions, I do have proper respect, I am after all in a place of literature. To show my class I cap and close the bottle when passers by do their task. I do have manners, I am an upstanding citizen. It is un-American as to read the good works of Charles Bukowski with out beer, wine, or whiskey, this would be disrespect to the author who died in 1994. I am not here to see to the turning of graves.

It is my imagination that he reached the information counter, and with peril proclaimed the injustice to this institution of learning. The woman with fat acknowledged his message of espionage and this sent her fully stocked brain cells a flutter. She is bumbling with the telephone and at the same time thanking this good Samaritan for his service to the community. He taps the table twice and is relieved by his tattle tale, but would he expect he remains a half cup jittery? He walks away rubbernecking for explosions or blood. “What a day- whew”.

This woman’s phone reaches 35 feet form her where in cubicle of position, a man the caliber of a green bean responds with quick action. The tele-commutations transpire: “OK fat Doris, first you lead in, figure out what isle he’s in… don’t stop, pass him as normal. Then turn and wait my instructions. OK?” “Okay Darren” click. The trap is set. Uncertain endorphins soar in the thick yellow chub and in long thin lank of our heroes as they enter the area where the criminal was last seen.

Though the spaces between books and shelves I am spotted before I spot her. It is my luck that merely my sight in the flesh causes Doris to freeze up. Darren should have known. She too is stopped in tense formation. Deep below butt flab is a small set of sit-muscles clenched in half step. Despite my non-army experience I react with tact I’ve learned from movies. I crouch down out of sight. To this the shark has moved into the dark waters and the swimmer Doris panics, my eyes can still see her. She turns around to retreat. Down low I have the upper hand. To this I take a victory swig. She is the deer in the headlights Darren must have urged her to continue so she turns and tip toe to pass me. I am ready.

With big wave and a roar “hello” teeth in friendly smile, she quickens her steps and continues along 6 rows away. To this my humor is pleased. Then the man I imagine his name to be Darren walks up to bat with cool and calm motion, yeah he’s ice. If it wouldn’t be against dress code he would be wearing dark glasses. Like ice in a drink he waits where she once stood. His cool doesn’t mix well with the hot flashes of fat Doris and steams there communications of hand signals. Nothing is clear. Her hands flap with fear and frustration. He is telling her where and how to go in attempt to corner me in. My grin is huge. This time I let the suds sink fast to the bottom of the bottle creating a noise that freezes Mr. Darren and his ears perk. As he starts the move in retaliation she follows suit. He comes toward my row and Doris fats down her row to head me off at the pass. This puts myself into motion staying low and I have just enough time behind the thick of the shelf to miss Darren as he passes and just miss Doris as she enters the long of the rows. I keep moving as they do and stop as they stop to see each other. Confusion in the mouse maze. How have they made it in the rat race? I could make the move for the exit, they would surely look for me there. So I head on the outside and pass in plain view of the man but he is transfixed in whisper to fat Doris. I stay at the end of my shelf with them on either side on the other side. The man walks down the long isle away from us Dorris heads my way. I scoot around with expert skill and like clockwork she is late for our lunch. I can tell by there torso there distraught when they again find each other. I can not keep form laughing but I do so in my coat sleeve. I decide in my drunken ego if I cant touch the back wall and back to the front doors with out being discovered then I shouldn’t be allowed to drink in the library ever again. So with this at stake the dance continues though gets slightly harder through the thicket of books what with the long isles the only way of advance. Others of few see me with inquiry on there eyes, to them I shake it off and keep moving. The near misses excite me. Dash when backs are turned and dart when they might be near. I reach the end and look into the pit, almost there. I move across the wide row and can see the doors at the far end. I run and touch the wall like a relay race. I am an Olympian. With my about face I see Darren looking to his right. I side step tight against the books missing the eyes of genius. I have finished my beer. As I pass I leave the bottle as a calling card. One patron sitting thinks me rude, I pause wanting to properly catch him up on the game and the points and the stakes, then he would route me on. But I don’t. I worry other would be good Samaritans may put the math together and join the ranks with Hitler. With zig zag and laser tag skills I duck and dive to the finish line, I push open the front doors and make the stairs. I imagine confetti of red white and blue photographers taking my finish. 4 stairs down I turn around to see in a small space the fat one lurking with caution upon every row, I reach in my bag and arrogantly extract another. On the steps I crack it and exit the champion.

So it starts as the van left.

2006-01-31T14:45:00.000-08:00

So it starts as the van left. Scraping the head on the grindstone to come up with the point. A huge soup with alphabets and nouns swirl in the cracking bowl atop my shoulders. Anything elegant? The forces inside rock me to longwalks in alleys at night. What path, what direction? I know but the mouth is being desiphered. Steps to take, bear traps everywhere. I bet they all, the ones, the bastards must have hit this. Crashed though with blind optimisim to the hands of question. How many dead are there? No way to know. Pictures, words, or audiotape? Something must be punctured and from the advice of a wise man small bites will be enjoyed. Intense with nonsence. And what about the other planets?

Tiz been a while since my last blog, to that I can only account acts of violence, bueaty, and extreme genral weirdness that took places in the desert lands. The storys are also important in detail. But to ballance book costs... Danger ground, this is my pausing of thought.

Ok quick

2005-12-28T22:42:00.000-08:00

The progress thus far is...
AZ was good besides the elevated sickness to full blown flu, graffiti on the van, and my face being smashed to broken bits on newyears. I'll take a lickin and still tick.
Seeing my family for the hollydayz was good, damn fine people.
My father and I took flame to a mandolin and blasted it with a shot gun. Kyle L. that's fulfilling my duty.
Pictures of this and more when I can post em.
Ma and I went to Mexico for prescription drugs and I saw a dentist.
Weather here is wonderful. 86* I still haven’t defrosted from the north country.
Tomorrow I set sail for New Mexico. I have a week to get to LA then to Utah for Sundance.
The search for investors is the goal. Then... I really don't know.
You can have plans with the purest of heart and confirmation, but the truth is, it will forever be unknown.
As of now i'm watching the duff splatter on the fanblades and wondering what comes next.
More duff I'm sure.
Isn’t great?

moving on

2005-12-15T09:48:00.000-08:00

SLC was good to me, the vibe my phonograph picked up being much diffrent than when i lived here.
Now is on to a diffrent world. A world of southwestern states. Moab mabye, some reseveration land prehapse.
It is quickness that i feel as i wanted to be a moving thing at 10am, well...
i'm gone...

the bastards of all time

2005-12-11T19:57:00.000-08:00

who?
the bastards of all time.
exploding with their luck,
no one great should have ever made it.
Bukowski, Burrows, Lewis and Clark.
how did others know what shit it was.
the bastards march in the merk and spit.
and dead men fall unsung.
the moon is setting in the sea and i am dissappearing now.
the sands on a world in revolution eats me in vodka tonight and it's going,
going, going and were all here. dissappearing.
and no one opens their eyes to look outside,
how will anyone ever make understanding.
trip on and land on and move on and so on and so on.

madness and cold of this wonderful country.

2005-12-11T11:34:00.000-08:00

Meeting the random, as my teeth chatter, oh lonely road, oh expanding consinious, oh the ripping off of the "oh" from Jack whom i would have met on this road that i'm on. How i am a writer and a poet and a photograper and not a proper speller. As of current i'm in this river floating like a leaf, feeling the pull of almighty nature. Feeling the souls of those all over. Millions of lungs breath tonight and the stars must do the same..

so lets shed it ,,,

2005-12-07T20:44:00.000-08:00

out to the woreld, everybody s out gettin laid and i;m in my mastselfasterbation... nothing makes dollars in inglish, the world is everybody and who am i,,, the disaster... jklmnop. dosent matter disastor, repeate. what loves???? discrase. can you make me beliceve the lie?? i don't know how. the universe reverses itself for the universe. and where are we??? lost out in the out come... and distaster do we live. and exlamation do we have faith in... and the weather does not care... and let th3e rain turn to snow, and let the rain not caRE. and the distaster goes on, in our lively hoods. in our everdestanatnations in our heads, it's all that really matters. not the forgin translations. b ut the core., the real..// the forgetfulness that makes sence,on some keybord. and we are noeverywhere.... i cant stand proper anything. nothing exist and i hopethe world ends ime...
and thats it..........

Uncertain Unsung

2005-12-06T10:28:00.000-08:00

It all is anyway, nothing is certain, not even history. The treks and talks along this walk have been something never forgotten. The faith in the weird world will be written. I desprately want to forge ahead to New Mexico but the dollar signs are drooping drasticly. New Micerles happen life works correctly, no matter what I'm not scared. The temptures even in the southern parts of New Mexico drop down towards the 20s. My experience in Idaho make my bones shutter but my mind heats foward. The coin is in the air and I'm calling it good.

PS to B. at Hinckley Dodge, thanx for the discount love baby!
Joy to the world, all the boys and girls, joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea, joy to you and me...

2005-12-02T14:25:00.000-08:00

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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· floating SLC, the snowflakes taste...
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· Why is love failing? Why are the hearts smashing e...
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· picturez are still angry-
· A fast food moment
· The day my face fell apart: ...
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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

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

2005-11-29T16:34:00.000-08:00

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?

2005-11-17T16:10:00.000-08:00

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

2005-11-17T15:53:00.000-08:00

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