Lit/art/Journal Issue 13 2017
Enertialcall
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Enertialcall
Desk-mess september21st. and so much is thought reaching into a day the welcome oof life by living.. a moment of trying answered by a day or earning.. living , being respoected, when. it means so little . the lungs filled with paint fumes, the heart speeding through the first hhit.. Marijuana through my brins.. brian.. Questionning and welcomeing the quesitons. for th espiral seem to be mounting. from long ago and a place far within.. these years Me-- represents. for to love and have to cle of timme is to love maabye onl to fuel the passion where the rest seems so linear. and here is something someone,, in another to live ,, in nother, and there fwith acceptnce comes the ghost of representation. and endless daze repeat themselves. the palovian... the unuestionable. the deligated of society and that is fme. for one to have voice is for all. to hear,, for the way is clear without us,, anure is corse and law to emotion. so me must answer if there is such that would join andn indivieual to Energy ,, as a natural conclusion of phtyscality.. we have callled Faith ,, that faith is a common human sence.. it is the DEsk mess i haave been working on the magazine . for twwo week,, stolen bits from paskt journal,, endless as they are i am still onlly into th eearly twowthousands, , nad all referances are to be ,, untainted by libary adn congress, shorter and shforter jour expand f to thouirght and reactions actt. injour cores,, to see addictiolns ,and the add ons we can take off... andn what is health glaobela,, and for the cosmos of eneregy being, that 1,8 trillion Ideentifiablel. atom ,, or some suuch thing. nothing to do and what we lay to print is for time magaizne , 1865 or some such. the impresson of our heart to greed and kmaterialism ,, ,, yet to breath . ........th enow shalll not be wated.. or waited. the hope our hearts embrace us,, but to self s be tru all in energy ,, all in montrkas , th emess is a desk . the day is of you. where boats rise ,and sorrows gone, where all is a future looses the day,, we miss the tide, if we can not feel. trauma coases, and maybe that is ofnl time one is allowed to speak ,, when the being is granted its own freedoms agasint and with .. ah whateber, drunken toad stools enhancding piktucrre of monoliphic discovvers, toad stool. shit form the end of tales united,, the eloqjuesnt noted, and gone. thank you for reading. kada
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CONTENT ?
Enertialcall’s Rainy Pete--Ugly snow now. greying brown, strung in ribbons down the street gutters. Lines of tire tracks remaking the intricate desings. freeing alillttle just after the tire passes. Cristals, accumuplatin aground a good idea , to join again in the freeze of upper climates.. swirling high and higher , up and down then slow fally thousands of feet,, with other colonies, micro unity painting s world with freeze,, filling the aquafiers, to be sold off in spring water bottles, or carry the chemicals of the street into the welcome all of the sea. where community is a different motiove, where flow no longer just lookes to paint,, but comes as a force that doesnt stop and demands even from the Two Leggs who constantly look to surplant it, Fluid enviroment of Salmon and plants, crawdads, and Crane, after all this it will be theirs again. so persistant ,, crystals micro partical unities, like th etwo legges in the montains, huddled in the Most mondren Monk Hut stolen away from the urban Humanisms, Economics over nature,, over gods micor partical. a sworn vow except fr the sciense, of a clear mind , water particals ,of wintery tears. its funny as consciousness goes, the particals thingws. each side needing an effected reminder,, here and whati think , from there, what i knew,, systems changeing with each succesive cycle.. cloud,, speading day in the At-most-fear young days ,, when just over there was the dark of space, the freezing and mixing, the vaporish nees of learning cospic patterns, before form, before, adult cycles. for one day i will be a tear of god,, so simple, a water partical asks the squirrel and takes all its advise,, the simple there,, and grab,, run or walk stop in the middle of traffic, ponder the claim, and show off the awarenss and speed ,, squirrels are so know for ,, Frogger be damned,, when was the last time you saw a frog cross a road,, water particasl from vapor to form,, gathering the first of the community. which it is funny , think the water partical. the one first one for this consciousness to descrbe , one who can not see its past lives, for even as they congregrate,, they forgetttheyhave joined, so many subconsciousness, they dont tend to look back,, into the grey matter of the space sea,, the creator sea,, Into the brine we as one have been caled the partical believes and feels no onger the push and pull of proton polarities,, isolated intuitions to move here, or go there, now,, in form,, its feeling the tempturu ,, rise,, from deep space the at mos pheere touches,, protects its womb child ,, almost a protection for space to remain the same, to keep out what is inherently ego ,, what is form wihtout change,, the quasi materialim they get so proud of , thinks the now form water partical.. vapor then form,, the water form, then,, cloud to rest and grow among the trillions,, but still only on, now,, I am form.. and then to fall, gfall fall with the greting of Breeze,, and the spinng ,, to cover and paint the world ,, cold in snow,, to river , to sea,, or to puddle and evaporte,, from form to vapor,, over and over,, back to the sea,, always,, up ,up glorious, the Partical says I am evaporated , I am snow, I am cloud,,IN the idenifaciton of each satge ,, each is welcomed and known , felt and imagined,, , some water gets caught yo know.. Ice cubs are the lucky ones,, we must feel for Freezer Ice,,the purgatory of the unchanging, trapped in every home,, of the Two leggs like they are keeping some breathern in slavery just to hold food,, two leggs have to ingest,, so they keep the Ice,, the no chaning dpressed ice to keep food with its domite water partaricals,, I have never been to the hold event of Defrosting,, they say they do in the fall. holding massive parties, to celebrate the freeing and return of so many water forms,, or maybe that is a rumor,, a two legged myth. The ugly two leggs have complex systems of trillions of particals,, but i have only been through one once,, ,, it was the time i feel into a collecting pond,, wiht little run off,, so i was stuck and into a huan molding of iron or something,, and tunnel exteneded for a long while,, and it was very warm,, all the other Partical forms to exchange meditation telepathic the two leggs say i have heard,, yes when i was sweat after being piss aftering coming out of the tunnel and into the light, one to be into another tunne this one was more earthy,, like nothing Else Made by the two leggs,, and it was much warmer,, but it didnt give vapor but traveled alot, going so fast mixing with paticals. it was almost like birth again,,but then in the two leggs ,, paticals get jelly like,, and the greath stream doens lead to the sea not the salty one or the the cosmic one. but back to light, thorugh sweat they call it, and then change cahnge change change gloriour change, ,, so sad to b one kind of form for to long.
TABLE OF
Feature Arist
Erin LIbby Gallery
letter to editor pg 5 feture artist pg 9 Re view pg hard core lessons ....pg13 Review .....pg 14 Feature Graphic Novelist The Crystal Girl ..Ryan Kennan.... pg 16 2043 Feature performance peice,,,,by Kada.. pg 22 Feature Poet...Jasmine A. Koster...pg28 927 by K.a.Ambrose 32 Grandpa Doom by Chris Broberg..pg34 Anger enterprise. by Harmy Sweet... 38pg i Ache for a Partner.. by Alburt Glass ........ pg 40 From here to there by Jacob O. Mallery ... pg 50 On Broken glass fields by Howard Tides... pg 56
micro particals stories,, or Quatum Tales. . an awareness which turned apes erect. On the floor in the kitchen just under the plastic rubbery Base Thingyunder the quarter inch end which pretetends to create a water seel to the floor and wall. gathers crumbs, and other micor dustuals, left over, misunderstood plots of toast yes, and scraps on boots from the outer world , pains processed,,, climaxs and cunning inventions. against the mass arrea of in conclusion,, adventures rumoances,, the particals that was a tree as in a leaf as in a free traeling wind object,, to a puddle to excess asphalt duct pebbles,, to a boot ,, to a floor , to get lodged , in a cornor no broom visits for a while, and five months, each time the horizen gets sweep of particals, of friends , of company, you watch waiting ,, always waiting ,,, to go on the magi ride,, partic als talk of ,, the amusment of gettting Eaten,, That always the great drive of organica particals,, and the inorganica particals are starting to get cocky about it,, seeing how they come around to stories also of getting eat by humans, but an Organic partical loves to be eaten it is the soul reason it is hope of change and rebirth, the inorganics can never be reborn,, there creation is onesided,, ,, but what do you think you can do as a leaf partical. ? gotta talk about something.
Paternal Vision... by Nate Witham...pg 58 Micro cosmos of 7 trillion cells. ? .. all with a conscious. by K.A.Ambrose..pg61
Co
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nsciense of Table ? Enertialcall
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Micro cosmos of 7 trillion cells. ? .. all with a conscious. by K.A.Ambrose Dusty, didn’t wonder why the world would change with the wind.. not much, sometimes, other time fast flying, into the wooden things and along the carpet, the huge stalks of fibers, pushing Dusty back into the fate filled light wind. . so light a dusty is composed of micro particles, The loving Dustys who all just waited to travel. Talking about where the wind would take them, the big hand of air,, or the moments of confusion when blown into the corner,, you can hear the complaining. Having no self will its hard to get out once the the wind constantly pushes you in,, ,, but dustys are free mostly to just stay in one area,, one place ,, the furniture,, the big wooden thing,, or the soft sheets which generate more micro dusties,, the flicks off mankind ,, his silk so precious, cleaning while comforting, creating little ducties,, , which gather everywhere, joining with colonies of dustys, some who contemplate what it was to be human,, there non existant faces,, the only micor scoping material units,, with only astral travel particles to consider, all positive particles ,, you know the negative ones we dont deal with , they are just static to the peace of being ,, for it is a creation of the voices of the dusties, in sonic resonance,, they sing together you know, making a tonal structure that keeps them light , unified and able to let the breeze take them,, to the next environment, but together,, if you listen, you can hear dusties, singing like the sea inter balancing their tones, one a perfect flat fifth away, another sings a drone rhythm, as they move through sub-lateral harmonics, and micro-sonic frequencies, united and distracted into a congregational unity. OUr Dusty is just one. an abstract mole hair from a she humans left side under thigh a fleck of skin which spent a while on the sheets,, alone without a community ,, and it took awhile before Dusty became after the savior wind gave travel and then he forgot he had even been apart,, so loving the dusty community,, who play chess in astral reality,,who make jokes over relative mass displacement,, and convenient quantum technicalities,, while humans look for the need of a god. Dusties look for lonely dusties.. as the great Bearer gives hope to all.. Our dusties are still mobile, the cornor ducties ,, say ever little about what the door corner is like,, they are the oldest and wisest communities,, but some time the tones they play are more soothing, but more Wagernish,, Diving low tones,, with sonic screeching lower register agreements,, mimicking each others solos, until they become competitive and stagnant in the silence of those who cant hear ,, but yet Mother wind doesn’t help them,,,, for wisdom is a inertial burden,, and all the other dusies are more fun to listen to. but when we bother at all to sing other the corner dusty ,, it is almost with the same resignation,, and when we get there we will have forgotten we were ever here. a perfect union of dusties,, but astral projects create so many colors to go with the tones,, the colors are only for the dusties in that ducsty community,, like you have to be physically attracted to the other dusties. or you dont see collors. so there is that,, it is a air physcial deispay ,, astrally crated, some can do it , Our dusty cant, but the other duties,, say there is something worse than the cormor,, there is the brush machin ,, which comes,, I mean its a worry but all things seem new in dusty land , so ,, if yo like here, you really sould try and get to the coror,, but you know how that upward dream of being a physical object again ,, anit going to happen, you a dusty now,, start singing.. i know your just taking a break..
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Letters to the Editor TAKE OVER A HUMAN SEEMS SO EASY YOU WONDER WHY WE HAVENT TAKEN OVER THE WORLD ARLEAED, BUT YOU KNOW CONTROL ISNT EVERYTHING.. SO ANY WAY YOU FORGOT THE SQUIRREL RESISTANT,, WE CALL OUR SELF “pOOT� OR IN YOUR LANGUAGE GROUND RUNT UNITED, or in other languages,, we just call for the total and complete illiniation of all millionaries and above in politics,, at all .. it is a conflict of interest for anyone to have global wealth and power but the government.. A government must be resp0oncilbe to the squirrels they represented and tax accordingly.. ,, taxing the squirrels population with pesticides not only against us,, a named and promoted genocide,, but the weed killers used around our trees,, it is easy to see the taxing of mankind,, for all our noble and inlightened,, Squirrelly nesses.. pOSSIIBLE ONES OURISMS TRAINING. .
Dear editor.. the recent expansion of corporate control of media. (2017). back door military contactors all, Topic makers might Nra delight,,, stumbling on the mentioning.. of sci-fiction. who has the keys,, when there is no door that can be denied. In thought,, we have left the building. stationed our selve in every cornor and crevice in knowledge, practicing our bit of Farihiet 51s mentioning that little peice you know . but no More.. and i dont use your spellings no KNow More about this.. but know well and unifi. create combine control..to satisfy, to match what is a moral lie. greed kills and devides. Oh wait, none of that is your fault, you like to deny time, or the fault of the enertialall.. but you know.. thank you .. water is life. John Asermetme Dear dude who writes this here thing, a phamphelt? or some such, I know you mean well , but you know a person might like to comement on some of the reasonings. like here to ponder, now i know we are a whole lot of neurtrones , sitting in what could be called a stew.. the mother bing on my klmmind as the windter approaches and summer is left with visions.. but why the word of a rock stagnastce,, where is th emovement . you are gald it isnt you to blame and yet. how anger grips you when you can not smokee,, and then when you do , you get ssick all over, and ave for years. whys have yyou dropped ashes on all your key boards.. and burned eveery sheet in the house, or is that it. you can not control so the tanturm is a cigerektte,, facing addcition without facing them is just complainings. and we are reporting from the innside you wait to find,, you wait like you oncee, knew and it is inside you. like a ritual focus,, you spinn webs around ,, yu can not handle the outer world so much ,, amisxture of here and gone standards,, please me or I leave.. whhile i am leaving any way, like i am ton agasint th egiveing and being, while wiating to step into an astral body of being , and constants. a constant subject.. Claton Hanmernerenery. Der editory now i know nothing we would take away from the poplitical sides of the enertialcall call can be p0roved or dis proven in a court of law.. but.. We noticed.. your blantant Mentioning of the two presidential climatixs and you didnt make any fun of the other party or devitions that according being noted , un mentioned politicaly party Name ly The squirrel party,, here we could like to tell you what you have missed in your blantant reaction to the corporate systems selling off.. of the voting box.. so really ,, we are an orgANIZATIN OF SQUIRRELS , , WE HAVE SW SUB CONSIOUS LINK , HOOKED THROUGH THE TYPEWRITER PERSON, THEY ACTURAL THINK THEY ARE WRITTING A ETTER TO THERE MOTHER, WELL ,, LETTER WOULD BE A DIFFERENT WORDK, FOR THE POSSESED IS TEXTING,, BUT THEY HAVE BEEN FOR THE LAST FIFTY MINUTES, AND REALL TO pg 60
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The NUts Rule.. give us nutz.. Aruther j squirrel.. thank you for reading our deamnds to be further belittleed by your absorbing everyones cultureal and forgeting them in the process process.. please replace this with what ever names on wants Squirrels not no ego.
Dear Editor Hello and coichiqua,, it seems your limited coverage of reality has left you all in vien to consider what we should be doing right now.. with all the up in the airs,, well let me set you strainght,, yes you are nuts and have been talking to yourself for years,, your anger isnt going away anytime quick though you might try with remedies, of laughter, and pensive self awareness but as you know each limitless onion skin, revealing more and more onion skins and only blind brain washing can answer,the question of time, such that a freind Recommended a Lobotoumy , or was that schock threapy ,, for any one empathic enough to feel all this ,, and if you really want to know. the over baring of our present government is creting a sort of vacuem effect inthe general sights of people ,, as in i think people are rushing into there loves more,, finding heart in holding and loving as a response.. but maybe that is just me,, seeing i can inside self,, and holding that no matter, the hatred and foiled forces of a natureal meaning to humans. Salley Equa.. pensicola.. idahoe dear editor.. we can never know more than we know or is that wrong,, for we can beleive and question ,, and feel changing perspectives. like the more the candle is in the dark the strong becomes the light. where we are the next stage inside our selves to under stand the human pain and cure.. for the later is only mentioning of governmental response Enertialcall
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when it is only ours to pass along.. what breath we give , is all enviroment. such that to know we change, is to create the global conscious,, Non local conscious ,, we open to the nature our focus gives us. ,,each knowledge structure has been approved or removed by “authority” scrinse fought for years , and died , over the wrold being round.. how much do we fight now for consciousness being the level of health we live, we need to cure,, and preposes a whole change in governmance.. Liberty of conscious,, agaisnt the forcast of Limited futures foreseen,, you have sponcered such thoughts before , hopefully you will p0ublish this one.. a now is inspried by the now.. to be
yoga and eastern thinking people should organize our ways into dogmas,, that say you can not enter the kingdom of now without understanding you are first energy.. then physical. to contact and feel energy one has to be purer of thought.. thought is first lead by how one feels. feeling is halfway just health.. mediation and breathing,, awareness through body,, and then through thoughts and research of self. then we can relook at governments,, and why for government, What is the ceentral Reasoning to have government accept to improve the general lives of its people.. Even China has approved Tai Chi as a holistic healthcare need.. but western medicine rarely talks of it. You know you are changing you see it everyday , its like the first world and nature creates a continual process of growth though knowledge.. but the first world is not the average,, so we are the leaders,, and a better world globally we come of it. of the confusion ,,europe loves to test the best ideas and accept them,, while American is the fumbling child still control by forgien investments hidden in our “democratic” system.. we are the piggy bank of the world ,, but we have to be dumbed down, with biochemicals in food,, and streess relation in our media in order to “stay the road”.. wtf.. INdividualism equal globalism. Only we can be out global peace.
maybe you be whole maria .
Hello person .. well you are always off track,, becaseu of your top ten things trump will do you threw the electionn.. and i call that tampering.. you know like NPR did to Bernie.. you did do anything to stop him,, and now.. what.. well i will tell yyou what,, the mean people are meaner,, and the nice people are hidding and trying to love mover, the nice people seem to blame themselves. and are looking to be better more loving people like they want to feel as righteous , so they are quiting cigerettes , and turning vegan they are asking for voluteer jobs and the streets are more alive to the difference between pretend and giving .
Jane Witmanham Former state clerk from a temp company who worked for three days, was laid off for five, invited back for a month , then let go for a cheaper worker, and went homeless just after with a check that couldn’t pay rent,, lost house,, clothing for work.. lost self confidence.. then found breathing,, and is just sitting under a tree waiting for the world to change.
Dear editor. when in the last fifty years haveNT we seen a white racist in office.. not since after Obama became president?. when in the last fifty years have we seen A Call for black Rights,, after a black president. AND TO INSITE VIOLENCE AND DISTRUST IS A PRODUCT OF cIA TRAINED VOICES. OR WHAT EVER.. LOL.. When will man kind realize we are all energy. we are all clear agaisnt the absolutes. we are time less. Slavery was abolished.. so all men could be treated as slaves? we dont look at the sexualize “gendarization” of intellectual expansive society. which removes the heart schorkra for the sexual schorkra. but we have a president who can say sexist things and feel nothing of the women around him.. ? and can outright say ,, “ I could take a gun and fire it at anyone on the street and not hit a single voter because of color. And WAS ALSO shown to be a sexist during the election. its like we are afraid of thinking,, or reasoning,, And in the long run,, our expression of intellectuaL spiritualism,, for which is the next right.. HOLISTIC AND COMMON KNOWN. YET. and there everything changes,, we see that color is obsolete,, but only with the liberty of equality,, and a reformed definition of life can we move on. There must be a Think tank one could recite from to offer the needed research and scieentific views but i can not recall one.. right now.. maybe the Zitguiist movemnt,, maybe Alan Watts movement. Maybe we just need to feel the conclusions ihough out our bodies. like all the pg 6
Dear editor YOu write these all yourself.. the letter to the editor is a shame.. its like you can not take the mentioning of outside influence.. like you are stuck in your way for so long you rely on your opinion to be representation of an intellectual inspired thought , when you are addicted to chemicals. and refuse to admit it. or if and when you do you just cry becasue you can not stop. your will is broken and you don’t feel human, like you have denied feelings and there by nature in general, becaue of a natural empathy for life maybe it is becaseu you never respected yourself , and why would you went the system you live in doesn’t care about the average just the above average,, and them they buy off as soon as possible. few get by to feel the full love of love, or the depression of the average. very little is needed for a good life. so to say that you are escaping the system by creating thins magazine this journal thing. this ego ridden formula of media. You are talking to self,, and maybe that is the whole awareness you need.
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Paternal Vision
He was due to die in the morning, and that was all we knew. It was a finite prognosis, of a narrow scope, but the idea was still a weightless one. My father stood before me in the mud room, boots undone—tongues lolled forwards like gagged gargoyles swallowing the swollen stumps of his ankles: bruised from the binding. There he was, thumbing through the mail, inscrutable as ever.
by Nate Witham
“Probably still be getting these five years after I’m in the ground.”
He said, separating the glossy envelopes from the bills, depositing the former in a five gallon bucket filled with recycling. We kicked our shoes off adding them to the motley pile of mismatched loafers in the corner. Entering into the kitchen I took in the chaos slow. My father added the fresh mail to a leaning pile of crumpled paper, filled a glass at the sink, which contained a lone skillet and spatula—the only cookware visible in the whole room. An empty package of bacon sat on the counter, and a fly alternated between alighting for a breath, and flying giddy victory loops. I messaged a temple with a forefinger, the over-night multi-state drive sinking in. My father drank the water gulp by gulp, and I examined the subtle features of his face that were so familiar. As well as the great incongruities with memory: how this sagged more, or that was drawn and translucent now. A shell of the past stood before me, a derelict, evidence of the wind’s power to bend a man’s spine forever. And I, his lone creation that deemed a pilgrimage to the source worthy. “It’s been too long, Dad.” He nodded, clapped a hand to my shoulder, only spoke through his pale blue eyes, his lips left unmoving, but the wet at the edge of lids said more than he ever could. We stood in the kitchen for a long time, just breathing. “You wanna sit down? You’ve been going for a while now I imagine.” I nodded and we went through to the den. He fell into the rut in the lazy-boy, the TV bloomed almost unbidden, painted him ghostly pale blue. Past the heavy drawn curtains the sun was setting, oranges and pinks sneaking through. It seemed like there was nothing really important to say. Like emotion was a tongue we’d never learned—our lips inarticulate in anything beyond the inane. “How was the winter?” “Cold”, and nothing more. A man on the gallows, staring down a noose and eternity: last phrase spoke, “Some weather we’re having.” We sat like that for hours, swapping mundanities, TV drone the under-tone, till the early morning. In those small hours he grew more frantic, a wreck of half sentences and almost apologies. Wailing he flung himself on me, a whirling emotion of flailing arms. A drown man half-breath from succumbing. He sobbed into my chest, and I cried in his hair. I awoke from the dream then, a sense of loss so palatable I could taste it laid across tongue.
Alt lib rules !!! Belllingham Wa
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Enertialcall’s
Feature Artist Erin Libby
FeA
were in bloom . hee would leave with his sleeping bag and take off into the fields, leaving for weeks at always a time but he alwa wa came back . and rarely left the house afterwards. paul just made glass and read and slept. foreign books an called back “it is the police. Can I talk to you for minute, It is about a certain Paul Gore.” the trooper ca opened Albert opene e the door , kind of shocked to hear Paul’s last name it wasn’t like he ever heard it spoken out ri right , always paul to him and others who occasionally came to the house in search of their commissioned commission n pieces. Albert couldn’t think what it was about. the troope trooper e stood all dressed in blue and with his gun belt shinning in the sun. His black hair cut into a close crop,, he was holding a notebook . “Is Mr. Gore here.” back and his legs spread, but still looking comfortable (as that would make me want to fall his head b but down, bu u he seems to handle it nicely) the tonee demurred hardship the messenger man. “Would you come out on to the porch I would like to ask you a fe few questons”. on to the porch and sat down. the air was crisp and taunting his nerve, the wind played into paull steps s his ha hair greyeing and long. the ccrew cut remained standing . “could you tell me what relation Mr. Gore was to you” “none, We are buisness partners” “n n “when was the last time you saw mR. Gore?”, . “w “I guess it was about three months ago when we got back from a trip we had taken together to bury my sister. you see I couldn’t go alone, I get sleepy when I drive to many hours rs and it was a long trip to Pa.” “did anything suspicious happen, anything out of the normal.” “well yes. Kind of, but it mostly concern Pauls attitude and fears. You see Paul ul didnt dnt nt want to go.. at first. he said he didnt like to meet people and i told him he wouldn’t have to meet anyone. one. All he h had to do was drive. ve. When we got back he was a changed man. and there itt is a chance on a story the nature of man it is and not . For the man missing is of the t body and nature is not. how mind , telling the highths and depths. and my stumbling m Living for those failur failures ur when heart wants to make and fears. the making. what is that, and I a cri criminal ri against what would be my love. and in that awakened .. a simple man must not fight what is alive within him. together. slowly within the ability to attract I am lost to the att attraction I like and and time ties harmonies togeth want she is me inside and I can n see it. it, this feeing is not completed d by me. not comple complete in me wtihout her. he nd yet that is the flow , or maybe maa and it is the error trying to love selff like you love ano another. nting that love is true or thee feeling the melting of vibrations together n ogether is a reali granting reality. the harmony of tales aand legends. wan n and never reaches the standing grounds unds of being bein . I would wander and it is the criminal which wants lk the blind of time by living only for the pleasures, not wanting the nothing awayy into the absents. and walk ying the energy, e f b denying blindnesss inside and wanting violence. my acking soul to life beyond this body asking o replace though for the right to thoughts with feeling , moving like the dancing. exchanging views with the vision.
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August gust 27, 00. I am a alone with my thoughts Alone with my confusion. hope is at present a rumor oor of the times es I have given and lost. in short form I am working construction. I am in love with another like ike me. ik Herr life more pain filled than mine I feel. Raised by alcoholics taking care of her mother at a young g ag aage. herr past the look a at beauties curses. like mine in part. the users creeping on every side. Until love is a u use of time and body for f other than the sharing of spirit. with her I am alive again. and with her I am again n the fool wanting secure se love without time. I am stupid. looking for that which can not be but of me to share. re. and I am not no able . and she isn’t with me right now . I feel so lonely. Butt yet I am only living another day. in the pain of the past, in the absence of security and the hopelessness love which left long ago. but there inside of that a man must survive. so how. I want essness of lov ant to an love herr with all the resources of my love. and yet she is inside of the same depression I feel a lot. t. It is chemical and made of parts we can not control. Eating sometimes is enough to cast it away, some me times m it is drugss , but they only work for a while and you have to sit with people just as depressed too consume c them.
TURE
ARTIST
On Broken glass fields by Howard Tides On a hill side in the country stood a house. Old and lonely against the hill, for the ba back yard, though wide with room, ended aburptly with the base of Mountain. With no other houses around rround it. it took on the landscape like a schulture all the windows reflective in colors and stories. Each a seperate novel of expressions people living for a day , images of long fields of flowers. just the reflexions ns themselves create a n hue around the edges from far away,, a many colored ora. It housed two men. well really one. for one lived out side of the house in a shed in the th back over looking the country beneath it. . It is a big shed but not big enough to be a barn. and likee the th house . all the huge four windows had stained glass in them. And there is where our story start. the stained glass had many beautiful colors and pictures. The reds and blues cast light into thee house shed intricate designs making the furniture seemed colored calliope moved across each room with iith the n the sun. but it was hard to see outside of the house without opening the windows. That is why when state trooper knocked at the front door of the house , Albert didn’t know who wast there. And called c out comandingly , “Who’s there” for Albert was a small man, in his fifties, a widower, who lived ived on the ive grounds with Paul Gore, his handy man and the maker of all this stained glass for which Albert Alb sold at auction. They are partners in the this buisness. of pauls work. but paul never left the house , Albert sold the work , dealt with the clinents, showing pictures p of old work to the Prospective clients, when their was any. People paid for the right to be on thee w waiting list. intricate , and sublime, the colors ran through pauls fingers, (((((research glass sculpture. pture. )))) p reds and greens, small pieces made the work. creating depth. understood pains of glass aass composed into pictures , rose colored vision.
Paul was renowned and there were orders for more work then paul could make. When n th the trooper knocked Albert was just going over the books Paul had been missing from the house for about abo three months . albert had been worried for sometime. paul did this especially in the spring when the he flowers pg 56
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Erin Libby Artist OILS AND MIXED MEDIA WATERCOLORS COMISSIONs Accepted Erin says Influences in my work include Hieronymous Bosch, Gustav Klimpt, Arthur Rackham, Persian miniatures, mediaeval Celtic art and Mata. The early Netherlandisch art, which I studied with Herbert Kessler at the University of Chicago, had a profound effect on me. I feel a kinship with the women Surrealist painters, in particular Elinor Carrington and Remedios Varo. Their mixture of laughter and magic speaks to me. Lately, I have been enjoying outsider art. I started showing my work at 14, in the Chicago Street Fairs. Growing up with my mother Colleen Libby, who was a portrait painter and society photographer in the 1930’s and 1940’s, put me in touch with art very early. When I was 8, I won a scholarship to the Museum School of the Gallery of Fine Art in Columbus, Ohio. I was fortunate to have excellent training in fine art from the School of Art Institute of Chicago, Mexico City College and the University of Chicago. My first national juried show was in Sarasota, Florida in 1954. I trained as a K-12 teacher at Roosevelt University in Chicago, and I kept my day job as a teacher while working steadily as an artist. By 1966, I was showing in Paris, New York, Chicago and Los Angeles. Then, I got a job at Mattel Toys in Los Angeles. I am proud of my 38 year career creating lovable dolls for children. Many of them were quite famous and successful. Moving to Bellingham, Washington I returned to artist roots. I am delighted that my work can be seen at the Blue Horse Gallery in Bellingham and various shows,
I studied film animation at the UCLA Film School in the 1970’s. While I did not go into animation, it influenced my painting. I often catch my subject, real or imagined, in motion. My best, most creative thinking is done on my lap, looking out over the bay, curled up on the couch with an assortment of pencils and pens tumbling about. I like the intimacy of working small, and I like to capture the energy of the natural world. These sketches sometimes turn into complete drawings. Sometimes, I use them as studies for oil paintings. When I paint in oils, it is all more formal. I stand at my easel. I call upon the muses of Mary Cassatt and Mickey Mouse to help me share my world of fantasy, whimsy and irreverence. ---Erin
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thinking about something that wasnt the puke smell from three rides ago that i didnt clean up ,, because i just got the car, and only smelled it a moment before the ride got in.. something other that that,, such that the client said little and has a cell phone call she makes in a loud voice,, caring little if i over heard, but its short,, after she ask to open the windows,, and slightily does so , thenn i apoligies and try to explain the smell which is cant explain and just sgot the car. by that time we are there, and i stop. and if i did it right i get a tip,, jsut the right about of sincereity can turn many things into a win. that would be a normal start, easy simple,, just go out story,, of course she would have to beautiful. for the televsion, everyone is beautiful until you can t remember what you look like any more, perfect seems so normal. store bought perfections, I like when the customers are ugly or drab, a smile can do miracles there, and its is just one spriit saying hello to another and nothing sexual,, like petting a dog, instand mutuality,, and comfort. easy rides, nice calm,, what is said is short and mindful of compliments. buisness women mostly, in the country. hotel to work, work to hotel. if you get them talking and find they will be around, you give them the card, with your name and silently hope for the porn version which never comes becuase you thought about the porn version being so free thinking, the action isnt applided, the nature is more fun. and the mind a terrible thing to waist.. I have never realy persuid a women, ever since high school where Denise was a full breasted senior i had no chances at, but tried. and learned. a women’s mind gets made,, and so i should let lovers come to me,, teary eyed and wanting touch, awe due to the many more sensual areas, given with love and accepted with spriituality insired polarities. Women the mother walking,, the caring, the hope of a soil of soul.. But all in the thoughts and never, from the taxi, i was worken you know. though sometimes i would get into the leading conversations of lovers, without physical limitings,, where they always never went further that the conversations. love is devine that way always accessable if you let it be organic. some would say i just just didnt pursue life with strength, but i have a gradual strenth and cannot fit the small spurts, a consistance is demanded in spiritualization,, which is to touch another out of love, thorugh passion alone, that is agian in the country when the rides are longer. In the city , by the time we would get to almost ready to speak with the inner self. she would leave the car the trip is over the change is great,, and continuious. someone always gets in the car as she is getting out , and nothing. But i would fall in love a couple times in a day if the air was willing,, love like i know it, the everywhere kind, not limited to possesion, or claim. for all my time is my writing and the reason for the cab, alone , watching life, feeling i am not living, until i stop, at a cab stand and wait , waiting is everywhere. waiting for the world to change the song sai
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some times i just want freedom. truth self and soul.
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I once thought the cab drivers were THE GREAT SHAMENS,, wHAT DO YO SAY WHEN YOU HAVE SEEN SO MUCH, IS THE SILENCE THE ONlY ANSWER SO AS TO NOT BOTHER , THE CONSCIOUS IN FRONT OF YOU, THERE ,WHO WITH A WORD,, MIGHT SEE AND WANT CHANGE, IN THE INSTANT YOU MENTION IT passing along importance to the wise,, he doesnt get from the silence,, motor turning s, portable windows. the things you have to know.
The things you have to know... r rvive off timing g schedules like the bars closing and rush ,, one,, depending on where you work . (everywhere is different), Drivers survive timing, ymphony, graduations, ho n flowery, when ng whee you are bored,, when not enoug enough is going, you go hours,,Theater openings, the symphony, holidays, the streets opening al you have to look up. in rrural town you never heard a of . because packages are everywhere,, ard ywhere,, and if yyou take them ,, and though, blood runs to hospitial dispatchers ispatchers s take care of you t , and beau u thing to tempt you, yo from point a to b you can try and refuse,, the di you, feed you wierd round trips beautiful women, anything cabbies dont do packages s they turn off the radio, they th dont want to work,, and they y arent any fun, the next time, becasue alot off cab packages, fun,, speaking so many gl glish,, in the city ,, but the small town , you wait,, ,,, and in the ba a days of stock market arket rket up heavel dialgues in languages broken en english,, bad heavels,, you wait a long tt tting or will i get called ed so you clean the cab and d fix things and d go for coffee ,, again, ain, and again time. each second a chose of writting again. o ould watch the traffic depending on the marke n the country , and yet this is suppose ppose pose to be ea and you might laugh at me but i could market in easy . just one day. g gether, each time i drove town car taxi livery i ended n nded and started ed alone, I lie,, and there is no one day,, al mix together, first time and the second i started with someone, first someone ne someone i love e and people i would do anythi there is fiction to the fiction ,, thefi loved anything for. around town w inviisible, nnever wearing boblleses, blleses, or jewe to people i was known by , found mee enjoyable when they saw me at all. mostly i was jewery of any kind , obs bs a poor man and civility works in equality ,,, I had welfaree herion addicts who o gave me musi always ready and never for no one robs musical instruments,, re maybe nic one look at my shoes, and people were nicer to me accordingly. I wear jewerlery now,, a necklace ,, mosty,, and an ear ring when i remember. ce,, and i was a waitier for four or so years, a side cook. A ccorporate man for a minute nute in three different d not in al the years of customer service,, m I was home p,, the moving van,, my own van,, the shelters aroun establishments, between most of them homeless loving to sleep on the cheap,, around cambridge d money seep walks,, w around harvard university , around old seeping from the bricks in the sidewalks,, the early years of life proving what a good man i was, which some saw put mostt didnt,, k for all the wor emember this thi is not the and iwould leave a job if my anger aroose,,if i wanted that moment to strike back worngs done me,, ony to remember w stronger th mental person,, as my rage grew older, it grew stronger,, such that a look could send me off,, and i stoppe stopped working after that,, but that is the paragraph, ve ,, but forgot peo re with the all thetime I was writing,, reading at poetry read readings, and only wanting to survive people could get paid forr this ,, i read g reality into its cha arms,, an Surrealist at an elementray school, and knew herm herman hesse glass beading turning charms more than its harms,, and all seemed and is st for children,, think ure,, seconddary , the heart inspirred by action,, is fullfilled,, and adventrue are not just thinking ,, is an adventure,, m good at,, and tthere we come to better better best, again ,, and i mu not one i am good at admitting i am must stop that,, he menaing of w i want to remember all the time the what we dont know.. tee and make a stat hiinker,, jj what i dont know,, even as i wrte statement ,, that i am not a good thinker,, ng as a twele twelev ferance of silllness an I dont know if i am or not, seeing tweleve hour trip driving cab turns to a referance and self reflexion. the hllside, getting behind the eop is only moving yourself,, each conversation if they want to talk is a mentioning of the abstract ,, a sight from wheel. and sitting , tranporting peop people tea leaves ,, or vocal patterens, you can hear,, statments of how to be serverd,, I walk up to a tble i am waiting ,, a two star diner,, “whats good” ask the Dinners,, and there were five of them in the way into the weeds restrurant, brasss coffee servers and large wooden pepper grinders. waiters sexy in black and white flying everywhere, in a dance of effective speeds,, Mcdonalds,, I said.. and get a laugh, which was part of my ploys,, if i could get a table to laugh in the first five minutes,, if was going to be a great table. i matched it with great sevice,, all happy go home,, bosotn was like that, turn turn turn,, i loved the speed, next thing i would look up and it was time to go,, a hundred jokes later, a song or two under my breath while making salads,, and the day was a greasy puch clock,, and freedom. back to my regular life, each stage had a women, either getting over her or getting with her, Mostly i felt they didnt want to work as hard,, as me,, except for one, who understoaod art, and the 300 hundred hour week,, a breathing life, more than a waiting to live, but i didnt understand that, I did understand to reunderstand, is growth and self importance is a path of devotion and personal training, I was blue color raised,, and hid my loves. thought i needed to in order that i could have them,, someday, but age left me to find only the loves as important, and walked into them, and here we are,, i have dont this all my life,, this this of writing, on walls of notebooks pilled flatly so many lost, scribbles of ink pens i can read, wring to explore life, and thoguht, to explore feelins and intuitions, to destroy,, the “claims of “thats just the way it is” and materialism also i think sometimes, but i have rampled and left the stry agsin,, the car was an all whhile i was in it,, it was how people treated me,, if it was a mess they scowled, and vibrations flowed through the whole trip.. i wowuld have to keep quiet, and watch the road like i was
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Enertialcalls LESSONS section haRD CORE 101 “all the education you get from being in jail withou shelter or in poverty without being in jail,, out of work in poverty.. a cheaters guide for staying . “
or hard core U Intro-- (Guard you ass holistic)
Walking Safely (meeting peoples eyes after intro two) 1) Listening to what people say 2) Hear Yourself and your motives all course 50/2hrs 3) Follow your Feelings (Prerequirement for all courses)
Teaching --Learning Self-Teaching --Learning Self
INtro Two
Hard core lessons
-Deviding the streets Level one Chorses -Transendance Nature-- (off grid Squirrel life)
Mediation, the over need of American Culture ( or Getting over having less), The Learning Montra, Rome with a cardboard sign,,
-Predatory street nature (or Core capitolism) The scamms.. -Insanity (having no Clue-isms including depression and drug related relati0ns)
INtro to survival
Getting a gig.. (learning to make cash) something entropenioral,, and shit From Day Labor to “Stemming” dos and dont. Street art----Music for busking. . Acting Performance, from juggling to mottion orientated Gorella theater.
Learning food sources
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meals food banks. locked trash cans,, and the Passing “HeLLO could i have that doggy bag ?”
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Re-veiw
video
am i the only one or is Synecdoche, New york a classicly organized drauma which tell the difference between acceptance and life . Or is it just me that see the psychological effects of man not feeling his love enough to organize love with intellectual prosuit? eee.. synchece is a being ON BeING ? a being on being an actor or a media artist for the millions of points culture is contained by ,, the average of life,, it is a tale of the big and the small. if just by character.. for to invent a classic is only for the greeks right ,, well in this movie think they lived for a moment and yet maybe it is only for a huge crowd of actors to know. but that of course would be wrong , as each reaches into the maze, the conscious through remembrance, and guilts.. no one is a god for long. and if we forget our loves we get lost. and i see it as a docmemtray about life. simplly presented to the technological self. or in this case the technological artist. who creates under duress,, of schedual and system, AND his love also an artist,, who leaves, makes tiny paintings. for which you have to were glsses to see. perspectives still live where the unheard becomes the maker of small objects.. small object smaller person.. classic Nothing ness in still lives rewarded with inner love while the Man is creating picture so larger even he can not understand them until. each part of him gets portrayed,, which forever he trys but can not fullfill and walks his humanism straight to death. our play write hero,, the last role of a great actor ,, thought for the shortness of his life. But that was not the Day i wrote this entirely ,, yo know how i love to feel from the major events,, a movie is an event in my life. i choice , ( well poverty choices..) to watch movies limitedly , i use to spend all my limited money to run away from life.. escape into movies , and even in those cases i found funny, tales of cultural representations to be oracles for a thought,, or a collection of cultural sights. So what was the three moives from the day i was starting the magazine?,, remebrering i had to controls over the choosen Movies. so to me they have themes , oracles , that combine them to fill this page.. Sychtodoche was just the first,, then i saw a documentary,, Orwell turns in his grave. , , now it gets weird.. for instead of a tale about enertialment media,, about theate
you have to know that when you are driving, you are all attentive, like tropically aware of everything around you as welll as the passagers in back, this was back in the day where there was no plexi-glass barriors. More because Cambridge wasn’t Boston, but also Harvard was my hang mostly and you can see the money on the people. not that it matter much in the summmer no one takes cabs , until late, summers are slow and winter makes your lips numb and chapped if you come out of the car and into it, the over and over, it isnt good. but What do you have to know to read this ,, nothing i guess, so much life passed by in that time , that i coulde start with elsa and end with leaving for germany , playing with dave and rocky , running aournd ndd from o oonee apratment to the next, next was a basement, pushing over fense post driving way drunk,, ,,, and getting away awa with everything, just laugh ing alot.,, else Elsa stood five one, with deep bown eyes that you could see from accrossed the room, she liked tight blouses, for flirting but wore sweaters after that, i loved her like the spring had again come me tto life, Well, the again, was a first The tenses getting a mess.. it was, the first time i almost got married, me, we had a beautiful black kitten named rried, she was portugege , and shee let me be m catherine the great ,, I was reading Anna then, and we lived accrossed street from the car wash, with a gas station right nna Kerina th ssed the stre str behind that eventually became dunken with a Seven Elven not a black from our apartment but we had lived together n donut ,, wi wit ack away fr half a year before that ,our first sapce was a ten bby ten by twelve, room , in n an art loft,, Our room was a two story shed build inside th the An art loft we werent allowed wed to go into , but walked though when we were bored, i was glueing broken mirror glass peices together and playing guitar,, and working eno enough to keep us there, and fed. I didnt y know about Welfare and figured i was making it, fine, I can cook mash potatoes okk m toes on a popcorn maker hot plat,, I did choose to be an artist you know. saving my time for my thoughts was a major expndi expnditure of time. I dont rem remember when we leave,, to a place expnd in cambridge,, two bedroom with a roomate. I was doing moving oom om wi g work, oover the road , out of town , and the first chance i got with another women i took it.. on the road away from else, we had been together for a year by that point, I hated the guy i was driving en togeth with ,, a know it all who arranged the jobs without a trucking company and had to sell the job to my boss, with our truck,, and he mpany an was a morron who couldnt ouldnt pack a truck,, somehow hhe thought hee was in charge,, until i had to tell him off. and he broke a telebvsion broke my faithfull nesss to E-- It is funny how the mistkes we make are often ebvsion set. in Pittsburg,, and i br bro hfull ness cause we are mad about much that all goes with it, bout something else, and transend d iin the the denial so m the girl was cute, one else around, e, sitting on the sidewalk , with no on ound, we sat down and strated drinking with her,, next we were back in her apartment me all night to make love ent and it took m ovv to her,,, and as tthe sun rose and i had to go to work,, no slseep the night spent seeing iff i could feel tha that great one more time. e. but it was day , and day was droppi dropping the load, picking up another and going home, the night was restruant and coffee, p an nd goin WHISKEY later with the driver sle sleeping the the snooring cornor. talking with roomate and watching what the world looked orr king wit like awake,, so tired, but showing it, even as i cam and itt eended,, the sun to ut not showin t high for sleep, one more touch and a little cry , a number,, and a sigh, I make it throg throguh the day. and back to boston,, She called, and i answered, E-- suspected,, i denied. a month later we broke up ,, over a wedding i couldnt attend my baggasge wrappedin wedings, my mother to my father, my mother to my step father, my brother to his wifes. never saw one. and E went alone, it was over there somewhere, between all that, until One day she just hit me,, it waS THE EN END, SHE KNOW I WOULD NEVER HIT hEr, BUT I DID GET MAD then and childishly broken things, the tv was firstt then cats heart she had never heard us fight and sat on the bed and cried by the time i got home she had cried for thirty minutes elsa said in tears i will alwasy remember. , ITS HARD WHEN YO CANT COMMUNICATIE THE NATRUAL DESSIRES IN YOUR HEART LOVE its hard when you cant communicate the natural desires in your heart.. you feel lost and screaming in a closed room again. No one to understand or care. the feeling would come over me when i was fighting with her and others , never over a subject i remember, I never defended my self growing up , if i had an idea it was alone and no one to trutst with it mostly. a sore reminder as love walks away misunderstood accordingly. but I loved the way she talked, soft and consoling she knew i needed her. Or really neither of us had learned to speak, I was outside of her world and didnt try to get in. i am to independent for that. rudely indepedant. a fact my mother trained into me with absence. a man who doesnt like the rules and can not hear the common cryings, so he doesnt hear his own. it is a prison of ones own making if he was to stop there, but nothing is alone, and as the days were I worked,, the beautiful days of love and nesting, I wrote daily read, and keep a study , our little three room apartment , the televsion was in the bedroom,, there was only cable back then and vcrs . we couldnt uldnt afford either, but once we had room we grew seperate, I wanted more for me. for us. but didnt thnk of asking her to marry me, unity of the flesh h is greater,, but i could have gotten the document she made chick pea soup. and her sister had a son we could have made a better unity around them,, th the past is so beautifully futile. its funny how much i remember. I still remember her phone number, everthing is alwasy just afte.. afte that which lead to that, where does it end or being, a story a good od story the moral gided lines? the symbolisms,s, as those come to dust in the face of life, Un Caring life. lived life, see your shoes. life. scorned life. left over life , disguarded, imagined life. when does getting in the taxi amount to siting on the hill side. e. so much surrounds you ppassing by. never to touch or given in to ,, forgetting as soon as the interchange nge is over, but never , for each life registers in small ways the understandigs of a human. Alone ,, Watcing the world ,, the cog,,
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Easy a four am to four am. shift in Boston. Cambridge really , just like i would , when i had the huge white econoline van to live in after .. the last days of elsa , the story of a kitten , named catherine the great, and a crack head that finished it off,. minding that i was always carrin a musical instrument ,, the guitar was to big so i didnt have that much , sometimes, in summer, i would find any parking space i could and sit playing guaitar against the windshield, my legs in a proper long one over the over, like on my coach waiting for a beer. Cab stands Be Damned, there is money everywhere if you let it.. and you have a cab. ab. b. d take yyearss tto explain. the other drivers, in each of whom Beckette One day in the life should be easy , the back stories are the problem it would exhaust exhaustion, bore r re met Stienbeck. Devided by age, the older ones get a look,, a deep stare off exhausti boredom or An unnerving slow greeting all in the knod of the ting for a ride deep iinn the summer stillness,, The look of , seeing problems head, the flick of two fingers holding the news paper. A depth of the waiting truc he vechiles isnt an extension of them, after you get good and trying to keep a hold of the drag,, as you become one with the car. Ask a tru trucker where the nd cleaned them. which makes them happy and me get and in line with the mechanical hord dictatorship. I always named carss , talked nice to them and more money,whenl you fina nally get a job.. , but, with the weeks,, with no buisness, d ooff how w little money you are makeing, Staring in no one can take your mind into nger driver you wiat with writing, beca becas the infinite. waiting, paitemce. as a younger becasue es fthe hours iwth written wrod wrods you still have the fire, the essence tht consumes and flaunts the levity in your dusty face.
From here to there by Jacob O. Mallery
oh wiat i am having flash backs,, you see i drove , two different cities ,Cambridge an n Burlington and i was getting them confused,, i want to talk about when i was in boson, and and ev oout eevery night and i had a girl friend, short and flashy everything was, merry ,, the stars weree ou por he was w rich rich, caree free and she love me, , but not innocent , porportioned I loved her attidude. she a high heels, for the free dringks ngks she would feed me in the only time i would learn german and was to say Ich Biber Dish or i love you to a fleating dream of temporal life. , a day in that world ,, didnt alway always have anything to do with driveing, i would only work enough for what i needed,, the rest of the time i was playn ,, open mikes ,,and learning from u out and Jazz heads,, my boy Rocky , on tener sax, or bass, and davey, god help them,, we hung und and go clubin, to see some band, d, or run a tab smoked alot of weed,, then i would drive us around o a bartender freind who would throw it out ut at the en off end of the night. hrice.. I think . , I had their band back me up for a gig thrice.. think, alot of fun, INprovisationnal Lydia Lydian Jaa and spoken word and minimal guitar by me,, e,, th the St Startin artin rtin days of the Middleeast resturant urant Jass Starting ss aand they made bread, I would sit in central square, when there was still glass bakery shelvess th cab in front of there to, and play if there was a parking sp the spot. h heheh,, so what would this one day be like,, hmmmm,, is it oone , a day when it took three hours o hundred dollar ride.. and three one ee to get to logan,, even the back way,, during the big dig? a on hours.. st should i only tell about times when i was breaking all the rules in the book,, but it just ll. like seemed good buisness practise.. or the short cuts I learned,, but not to custormer service, lol. ibl bl a good ride for the rich has a view, and the poor you want out of your cab as soon as possible,, es ,,, becasue boy can they talk. lol. and much of the time have little no money but the best tales en yyou well to be fair, poor people dont take cabs, and when they do they really get pissed when make them pay up front front, or atleast , show you the money. the economicss went all against the cab driver, you pay the rent you do what ever. but you are suppose to b e on the road aall the time, like i said , i wanted to write since i was young that, t but in lax nnature to all the rest.. I read also. time consumption is not my and havee done that problem , me and a refrigerator box and i am fine, no literally,, i did that a couple of times, I like but the winters AtM AtMs are another story. m You see boston isntt a really big city , its more like a small town on steroids. cause everything reets were laided out by cows going to market , and half of it burnt down , is on sternoids, the streets ally you can walk accros once or twice, but bascially accrossed the down town section in twenty minutes, if oing toward the charles. but over the bridge is where i was stationed, you include the hospital going ompany i had worked fo well not dirrectly , or that company for a minute where the owner pulled a gun d for a car , after he let ggo two people who showed up after me, on me one day becasue i asked I didnt die. but did leave quickly , that story got me an iindependant cab a week later. they love ce and can go directly to work , our gargare was in the other when you already have your liscence side of town, so thnak you for giving me a good and comm common story. one tale and the world opens. use, they can have mit, we had,, an empty warehouse, and in one i was living after the truck with the cat, but that was temporay , after i found out they were painting cars in the next space. half my space was rented out to Davy indoor grower, back in thee bad old days, where every new strain was big news. and my friend was creating his own, like i said one day is , going to be easy , i should just get to it, but there are some things you really should know about cab driving if you are going to read this and so far it look like you are going to . One, not everything is legal, the driving, the pickups, the stealing from other drivers, Stealing jobs i never did that , but i could have sworn someone was taking mine . pg 50
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Feature GRaphic NOvelist from
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the m
Ryan Keenan
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m
ingha
f Bell
eets o an str
the Crystal girl
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ALL IN A DREAM
that they call it paradise and I could stay there forever it is definitely
by Johhny Vomit heaven on earth and everything there Walhalla, SC 1980 is as one to me A sunny day and the rain has washed all the clouds away so take a look out your window and tell me what do you see I see the rain in the grass Now we must go like the Sun through a crystal chandelier and get back to the real world It is so radiant in color and leave all our visions like a million endless rainbows there for others to find riding high through the sky we counted all of the stars in the endless sky on a summer breeze in this crazy dream of ours gently blowing through all of the leaves but we can’t tell you the number in the trees because it hasn’t been named yet oh but you wouldn’t know Open your eyes ‘cause you had to have been there and take a look all around you and so with the beautiful girl are the flowers of spring still in bloom with the long black hair or is there snow on the ground you see I don’t even know what season it is Oh what beautiful dreams I have it could be winter or spring won’t you come share one with me But what do I care we’ll hold each other and close our eyes the wind is still blowing through my hair and see what we can see and the star-light is shining in my eyes all in a dream and the clouds up above me are cruising through the sky
I’ve been to a place near El Portal, California where the sky and the water meet on a field of sapphire blue and the flowers are golden and the grass is a beautiful emerald green And this place is so nice pg 48
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News 2043 Feature performance piece stage, A small box Painted Orange wITH nEWS IN LARGE LETTERS.. with holes for the dolls.. two plastic DOLLS , Girl and Boy a ken doll and clapping barbie. Girl Good evening and welcome to the News. I am Moremen Sanchezz though i am of no latina heritage and it only sounds cool Band i am Redding bocker the third rd intelligence eellli lige igencce sspecialist and all around good cia mole, spy , lackey with side gigs ggiiggss fro froo big big g far ffarma ar ar and other subsideraryies G IIn n tonights new. Band remember major ucky kky corporate co orpo or pora rate te ccensored enso en enso sorreed te tel tele telepathic el fed News is on the Uma level telepathic feeds on yo your o “chippy� G G-rippy -I hhave -I aav ve a G -ri ripp ipp pppy y by Uma overlords five B And And nd all allll oth oother th implanted devises. th that and i tho thought you werefnt going goin ng to to m mention enti en tion tion on ttha h upgrade ,, and I got the ultra man chippy with free movies I can watch and still walktch cca G- laughing So advanced of you. u. for foor a cyborg. NOt,, I got the telporte app, for free.. B- (grumbling) all ways the he la llastest last ast ste sexy for you more-men, new, G- In GIn todays today to toda oda d the third largest small town on the canadain nadain naaddaain in w west est co es ccoast, oasstt,, bbel bellingham has gone off grid. as registered today at the universal energy center,, nter,, ,,,, B Bellingham eellli linngghhaam is is tthe he fi he firrrst stt town tow tow ow to fulfil the mandate by the Imperialist hhhhhuuuuuuuuuuu,zzitusa. uu,zzitusa. u,zzitusa. ,zzitusa. and d wi w will ill ll ssurvive,, urvi ur vivve,, ve,, rremember ve eem mem mbe ber gge get et in n yyo your towns off grid status report before 2045 or you will bee wip wiped off the pla planet.. ane net. ne net t.... yyo you ou ddo dont ont n w want annt too ggo o to to tthe hhee uun universal n mar station.. believe me ,, I saw it oonn m y to ttourest ourres est guid gguide.. gu uid dee... my BByou think they would nt want planets,, nt to o sshow how th ho the ssl the slave laav lav ve ppl planet lan net e but we just keep looking.. G oiinntt B Boy oyy s aar r dumb.. always proves the point are ot ots, ts, s, ooften.) fftten en.) .) (REaction shots,
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R.
E PARTN a r o f e ack INUED CONT
is a reason we are loveless. sade and me. we get to much of gods adventure. it is everywhere and our minds have fostered our beliefs. more than my mind has felt its emotions. do god and nature fight? Ignorance…Sade barks at footsteps. I hold a lover in my vision, the place where I dream until It replaces reality.. Humanity conquers Humanity. my dream out lasting reality, but enjoining spirit without the connection physical , myAnna-bell, My Clarity. Sade smells male and female. got a cold fever, want to met. emails and dog shit. Can’t touch the owner. but can have the dream. Harvey can’t change realize change . he can only react like he is. naturally, while she has books and dreams…. each loving for there reasons with there imaginations, maybe that is one of the reasons for dsyharmony. Loving with imagination where it is just nature. .. one of the ghosts tell me so. How long does Love last? When I am at work the day is country hills and vales off in the distance. I work on a hill. putting up thin cement tong depresers like clapboard. the beauty is not interrupted by the loud pound of the nail gun, Its forced air deep plunk creates the other side , anohter side , god, nature and industry guess you could call it an idea. but it is not a love of thought, the thinking is kept at a minum, it not the pleasure which represent nature. Oh my ignorance showing..it is slavery. and Enforced slow evolution of mind and body. my mind dulls working on the wall , looking at lines. sometimes I forget they are there and reason leaves. I am dog tired and just leave, it usually rythems perfect with the rest of the crew, I am one of five and we all quit. Sade’s tail wags so hard her middle curls obseenly. to run after being trapped in the room while I was at work. she is my thoughts. she is a freedom to follow. I wish I could and run smelling testing and pushing I wish I was natural. a dividing line is the fig branch. the sky stays gray. I live in a little room in a large building full of little rooms. the walls , made of metal, stopping nails from being hangers, are unlogically taped with drawings I have done or flyers from performances.. telling life. A Bozo rubber figure sits half lotus at the bottom of the lamp. a square wooded brown base supporting four collums holding another wooden square holding the fixture in the center , a fifth brass colum inside the first wooden four. Bozo’s back placed against a half oval polished brass bass cover; reflections coming back dulled and golden. Bozo always smiles. On the other side of the coulumn from Bozo Is a whale in minture, a toy , where you push up the base to move its springy arms to dance and sway. You have to be really good with the toy or it just falls to one side or the other, like a bullet to the brain ; instant and without romance. the whales standing body flings. the drawings look like notes about a project one pg 42
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never finishes. thrown sup quick. I want to leave this place , it says to me. I can only stick things to the walls which can go away leave no mark. One little room. Do god and nature fight. How did I get in the middle. the fig is my favorite food. Composed of just enough bat shit. flying through the night blindly. I do not have the same passion I had when younger , these words remove me to a place where only the doing matters, I have an old high. a muse which works without working. lingering inside distant movements the typewriter pressing down, the day moving on. slowing tides of not being for which is in the outer world , a no one with long hair, the older guy feeling the attention, the paranaia, then meeting the abstract, telling stories to mark the day giving writing to the poets. some staring with youths confusion wanting to walk side to go where I go the places and adventures I do alone inside to be a dog. and others older stand around looking at all, the lust ,the city , the outside here I am talking of. going by… the lust is without emotion. is replacement. and is finally to blame on both god and nature. our thoughts having to be stage to be trained with such that not all get , for god or nature fails to explain like industry does. to teach for a reason. the reason in both cases would be peace. technology should rhythem with industry. Hard scorning eyes try to look friendly staring off into the distance when they talk ,tell about getting drugs, and who pissed him off, who ran away with the money, what “so and so” is going to do. and look at that set of honkers. his eyes shinning for a moment. turned up at the crows feet. and sip at the coffee. with the rest of the street going by. everyone writing down what he does, sade gets right up and smells. love or not , sex for reproduction. her tail only swings back and forth slightly, stopping now and again to become straight and stiff, as warning and time to be aware. The room has a fan. Blowing constantly in summer, when sweat constantly reminds of secrets and lusts. where an encounter under the right conditions, gives the friendly wanting. where desire comes with all new friends in the sexual game. I like you. lets deny each other and have sex.
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GBellingham is the first town to have all the requirements of staying alive after the next alien purge. You get a chit, you know that lets your self sufficient town survive the next round of heat blast.. and radiation. B- yes it was a whole balancing act for the town, which had to change all flat roofs to gardens and solar panels. but they really went over boarde for the regulation. G- yes they also made a hydro powered tide energy geration system. for which they have been taking over the rest of the country and up north west ,, producting one of the first town in the country to turn a profit for the local towns budget. B- now this wasnt just a movement. of one local offical , but a relivtive movemtn of citizen , united for change,, F- change in home ownership was the first major change the city agreed to , the all houmes and apartments had to be owned by locals,, and basically relistate penalities, basically eliminated the buisness of private property within the city,, G- this created a community of people that were not to be disenfranchized, these people know each other. enough to reach for a unitifed economic and reason driven opinion. B- laughing. yea right,, the aliens come down what tweleve years ago and treaten everyone into doing the “natural “ stuff.. and you call it a refreshing approach to world domination.. was this before or after they cam out of their basements ,, in the great hidd your ass from alien registration of a decade ago. Gb - well it was befroe your plastic ass was created,, you learning ia , fucker,, shut up.. (girl slaps him) B-hey.. (fallling back wad. G- why cant you see the good News,, all y0our negative attitude is really getting in my way, B- geezz sorry. Bellingham B el in ell ngh gham am rrecruited the land owners, and the new oil rich ,, and the gun owners, and fasis christian,, stian,, tian iaan,, fi fin fina na G- Like i was saying, Be nally agains the same mi minorities, iinori norriiti tiies ess, an and nd street living people.. and had a water battle. well that was like eleven years ago o bbut uutt tthe he la land and an sexuals,, and m landlordes lost,, because all the balloon of the hippies were filled with Lsd, w hic was then turned into a water addivtive the next year by overwelming major,, hi which B- I knew it. G- Ity,, i wasnt done. B- yea, i knew there was a katch,, difference iffe fffer eren eren enccee bbetw etw et d ttheir heir he ir ccommunities commu ommu ommu om WEll really waht is thee ddi between , Big farma,, and aspertine,, tabbacoo,, steroids,, Bellingham just decided need .. agred heear hear h a d th thee av aver average eerrag aggee w wor age gee sa ssalary ala laryy , ddevid eevvid up of the cities and moved on. B- i heard work day was reduced to four hours,, and everyone in town getts a average devided rrevenue.. re reve eveenu n e. e.. ssuch uucch th tthat hat at most mos os m g al aall ll hu hhuman um maan nne eed eds.. mass food stuff is free. with tghe gvoenment covering needs.. oom mmu muni nity ty y sstreaching tre tr reeaach chin ing ov oover ver er a hu uucceeeeddeed fr ffrom room m tthe h S he State tate ta te aaro r but it is a gated ccommunity hundred miles. and little is known, for they havee ssuceeded around them,, roters oote tteerrss hhave avvee bbe av been een een en kknown nnoown wn tto o go in i and never return, accept for a letter with a set ett ooff m my mysteriour yst ster erio er our ur ffuzzy uuzzzy y sslippe l pppe on them,, li in all ways, reproters slippers oown wnn was w was as making mak akin ing waves for a while. but to beat everyone to the alien madate iis a lle ing lesson eess ssson ss son on ffor or tthe or he rrest he est oof sector five. es G- yes that little town B- I want to intro the next section.
New 2043 intro.. needs music--wv welcome to the new its some month and some day in 2043 mv I am perfectly gender neutrual. (with a smiley voice) wv (snotty) Its call Neutrered. mv am your host Kosmo Bricktine fm and i am oh my god look at my tit size. and here is todays New sssss mv sssss
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. without the emotions and feelings are we not just stagnate masses walking the cynical earth demanding the pleasure of the physical cursing our spirits for the controls inflicted apon them. So, when sh was there I looked away knowing I was filled with her. knowing I was feeling love , knowing love for her. and wanted to look away. untill she started talk to me. and I couldn’t control myself around her. She asked for mon ey the fact of which I have very little. ten dollars and I had only twenty and I gave it to her. knowing she would go off with it . and never see me about it. I fact I wanted not to talk to her. leaving somespace between us . such to feel my heart and know the truth of time. but she came nearer and nearer, her actions telling me she was bored with the one in front of her an aging songwriter posing for the lack inspiration he really feels. her long full legs demanding my attention even as I have known they before as she poised on my bed for a picture in water colors. she stood on the other side of the pooltable in the bar my heart going out to her but to no avail. I knew she wanted the money when she spoke my name. her glass was empty. she told me of needing for. I knew she wanted a drink. and so I let her take the money on the lie. knew she would drink and off the two of them went. the sad faced needle nosed irish flunky behind her. her highth making them look like a comedy routine , stumbling out the door as I played the rest of the game. and then some hopeing for her return. An hour passed they weren’t coming back. I knew I was waiting and wanted no more to drink I had given away my head for my heart again. and felt used and stupid. but knew I wanted to catch her with the rest of the money in the other bar she would find. and I did. Walkingup the street I checked every bar, never knowing where I would find her. untill the third one she was there , her migit on stage alone trying to tune a guitar. and her drink empty. she see me and tells the bartender I will buy her a drink and saying I owned it to her for the twenty five times we had sex one night. Smaller and smaller I felt. looking at her knowing the love as an emptyness a bad love emotionless at that time for the moments shared and left. for the smallness she was createing in me right at that moment. I did buy the drink, a snake bite it was is called and the knowledge and the fig tree. bite me. and then I started to get mad. a torent of feelings meting truth. th external seeing the internal. here reality. there the heart. one fighting the other for control. and the finallyi loiiked at her. and said . with some hightened volume. “I believe in the moment. the hight of life celebrated can always be . that love conquers all the obsicals.” and I lie here. for the last part I didn’t say. and she just shook her head like she wasn’t going to hear or react.. her drunken state knowing that you can not drink away reality, shaking her head with her eyes closed like I was torturing her with reality. a reality she couldn’t control and she didn’t want to see. I just wanted to hold her knowing she was feeling such conflict and pain. This was the reason for the alcohol : for the avoidance. and why she held on to the sick little Irishman’s inaudible singing on the stage. the guitar out of tune playing the common cords with a tone of hopelessness. Whom she told everyone was Great . she almost cried and I did. leaving the bar after she motioned the bartender that I was being abusive with the reality. I told her to take care and stay healthy, with a peace sign slanted over my heart and walked out , the pain in my head and alchol in my viens. I saw only my foolishness for believing in love, and I hit myself and ran to the a path behind my house, punching around the eys three four times. I cried long and deeply the screams sounding like the devils laugh for there impotence. Crying at sky until , I finally broke down and wailed even louder. my head pushed against the ground my back arched my whole being taunt, forcing out the frustration. Knowing I was alone and unloved everywhere. screaming to the ghost of the past to love me. Innerly is the solitude of pain known as the rain poured lightly down. but then it started to be more. I wanted to react without thought for myself. And waited outside the bar wanting them to come out . knowing I was going to attack the little man for his lying about me the first day she and I met. Saying he knew me. saying I was a child molester. he lied about me to her. and implanted the words so that I could never be with her. He killed me in her. and then I wanted revenge against the lying. I saw them leave and started running trying to get to him I wanted to kill him. and there it is. another untold of human reaction , the beast which goes blindly into violence. as I was running down the street seeing them hand in hand like a couple of fools, which they did to piss me off further. I saw two cops. and was reminded of jail and civil law which protects the weak and defends the hypocrites. and I felt it , the reason coming into my veins. I would not go on … I would talk to the two police officers . they listened. taking down my name for no reason but to write something. and I was beyond the beast again. knowing the reaction of time to the will I had worked my brain into . and there we stood .I was feeling the pain of life. for all life has created this pain. the tortured earth needing peace and love but being denied by the wicked who lie about what they are doing Enertialcall
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acke for a pATNER OR
ALBUERT GLASS
some meaning where LIFE is only the abstract. and is that wrong , life would say yes.. that is wrong but in this world of have and have not the without are society. Is there another reason to wake and bath and smile and search. consciousness??? yes the world away from the world, If I was alive I would be equal to the lonelyness the crying game made simple and I would have but complex I see. hoping she will come back and hold me . that she would understand what the world is with another and yet I am not to need in order to have , presenting the face which hold self importance around the whole and that is not me. and it is a million. but lonelyness as a concept is world wide. In streets in cities and small towns, on the side of the road next to corn fields , inside bars with crowds ,Lonelyness runs through humanity endless and there is no cure, it is conversation and fullfilled gargariousness. And when the spirit is alive in me I can only see the life offered and given. but what am I to the giving. I must find life for myself , and these words and all writing can not give me partnership. only having life flow through life can give me a whole feeling , she is gone , and yet in my hopes not, another is in my mind but refuses me also. I want her like the green of a tree and such is need to love and care. it is again another day. I have talked to the women who loved me in the drunken commitment of intuition and sex. Her brown eyes making me nervois where normally I wouldn’t be. she is so beautiful and so distant. It is hopefully the moments to remember so many years have been spent already loveing someone who can not love… It is me knowing I am unloving I wonder. I watched her eyes look away. I watched what was love finally fade from me. she has accepted the dream of loosing. the linear has made it into her mind and she looked away. the correct world an escape from drugs and drinking. like there is reason in life. not that she will have to learn to deal with the crazyness on her own terms like so many. the high is the dream of love. Ever addict needs to know that there is a natural happiness. It is to follow the dream to keep alive the happiness. there is no other lessen to learn. All the rest comes. but to take my own concerns and live my own happiness. Just accepting the path. staying happy , and not estatic, but simple and peace ful. content. but equal to the talents. It is time to stand Alone like we all must. and the path lives yet I don’t like it. the tales of simple love fall shallowly on the civil survivers who plan through lies and humble suppressions. who go to work when they want to live other things. who tell themselves to forget forget the family you have left behind. forget the lovers who have forgotten you. remebered the lovers you have turned away. the killing of spirits everywhere we forget. I watch and listen as my male friends forget love for the success, the conquering machoism lieing and brest pounding. killing ourselves with the ego of our controls. and my friend that women , she is beautiful, torn inside by drinking and forgetting for there is something inside her story she refuses, and it is that which haunts her. the forgetting to much to remember. Her dreams seem only alive with the rebellion to forget. she writes tales like I wrote when I first started the hours spent teling my life to a notebook while outside the world hatefull wanted to fuck me. taking what they wanted leaving the wasted love lieing somewhere , cold and learning lonelyness alone. when I first learned to forget. and I see that in her, the stories seem to run like that the young and sensitive being lead down roads untill we wake up to find ourselves after walking down all the endless leadings going no where.. lives to forpg 40
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get . these petty leadings, the lieing , the cruel misshapened lives responding to each other we become mishapened from our spirits , I hate myself. I lost her from a moment of hatred. I did something to piss her off. and she will never forget the pain. even as she will not know the pain she caused me. waking me up at three in the morning after she went out on a date. leaving my pictures, which she would have had to in order to give them to me. she meant to leave me. but the dreams created between us leave me wanting her today. the facts of lies is that they are meant to be truths. I felt a future for us. But that is me. I read and create future with every women I am with, thinking this time endless partnering a chance for happiness and fullfillment. but they were just moments .. nights , a pretty girl the pool table. her kisses with men swarming around her, she walks up to a man and asks him to buy her a drink. her long legs trying to get there eases. I said I didn’t have any money. so she made gesture to lure another man to fullfill her desire for alchol. her refuses she get pissed. Sadly she is with me. and yet I would still want her. like I expect this why else would anyone want to be with me. that is another side of me talking getting into affairs with people who I don’t really like. but I liked our converstions I like the feeling of love and with blinders again I reached into the world to come up empty. Is that life? did man kind get created just to look longingly at what it would have liked to create, and never had the will to live. Have we created reason to explain our inability. leaving our white hearts in the balance. The truth of my heart says a lot to me . the feelings and intuitions have wanted to be pleased like her. wanted the attention when I was young , desire the love now. but I have become the elements I couldn’t understand in Beckett and Satre the truth of my foul spirit looking away while the subconsciousness flows against the morals. I am the world , and yet there is hope it is the future as a day is to the one past. and yet here is another day. Last night awashed with the foul smell of the innoscense in a voice and body of the aged. And should the tale be told is it important..I guess the answer is yes.I guess because I am not sure . So another women another day. the space of moments outwieghing the intelligence of years what is life without love
fv today in the city of bellingham washington, United states.. mv Our great sector in the free thrid distrct of the intenational consultuary. FAs you know Bellingham was a first city to sign up for the Off grid race of cities.. mv that was the International consultuary’s great “go green or die” innsitive fv YOu remember that. that was the mandate handed down from the Cosultuantor, which said all Sectors had to become Off grid and Free Utilitied ,, it gave a window of ten years before , the IC would take over the area in question. mv he ta ttake akkee oovers ove have not been PRetty. Imagine your town over run with engineers and the and accountants, fm mmmmm mv hey none of that y think you are so hot cause you can reproduce. you FV llingham lliin ll nghhaam mw was as tthe he first city in the Secotor to fullfill all the requirements without the he Bellingham influx of bow ties and paper cuts. in infl tth hat ats ts ri right igghht , th tthey the hey ey ccomplete oom mppllet ete the first stages before everyone else , and that was the yess thats nss and and solar an sola so lar panels, panneels, pa lss, stage, staagge, st ge, e, where wher whe her all flat surfaces above twenty feet high had to be Gardens eith eit ei therr ccovered oovver ered with solar panels or Gardens,, either FV re incentive for new home owner who have been flocking to Areas are not that was a rreal IC controled,, mv ell ll no no w well where is yet, but the dead line is two years off and bellingham is the first ,, and our sector is one of the biggest. Fv yyeea w yea why did they include all coast lands globally into one sector.. MV it wa w as jju as ustt eeasier a iieer an as aand nd tth it was just they all could create these hydro Electrical Production Plants. And its An iitts cr ccreates reea ate tes a be tes bbetter ette tttter er economic compettive zone with the Flat landers In the other And section.. Copetion is Key. Fv Bellingham will get a plaque to hang under its dome, so all people can see it Next Week.. MV w wasnt it Bellingham that first change the color of it s Dome on rainy days which created a general rise in I.C. Happiness numbers. fv yes es that thha hhat a right 12 people in its corporate over loard board thats the OC to you and me.. yes sai sa aid id they t said were fine with it. spoken through a tranlator. when are they going to fix the oxzgen masks so you can speak through them. mv everyone should just By the Mar’s explorer Vacum sealed homes. By Mod 273 yes life sucks without At mosphere.. get over it. Fv What about walking about the dome you know meeting people. shaking hands. mv oh you have been doing that.. I dont meet anyone wihtout getting my app feed about them. ever, and then only on telepatic channels. Hey Wait you have been going to the touching zoo again havent you.. Fv In other news. mv Enertialcall
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we are not done with this.. FV
its funny all this equipment aroud waiting for me. when therapy takes me places.. so a story is always moving even when i am resting the,, thoughts.. breaking dwo what has been a life of ptsd and waiting for a moment to relesase into a self that feels life as love.. or loveing,, where i am more in love with animals than any person.. for all left me ,, or i them.. long ago. News from 2043 Hello and good evenning,, I am ______ and I am Warren buffett the 29th clone reasonalble manufatiured in the United Planet third Realm, and god that is a lot to say.. yeswe it is but we have to get thime copywrites in there.. my dress was make out of the throw away frabic from Jupiters gaint race, a penny pound store, thats right intergalitiv thrift stores are really starting to pay off.. my hair is from a dead guy
started growing mine but the replanted hair was so easy i got it done in the mall. you know its down the south , corrodor just beyond the trift store and the any body who needs it shelter dome area,, thats right before the kill for a quarter pit right,, Yea but you buut yo ou ou know we really should talk about the new.. oh i just got a report in ,, oh did you really yes,, funy hho how w you yoou get get th ge tthe he nne new e chip and automatically you get all the news. not just some of the news,, your warren,, you didnt want to put out ,, so there you go.. nne ews ws,, like ws,, liik ke yyo ourr w this news hasent the telepatyhic memory clips yet, the governmental manditory ones haase hhas sent nt eeven ven en ma made addee tth you know.. yours warren ,, he is so un techk.. yyes ye es li llike yo way,, was just shoot again,, aany an ny wa w ayy,,, the he preseident preseiden preseide w really ,, O my go ggod
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Anger enterprise. by Harmy Sweet I am sore yet and wanting. and her the desire to be alive transcend the doing. the survival is a held hand against another. a violence which sickens my mind. which greives h si me to want it in some queer sense while denying it. and yet it is another civil joke. oke. Vengeance…. not ot that. I am a pascfi cfist , guess. . work. sex. must have… must leave this frame into the ppurple loving space . must through bone and investigate limitlessness, the nd breath, invest arch easy of your back into poiti poition without dancing out intricate balllet. and wife and lover. and none , haunting neon sign sta stands, alcohol and leather stool, I drool in the corner er and write sometimes. Inside the dark , calming thoughts came ame in the ““watery running” over streams conscious and un… whole room could be watched, experiment In logic ed, and exper and appreciations the of mimunal loves and smiles. munal .. of love Heart exzuded and leave of sometimes. frien friends at least with only a couple of losers off which I was one. B BArfly, sitting watching like it, the great move. at social could move a pen and paper, conducting along with anyducting my interest al one present . people left eft me alone , and I llived careless and free… after after after, time. more and only could me. I wanted mor interview people , I could not give or get more than that, I wasn’t alive I was a cl clown, sitting talking to himself in expressive ways alone. a genius of sorts casting away the l material connection. work? I would sit for hours with the pen scribbling . I was alive to the deadness for I was alone. and in these streams are only the solitude. And why , the sights of the walls with plywood lines. ghosts and minimal forms. Staring
but most importantthing was I changed from being a recluse, wasting my time within a small group of people who didn’t have the drive I had. I came into the sistution knowing only the connection I have always had with people . Years of customer service without me interacting with the people I served. I was only to fullfill my job and go on. the rest was and still is funny I have a hard time fitting in..I am always outside wanting in but not able to reduce my intelligence or street savvy enough to let the bullshit fly. so went I started talking I was exceptionally alone evern after a full night cavoring. waiting I guess for the right women. the right minds. the heart of mankind. and truth is I was emptied by the contact. Emptied of my love enough that I started to feel as down and ugly and stupid as everyone around me. moving to the country has given me a new look at my life. and I am ready to do something…the choises are there inside the everyday I have lived. and now I must come to the conclusions if not now never again. I am going to work achieve for the futrue the reasons I am for now. but this is not good reading.. the statement can be made without any real blood. but I can feel the future. and if not the music than the writing or I will go for some acting. but I will never give up. I met a women who is as confused by life that I was at her age and yet she is wring and trying no matter the world we both were raised by. she is not with me but she showed me love like no other women I have ever seen. I know I can be loved again.
into my beer when the words left me dry. and where are those words. where are those tides of the daily. gone into the elements , lost to moving and sorting out nothing. but the muse. the second beer would be enough to cast me out and look around, the sorted looks one gets when they sit up after sitting down writing after a half hour. the ego tistic, look away. the character for which you have become sitting, stands in there minds. you are a character and the shadow proceeds. I felt increible exposed. No one knows me and I am not into meeting the locals, they intentionally look away. Like I was only writng to make create the impression . to get laid . and I learned much from those days, staring only started the flows , the first times sitting closing the joint became a time and a quest. finding adventure with the women and hearing the greatest tales of lying and bold debonair eloquence. and even life lies. the pretension and vibes , the meat market approach to this small local city bar. Late twenties early thirties crowd. Construction and accountants all with the stories , the pretense. and I felt the prejudice. Writers should not go out it just upsets the rest of mankind.
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t e o P e r atu
Fe
r e t s o
K . eA
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Ja
Brain Storm Jasmine A Koster An alarm sounds, only I hear. In my mind or in another? Either way, I cannot tell. /////// I am plucked from the pavement And thrown down again, too young to understand The message that lingers after; only as a dream, a weary feeling Accompanied by awe. * * * * * * There is no time here, there Is no conscience; there is only a mosaic sunrise awakening After a storm I slept through soundly, yet with my little patch work vessel quite pummeled by a Will that demands I pull through. // What I mistook as faulty design has proven to expand who I am, and whispers a truth I will someday, slowly, comprehend. There is a purpose for me here. I know it innately, it lingers as a private smile; as joy and awe at untapped wisdom.
Enertialcall’s petition page 10 petitions to ease a soul Sing or just sign, a petition to: 1) Eliminate Millionaires from holding governmental Positions, conflict of interest. 2) A National Day off to vote. reaching for 100 percent vote.. with the Census system being turned into a voting system. if you dont vote they come and see you to get your vote. 3) Create a free eduction system nationally because of the epidemic of ignormance in education. and publishing. 4) free healthcare nationally Becasue of internation fluee epidemics 5) figure out the 2000 elections and how to fire suspreme court judges
This qualm is quieter now, though that moon lingers, these waves always churning, always waning. The seasickness is just...white noise. In my mind, in your soft words, I relearn we are old souls together. Each moon, I am plucked from the earth and thrown down again With the fury of the wind; which blows me ‘round with the leaf litter. Those clouds send out rain, pummelling my brain, until I wake.
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A to the G. She was going to switch her medical care to Anacortes. She couldn’t go to the clinic in Mt Vernon because one of her abusive ex-boyfriends had killed himself there , there was also the possibility of running into another abusive ex who was still living there, and she alluded to “something bad” that had happened to her there. the only medicines that had ever worked for her were adderall and an anxiety med and she needed someone to go to the appointment with her to help her explain this to the Dr. I could hear the sound of her singing voice occasionally when she talked, a deep ragged blues voice. She was having difficulty finding words and would stare off into space for long periods of time while we talked. I explained to her that people bought drugs over the internet and searched for online adderall on my phone to show her. At this she became excited and produced a credit card. I explained to her that this was illegal and one would need to be careful, to do some research. I offered to ask around but that what she needed to do was to know some drug dealers. She didn’t know any drug dealers, but if i could get her even a one month supply then she could function and figure out what to do next. Grandpa Doom Chris Broberg Chris Listening To The Person Screaming On The Other Side Of The Locked Door: RC told me that she thought she lived in hell, that that was where we were, in hell. I forgot how it came up. I was just starting my day and she was waiting to go to North Sound Telecare Evaluation and Treatment. it might have been something to do with this time when she woke up after a suicide attempt and realized she was in hell. She was also talking about some Hindu philosophy , how Krishna would manifest himself as either male or female depending on your orientation, etc etc. Anyway she mentioned living in hell and I said thats interesting because that fits into the way I look at life metaphysically, heaven or hell is this life we’re living now,and isn’t it odd how you can be in hell and i can be in heaven and we can both be in the same time and space? And i mentioned this woman I had met recently who had done her neck, really seriously, deep, with a sharp blade and how what I should have said to her when she woke up was : Chris Broberg Chris .....was “ how do you like heaven so far” and RC thought that was funny and then later that day I said that to LM when I ran into him on 1 Central when I was there to play music, “how do you like heaven so far” , which was a good joke because he’s tried to kill himself so many times, and has only looked about half alive for the last 10 years or so, only tenuously coneected to life is LM. What I had said to the woman who had done her neck with a box cutter was “hmmm off to the side, you can still do evening wear” because i like to be spontaneous and, what the fuck, like she’s gonna remeber what the nurse said to her the morning after her suicide attempt right? I was going for a light casual approach. Turned out she was more of the tomboy type anyway. 2017 Gdoom
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Glacial Silt Blue Jasmine A Koster nate attee to to me me iiss w wh h hel elvveed el ed lli ik kee a ccanyon, cany a The agony innate whelved like carved by a slow and patient glacier, now brimming with racing, yielding rivers. Th T he ca ccanyon an nyyoon n of of my my anguish ang ngu uiish sh longs for the glacier and bathes hes in he hes i the silt of the river's release. The T Th he be b elly lllly of of iits ttss aamber mb mb ber e ribs have released a bl blue lu uee sso o bl b blin li The belly blinding i ask if it's real. T Th his is blue bllu ue has h always been en n the tth he color color co lor to lo to imbue iim m This me. G Gl lac laaccia ial Si Silltt B Silt llu u uee iss tthe hee ccolor h oollor or ooff m myy sspirit's pirriiit' pi tt''s ca ccalling; all llin ingg;; tthe he ccolor of my sorrow. he Glacial Blue ow w begs begss a question que uest stio on only oon nly ly as as young young yo ung as un as the th hee river, riv iver, er, impending er impendin iim mpe pen nd di as the silt it lays ays ys down, doow d wn n, This sorrow sti tiion tion oon n too too oo young young oung ou ng for for or wise wis ise ribs ribs ri bs to to answer answ an swer er in in such suc su a hurry, su A question A An n nd d too t frantic for glaciers once frozen iin ti im mee llike ike a lo ik llong on ng gh eld el ld bre br b reea ath hn ow sprinting ow ing ngg aass th n tthe he h hu un ntted d aanimal. nim ni maal. l. And time held breath now hunted ust, sstt, i shall sh hall all summon al su the wisdom of the glacier, g call out to the canyon and ask her wh sseed too be, be, e, and an nd d if if my my ancestors anc nces esto es tor ors rs still sti till ll re r But since i must, whoo i u used recognize me. Can C a Canyon, ngg womb wom omb gus gus gu iing ngg w n where heerre he re tthe he rriver he iv ver er m meets the sea. a.. Th T That haatt eestuary stua st uary ry w where heree oour he urr n u nets ets lay et lay in la in w a t ffo ai or th tthe he ssalmon sa Your melting gushes, fertile, to the sacred last grasping wait for to ccome co om mee h om me ttoo u s, s, home us, wh w her er we fumble to preserve a phenomena ena en na ground ggrroou und nd into in ntto the the banks th baan b an nk ks by by ignorance; iggn nor oraan nccee; and and we an we plant plan an ntt grass gra rass ss into in ntto the tth h ba ank nks. ss.. where banks. Ca C an iivveerr, w wee aare re tthe re hee b h aan nks nks ks, and an nd I fumble ffu umb mble le with with itth an an oasis oas asis is of of a few fe whoo comprehend. comprehen nd n d. Canyon we are the salmon, we are the rriv river, banks, M y llanguage aan ngu guaagge iiss a glacier. gua l F Fast and rrunning. My of the the canyon th cca canyo any an ny calls me for there is no way to know the true depth of anguish unless, tumbling first into its womb, you climb imb mb oou ut fr ut ffrom rom om iinside in n The shoulderr of out of it. on the th he shoulder sh hould ould ou ldeerr of o a wise, hollow, rippling, terrifying, loving giant, groundedness comes to my naive and whimsic spirit --the hee river rivve ver er wi w will ill ll on oonly n Then, alated on run out, out and out if we don't keep the rains here with us. out what wh hatt do do I make m reedy reeeedy dy waders w wade ade ad Canyon, I cryy out of these rivers, once filled with fish, abundant and replenished, now drained and empty by the stress of greedy on weary banks? make k of of these tthe th h hee industry h indust in stry ry What do i make rivers who we named our people after yet our people drain out to the sea to be pulled up in nets as casualties to the pooling, leeching, feeding an insatiable hunger? maake of my m m very own hunger, ravenous as i take to the sky like raven, seeking to emulate God in my frantic, flapping fury too wrap wrra ap up up this th hiis oil o What do i make i my m feathered fea fe fea ste tteeeell exoskeletons? exxoossk kel kel eleetton ons? spill nightt in breast and feed it to the fungi, who will burst faithful through the pavement, until roots grow 'round steel ith thin in n me, me me and my tears are made of oil, and they will burn to manifest as the song of the wind; the Trickster, lightingg the the he fi firre re of of a new new ew and an an The fire is wi within ancient story. ake kee of k o this confusion, addiction, disorientation, and my own running here and there to empathize with the lost children and an nd n d my my ex eexcuses exc xcu cuse se What do i make wh hen en everything I'm looking for is right where i began, in the river, in the clouds, raining down as hair on the shoulders off giants ggiiaan nts ts cascadccasca asca asc as ca excuses excuses when ing into bellies to feed the hungry ones below? m re ttremendous mo rem re eme mendous men ous th ou than than an that th haat illness illn il lnes ln ess es ss that thatt swallowed th swa wall w all lloow wed me me whole whol wh ole ol le three threee ye th thre yyears ago, the one that whelved me into my shadow, sunk ssu un u nk me me into int in This fear, this fear is more cob co obw web ebs. s.......da .da dare red me me to to break brea brea br e k free free fr ee of of my illusions, ill llu lus usi siioonss, until un ntiil i burst burst bu rst into glacial silt sky, remembering that this new alation tion tiion on too toooo is is an a my bones, hid me in thee cobwebs.....dared i lu il ussiion on I've I'v ve w wo oke ken up up into. illusion woken madness adn dnes d nes ess of o that that hat insatiable i sa in sati tiab ti able ab le hunger, hun unge geer, r the nets n pulling me from the sea where my school is in a frenzy simply too survive. survi urviive ur ve. e. This fear entangles me in the ma t tto b lli tto th d are arree satisssa My language will die like dolphins who try be allies the fishermen who cast these human forms aside when they've made their dollar and fied-that is, unless we save it, but there aren't petitions circulating, protests percolating no. decla ecl cl There's a school swimming in circles ever searching for the destiny of ancestry, there's a culture, re-skilling and remembering, there's a declaration: ere's re' e s a cca calling, all al lliin ngg,, rresounding, esou ou undi ndingg, aand nd nd n d iiff i li llisten, lis isstteen, en n, cl cclosely, llos osely os ely, el y, iitt mi migh m might igh ght ju jus just ust st rrea each eea ach ch m e. e. Forever Thriving, there's a destiny awaiting, there's reach me.
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This One’s For the NightCrawlers Jasmine A Koster Desert brush--sometimes silver, sometimes sage green or lavender, dusted with periwinkle Persistent in flat-top hills Hungry eyes laugh; Then I feel how spirit in repose permeates while industry imposes-the burglar, the rapist, the arsonist. milking humans like cattle…. each rest stop clone just that--a place to rest and leave again, no reason to stay in a town that’s just the same, each with its billboards 30 feet high gas $3.89 or higher (promoting chemical warfare) seen in chains spreading like invasive weeds following the consumers that feed them, mother’s milk but with more middlemen I enter my umpteenth store the ice is free here--a blessing at 102 degrees in the evening. the locals must fish because packs of 18 nightcrawlers compressed with no air, or trees, or birds, soil builders who will never taste sky-packs of these dirl in the cooler, as if they sense me nearby. I almost free them, but in my country, this is called stealing, and I can’t afford jail time, not now, not now. I beg an answer of the sky, please, give me a sign, but these are the signs--30 feet high pointing to exploitation, separation, egoic striving What is I without We? and when will we see we’re blind in three eyes? there’s no separation between you and I. I want to reclaim home. Earth is my only home. I crave connection, community, diversity, all creatures flourishing, all purposes honored, all beings empowered, and we have the power to make this “real” again--to shift a dying, decaying paradigm from commodity to community, consumption to creation, through stewardship, right relationship--seeing the earth as one living, breathing, being.
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To Go Back By Jasmine A Koster Could I go back to that place? No It haunts me that once I begin to call someone Home I leave them, eager To Find where I really belong. Someone to Call Each night, who would say ‘get home safe, My Love,’ Someone I can call home, someone simply my Own. But time and again I realize too late what I Then Had. And I can’t go back, cant’s say I Made a mistake. Can’t say I Realized How much I loved the ones who were there. It Is a quiet tragedy, that the place I lived Was Closer to home than whatever I followed, Too Anxious of the coming down to anticipate the present’s Late Perfection.
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Shivering in the Dark, I am Grateful. By Jasmine A Koster
Once upon a very time merry yellow black tailed lady who appeared to neither spell or use a dictionary, A smart lady said to her you’re not gary or cheery or Timothy Leary you are merely Terri. then very merry Terri woke up from her fun time in the sun dream to gobble down a stool satisfaction pill, apilly pill to get her into her pillow dreams. Poor Mrs Moody Happiness was given a moody pill because she was so happy and so sad for people who were sad but a secret little Pirkl Birdie said don’t worry be happy for the angel of the Lord encamps around them that fear and love him, so Mrs Pirkle suggests prayer the best. I tried it last night and by golly gee that Mrs Pirkl did it again and then of coarse like the horse, Mr. Morris she said she must definitely have remorse for her childish wildish game of pretending that she is Terri the bushed out psychiatric who was told by Dr Gary Smith that she could psychoanalyze herself such as Sigmund Freud did. So poor defeated Terri could see no relative reason for retaliation and therefore saluted to Private Mell Born York I am at your command Sergeant York I private Terri, first class shall promptly proceed to get out of this two faced fun place and proceed to have my fun time in the ladies room, in the bathtub room my bedroom being quite the little quiet churchy mouse as my Friends Pastor Robert Stewart and his strawberry wife Sandi Stewart insist I do or as my good friend Father Frank insists upon from the Catholic assumption Church in Bellingham Washington become a motionless non speaking monk and think think think that I very Berry Terri will someday or time be allowed to giggle like Mary Poppins and of coarse Lucy Ball and singer of Christian Rock and Roll music- pretend that I am singing quite nicely the Star Spangled Banner and the New jerusalem and even pretend that I have made my own creative musical composition of Psalms 51. Tiltle: Musings from 2 North by anonymous. apologies to people whose
real names were used. Here you go Kenny from
Grandpa
Doom Chris Broberg Dream from Grandpa Doom
Shivering in the dark, i am grateful. The lights do not burn brightly, but I am out of the rain. I can see my breath but i am not breathless. I am a guest in this space, I walk softly, entitled to nothing--Beyond my own breath, My human rights; these I am privileged enough to take for granted. I share this space, it is not my own, but no space ever was my own. And yet... As i hunt down shelter, homeless once again, I am found. There is no need to hunt when i can come home like the animals come to us, as my people say For when i stare into the moon’s eyes she whispers back at me, Listen to the earth, for when I listen to the earth, She reminds me i am home anywhere and everywhere On this earth--that home is where the heart is, So i roam, and flow back like the waves of the sea Wane full and wax back like the moon who moves me. The water’s drum roll on the roof has been held hostage by law of humanity yet it flows, ever giving. I belong to the water that sips me. I belong to the trees that breathe me. I belong to the wind that animates me. I belong to the sun that awakes me. I belong to the brain storm that electrifies me (sending shivers through my neurons like little bolts of ether, beyond the apparent common reality-a thunderclap of pain and un/consciousness voiceless in awe and fear). I belong to the earth that creates, consumes, destroys and recreates me. All that beauty for which i am a vessel of consciousness, Perceiving its own masterpiece, ever gasping at the ephemeral. I am grateful, blessed to be alive. Blessed to feel grateful. So much i could take for granted in my quest for more. But it could be worse--and is for many. And for those, i wish the same blessings to come, I pray for human rights to be taken for granted, that constant reminders of Not Enough and Unfairness, Unjustice, Uncertainty, may absolve…. May our struggles be existential as art, meta as galactic whirrings, Fixated not on the gouged and listless, for the earth gives and gives that we may know full bellies. We signed a contract when this earth came to us. That the plants, the animals, the water, the sun would always come to us. But in return we must also give. For giving is receiving. Reciprocity and symbiosis are two laws of nature; Inseparable from the laws of cooperation and abundance. So let us dance the wind dance. Sing the bird song. The future is watching-Our children with baited breath and pregnant pause.
Dream from Grandpa Doom : Starving at the ashram. betrayed on the way. Bags and rope. the curved blade defeated the evil prince with magic. left with a woman who wasn’t really mine. I love you it’s OK if you don’t love me. the curving beach where pilgrims arrive. “Its all gone come back next week”> the blue bay. a white woman with a chinese suit and a half breed child, her chinese husband sitting in the corner. the betrayer chanting “Chris, Nietzche” with the sinners I forgive you. gave the car away. Chris Broberg Chris pg 34
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927 by K.a.Ambrose sept 27 the grey and silvers did much forthe way her hair fell over he shoulders, riding a pure multi colored horse over the landscape that look much like the north west of america. much like, yet for the fact that there were clouds in the way , and every problem ccomes with one more joy. whAT WE SEE IS HOW CLEAR WE ARE LOOKINNG PROVEN OVER AND OVER. THE FHOUGHTS ROAMING , THIS PROBLEM THAT JOY BALNCING . CHOICES, AND DISTURBING THE DREAM. wondering as to the difference a simple matter of death could change from a mysitical to a material. the laateter is the farse,, for what is material is porous. churches set up for mystical practises, with robes and different sets of purity, but you can feel pureity, and slavery, you can see the sufferance,, it was the reason for the long hiar she wore, and the silkver streak , balences created , while she projected he rself along the flow as the astral traveling .. she was , is just asleep. the body resting the mnd exploring the unknowwln,, experimentational ly, the bounding voice of trying to fly , resounded when she could fly , and then could create a horse. “ All life is creation� the trees beneath her pushed toward her, the rivers waved left and right to get her attentins. but she was just looking down. for a second, mightly long time in a place wihtout it. the world reshaped while the horse stayed a horse , through the skin changed colors but even as the world passes uderneath , this adventture is stop .. and the it the sun , radiated, then shimmered,, almost disappearing , until she clampt her legs tighter, the feeling of flesh joined knowing a one .. a one of peace agasint physical mortal instablity. against what raises pit bulls good bad and other, Mankinds, normalacy , and normalcy .. .. besides being a place of forgotten genderational trainings, besides the uncivility ,, to children for which can not be put kindly , as each mistake is not there own, she was normal. like a bargin basement hand out.. like a dollar sale softback book.. before ten she had seen to much , parents gone, one to insanity and another to disappearance, Maybe that was why she searched to go deeper and deeper into a non physicla realm,, streached daily and felt the energy of most people and days of the week,, herre was normal,, where peopple see each other , and forget connection. you are a dollar sign to me,, i am a fantasy too yyou,, we are all price tags, and no one wants to knnow what they will know forever.. mankinds created over lords, one can not find anger wiht , when it is your cosmos of atom you realize how little you personally control . until you do. the bio piolet eexchange was created for just such a deleama,, but she was normal. normal like th epeeople who chnt read, who only look at the visions flying lonely and lonly er against the screene, a viesion in nightmares when it is real. and nightmares are fun,, a normal , wherre where we escape to be real.. we hid in bars and spread the truth like we can if we itemize and relax, see the energy and the astral is not far away waithing for a certian key insdie eto spark ,, it is always like heaven and hell.. like eates you make and the ones that make you. she saw this, for only those that need can see.. for its blindness is also the savior. timelessness is a energy creation where a timed state is ssufferance. sufferance is conditioning.. to joy. joy is severywhere. the bees ccare not the hives placeement , there is no hive it is all careing ,, it is all completion,, it is waking to othe morng feeling the first breath , knowing that th enext is just as moving. and then moruning has been spelled to warn us.. like god bacwards is dog.. animal lovers her this difference ,, mabye, Her hair, wasn particulaerly adorned , simple clean ,, but alway slong combed strain to show the disipline. bungied when it would just get in th eway,, the grey strek she has had since birth, or ,, by four, when seh had enough hair. like a make from the weird world .. one grey streatch , she wass called a wisthc alot growing,,, withch ,, is a funny word also. which. choices and knowings. campairsation. and daubt,, so she started looking at books o magic early ,, i mean what is a mysstc to do but admit they are , you dont need to tell anyone.. and who cares what they might think, the absolute is to feel,, and be aware , more essence is expreseed in ssilence then anyting moveing and talking. words used as law,, to admit what you can not do.. I promise i will escep myself. and forever you try. and each step , each seperation , itemization and chancee awareness,, adds and removes. each smallneess composed of a viertic ridden mind, a stalbe rigtous thinker,, breaks down to feeling.. bows over and crys fro what has been left behid the guits,, or words, Her name is long in english it sounds bettter when you can not say it. corectly... the air in the rooom always smelled like this in the morning. each day passing like there were nothing to do but cutgrass threetimes a week,, change bed pans,, say hello to each other. with the constant bird step of plasitc shoes, for thought the world would expand,, something s never change, like forever emprison ment will be enprison ment. a love is love, like hope is faith , and energy has always been to be known,, felt thouh the doing , with less pretense and modeling. .. so she breathes, lying in for pont ,, in north south east and west , thought the building having been placcees in slighting off anges, , as in her feet bointed slight ly sosuth west but not enough to care about,,, ones polar movemenst are only fo the more high ranging ,, she thoough , for there is only that one dream to remember, over and over, it happen four years ago.. when she felt her energy , where she found transendance to timelessness. four interests of empathy for life ,, for the joioningn. and to feel at one we live at one. and the mental advenutres and awarenesses, are the toppings the wealth of thought, and breathing mixed to awareness,, and slowing up of time. wherre we transend by getting away , the knowledge piled on knowledge to confuse,, or reduce self to a bit of matereial. in a quatum logically way she is just a scientics, living a movemnt,, understandinng and itemiazation spiral hidenrances leave , as she sees from the hill.. form the land , of what could be,, the flow of extacies,, and emprisonments materialism creates. . the cufffs chaff the arms,, they wont take them off,, the docotr likes to come in and chaneckk on her, more pills,, sleeping sleeping here is just thought. willingness and feeling, a pllace where it matters, a place whith creates, and uses what is nature.. . Sally Mearr, a lcrek dowwntonw, getts up , ,, the books line her shelves,, many note pads and pencils pens, litter the floor,, i cant remember the last time she cleaned,, its been awhile. whwen the floor is clean i can party,, i have a organge ball i really like , she always thinks i am looking for it ,, but no ,, i just like to get her to look for it,, its funny to watch humans be so clusmbs. y..
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