Driven...a journal
	 by K.A.Ambrose
 


  
	
	Five years H.U.D. Home.less, Unemployed and Depressed. 
	
	
	To write a book without story line ,without beginning or end, is, for me, to accept a dream in time sensitive analysis of feelings, Without a line. Summarizing; beginning/birth and ending/death, as civilizations; as ourselves many mental births and deaths plague, inspire and create us.  We should merely love the moment?s mental evolution; for all history is but a second. Only birth and death  answer, and are without change if you acknowledge timelessness. as an acceptance of energy being, or a Metaphysical humanity. Unrooted, through self discovery  that rids self of subconscious perceptionatory excistance, starting a new seed to florish into what is.   True. truth even  if only in a pre-theoriezed state, re echoed , and energy concerns eastern throughts, and holitic prastice. to be is the adventure, though sometimes we forget this is adventure ,, this ,, breathing, so out flung we become our shallow misted lenagcy of the roboting matching, rise diner die. 
	
	My Well labored hands may not know the correct words.  No countless years did i spend echoing the halls of educated premises. for as we are nature so then do we understand it.. All science strives to achieve an understanding of natural laws, OUR selves and consciousness is disavowed, except to therapist and Priests,, to holidays and special occasions. better than to pull out the spiritual, and give sway to a believe,, but yet the misunderstandings go on. We never acknowledge a meaning to god equaling the energy of all .. I call the concept ?neutrino?.. but i am nuts,,, so i have been told i am registered. I still speak with an id,, I meant to write I. but what comes comes.
	 the muse needed to go for a walk..  
	So i ran with my traumas mentally, following them blindly. A boy will for nothing but freedom at hand. A brain and a hopes faith. the road telling its stories through eyes, mine, and the others. each expounding historys with  hello. I read them, and grasp what side of me, was answering, who was i now.. and changing on a dime didn?t seem hard,, and not that i was conscious of the effort. the long stoning struggle to be stable. 
	I did try to understand what i was being taught.. or no matter the lessons truely, for a fact stared at can change, so softly one  understands almost sliently , like watching the leaves fall off a tree,, back and forth calmly on a slight wind and autumn sun. I watched as this fear, and this , personal answer, this guilt and this punishment, this drugs and this addiction this love changes contorts become me.  I watched time come and go. I watched the leaner-isms grow around me, man women child as portraits each slowing giving up on a dream. the light leaving their eyes for the dull, grinding, now.  I watch the cruelty, the guilt.  self degrading what we will do to lick the boot that licks the boot.. even the idea of looking rich,, lol.. a future,, for future gets the girl in the end..her comfort is her spirituality. 
	  I reached for the ones of Answering through feeling but without the criminal eyes of family or ?future?,, without the more all guidelines , or with, depending on the spelling and the slur. Formations i would not take to. we make on decision and the rest falls in place. the end.. a porch and a room full of books. 
	 ,,, for we are never really late,, and until we realize energy, we are not really here..
	
	 But 
	I wanted to tell about me.. 
	it is wrong ..I know yet 
	it is the only write , rite, wright,way of it. even as it could be silly and childish; but as silly and childish are seen as blessing I go on.  Exposing is art and the depths you have to run alone.  
	 The book is a birthday present to myself for being Forty six years. for four and six is added together, and becomes one. Its been a while since I had a one.  Ten was one. 19,28,37,46,55.
	
	
	Chapter 1
	
	
	
	 Birth of a thought form. 
	
	I am this
	 where i have
	 never been
	 before. 
	The death
	 to all 
	which leaves 
	with that. 	
	
	 It is a fact of life.  People raised without a parent or two, come to read messages from any thing as oracles; Shockra steps , a chance reference, a blown scarf floating over the street, all can move our conscious effort for spiritual alignment or not,, and you can replace the guidance of a parent or suffer the anger of ?sins of the Father?but looking for oracles can let you hear your dreams. But beware,, it is also a factor in ones decisive path to insanity,,as well as, an infinitely placed spiritual form and meanings. Meaning is infrequent in the bow or die society,, where perspectives,,can insite understandings and lead a path to true joy and a loving self understanding. but once you are through all the shit,, yet as we change, to know, we can change global vibrational energies. I feel therefore i am.  
	And to re-again believe feeling , to be lead by feeling,, because we have intellectually retained higher emotions while eliminating baser emotional actions. 
	So i can not represent the world, of plotting forms ,, no the one around me is interesting enough when i look,, but as in necessary, and there for also the hard, personal stories, I am schocked to report nothing about .. layers you will see, but the bones i do not lay bear though i am to try.. soon ,, move and move there comes to be nothing else that will flow good enough , and naming the character of indidual. and yet, i am so if onlly i dont look. 
	   
	An oracles today was a dog, a movie, a freinds mention. Oracle could be a set of bones, a star reading. it was the boy scout manual, and pro-distant-ness (Protestian, prodesten,prodisten) ,
	, But looking ,, is the first steps.. and look i did, , i know this is not as poetic as all that follows.,,feeling the reach through consciousness, beyond the clever for a global self leveling.  One could be locked away for what they really believe, hail bealzibub , and all,, but through the exploration we cause ripples. awareness increases, and a faster learning curve.. we see the changes.. as we watch our freinds live and grow and die inside or rise. but mostly we see ourselves grow old and still feeling whole of fourteen. 
	 its funny in this age of internet technology and the ?Wealth?product.. we come to accept staying in a little blue lite room, and maybe the internet causes depresssion as a side after from seeing (closes up) all you are not. 
	or some such thing, i havent been able to put good words, poetic words to the technological learning from the internet, but sometimes I think it is to describe the joys of out of body experience,,  , the shared experience of sitting in a room , typing to ?freind? having in mixing moments against a computer screen.. Gor me and all that can be learned,, the greater riddles solved and such,, the great literture roams for free over the internet like we are meant to read .. but
 and I only use it for Porn, now..  
	 i am going to have to get into the ?Stranger in a strange land?ed ness of self, for that conversation to be given its full philosophical singleness, 
	
	  and recall less and less envoiomental understanding are my fingers working the chat line, with such delicacy.   no one talk to me.. and i watch a lot go by ,, but then i am like 47/m singer song writers, check out the enertialcall.com.. and lets talk ,, i am bored, but i am not , i am doing this instead of that, yet that is my art , and there is the control. you will only see this of me, the rest is stored away until.. i admit the truth, or the truth is plainer. 
	
	. 
	
	
	 Almost everything tells of the secrets to loving life. We prove the ultimate liberty by ?feeling? our spirits and creating through the entrance of awareness. Then liberty means the liberty of the physical and emotional body. my liberty is denied by chemicals that kills, and maims intelligence.. liberty is denied by a government who isnt aware how the people feel..the liberty we have is to join one game but you can not invent a new one..But yet the game of life is fluid and teachs greater things than materialism.. a Mental emotional liberty must be a stable governing motto.. and personal love the individuals motto.. .    
	Maybe it is just me, again, branched into excistanialism, and locked away,, Given a grouping one can not get out of.. We are first what we are a congregation of Neutrinos,, or so i like to romanticize,, but we might be the first to be looking in cracks for crevices.
	Oracles slipped into rolling bones to dice up the gravitational waves of stars placement and a once referance to joyful intuitions.  ,, And mind you, i wanted emotions to give me direction to go and not the ones which seemed automatic, easy to explain, for that was my balence the anger i didnt want to feel.. my balence like one would be said,, and yet, if you are still reading it is with a backwardness i come to this ego..a quiet room with bubbles in my blood.. surviving the frost i demand .
	 I could believe in the Linear. My family being ever so good as to be managers types, The ?middle manager?s  are basically someone who takes care of the real work the boss represents so well.  I wanted economical spiritually. 
 The main purpose here is to write about each day, as it happens. Delving into what ever takes the mind from one to the next. I am hopping at the end that i will be able to conclude a thought, but none seem to be so blatant, so i don?t know why i would try. It gives me something to do, in my hope of seeing a metaphysics of change. A natural change which isn?t lead by the ?supposes to? ,and  the ?that?s the way it is?
	 Driven , as the title, is a state of being,  referenced into a cab drivers symbolism; I was once a cab driver. 
	You are driven when you want to get to the airport, Now.. You are late and forgot to call about when you were to pick up. Timing and sufferance is everything.  It can be a state of near frenzy but you can do nothing but move a car through the confines of traffic. YOur late, there waiting, a million cabs to serve yet you were called.. oh but nothing happens if it all goes wrong. no buildings fall.. no children die. but you Are loosing it behind a wheel.. white knuckles and swore red eyes at sixty, seventy,, but god is funny,, and seventy turnes to ten. a mile up. just incase you thought you were going to be advenged.. and all reality was yours for a second. 
	
	Hi . I am traffic.. 
	
	It is sitting. While in your head death is a swerve by another, or you , swerving the wheel spills the coffee..Talking with a self weighing a million reason i would yank  one side. far enough to make another react the same.. and another , traffic would recoarse, and then, one would not be alive for one moment,, would not see the coming bumper, from the side.. just to late, and traffic, would crash, cars would become peices in a three miles wide toybox, for whcih the gaint boy is putting away forcefully mother told him to.. pouting, and crashing cars everywhere.  
	
	 or maybe i am liking all the misspellings of swerve. It is a state of Positioned panic like when you see a world ruled by the highest minds yet can not tell the difference between global warming and commercial interests. 
	 intro end.. 
	
	
	 HUd. 
	Homeless, unemployed , depressed.
	
	 ?Three years free, unemployed homeless depressed . Destined into paths wholly aesthetic, but what else. 
	 The given tide of poverty, anti materialistic spiritual food and innocence rebirth creates the usage of ?not good enough?. A distance glance moves from the face, a strange set of eyes, opinionated and alone, eyes which look at other places than at you. Not your pleading, micro-second face which twitches;  Interview after interview. 
	One needs product to enforce ideas. Product is a long winded approached to personal change with regards to the technological self for homeless, unemployed and depressed , don?t change because forever is the travlers feel..  So naturally, and product is me. 
	So much to remember. Without. 
	 So many little ideas , left to the wayside for lack, of home, of money, of help. But Yet, less is more and always new. Accept for the always love as you check out the world sits on its money and titles. I am homeless which means i don?t pay the standard slavery of a house, the footprint of heat loss and utility consumption. 
	 I have left civility or at least the more common part of house and utilities. So i am not one of my readers and yet that is how this tale proceeds.  ?Poverty raises one to a continual dream. Fantasies of hope , seemingly without reach from the classification we revolve around. H.U.D is no more or less a classification. the research has been easy. Like pulling off layers of suburbia and a self sensory middle class. 
	Easy like letting go the sudden impulse to yell.
            Letting it out instead of holding it in. 
You make the path for self.
 You watch as a mankind takes over your soul and screams in release of a thing it hates or releases with a rage that more scares than harms. Very sad for the acting of the streets. Who can make a vicious face ,while neither combatants wants the violence which means removal for life and freedom. Aching to be away, but taken over all the same to an impulse. A Done deal of the animal within.
	 and Each Job slowly lead to no jobs , for who do you call to get the next. and who doesn?t look back when about to hire. It is a land of ?Just try me out? but within it is a ?Deal with it? until some fantasy become focus. but I never focus enough to see, what the linear does to creativity and so you never go to the first programs , Lectures, Opinions, from which lofty hight spews the worlds Specialities and never its Harmonies. so Little seems getting along with whole hearts. there are always others which nay or yay you. Until personal truth only revolves around the whole of approval and reward, external and political. I was always afraid of the question i would ask. and the lack of approval , i expect cause by the childhood i see from. We all see from. , From the ?colored glasses? ,the mosaics of love, trust and self opinion.  the Created egos to hides the innocent we need. to feel to know more. 
	
	To process is not just the words. It is surviving long enough to get them down. From which heights mark the small and big, equality of moments. Broken into palatable seconds, when no first are served, to serve writing becomes a philosophic air. With a destination of the Metaphysics as a solid. when all learning is temporal to next of what we must yet consume.  
	 when you can see no reason to live under debt. Knowledge becomes the books you read. the people you meet. it becomes the experiences you achieve, and the reasons Promoted. Like I reason i will have a better job. But will i be a better person. What Quantifies a better life? Following the leader is a best enterprise for the truth of nature? Or is Peace a whole without excessive knowledge to lead? For as I specialize less and less do i get time to feel?
	 and what , As the year passes in which I will write this book, this journal, Do I get to feel.. For only my loves and the news rule me. My loves and the job was once me. Once me,, 
	 Was only job. Once me as change comes with births and deaths. 
	
	
	Chapter  

	 Three years unemployed started with a Christmas my first full year living in the car.  The day of love and giving became a thirteen hour night. Driving. Covering all the shift no one would to work.. I have an attachment to holidays but you cant see it on me.. The car , her name is tara.. the car by the name of tara is a purple red 89toyota corrella wagon is it drab except for a stuff raindeer in the front window, who has a collar of miseltoe. but no one asks,, he has sat there for a month..
	 the christmas night , I slept..all night not one call. Sitting with the engine on, to cold to turn it off. I could Have gone inside the Hotel.. maybe,, i would have to be more social than that. I would rather look at the computer screen ,, i would rather forget the house i had just left.  Playing house i guess, but i loved it. and survived for a year and a half; trying to get more money so that everyone smiled but it didn?t work , there isn?t enough money. So i got sad and just faded off, a small conversation of yelling was the last step. even as all along she was saying ?leave me quick?,, in body languages.. informal urgency, she had uses.. for me and i for her. But three teenagers and a cat. making five loves i missed didnt help.. 
	
	the curse of the wicked is to be right. and my thought run to images. I hated my step father but there i was repeating him, stepping out of line. though , a night sitting makes a man mentally tired and physically alive. awake. ready to pounce on the slightest insult. The dispatcher yelled at me to ?get up? screaming over the radio that i had a fare , I knew i had a fare and i was awake for it.
	 Each moment separates who and what is attention. where is focus. our planet? our selves? others? an us and we and them. No matter what , every action can change a life we are given, and decide.. environment creates . Oh what in and out what motive. hours sitting ask each escaped fantasy to rise up, you will with sheer conjecture say? what else could i be doing right now. Writing was always my first choice but even that, cramped behind a steering wheel, couldn?t fulfill. and yes, the post office. the lead store, stove cleaner fountain pen and you, what to take away depression and yes this is a land made with unity , to give is to see with sight we love. guarding doors, is giving of magic, but where else more deserving as i can  not think when i have to change, standing on what i have and not. I am scared of me. Maybe as all should respect always, it is all culture of the learned. 
	 and i talk to you off into the world, you are happy and so 
	it was a dark and stormy night. 
	 Oh but i must go to school to stretch the way i write , i must spend the living time of money?s recourse, the work performed slavery to discard as interest rates divide time, a debtor will not scream or risk a livingly hand with clarity. Attend no peace rally or war riot in order to save face, to remain among left over?s of the American Dream. Many hours to pace back and forth in dreams like answers from patience. 
	No. I have never gone to collect a degree. What good is paper enslaved to ?higher Learning? we teach ourselves. A calling to know stems not from forced repetition. true knowledge comes from a heart that feels. Fostering self through each chaotic universe of reply as being is the metaphysical connection the Construct suffers from choice. 
	 and i cannot feel the words for the sense they invoke, it is just a habit I pushed like Jefferson Like Lincoln and others . sit and stare like Benjamin Franklin to write is a proving ground for thought , an experimental endurance or just a thing to do with your hands when not masturbating. In childishness I picked it up, the long hours alone of moods and madness. the flail ( my favorite word) was constant and against who i did not care. Alone sneaking around the one horse town to add a joke of gods own, it was Wrightsville. and i am named Ken if you understand that way.  I found a philosophers stone in a ghost, who i lived with and he was nicest to . He scared everyone else but i would just let him run around from chair to chair, in the dark recesses of the room, and sometimes he would rock me to sleep. I was happy for the attention.  My mother and brother saw him as a frightening image,, the dog knew him as he would with all who lived in the house in pa at the corner of first and elm or so i remember. It was a large house and historic with a walk around porch from the front door which only the Watch tower people knocked on. to the middle side where the yard stated, and  a second smaller porch. It was funny O--- and i were the only ones to ever sit there as i recall. Creating drug sacks out of seasonings. Sitting on the porch just outside of the living room windows. Sacks we thought of selling in the small town across the river but never would.  
	 It would take a genius to understand but yourself is like rain, trying to figure out try to remember right and wrong i like wright and wrong and i figure in the long run it is write or wrong. can you understand me . the fallacy is that we implicitly understand anything. the great knowledge is our confusion but change must be linked to simplicity of action. Most times i forget story for action Philosophic , emotional which marks metaphysics. Thoughts i never knew until recent. the rise of definitions was a marking of words to ancient debates. Relevant to the second is first.  
	my stare was mystical but i didn?t have to believe, for  i felt it.  the rational explanation to an elevation of the bed, the rise and fall measured with my hand explains childish by personal. where adult forgets my ghost would guide and still does. 
	My father ,as dead as i am old, came to me as an explanation and positivity reinforced. the idea in ?we? of authorities hypocrisy was now We of the whole electric spirituals or some such thing.. 
	. Telling stories is a lot like me. each moment remembered until your ego is formed ethic established and reasoning renounced. my ghost I loved like a father and a faith that turned into a science.  If ghosts then energy.  Spirit tangible.  it was on the second floor corner, that thoughts came in Ninth grade.  my room,  place I answered what ever was in front of me.  the moments that gave peace well before purpose of art or production. but never before words, for they came like whispers i dreamed before going to sleep at ten years old . While I dreamt of witches early and while drawing stick figures one dimensionally I would silently write words through my heart over my physical quietly as i went to sleep. when we moved every few years, when tortures were the sounds of parents coming home and toys still left out, with the older brother to ?watch me?. the irrational rules.  
	 I would see words rise from my skull, silently already formed without process.  Writing came from that. Explanations flowed and yet didn?t explain my ghost, even though i felt him less and less, each year i was closer to graduating when i was happy and didn?t need, but even now i feel a pressure when i am depressed. or when i need choices fulfilled. Spirits seem to remind me of me. 
	Yes you think of many things, Events remembrances , theories and possibilities sitting in a taxi, waiting for your next chance, to earn . the wheels under, the radio on , writing , sitting in the passenger side, I stretch my legs over to the drivers side, it takes a couple of minutes to get comfortable but it was the final best postion ..  
	 Yes it is an average look at practical health , I prepose after feeling the reason to feel. after knowledge didn?t accept what mere Shakespeare and Edgar Allen Poe proposed. I can?t hear myself through the traffic noise. 
	 out side 2011
	 five years since Christmas day five years since employment.  Years living off the cast offs, the shelter free meals and  now they say i am depressed . I can only sit on cement and talk to the trees, I know two people for sure. and three more approaches, for five years i have lived in my car, yes i bought it for that reason. low on fuel a long back to sleep in. a grand Chinese hotel. where to live on the streets is more normal. but i have faced the Americans side, branches logic, at I felt the guilt depression I had to look, the Asian reference gives me miles of thought. belonging to hierarchy of words, impressions, or general attitude take home from the land of the free. Free to owe. To not owe I left off the ?gotta have? long ago, gotta have college , gotta have job, as I sit fully wanting , a positive, I look around close to the Low income building, I have friends there, and struggle is built in. but it is around pleasure take for granted. No rent is cover bills for some covered section eights, infinity conformed to governmental consent. intricate are the paths. so to the side, I would make no use of symbolism, but where the symbol is self. so therapy today, asking of individual to recognize conformity or is it health? pull one against the edges of kind . the innocents recognized against the facts
	 oh and lessons. 
	 for today like most we, talk of jobs, why do people not like me, not a decussion of interest in my novels i have read but the same in a moment personal innocent, 
	I have given up trying I try and deal without, I lick the edges of poverty for the reason of unemployment, like a shattered glimpse of society. through myself, for what is meeting another , but the trust in truth , the trust. left so to desperate nature left so to , in ability left to proper training, the word scares me such to see a life, of forms , linear persuasions into colleges and sessions of what is given to focus. 
	 On the right attitude, funny that, all your character is what you know, all your pettiness with some clarification, demeaned against cloth, or is it existence, or just a lie. interviews personal judgment and what am i looking even intentionally but glasses of self laced in front a plastic metal desk unclarified for aristocracy, the life bland to this movement. No a snail for cheese, a meaning of how far you are me, glasses everywhere. ?hours given to hours, days of making the grade for a potential disposal nature, little son depending their were kitchen plastics available for cheap at big name, seventh interview today , and he is twitching. 
	 there is a stain on his shirt, long drawn out answers to why you left last position ( shaking hands) I could have gotten some better shoes? 
	Next week ( stage darkens)
	Organized labors (driving sitting) 
	spiritual understanding ( setting meditation , prayer) 
	
	
	 Every time i think of the book I ask myself what is it to be. I must let spirit and self styled intuition direct me. three years have had a couple of sheltered times, the storage shed, the free attic, the refurbished out house, all ended accordingly , the storage shed for the rats, the attic for owners remorse which claimed an easel, a drum, a bass , the out house was two fold, the sewer smells, and a blemished moment reciting Brocowsky, where the boss, saw me drunk where , he was looking for me to leave , all is some vein attempt to get comfortable around this Washington small town, for which holds me, which i can not change in or such it seems , three years homeless, unemployed, depressed. 
	 But what is depression? Not doing is depression, when you wallow your will , is the why of depression, a million hours against intuition, or is it else, a peace march started in me as i had an appointment to create an acting group she stared off into space as she talked. Her idea get to improvisational actors from acting class we will give for free. I have only done a little acting in improv accept by accident, but i want to be alive again to my dream of acting , I guess it is everyone?s dream, but for a natural ability , (this form of escape so mandatory and applauded) i can only sit creating an acting group, but staying out of the organization it?s self, which really i can not do. I have gone over to a different side, to enjoy again , even as i write i feel more energy , it is from Birthday , a time when i can fall in love so quickly , I am almost scared I will not , I will not try a relationship through my inability to have security . 
	 Sixty six miles to the border theater is the name i decided about two years ago, My dream was to create a knowledge able set of actors to develop talent 
	 I never thought to teach acting, i guess it is really pretentious to say . Having never done enough for that .. You can see i have been improvising through music. oh sacredness, as anti body asks of frame i would have problems alone but with me is another, she is C- and there is a passion about her inspiration to a point but critically and there by interesting, It seems we will create a book to give Members ,, 
	and there goes it is today, my birthday wandering over from thoughts to thoughts. it is stupidity and ill educated,so in spirals we are to hid what symbols we can to be called clever or artistic the elimination of the I and I and aye , us we and them, it is calm in the day to thinking, it take awhile to achieve on cold cement , the streets , orange, the lights passing people silent some alive reach for the way infinite i am to close each covert acceptance and regret, eye lucky and gone, while a self that tries to feel contains essence. 
	 today is my birthday , yes i know in history but personal history is the tales of joy we collect just beyond midnight, the crowd dimmed down from a drunken calm. I sit to write and remember I have my 46 year, is one year it becomes while at the same time it is my time or review, and resolutions, a calendar year means less to me, a warm ego needing support sitting on a cement wall , watching again drunks from an angle. not being one any more, so i watching become a habit really , after driving taxi , viewing the world in private mode. the corner outside for my writing has turned into police and fire engines, someone is taken away ambulance. the more unreal television , some cut, or some drunk having a mental episode, here there is the student flow it is a new year , there are always those who crack. Freshman usually who have swallowed to much American  entertainment , but emergency vehicles are not the norm. my city side is a little appeased by the action while looking on,
   i had a moment with friends , well a friend, really a new acquittance, and some drunks, yes a lot of drinking but i could walk away , i will in a minute. for now i am remembering a birthday , importance was not a given in my life, or at least not a remembrance that i have reached out with , An Importance you know when you do important things for yourself. this year i promised to get a novel done, for the first part of this is explanation. 
	three men on a side walk talk , the remains of language are mentioned, and i never got to say its feelings which touch the knowledge of nature but once said, where is a harmony? except in molecular sciences and physics. when histories are written of eras this may become the one where we realize waters truth. that water and personal evolution become the leading concern of mankind?s global harmony. I think only tonight have I seen this, if i cant tell on a molecular level ?what is happiness? and lead governments as a definition accordingly.  To write is my joy of response to life, intricates  through the humanities, to give though lessons we feel how one man looks. the novel. 
	 the expression of individual man walking with thoughts. trusting them, feelings them, is the purpose.  i am feeling for this to come to a set of words. There has to be a mantra to like to keep the work on line, it is my hardest resolution. what fame should it takes, and form causes form in place of reasoning, from a set of predetermined symbols of self, we learn through moral themes and guessing the theme. 
	 i couldn?t get from reading as suppose to be theme of man vs god, man vs man, man vs self. theme man vs self but transcend to man accepting a water based existence, zen and the art of hopelessness, accept i didn?t make it through that. writing shouldn?t be about ego. 
	
Bouncing ever on.. 
	 
	I am trying to ketch up to the written in Pen. the journal sitting just the left of me.. in the back of tara, On an empty street , a dead end, for which all transients homesteader look for. It is by the highway, and coffee. , it?s loneliness measured in peace the trees abundant. with splashes of sun, for it is sunny today , and i rise and fall with the availability and not. Seasonal disorder, but so ever in symbolisms it is a human trait. 
	 I wish i could give this to you.. what we trust and don?t, what we love , and don?t. I wish i could think about this and not be aligned to say , the plant nature is a part of everyone, the environment is our breath , and nature offers political and economic patterns. and if i did . you would blame me.. when truthfully i have only to push to the side any claim to large thoughts, by pointing at the waves  of a tidal push. a tidal push is needed because nothing else matters for what we share is really a why we have government. 
	 A commonness stated in writing and hope. 
	 I off course have left. well i feel kicked out, acquitted maybe. Finally left to my own devises. Free. HUD. or maybe this will take me from this car into a larger Rv.. who knows. for even if it matter soon everyone will say it. 
	 ?the tidal time is coming. Water for everyone.? 
	 I am moved by the exact moments to start something. i wanted to write a book any way , and the occupy movement is here.  I am scared of it. and worship the ground that creates it. but i know something that it does.. It gets us out of the house, it flings us to community , it lets us know of the trust we have in each other, and not the leftovers of a brainwashed fearing panicking people, we are not them, we are not the cruel evil we see on entertainment. We are all the boring movies, slow but constant and full of the next step to help child and love. and in that, within a core of being , we are one hundred percent and not just of a time, labeled 2011 , American or Indonesia, Russian , or Indian, We are a second of all time. and planet is our hearts. 
	I did not start living in my car for any reason of justice, or Martyrdom, It was to avoid the guilt of my economics. IN my heart i want to be here.. Now. Just a moment to sigh, with a couple of comforts and yesterday?s shower. The sun , in early stages of winter, is  a greeting to me, as longer and long , I stay in Washington state and feels its reverse. 
	 no this is after a long life preparing for the disharmonies i create. the words i have said out of anger, the loves i have lost and the moment of self found in them. the animal i have raise of myself. and the self i have never been able to see as clear as some. it is a gift to feel the intrinsic; to follow the linear, school job family.
	
	it is another day in life. No money , it has all gone, the small job gave me enough for coffee and cigarettes, gas for a week and a half.  i went a little out of  budget. and stayed in a hotel and spent one hundred dollars. then i went to Seattle to feel  transient family. a friend from Boston. I need to feel that love , in dependant and without any newest.. i know my friend while i am a stranger to most now. 
	 the occupy movement in new york have been told to clean up , and get out. they  reply they would clean up and do so but then  linked arms and waited for the police reportedly coming Saturday morning at seven am.. we will listen to the reports after. but what does this cause for me. for me it means little. the disability i receive is getting cut, and changed into another program, and for every change the definition change , and so you might not qualify for the next program. or . the federal benefits I have been trying to get is now in its final ?appeal?. and the day now is stretching into the final hour before Occupy Bellingham, which will get more media it represents the Movement more because we are being allowed to do it. how long before they claim Occupy illegal. 
  It is so silly that i worked all my life to only get here. sitting without anything cleaning the car for change. all in the point of being driven to find a life I can love. It is alone we batttle.
	you have come to the front lines of poverty. you who survived in the world as a well fed responsible person. while justice contains only corporate greed, and free trade steals jobs. for a better market place for small business? If that were the case. Cities should tax Global Corporations. for a Corporation should have a home, and if that home is not in that state, county, city; they should be tax accordingly.
	 but Hud for three years. gives me nothing. 
	 silent laughter accompanies that. a smirk and grinding. within all movement s there are the true. for there is never nothing. and to achieve it would mean you have found enlightenment. like the definition of metaphysics is enough to change the world . you see it in your self after you have removed all the material. after you have become .. 
	 I am going to the occupy. a full bowl and a small smile I am an activist.. i am cause to be human you can do nothing else. 
	
	 so the day started ever peace full.  the trees again . the loneliness. I woke to feel free of tiredness and guilt. I woke to see a sun inside memory. a moments tide of truth. Today to move would seem a sin. so i don?t wake till four. and then
	 Off to the Occupy, occupy is only to understand our hearts inside. corporate movements and i thought one day it would be against National security to mention the corporate elite but that was early nineties. Inside that notion of America Spring . a government to fear inside what it will not acknowledge. but the masses mind live a personal spirituality and against that we are more than we seem. 
	 I went to the Protest ,, and created a moment talking the individual metaphors.           
	 I went and said things i can not remember. A black out of sanity with sanity , except i think i was talking out of depression, and to a crowd that is not right. or is that the only place. and did i do something that was good. talking into a megaphone is just like a mike you want to tell jokes, and sing a song, you want but the occasion doesn?t ask for that. The ?Leader? refuses leader ship, refuses to act from his heart, and i listen for only a couple of seconds, as he has already stopped traffic. as the excitement is to strong.  I can not handle it. and motion the microphone away from the kid who has it. and back up the chant for a second. then i talk . looking at the crowd in as many faces that will look, saying words i dont understand but all the same facts are to be said. the illusions of the last forty years and more , create there own meanings. the expansion of the mind of technology yields a higher form of self understanding. and in so a Movement will start. and a movement is a one percent of one hundred percent. Nature , peace, and global equality are our only common grounds. Protesting is for children. It is an everyday movement toward a realized unity, a stated unity, pre-written, The Freedom to Pursuit Liberty, all these words are combined to understand our definiton of Freedom.. 
	but the word can not be understood by the miss educated, miss directed and miss fed.. it can not be understood by the miss employed the not employed against the over employed. it can only be understood by a clear day and a sun, by a child?s smile , and a hope in a global future starting with ecology. And because we can control no other environment or inner workings, except our own, we are the peace. 
	 Telling the crowd this,, I went on.. ?Media has earned miss trust with Time magazine, with Oswald on the cover, with popcorn turned into an AK47? I told them. There are good corporation and bad.. So all corporation are not bad,, just the drain of the war, and the Statements of purpose. ?we should know this corporation serves the better good? ?but this didn?t start yesterday, and i guess it started with the kings and the catholic church. but serfs and slaves and peasants weren?t able in numbers such as ours, to say anything because they could not understand. such as we pretend to not understand Nature in order to be lorded over by Money and in such , the Aggressive Corporate Destruction in government banking.
	 Ambition to live underground worries me. The global environmental destruction accompanying said ambition. Frustrates me. The manipulation in our food caused by lacks FDA regulation. infuriates me. and in front of a crowd I am angry. Watching as the leaders have no passion infuriates me. Watching as i could help. creates me to help and i walk blindly. The organizers have messed with the heads of the Participants. Walking by big Banks like we were for a stroll. IN Mass Paper report 300. from the field of 600. 
	 and today , I hear the numbers who were arrested in the park in new York were 14 from NPR. and this is the end of media?s reliability, of media?s impartiality? I can see now this is the drive to war, civil and global. the unity of people without unity.. the hope of homeland security to spend the reserve money. and the lead to a rise in job numbers by security hiring. though Economics is not my total nature. in fact quite devoid i am from a true user of civil business. No i still see Business which helps and contains the individual right to ?feel? they live in a free world and a healthy future. 
	 and that is anti business. or anti consideration of business. the remarks of the metaphysical is not being talked about . the unity of the one is the unity of the all. but to protest should be for children. and yet we can not let it be weakened by the innocence of the child, the easy manipulation with the promise. for they still see, Problems easily answered as in someone can promise and they will stop.. and yet.. Law is the only reality of promise. 
	 I asked a friend through telepathy to call. she did. I couldn?t afford to answer but .. it helped me find my phone. 
	 We are driven for many reasons, but with the car going sixty on a tight drive through city traffic. we find angles. Ways. Slow down speed up. use your light. and include in all that cars are not gregarious. We stop and go for each other.. but we have agreement, in that we don?t want to die. 
	 The sheerest promise you will find. but for some death is a state of living. Happyness a state of personal heaven. and responsibility is only what law says and what you can get away with. 
	 I have parked the car on a Town street. At a meter which doesn?t have attendant Friday after five until Monday at 9 am. the battery in the computer is running for the first time in three years. and i love the feeling independent of a outlet. while my heart wants coffee and cigarettes. Wants what it has been trained for. I drove here. Stoped here. and use the sun to keep me warm, while i type in the car. while my guitars hang above me, video camera to one side. Tripods, and guitar holders, a stool for when i play and can?t sit on the car. this has been the life of HUD. and the last is why i write. trying to see myself plainer. trying to understand what creates the ambition to create. I said i would write a book this year. 
	 I will have to keep reminding myself i am.  the Title suggest so much and could de-evolve if i am not careful. 
	 I am in a car in Burlington Mass. but now i am working, five years before, when now is,, I sat in a car heated by the same sun, three thousand miles away , waiting for the phone to ring, and tell me to move, I had direction. I was a cab driver. 
	 When we said the word driven we meant where we are taken to. at the same time I am driving so i am talking of a place we take ourselves to. it is an exchange of time for money. but even in that there is the place we go. Consuming the environment at all times, we consume the sitting. watching the leaves blow and the head trying not to hear the heart. for to listen emotionally concerns us. we try and stay blind for the individual is suppose to temper self with the external. and yet. one without sight is crashing into the insightful. Our spiritually awareness in technological temperance, Frightens us, for an all is to say there is a need for an all. To know the nature demands the Laws. like Laws over big media outlets owning and telling tales to invoke majority disillusionments of majority causes. but it is also telling self the larger tales of personal ego balanced against a truth of being. and that truth has no substance based against the individual. Driven is just a way of understanding to be .. what once was the job.. turned into a year and a half of life. turned into seventy hours a week to get three hundred dollars of pay,, balanced by tips, balanced by stealing, balanced by guilt to the company to the system that provokes it. 
	 Yes i am a criminal.. I admit this though my crimes are just against myself. what linear roads, college and from there on continued Rat Racing is the crime of non participation. I think ,, that is my crime, I am emotional , and create art to ease my frustration with a humanity that fails to reclaim the humanitarian drives. That fails to ensure a common peaceful future with a system created around peace. 
	 to use ourselves it?s cruel and yet, we pretend we are happy, and love and find moments of peace no matter ,, and when we don?t. we protest ,, and what good does it do.. I lost my job after a thirteen hour shift on Christmas night. I was yelled at and become emotional.. almost to a blind reckoning for which i stave off with ? I don?t want to know this person forever? cause i felt that violent; i was scared.
	 it is to say and blame it on me. I can not elude to the childhood spent running from a step father and brother who drove at me with cruelty and impatience.  No they are not to mind after the years and years, of well defined understandings. Law and Court, recognize the now. You are a threat or not. there is no middle grounds. like in a protest. before the interchanges. you either are for or against. the world getting defined by black and white. 
	 It is later in the day in fact it is night , five after midnight Oct 17th monday morning. Left L---?s as she we telling me she is not an organizer of Occupy bellingham. She has been minding the site. but refused to attend secret meetings. where they assigned facilitors, it makes me wonder weather i should go. the masses at the meetings have no real spirit. they have been worked into this. and they are not happy that they can not get government to do its job. the taxes are sold to China by way of interests rates, sold for the price of a war, we didnt want, and yet.. while our sons and daughter die. we can not even offer them a place to call home. after. where has all the money gone, except into the accounts of the largest profiteers. who give it to private security, and as pay offs for oil debts. 
	 It is no wonder i can not find a job, i don?t even want one. I am free to suffer as winter comes but i don?t feel trapped. No future is freedom. I can not ask for more. I am only driven to these words. to writing. and right now i don?t know what i am writing about. but that is this whole project. It seems to tell a story you have to focus on a story and time passes so fast it seems behind the times as even as you think of it. maybe my thoughts get bored with the slow way they proceed  but for some reason i have trouble staying on point. knowing what to do has to become a life style no matter what you do. Pre-planing, almost preordained. the same linear i hate .. the confinement of math doesn?t work without sufferance on the spirit. When the same human can not afford himself. Humanity is left to english departments as something to study and not live.   Publishing is controlled by the corporations that own it. So that if i told you being human means we fight against controls that deny us homes , education, health care, I would never get published. but maybe i dont deserve it anyway. stumbling over my point because it is so large no one can get it. 
	 I should just sit inside a plot.. 
	 Harry and Jane meet each other in a restaurant in Cambridge mass. she was short enough for harry who is only average size himself. it is an alarm that goes off inside the brain. when there is someone the right, the intuition , the apppeal. but the Attraction is beastial.  and for her, there is someone who is not to big, who wont quish you , she saw him first through she never said it to him. she just took longer than normal to have a coffee. her skirt thigh high with a pale blue flower print. , she had gone in just after getting a call that her girl friend wasn?t going to go to the movies with her. they were suppose to meet. They worked together at a hospital and today was the only day off. a Monday cause the hospitial  was understaffed and you work extra or you get fired. Budget cuts, bare bones so that a profit was motive, alone. 
     Harry was sitting there writing in a  little spiral notebook. Trying to keep to a dialogue which was a problem as soon as she sat down, next to him, in the small restaurant. It was on the cornor where mass ave became a one way around Harvard sqare, such that its size was a conciled location. like a private ideaho against the on flux of corporate enities that surrounded it. no tables , just a countre, the resturant was open twenty four seven, and two cooks worked the total hours , only ten  stools bugers and the like. 
   her dress caused him to mis step. and it was all he could do to dot the periods, but he couldn?t let on. so he kept writing. 
	 until she met his eyes, as he looked over quickly , and said hello. he had been trying to write for ten minutes. 
	 ? besides me is a girl. black hair and beautiful. she seems confined to her coffee. not looking around but not sorrowful. she is like a light sitting next to me i can not avoid. shining in my eyes such that all i was saying before this is useless. to what now i am to contend with. for it is not me just to want to pick up women, by chance . a beuatuiful people are everywhere. and if you are not to be used by them you must just know they are and take it for that. but.. I must say hello. I must, soem drive that creates more than me some energy between us. ?
	 Hello.. she looks at her coffee, then wit fawn eyes looks at him for a mometn hi. You are beautiful, and even as i tend to want only to tell you that, i cna not stop there. i like the way you pllace you coffee so you can sit and look out the window. 
	 both Harry and jane, had turned in there seats to look out the large window that makes the wall behind them. looking out into harvard square, the busy people marching by. the beautiful and intelligent in expensive cloths, and intellectual bearing. Harry writitng in his book. Jane just sitting. her coffee placed on her kness so carefully as to move any way would drop the coffee ,,but which never stirs. 
	I love this window he says. you can see the world pass listening to the thoughts in faces, it is a common understanding of life to read what is going on with people. even though it is you who are creating the understanding. or at least it seems so.. though i do believe, with empathy, we can know a little about each one, just by looking , just by wanting to know. 
	 You think, jane says, her hair falls down from her ear and she pushes it back. I like to watch too it is like television without the ads, and the window frames it all nicely, I know a lot of people passing , so it is more like seeing who is around more than anything.. Its my day off and i was going to go to the movies. but not now my friend just called to cancel her boyfriend was the reason so she didn?t ask. He wanted the nice guy but often spoiled things if they made plannes. 
	After so many occcasions of pick up lines, harry has noticed a couple of tings. one she idenfied her friend as a female, not a boy friend, she said more than two words, to contiune the conversation , telling where she is from, and that she has alot of friends to feel secure with, no matter if she doesnt know harry. Harry also make sure to include his ?love ? of the window. to say the word is an inviteatin to understand you can love anyting. but he still doesnt know if he want to go forward. would she like me to say anything else. 
	 they both stare out the window. feeling alittle closer to each other. though neither would say it. Jane seems younger than she is ,, and harry also. but harry is much older than he seems, in fact people guess all the time that he is ten years younger than he is. and it is a problem. the respect part is the part he feels. a pretty man is a hard road, women think him a shark, even though he never uses his charms that way without sincerity, and in the 34 years he has been alive. he has only fallen in love, or let women have him cause they wanted him, his wants have always been a problem. and a resason he sits watching the world through this safety glass. He doesn?t know where to go. 
	 Harry is without a home, he only works now and again being a Residental mover.. the moving buisness isnt that substancial in the dead of summer. Weekends mostly, but he doesnt look for extra work. free time is love. and talkes with a peacefull ness that writes, and plays music when he is feeling alright. after a shower or when ever he has some money. but he knows he is undateable. so he so doesn?t tell her. any of that. it is plain he writes becasue he was doing just that when she sat down. 
	he has her eyes now.. and is transfixed. There are a deep black with speckles of brown and green , the most beautiful he has ever seen, her dress is a v neck and her breast are small but perfect for her frame. romantically thick lips, and he is looking at her eyes when he trieds to say something , just as she is, , to break the spell of really seeing each other. harrys forearms are all lines of veins and look strong. his hands tough, and with scars and a couple of little cuts on them, but his face is handsome. ridigly cut, and with a hint of mystery, a scar above is left eyes, she is dieing to ask about. but if she knew she would laugh. it looks so dangerious, while it was only falling off a bed at seven years old.
	
	so much for writing about Harry and Jane.
 
	 It is another day. running from each essay to be determining the next.  I guess its just me. and shows little my determination to write what is easy to read. More i am writing what comes to me as each day of the year proceeds. And today has been reading. all day. Well since I found day gone well into itself enough to feel it is to save and in fact important to rise. But by then it was noon. I got coffee and moved the car to a spot just one hundred feet from my resting place to consume some sun and to dry tabbacco on the front dash. The night leaves moisture inside the car from my breathing, everything gets wet. In the great sun and the windshield tobacco dries fast. 
	  Then i read. Herman Melville?s Mardi about the life of a Sailor ,a whaleman of course, but a sailor ,for we never get to the great hunt. Our ?hero? and narrator, tells the tale with little extra.  
	 Yes i read a lot. but even as i am telling you of the plot of the salior who desserts ship; who knows the captain lied by going to the North pole to find Whales, When he said he was going to the south sea. our hero Jumps ship taking a whaling boat to face the high seas. He doesnt go alone but you would have to read it. I am not going to tell you any more. Mardi is about the size of War and Peace which i read last winter. but it is such fantasy and reminds me of Gullivar?s Travels.  
	 I feel a sorted kineship, with the Lessons of the whaler who studied Latin and read all he could. In Homelessness. and all good adventure tales. I have broken down my thoughts as the whale was broken into its piece in Moby Dick. and homeless ness is something i know. like the open sea where you are supposedly paid to see only sea and whale. you suffer and achieve by intertwining symbolisms. We come to anger at that which doesn?t change. and i didn?t go far in Merdi to see anger and change. enforced change and unrestrain unknown change. like driving into night with no money and no place to go. You invent and accept.  
	 I have left the ship.. I know , I have fell behind the anger of the ship wrights traders and even shopkeepers. only surviving when i can sneak into their presents, and gather a days pay , but so far no one wants me on their ship. Statistics speak against me being a good employee. at four six and never having a job beyond a year except driving cab, which automatically puts you into a boat,, and left to drift. My days of carpentery I cant mention like no taxes no mentioning the boss dead no record like it never happened. 
	 so i can only recall part of thought to cherish this embellishment of life. I see the whole of myself as part of the natural order of natural events. I am depressed and in a world way i am not alone and know this. fifty percent of american?s are on depression medication, which had limited trails in most cases ,, or at least no governmental trails,, the government cant afford it.. 
	I would say there is and has been a world depression. It began with reading but the personal start for me was a realization of nuclear winter . and then Aids, and environmental self destruction, all followed suit. Each placing, in the back of the mind, a determined realization of depression while it blinds out the sanity that is disturbed by an ungratifing future. a Depression from truth. Or a depression from Present realization of change. I try and look with all sides to even see self ,, the primitive recognition of a why of psychology, a why , Personally my realization of personal death was different form a global death I was being choked by my step father on the floor of a trailer in Germansville Pa. the spinning world and pins and needles through out my body. Was really where i personally started. after that I thought about witches and magic always influenced me, That progressed to God, and energy to that which we couldn?t control but could feel like empathy gives us a feeling of how another is feeling without asking. Is that empathy? I know that it was a survival thing. always looking how my step father would react, or my brother. I was empathic long before i knew the word.
	A why, i am in a car typing on a battery powered computer, a why of the H.U.D. a why of me, and you ,, and truth. through the changes i can find in self. with unlimited access to my own brain as knowledge.. funny how much we come to understand about history while still seeing nothing of our own. or seeing it and not hearing. 
	It is an endless struggle if one writes continually fact,, but more often forget, as the passage of communication is generally taken to heart in its fables. more meaningless than news. as symbolisms of art, manipulated and contrived lines, trying to tough humanity , well what is more unhuman to tell of some story , the lies enacted, the overshadowing of external nature, the wars, the crimes, the blurring of right and wrong into a moral,, which now is spelled MORE ALL but the business common-unity, and the over extended Free market. which only fuels to lower everyone?s standard of living. 
	 oh and the reasons i am here. for which i didn?t think of until this second, its easy to find symbolisms, i would rather find a natural truth to decide humanity in its personal essence, for why else go on? Humanity is the stepping stone to a knowledge of the metaphysical, to be able to feel your life is the most important Sacred Knowledge. 
	to feel is a metaphysical innocence and proof of humanity. To Feel is then the first science. I more than no feel i am doing the right thing even while i know i am not.. it is a hard road to think there is a future sitting in your car watching traffic go by. it is of personal stories unwritten by lie in your heart from every voice television shows have rendered. every voice for which comes from friends and family's down turn eyes ,, which see what you do as shame full. and the other half who hearts are turned cause you might be cold. people unwilling to share.. everyone. I of course have ran to strangers. after only being turned away by everyone else. you might only hear prejudice in that. and i am not sure the truth for i only felt them, and after asking Half of all the friends i had , i stopped asking. I gave up , and felt the world is about the self and surityies. like the world was once about family, the streets know there own, and so here we sleep. 
	 the car cost little except all i can make is the fact of my being out of civility. Civility has homes, has utilities, a shower. Civility doesn?t shower with other men in public places. doesn?t ask or you, or me. It is superior to being. It is a quiet Ruler. as we discuss what civility is. 
	 I like the streets.  You can see a Problem coming.. its a set of eyes lastly , it is a way of walking, staggeringly , self ish ly, or else. Some walk like the world is on their shoulders, yet such confidence often leads to conceit. Being on the streets trust is the only issue , so you can observe it. you can be at one with your knowledge because we all start out the same, in the same humanity.  like traffic I like traffic also. those are just moving streets with less words to bespeak action. it is all action. 
	 there is a place i go a lot. people are up stairs i know. new friends as i make few or many but trust few. and try to love all. in seperate ways, in seperate notions of love. but there is an over all peace right now. on this cornor. 
	maybe it is a peace for my human needs of touch are fullfilled . and the streets where where i met both , for there are only two i bother with my physcial presence. L and V. and neither work well to inforce what i would with this book and yet. to feel is all the pages of this book would want to say,but i can not sell ?
	the words ?to feel?
	 they have been bought, .com, .org. .edu. 
	 they have not been giving the HOw to feel book,, the sciense of feeling , and how to create the openness to feel. how to let feeling answer questions. the metaphysics that seperate how feelings have been formerly led and what is natural. formerly as in change is a constant. but natural feelings are ancient.. it is only now that we can come to understand change , as the available of a global mental health.  we have come to techonogy to understand the self. it is why i am sitting in my car with a battery on. writing what would be a book if i could remember not to write about writing a book.   the mention breaks the spell but I am here breaking ground , wo why not have a personality why not show the present , the reality of a moment. I like literture, the corsing fo the words over the statement of descriptions.. 
	 out of my window, an old blue house, old cause it remind me of old , but it artictualy  reminds of early fifties, with the advent of cheaper trim and unconcerned constuction. there is no one there. the windows are boarded, and though the determined builders created home out of the left overs space right aside the most major hyway, that didn?t account of lonelyness, and the gutters so well placed, collect dirt, and leaves and have plants growing out of them.. the signs on the window, talk of an owner in New Jersey. and we should call them if anything is amiss. 
	 someone mowed the lawn. and all the fixtures inside look new, there is a refrigerator but all is empty, which makes for a nice place to park. the ghosts look on from the windows and smile. we are all in the open after all, but don?t want to admit it. Every one wants to claim private property, such that to hid is the home now. and you pay for the cost. it is a complete house and maybe i should call the new jersey people and ask what is going on with it. ask them if they need a liver in it.. someone who would mow the lawn and clean the gutters. who would repair the windows, and turn on the electric. 
	 they do that you know. Hired people to live places so that the ?property isnt considered abandoned. the insurance goes up with that. around the house is two small trees . on thin and a on only thirty feet high, a baby oak. with a major split in its trunk about two feet off the ground. one side less tall so it seems almost bushy. that is  in front of the house , almost twenty feet , away, from the front corner. the tree maybe only ten years old. like trees in the front yard. but right next to it. is a little path, with hyway kind of rocks rocks gathered up after being cut out to make the larger road. misplaced dumped for a reason I cna not know. the rocks are large. each on a fist size with flat cut edges. like a road. unpaved, a state road, going no where.. 
	It is from here i look at the house. , But the mowers know where the property line is .. and a four foot swath of assorted weed grown ,, lol weeds is funny word,, for a weed is something unwanted. while each of the various kinds of plants involved where all are indigiounious, and will be here long after our awful worlds of weeds. 
	they are eyes level so i look at the house though them. 
	 while i sit calm,, a fact that police have not come to move me. that the strangers who pass are one hundred feet away going sixty miles and hour or, rising on the on ramp to place themselvese among the distancers from here, dont see me. ,, i am to be missed. and thank you cause i can not afford to be regarded. 
	 I can not afford the glances of millions for i am a just a man. and the life i have frustratingly created, usually stemmed from Lies or mere disagreements.  i have always been looking for truth in my life. When i was young the truth was all about me. all about the personal freedoms. about sex and drinking, it was about the ways we thought, such that i can understand youths arrogance, for to know was to have, to have was everything, until i no longer wanted mere toys I wanted to be a writer. It was something to want but more it was something to do and i was always alone. 
	You can watch your life without living it. fooled by your own subconscious to believe you are doing instead of doing.. 
	 
	 there is a fine line in the arts between people who do and them that study. 
	 there is a separation in what they talk about what they do.
	 it isn?t to produce for me, production such as can be weighed sold or unsold. for perceptions are generated by the environments what condone them. the controlling factors of what is understood by Humanity is controlled either by who teaches the humanities, or the art itself , or it is not , for some do not wait for a teacher to tell them but go into the field and live. 
	 At sixteen i was into the night with my flash light and pen. I was drinking in bars, dark shady bars who accepted a drivers license which had no picture. I eventually slept with the bartender, who didn?t care of age, and i slipped into the ease of homosexuality, like a good looking alone boy might. if there is no one watching , and you had alcohol. 
	I also say the difference of people, what people really are inside. as they get what they can with the lights out. the microphone off, the video deleted. I say it from the high school drunken years. from fourteen to eighteen,, i had a plan for a number of years. where i scheduled my drinking. it was only at twenty six, i started to let go.. but then again i was in bars with so many useless journals, alone , ?writing? thinking silently writing conversations i have barely ever had. People tend to leave off finding themselves.. for reactions , I have never loved myself enough to stop looking after what makes me.  
	 Our humanity is within us. the problem more is the inhumanity done to us. for which cheapens world peacefull ness. most of the reflections of exterior nature rule what we call ourselves instead of our self sight leading. I am not to you a whole. yet to you i am for my hands to feed myself. so i am to care what you think. when what you think is only subjected to hhow you were treated. 
	and as such civilization chases its own tail. Reacting to what is done us , instead of creating what is to be done. civilization was to have its own rullers. we gave king and aristorcates power. money to control us and have less blood shed but that was just before civilization turned into better better best.. when to live in the streets was to live and all tales of how one got there were forgotten or only repeated as gossip or jokes, but you once couldnt read ,, and the street seemed a good a place as any. 
	 writting this is to let me hear myself ,, I am trying to flush out the reason i am here, writing in this car. litening to street traffic pass far away in the night. 
	 i am reading as i go , and in that i often hear little of the story so i much more include each smallness i can record. 
	 tales of the car should be told , it is a eighty nine toyota corrella wagon. it is a dark read, and i think of her as the Green Tara.. I would say red tara, but the monk told of the green tara so long ago at smith college, around who haunts i lingered long enough to attend one lecture at.. there were lots, i guess , i have never gone to . I choice few as to remember them all. I listen and use things. hoping that the energyies have directed me well. 
	 of course there was a girl involved. a very beautiful one name J. B. who Prasticed yoga in converstion, and lived vegan, who sat with me and found a moment holding love to a defintion. and who left after she had my soul , and scared the living shit out of me with an out side look at her life, when she was gone from me but not away, I watched, and listened but it changed little. She was to go. i went without her, I am a buddist as i am christian, as i am INdian, as i am metaphysically natural to self. 
	 as i write this organic collective of psycological interests.. 
	 to drive myself to another side of my sight. to achieve the intricate nature of the answers of sociality civility within life. 
	first one alwasy looks at self. not really 
	first one looks at space, 
	one looks and what is whole , and seperate and wonders what law under which is based all knowledge.. as in the earth was flat. and then all people who said else wise were defeated, killed , emprisoned, the church was to blame, A corporation influening knowledge, a strong set of stupid wills, killing off the truthful. 
	 first is to see. the rest falls in line. 
	 I am scared the computer will shut off. like my light is doing.. running out of battereys is part of the all , press save come back later.. laughing at time a first step. 
	
	 blog entry.. October 22
	 a day in the life. and lately i have decided to write a book. it is a motion in time and self. 
	 i can see the flaws in my life. Cause i have been again living. 
	 but there where i go seems mechanical.. the hope in the arts of unity lay in the being for a moment. and a moment has come wiht the Occupy. for which in bellingham we have been envoking. I do concern myself for i have gone into the pit called a GA. I have been in a small town occupation with marching. We are really scared of the Tent City we will make . or I am the support of the town seems with us , then we look closer. Organizers from other Organizations. Large nonporfit peoples baring the teeth of large donation, litter the playing field, and each percent is represented, with what they think are over riding problems. While the first is never the last until Unity is a promise in law. Unity with Natural ends. 
	 A One hurdred percent is the whole to change and unnderstand a basic science of metaphysics, and common reasoning. It comes to a day , when the  arguments are caused by a determined reality. One planet. One enviroment. but that same self seen comes to one us. Of water and Energy. in the 99, We must step to deed.  
	 With the age of water comes the Metaphysics of Natural harmonies. the Presepts , the agenda , is easy. All Global politics must equal a harmonic World Goal.. a stated precept. we, the people must believe in the stated Goals of Government. To liberty equaling the liberty to see a Global Health. 
	 the last strains of Nationalism must fall. but not with the Price of Defreuding the governments Like it seems is being done. Notice the process, and wonder .. If i was to face my pure self of energy tomorrow. would i be able to handle it?
	In a Aday of being feeling proud of everyone around, of unite in the streets to be. to live in responce and celebrate the ablity if nothing else. I am bieng usefull. after three years unemplyed, and five years homeless with ptsd or depression or whatever, my father , and my uncle gone in vietnam, my birth sixthy five. my imporatnce, is a metaphysics we must globally realize, and i just one more penny make. 
	 but friday we would to Occupy . our tent leaders looking at rain.. and thinking of generators in this Warm wind which contains our winter. 
	and so the day goes i have given and now will have to do something. I have seen the manufaction of the core of the ?fasilators? of the occupation in Bellingham. but I also see the why,, for which took me a little while. 
	 It is a funny year to write a book , as would be the allusion, for the write at all is to enhance the chance of writing a book, so all days have been toward one. as a defined future, as one is controled to ones life. 
	 I see the front forming,, my romance aside, the being of the mass in love with Protest and in my book that is violence. so i am going to quit and ask people to follow through on the process of the vote. and for me to talk is the adventure. to look at the owrld with it eyes, for my eyes are nothing if not made of ?what is? 
	 there is no point, and description are me trying to learn what to degree my stench can cloud my judgement. funny that. i am old and the `car is starting to ripen, it is like an animal the difference of what poeverty is creating , but it gives me a laugh , maybe cause the gasioous fumes are starting to get to me, as i am in my peace , with finger flasing. i deal wit the computer which keeps moving back to some random place,, such that for chaos i want to leave them like my youth did, and allowed. but few stepped there, the others for the first magazine, 
	everyone so prim and proper like to compare words to the bible. and what change can only come through proper regards to a system at large.. lol. when i think there is a private comunication. and it seeps out into the world through its own abandoment to the phrase and lyric ,, namely tone. 
	 tonight i realized why i wrie .. it is being a copy cat fool.. the idea that my prother did it.. a silent type who might still write for all that he would connact me, which he hasnet since i was cold to him about a jealoucy a secret guarding of my life he never wanted to be part of then one day after thirty years he complements a girl friend,, and then makes a referance to how good a partner she would be to me.. and i lost it,, and said  the words a creative person can to make you discard my photos ,with the eyes poked out, over.. it was wrong.. i am finding more and more i am human.. 
	 there was little choise growing i think it makes us more involved with the choises we make now. or atleast that is the level i take my personal therapy to make each moment with the will of understanding. but the figures come dark sometimes. and the allusions to change are the only hopes we can self create. inside a thought is the quakening of gaints, the rope around the ankles a people to pull. thoughts lead emoitons. 
	emotions are metaphyscisal. 
	big words my average joe heart,, 
	as i write bad lines to infest my time and loves. I use to just write about a controled heart. about an empassion being lost to the cares of the ?cheat? gone. but difference time makes. so homely i am now ,, I try not and care not, except the fantasies of cocktails i can not drink for long, truth steps in and again with the dullard i would not like to be again. i draw lines. the crawl spaces between envisioning and living. for fantasy leads to fact so easily sometimes. you just watch chance and feel the will bending alittle. a space moment a guiding to interest where you have some but not enough to devote wholeness, as you would alone. the dream mighter, and so painfully sacrificed against all other respoincblities.
	two days since i wrote, the world of protest in front of me , lifts its head with asorted joining forces.. the ideas of the dogamtic as a whole against a movement. but there is much more to see. 
	 as we greet each other. making eyes , its is a difference i feel. for so long into washingtons nights we hid. we forget what it is to look to understand others. Exxcept our families, we see little of the inner personas around us. the is a content awareness of others. as like the beuty of the trees and mountains that suprround us, enviroment does create people. 
	so when ther eare others in front , we look special at them, clairfing , identifing, classifiing.. and can only hear ourselves sometimes if we do listen, how agasin what i think it seems,, 
	 but there are depths , places and contortions of thought which ebb and flow through the civilization of man, anicent as we, and in we; that is ancient. 
	and there we find a whole. hole. 
	what leads us to this place ,, to ccuupy, this moment and time, when ten years of war did not bother you. the killing of a president and the defrauding of the american people with No Bidd contracts during Bush and Bush,, No one was up in the streets claiming Treason when without Weapons of Mass Destruction we invaded a soverign nation without the unified clarity of world vision, No one screamed fOr Warcrimes trails. When Corporation were allowed to own As many Major News sources as they want.. Did we scream ?YOU ARE CONTROLING MY KNOWledge for which is Anti Democratic? Media must be free and Diverse..
	No, we said nothing. We acted like the beer wouldnt run out, and the alotment of work was a drag and the nights were the only surrendar. money , with bells on. and passion ruled, while yet, an underlayer of IRA spoke through my world in boston.. like just living there i was a part of the great revolt agasint terreny,, I am stone it is easy to get lost into a romatic, thing, i will remove this later. 
	 Friday an Occupy starts in Bellingham.. I stood with a sign three times, I have marched three times. I yelled a Cadance. of slogans that were false written by other voices but in unison such that each time i stopped i could hear the responce. against my singular voice.. no one to help the first call. Alone. 
	I moved around the crowd not to make me so noticed by the police. Alone with a crowd yelling, my calling marked me,, I dont want that, and should remain not, so as to foster no sorted ness, the mystical respect. om tara, om tara, 
	but i couldnt stop, and in five town blocks, I had my voice crinkling, as it becomes when it is dry and done,, i yelled to long, and it was pain by the end.. as i tryed to get people to start with me,but letting go of much anger in the force.  It took only a minute and silence creeped in. These people are still at home ,, they dont know where they are,, it is for a diversion.  
	 and i dont really do this as a prastice, in fact i have never been like this , marching along with a crowd who thinks a same idea. we are a whole and yet. not , for the frailities of mankinds, self preservations,, and with a cold hand the scattering hoards would run, so trained, the innocent, to fear for life. 
	 I can only see the police , with roit gear, and hear their anger. Voilents in their eyes.
	 I Love the assocaiation to embrace our animal.  i subconsciously like to talk about violence.. like an unspoken point of my character. It is the lost rooms where i can talk of violence, the silent rooms where we let go and forget we are for one reason or another and expand to animal state.. with only words we become the preditor becomeing the prey when systems of injustice are up held by one with out a human face or conscious as Law. Those Processer of the Peace, which the advent of replication creates in others Your eyes the eyes of returns. 
	You , i hear , make my voilence. I see the feeling of hearing. Your wants to control me, to teach me Police(law doctrine) are to be respected while a world falls off the innocents of its own creation without our interchange of respect for reason. and it is only my abused inside person, for which never learned the difference of body for creative indepence that so instalizes me, I have never had words to see it. the knoledge we learn when we were not into all the excessive symbols, the knowledge of life by touch.
	 I am petty sometimes. I can feel it. it is getting cold i need cofee.. 
	wish i could make it in the car. i would never go anywhere and save gass.. if only the computer would stay on.. and we could further each step of this rambling. 
	
	I had descide to write a book and the question of how to write it bothered me so much. what concepts and story line, what out of effect symbolism i would infect the world with.. wanting to compare to what is.. for ficiton .. and yet,, what is in literture seems only what is left over after the incomprehension is over of any time period. Ours in effect time is no more than to under and master ourselves.. in that i can not give you pretty tales though i try sometimes. but understanding is just the change i try to understand about myself.. one small peice in a million,trillion,, but within that there is a movemnet of a simple summary man?s thoughts, and so in thinking we write. in placing imagines to events, to looking at the awareness,, is enough to open doors for so many , cause the knowledge is honor bound and devoted to change . It is as we know them that each little part can fall away in an analisis of self. as i am blantant i am being controlling sorry. 
	 and then the night 27th. 2011, I will have less to do with the occupy movement as of tonight. It is happening but yet the force of why is still unclear to some.  Like mobs they are coming and yet only few can understand how important the vote of each.  The movement of time is upon us and the answers have to come also.. with the hope is going to be with the protest.. but the pain is coming as police are choising the victums, or people are letting themselves be arrested.. so the youths are coming. big crowds of the left over generations. the one that sat in xbox lands waiting for the innocents to drive them into the streets. you told them to go play games now they are told to go protest.. 
	Funny the history, involved in creating a protester from a video gamer. Live action scripting,, dont get arrested.. or try and get arrested each adding to value points given at the end of each session. you get points for planning secrecy and for pulling it off.. with all the cameras around , and police that show up without notice. it is a game you play for .what is, the characters life time. As he rises within the ranks to eventually become Sinn Finn or I.R.A. Or Homeland Secrutiy, or N.S.A. You choice your global region. and the colors for your flag.. you can choice the rules .. Weather Water-boarding is legal or weather you have to pay some other government to do it.. which comes out of your point total depending on the cash you have at your end. As You deal with forgien bankers, and global terroristic corporations, you secret away a stach and collect all the personal Idenifactions you can pry from dead mans hands, as part of your over all average. Until you control the game.. there will be only a hand full of winners each based against the amount of people who show up to your funeral to be seen. 
	 I know the time is alive to publsih the magazine and i know i am right in presenting an attitude that forsees the change of culture. it is not rocket science.. with the way open to understanding to fill in where common culture can not the enertialcall comes in. 
	 but i can not say that here.. you would take me as a fool what to speak of the Metaphysical innocents we will not lose no matter the facts thrown at us.. but the advent of answers are going to come onlly through the art and culture they produces.. It is the time for the Enertialcall as a medium of exchange from the theological time to a metaphysicall one.. it is the time of our brains to go the last part of self realization against as the final ruiins of Capitolism come with the brandings of materialism.. 
	 and i am driven.. someday i will be able to eat and write. but for now. writing is good enough , i can write and sit in the car. I can write and think in a coffee house. i can live and know closer we are what we are from the time we represent. I know that HUD stands for I can afford my soul. 
	
	chapter Two. 
	 with all the words of Occupy , against and for. who caused it and what was its reasons. i could care and Again Not. the interest is the movement people to people .. the cause and confusion. Make no difference now.. I have started the first night. 
	 talking to C.. and G .. and bob. 
	 Camping in the park .. Less claiming space as, we have been Allowed.. and slowly the tenets come,, first the Noble. Experienceing their fathers, and ?what once was?.  We are twenty five strong, the middle is a big tent. A kitchen tent. and twenty-dollars per five hours of electric..from the generator. 
	A general Assemble... research G.A. was formed for the night. the rules we hadnt approve have been posted on a site unapproved . offering a 99percent resolution that wasnt approved by the G.A. in new york. but yet is makeing the rounds without the leadership of the Wallstreet movement. 
	 Our numbers are small here in bellingham, 30 on the site campers, with proposals, and declariation of every nonprofit looking to turn this into a feeding frenzy for smaller unsponcering organization. it is funny . the true movement is getting washed down.. maybe that was the point . to get the ninenine to agree on anything is the clarity of the statements, but no one is giving a whole statement, being left to the side of medias reporrting,, the one point is to bring justice to the side of the poeple agaisn the Evil cunning internation corporations. and yet. one corporation sponcers another nonprofit. 
	there is even a Harilbuton here..no related one would say.. but distracting all the same.. our tent got wet last night as i tryed to be nice and shared a tent with a talking girl who had nothing to say about anyone but her self , and i couldnt sleep ,, evne now i am waiting to rest. my head is happy inside the tent. 
	 but then what is really going on here.. a park in the middle of this small ?wantabe ?tourist town which use to be a heart of lumber which use to be a working world where people lived ,, but the stories i heard where the tales of drunken chemically enriched society with whore house on the main drag, with bars everywhere like now but with more stories then rightful for a small town, a port at one time. I guess it hasnt changed. except the same that worked the llumber and seaport are unemployed, and walk the streets in the same drunken ness,,they found for a life before. and this is there park , even the police refused to come in here and clean it out, willing to let the drunks and methamphedamen people walk in shadows, while they give tickets to the college kids who will pay them, and not like the rest who will just get arrested and eat for free.. lol justice is not a hope for the hard workingand this part will slowly get use to us.. but it is sunday and from the outside will come so many maybe.. while the thirty who are here are told about everyones rights to fuck up the main points until , we are not sure who is getting the point of all the distracting points offered. I ge uss i will write i will agin write until i am done. but i couldnt cleep last night my neck was hurting it is being on the ground . it is the cold. but also it is the the unsecurity of the Protesters wihtout balls to be respected.. half the camp are people with no legs, and the resons are also the no self respect. we have recuited out own homeless memebers who help out, but there are also people , who are ?with the movement? who dont help out.. and there are addicted homeless who are coming in to eat, and nothing else, who are comeing into the camp and drinking and there is nothing short of beatting them down to get some standards. or that is just me , my ptsd,, my over reacfion and the reason i write instead of living my anger, the reason i live in my car and not on the streets .. or such , i shold escrib the sistuation . , a man has a tent , he leaves it open at night to work securtiy, he comes back to some Crazy in his bed . with a women, he says nothing . in th emoring , he have to do something , becuase he didnt follow the rules of Now,, and tell someone about the problem then,, no like we homeless have in our hearts we are the wrong ones and so without blankets ,, he sleepin in the common area.. cold.. I started talking ot the Man,, who wasnt understanding, being nice, until i started to play bad cop,, and coldly turned my eyes to him saying nothing any more. my will shaking inside me,, the direct confrontation is my problem and i feel the right to go into my darkens, , it is worng. i cant sleep maybe now,, ,, 
	 I set up a tent but the way i did it has created water under the tent,, water through the first layer of sleeping bags. ,, and i am trying to get out as much as i can before i sleep. the raw is more powerful, the reasons for an unedit manuscript,, revisions can come later. now it was the passion of the moment. 
	 Days have pasted without comont and then we get a moment between the Marches between the work of keeping a kitchen clean, working.. I spent three days in camp totally , then i pushed away my back and neck was starting to hurt.. my head was starting to bust with all the simplistic emotionally addicted Raw character types show up. claiming equality .. when discussing a protest,, the pain of listening gets old until you have to leave. so i left .. leaving a tent on the grounds. leaving my heart to wonder wheather i am there. staring at the first steps of a tent city where was to be Protestors.. but I could deal with the drunks. and Yelling, couldnt deal with the disharmony for the splitting of point to inclued the goal statement of Moveon.org, and the Solisist Alternative people. to include some new group called the Progressive ,, thingy,, and these come to the meeting pre arranged to capture the vote.. when makes the rest of the assemble distant and wondering how to be here with Pre Arranged dogma.. it is hard to say, as the movement turns less of the ninty nine then to the percents that are ajoined to these pre fromed NON Profits who could never get there own crowd but have to attack the Occupy like they own it.. but I dont think a ninty nine would will for civil war.. but if you listen to moveon ,, they want war.. they want confusion it really seem , no direction do i get from them,, and yet,, i refuse to join groups every while i form one.. well as far as the enertialcall wanting more than just me and a pen.. but i dont have a grounp.. maybe it is just ignoramnce to think you can. 
	 but i did stay on site in the Occupy bellingham,, I saw all the people who had no idea what was important. In tenets. they can not understand what is happening to them.. and each is breaking into the home of heart more than any movement of peo;e ,, they i would say are thinking maybe the world was getting more kinder.. but they would be lost. for it is the same world. and every night the camp lights up with Security Issues. an assault here, a petty referances there, each little thing move into the whole through referance. and i sit silently watching feeling the hope of a world movement is turning into a fight of minor factions. 
	 so then for a check of self. 
	 A friend talk of Group mind. and when i get into camp I feel it. but for me it turns into a work session where no one is working.. the camp is loosly based against the support of the park. them out there are the pained , the reality ,, who is at the bottom. and i listen to the spoken perfromance art behind me in the cofee shop.. the equally boring are flitting. looaded statements put into human emtional, you know history, we all have our families... the foreplay of most sahllow sexy events. lol.. the mentioning of sex, twice in the last minutes. the man is either a virgin or gay,, and yet , whe protest is in my thoughts and i want to go down, i am fighting from thinking of my own thoughts as all the enviroment corrupts my thoguhts. it is interesting. 
	 how with the group speak is in my ,, i reconize the pull. it is family speak also. which has been a falling off of my life. and so group comes next to love and hope to cherish, and then 
	 a fact is not a whole ,, and the tendancies of a hopelessness has been leading our way as a people . watching as the people make and deny. see and follow. react and dont.. 
	 i watch as nothing changes and a beautiful women with a small boy. dances clossre,, she is married and perfect like a store front window, the plastic skin lost the mechnaical movement from plastic joints, lost.. and we cast off to smile for a moment. as we protest. 
	 Last night magic , hade another home for me, as i felt the belssing give, with the music of hope.. I met a man Dana Lyons. now the name last, i knew from boston.. dana would not like the referancee, they are the ticket tron the event planers the Star makers in boston. the Lyons Group.. entertainment is us. 
	when i heard his name i did a pause. and i dont talk about this to talk of him. i could see the beit of a sales man, i have been on a stage before with him as a host, i just dont remember. 
	nov 6 2011
	 I am at the camp .. in the occupy looking out on a park. looking out in the night where mostly there was a drug culture. now there seems peacee. the meetings have been held and only a few people remain. I dont know why i am here.. the protest is one thing that seems out of the picture as we worry about smaller things. as we think of the camp which has become something other that a protest. we have been camping now , for six or seven days. the kitchen is the lifes blood. with two tables, with coffee urn. with food being donated from every cornor of bellingham. I like to eat so it is good but the comforts. seem so outside of what should go on.. 
 I am feeling the amount of talking done here is so lost on me.. people talking without a knowledge of the stuggle we are facing. we are here to protest. but people are only living the shelterlessness. people dont even seem to remember what is really going on. and i have to laugh.. cause for all the years i have known about the corporate controls. people seem to not know. 
tonight i stood up and told someone to hit me,, so that i could stop the anger going on. it was and is . out side of me, this stand is outside of me, and yet i feel wso close to the spirit if not the camp. but am i just being distarcted from the wholeness of myself. the book i am trying to write is not going well. but even as i fac this year of writing i am looking into my heart to see what makes sense. L is telling me i am removing myself from here andin that i am sad. but i have a problem with wanting family and needing with giving myself away to quick. for you can for years.. give to anything but what do you get out of it. it is funny but even with this movement it is a chance of people using you without you taking care of you. 
 my fingers are cold behind this. 
 there is no coffee. but that doesnt matter. i have a great new jacket.. and great new socks, and gloves. It makes me smile that i have so much.. donation are the wholeness of this winter. as is sit on the front lines whhich isnt ready for the attacks that are forming in other places. in New York they seem to be sending people into the camp to cause trouble. people that are not from the camp assualting people. we are in a small town and i think the future is small town, where the mayors let us do what is needed.. but someone started this movement to fail ,, and every day we are closer to martyrs.. with the cold ,, with facing everyone that is every where . 
noisy waters is whatcom in indian. 
but to get back to me. what am i doning. sitting here in camp where everyone is a little more leary of me. i had a moment where i stood up to a man they wanted out. I showed my insane sign.. I told him to hit me. an assult would have made given the police a reason to arrest him.. but the camp wanted him gone. . he left. and i shoke the flames bursting inside of right and wrong the reaasons sl eloborate of there. push,, i didnt want him gone just dealt with, calmed dwon. but paranoids are everywhere, understanding they are right to much of the time. him being one.. this same man who fixed the generator whcn all else were standing around. looking at it. he walked up looked at it for two minutes, and proceed to fix it. it is a welcome.. and it is a truth. to be worng is not out of the right it seems by some systems. but i was tired of the yelling. effecting me into some trance like state i didnt care what would happen. .. I knew in my soul he wasnt going to hit me, it was all play, they moved his stuff.. some mostly stolen from the camp.. like offering fom the world to them who stand for the accknowledgedged need to jbring justice to organiziced Crime Corporate Style. so Should it leave , the stuff i mean. the person to. 
	 the person we `could have come to see to be beyond the alcohol and paranoia. but I sat in the big tent. I sat, looking at the kitchen which i had just cleaned for the tenth time. A place where bread is everywhere , and can goods. A tote for coffee.. where donations come in in Paper bags. and garabe bags, in recyled shopping bags, and the ones that are making an islan in the pasifi`c, even them. i cleaned. up what i could without being warm, with little help except for the crew that reacts when needed, the crew that could be doing it themselves wihtout propting. but dont. In there poverty has become their action. Staring in the roles of conversationalist. and hypocrite, i should save that for the other, for a moment after the bad phrase or ill gotten knowledge at least they responded, Could you give me a hand I sad to say.. standingn as they spend most days, talking of the unempolyment and homelessness, they live at. the respond and pick up trash , or pick up, the dish i asked them to.. the do the dishes,, and boil the water,, hopefully they think of it when i am not there. 
	 but what seem fore interesting is the partisciapation of me,, the idea tht some organization is more important that the enertialcall. that the Awareness of water and the hope of unity as i would ascribe to health for all.. and the meaning of the ec aside. my personal life, is not a new thing to understanding the system the brian is a system. . and a cold wind is blowiing. with this movement, i will go inside. i can feel the chill in my fingers. but i tryed to write out side. the battery is doing good. to bad i waited until winter or, it was fall to get the battery. 
	funny that. 
	I left off a thought. for a friend was pointing out how i get involved with sistuations out side ofmy own choisen purposes . I do itall the time like a cycle. it is hard to see most times. but i am again doing it. but what is your life. you give and trust. 
	 asnd in that find a life. with music and the other arts. or that has been me innerly for outerly i have still been hidding. sometimes i play but dont make a lifestyle of the flippant avoidance of entertainment, even with my words I am philosphic. and rarely understood. or i lie and with music i am more on having an attachment to loki.. I guess. 
	but i do.. look and live everysistuation i can , and it is not helping in the long run. this book seems to get no further by considering what the occupy movemnt means, but the last few weeks have been dalive. feeling the justice that must come. but it a justtice that is a natural force and this doesnt seem whole. it is like we hae to live the worst befor ethe best is an accepted truth and political hope and clarity for the betterment of the world. 
	and through one. 
	 I do give myself to sistuation, casting all will for myself to others. in that vien. watch my life, cause of it. and everything is for others. though i forget alot what is wright for me, as personal right is all the just of any matter. it is to think
	i guess. at this point i just dont want people to get sick and leave, the occupy, someone tooled this. my humble view now is that is a false wave .. a wave without the truth of the lastest budget cuts. this is a truth of our government being controled by a Tea Party that has enough votes to stop a Federal bugdet, and how those people got involved as a political party through the republican organization through the banking Funds recieved on every level from Lobbying to election controling Media. 
	 and i sit. outside a coffee house, knowing the houseing boom was the stone that broken the back, that gas prices are killing my frieends with war. Protest is the fist steps.. but the war must be private, control in your head, not like the one control on forgien shores. 
	 
	november 10th. 
	 at one thirteen in the afternoon i have come into camp. the Air here is one of four people . two kids sitting minding the kitchen, with one older sixtish man walking around telling people what to do. and getting hardly nothing done. no one really to mind the camp during the day, these who have started a protest in the small town think it is enough to make tents and have a site, but the site has only little signs.. one bigger sign donated of course by L. sits on the side of a tent. Prioirities are lining up behind smaller concerns for no one stays here. and few can see the larger picture. I sit here instead of bieng out there. there where people come and go looking for the reason to have this. they cannot see when it is blantant in their face. the corporate control of the governments the world over. I guess we once love buisness until they started to get there way, when the idea of a buisness could over ride the needs of world community. the needs for regulations, the idea that buisness will sell anything as long as it cost less and less for them.. buisness no longer likes government unless they are makeing money off it. Last night I saw a blur.. on the cIA websight they refered to Their independance from government, when they refered to the people they work for , not as the us citzen, but the clients. So many splinters. 
	 so when we come to know what the Occupy movement is about. it seems splintered.. we are not a company as we produce nothing but awareness. our conversation is the whole of the movement. and yet. The unoffical leader of the camp , the un offical spokesman on a daily nature. he professes to come from 12 to 12, everything he says is the movement. and i listen when i am not to bizzy talking myself. for i have founda special place here. inside me. A place thata is asking other to feel the energy of water more than the hatred of politics. for i have seen before the destruction becuse of hate and Ostrazization, i have seen it all though conversation . where if we mute we would understand easier. complexities between Nice and Consern Haterd and violence comes so quick from the eyes. Culture with less words. are linked more to romanitics. to love as a common unity. i here an uncultured unknowledgeable man talking daily at the head of the camp and through i want to hate him it has left me. 
	 the movemnt is a special place. A place that says there is hope and a kindness that is the real terms of civility. and i go to my tent for it. 
	 A tent .. maybe that is the symbolism i am seeing the smaller place of a living peace. but it is yet just a private space unable to reach into community , but to have it, community , forced on you. the doors of the tent are open. I was talking to a young one. about the metaphysical, using the image of the tent and the Occupy. telling of Occupy the Brian . and that this is just the awakening that million knew that would come. but had no knowledge of how.. and yet. when i read of the Occupy in Wall Street.. i heard only about th epolitical students. on one side and the Anrakist on the other. 
	 where do i stand on,, where are the theologist and 	Quantum Physics who appear in Documentries about measurements of micro and water Molecules smiley porttrats. Compost Sally and John B. Peace Wizard came to the camp today.. one in spirit from there messenager?s tales.. the long road of justice striaght from the sities when we were young and against all kinds of simu;arities. before that we knew to mention ,, Mere Awareness. I could feel boston on him, in look and feel as he told me of the camp there accrossed the street from south Street station. then he told me of the skyscrappers in Chicago. then he swore to me all that was important was the word on his sign, a simple word we all hear from the daisy in the gun. Peace.. it suggest a natural law.. and from his human microphone came my own hopes. this is a start but it needs me and i wonder weather i am telling the right tale.. weather sitting in my tent is enough, and as i streach and extend myself away from self for a more than self. A Breathing Person who says what is on his mind. and doesnt wait for other thoughgt to bother him,, to stick to point and clearly rejoice in understanding. from the speaking of it. without a guitar it seems one sided. and lonely. 
	 ------
	novemeber 12th 2011 and then another day. of the last few small is to tell as small is. for years i have not thought about an object , lodged within me. like a thought for whcih changes a reaction. like a thought, which is a doning. of youth and done to me like econmonics. and one for whcih never to page or promise to another. I didnt lie but never wanted to tell what was for me a page in the journal whcih yu never open but now seems like the only thought for a seocnd. where al else seem to fit after, is the codde of ?that adjustment of clairity i had before forgotten. or maybe just condensed. I did with years not admit it . and now the thought seems freeing as thorught s do of individual sucess and growth. i was stiffled but even in htat can not tell you easily, the pain is not so full with me for in alcoholic mentions i did fall to haveing more alcoholic tendancies. and so a fourteen year old drunk is a sin and yet a careing that is not the adults .. a are of the mind and body of such a one should have been... and when he or she is defiled or left to learn the truth of beast against Law. Law looses, and nights become silent with the streets recognition where definition dont care to go. 
	 and every as a fnumber of moments with many calling themselves freinds while the force of being recognizes only it own guilt or sin to enjoy the aloofness of guilt at the same time as reaslly putting on conspiracy , with a secret. oh so left even now from media for how do you look at what has been a connonn demeannor of so many cultures. Sodemny of children. Of worst fates one could talk , enter in with violence,, or slavery, with elctric as punishments, or water torture, but none is so silent as incenst and pediphilia. 
	 the book is called driven ,m like a clean road is to face without barriros,, but miles , distance you see, from the referance. 
	 even as i watch , three dogs playing . one in heat all seem freindly, a smell of the genitiles, a smile and away. prancing. mounting, playfully , to dogs three present. the older one seems not to care. a partner to the sniffer male. another female , a reconition and a moving on. 
	 the lessons of a cold morning sittng out side. seeing the world again after a fulll moon night. 
	the grey of the skky the closest to white a four year coalminers t shirt. after all the bleach that could be used has been. washed over and over and over, a loved t shirt which will never be perfect and sees to be a little blued, the sky is covering all.. the early Noveemember comeing with the chill of its rain sitting just molecualarly in the dirt , and on wet leaves, plaster to the ground like a path for a chicken. 
	she sits waiting for me, my car of course. Hud , strikes as a point here, I see that i have left behind some attention to physical ness,. five years inthe car, with only a few month stays to control what should have just been expected. agsin the funs of HUD. 
	 so much through which to keep the street clean enough for traffic , for flow we must reveal and receive.. untill the last weeks of story i never thought in this vein. I never thought about sexual abuse. not as a word of mywon sumation. always my female friends.. and in them i heard all the motions. while i thought i was free. and couldnever tell them what i didnt want to tell myself. Waiting is not smart. but seeing is the hyways innocent miles. 
	 the tent still sits unocccupied. its blue tight material sitts waiting for the world to see it is empty. i have visited. but it is not to live it. it is seperate, and i tell of it here without being able to feel about it. the story of intrigued by climate, by survival, we are never to ask ourselves for, accept in the most lost adictions and insanities. Where both of stablity faces laws. and yet,, My peaice of shelter without wheels sits waiting, guarded by my repretation. and the camps self respect. guraded as a will of tide to see a pray, or a prayer, a pray or a prey?er?.
	 and i dont stay inside where, the sweet air only created warmth when it is warm. A warmth through the poly ?whatever? through the tight form fit solarness. . and tara sits. 
	Not being able to write. means not being able to sing, or does it and smallness is my mistake. My hands cold agasint the winter, and weather. 
	 but lets tell more, this possession to be possessed, the group think or even the project think. I can feel each stating. of effect from self purpose.  I can feel what i cannot have. the shallow disreminders that i have achieve above my brother cause i escaped with a smile , a planmy rollling hilled american adventure. watching the winter tell me what i could never explain to myself without this memory and book.. the driven part is the exploration of true personality revealing major part i had tried to blind myself to. I can see falling into place, with a self knowledge i could have seen from outside if i wasnt so emotional about it. I was used as a child. 
	 at fourteen the world looked like paridise. long strains of torture and opinionated moralities lead my days fro fourteen years.. it was a day of jpersonal thought. of creation. and eyt , the remorse was a part i couldnt see. couldnt feel the involvement that was going to end... and an involvment i hated yet, one side always wished the fantasy would hold some where insideme. so inside me i held this fantasy seeing with only eyes which allow mystics and metaphyics. I hid in a quantom physical asspect; rightly so. the earth, the movement of energy, the telling of water to a 85percent structure.  Anatomically. Where timelessness becomes medition and intuition . where ghosts and metaphyicians become hope and light. there is where i hid. maybe until now. devoted to a feeling we have and can not . 
	 the Occupy is only one thought as the point of interest reaches into a point of human hope and discovery.. where we come to talk and look at the greater to make less and more of the  lesser. 
	again i am on the street, Two dogs on leashes who are not allow to meet, bark.. the tone says , the hollow tone the broad bass tone. the air , is conversation. the words we use straisfy. and to drive is from point o point, which is every day, which is the book.. and i have stayed away from the occupy life from my blood i can feel the mass betrayal. i can feel the jguns being spent as such to reload for the rest of the year. We can not afford such back pedaling. but watch as words get out . the the poeple to know get bigger. with sub structure in jplace to house the protests of senior citzens and Veterans, to accomplish what killing a president didnt do. what hurting the food supply with quick set fda laws didnt do. what eliminating the space program didnt do. bombing Okloma, 911 , Enron Haliburton didnt do.. what mass of mass devistation didnt do.. we do for ecomony when we see what is done.. and Occuppy.. when it effected our global wallets the same for whcih all was done.. did it.. funny that. 
	Lossing families and hope in forgien wars; Didn?t do.. Such that to admit, i was sexually abuse. tells of micor and macro. like we never did. gives a heart to see there was something i missed in the driven effects to feel energy and review hope. the spirit is hope the movement; an effect of seeing. Only. Seeing.. Symbolisms are the creations of Literture. folk tales and biblical referances. I shouldnt have to explain it. i guess it is for myself, as i go on. 
	 the days are pilling up here, and already we are into november when OWS (the performance art movemnt,, We can say it is art. Art of mass usage of democractic rights.  started in september. on the 17th occupy wall st. first made my ears by internet. i have freinds there on the ground also. but not at first. At first i was wondering who was there. before promotion. before others. three cities.. the first days.. hmmm. it sounds like work to look . so i will not , will not wonder who would show the world and gather survivalist in 
Winter.. who would march into russia,,, planned? 
	 there is abstractions to understand in art. the leading of one referance to seek our reason and resume life after.. the winter isnt the time to march but three seconds before Super tragic committee reports, but the dragon has no head. and amoriphious is the giant. or is it,, with well thoguht out innocents the super powers , the gods of Corporate natrue haunt every hall of the amercian seen, as well as the europen talent, but from there we have , ?Socialized Education, Heath care everywhere. this giving of Government is the price buisness pays to live. 
	to look at a point to see a foucus blinds.
	 such is to hear self breath. 
	to know in action the heart
	alive? Dead? inspirited  to hear ghost. 
	Will enough to change all 
	with a thought.
	met-a-man yesterday 
	who told me how his life had changed 
	on the end of a gun
	
	 what is thiss about.. this driven is just a name of a symbol , it is just a from here to there. once there is need to cure. cure c`omes,, once we see the backward dragon that comes against what we need by its pressure for growth.. its need to equal the exchange of government with capitolism.. seperated by the word Democracy. shelltered by the voting. shelter by No day off even to do . no national holiday, for the only way a people can change the world.. the once was Amercian Cosumer. 
	 and what to be thinking this . on a sunny day. I like watching the world . i am trying not to think about cigerettes, or the occuupy movement, to think at all seem ilrelivenat, such i guess is t eonly of driven, the point of there is no living outside of an all.. You are an all.. i am. 
	to feel was once , a child, to feel.. we walk through what we are.. listening to each unsatified,, emotion. where some tide of what is to feel, seems lined up. seem over awashed with televised,, i must have weighed all that i thought was the holy graial. a televsion screen, 
	 I have just missed a thorught there. the expression ,, ? i once? I once spend years, blaming my mother for things of this infinite,, ? ? I once expected my life to proceed like i dreamed it? and it has. but ofcorse, charater is such a thing to mantain. as in, that which amasses, does, for years and years. even if i do it like sitting in a cornor with a needle. as in my Ego is the Vision. 
	 but the ego i have decided, is a learning survival of the past,, and is to be understaond for the youth of its creation. 
	but to be who you are. 
	 My favorite thing to do is act. through i can feel it all the time. 
	 i know where it comes from , this attention to the visual , this attention to an all around me like a enviroment of envrioments. it is good to devide them understand and move on. but to fullfill this character, there is a paranoia, 
	 it is of this that the moment in the world become a history of moments. eyes and stories felt as someon passes by. and yes released to my own passions i would.. but that has been a lonely thing and almorst in the same right with alcohol for me, i have never been able to have balence in a relationship.. i would loose it on the endorphines. over joyes without my guilt,, there are a million words we drive through,, to get at a one that matterers , foolish stumbling. but there when a throguht springs up and the next day looks different, mayb it is todays weed, 
	 maybeit is sitting to long , on a hard bench , maybe it is I need a ciregette, and to sit here typing is becomeing the perfromance art peice. wit the moring crowd getting coffee. thinking about how good they look. i look a fright, my loong hair without hat, stringy , dry, but a shaven face, ,, blue coffee cup is an astec thing with the handle facing out. my keeys next to it. many keys useless all. accept to create a mass, a mass is easier to find, as loosing keys has been a fame of mine..My black felt hat,, I like saying the word ?felt? where here is hardly a type of hat call felt , , and i dont know what style this hat is.. it dow have little thin kitted furs around its edge whinc would be a porch  a one inch tall person. 
a porch he would walk around on.. and then if he cut a door. for there is a mountian like shape he could life in also.. gather material might be hard right where the hat is located.. but saying the coffee shop had no one in it. like aftter a neclear event or other biochemical reactinon ,, with a couple of b rated actors,, and one great chessed woemn,, and by some chemical radiological , reaction little people become ,, and one inch talk , they dont know how they got here.. really it was an evil plot, of realistate agents,, who srunk everyone in the world , so they could house every one,, and start anouther houseing boom.. everything remain the same in the wold ,, accept the giants, a group of thrity magical people, pretty much did what ever they wanted.. sometime vistiting the tiny people, to give them hope of being gaint people. Which the Thirty would always tell them. they could be.. 
	 well any way,, harry,, yea the one inch tall man is named Harry. 
	 harry s been thinking of living in the hat for a while. you see when the inch DAy came,, alot of people didnt survive. and some got caught in strange places, where there was no food.. and the door couldnt be opened, the tools were not there, and it took skill and experience to fullfill anything, 
	a table was useless, everything was the wrong size, . but yet.. harry had succeeded,, he was lucky,, really. the last moments had caused some Falling objects. the mop against the counter. saved Harry?s life , He was able to go up on the coutre grab bread and sit and thinK. and he learned how to get coffee.. it was easy to get the spicket for the coffee down but you had to get it up again. you never know how long you will be a one inch talll person. he said the first day. there were other people in the cafe. most of them had died at the transfer. only harry and ellen and joe remained.. in the cafe, and there wer coming up with ways to get around,, and most of all get the door open, but they had to meet and discuss weather they wanted the door open without a way to close it to keep out cats and dogs.. bird,, and such.. maybe they would become subservient to them .. if we carry spears.. so first they made spears. after eating some bagels, and a large lick from the coffee pool. 
	rope was hard, also.. but after the first day they started to organize alittle. Plastic bags were really good. they had to twist them and then tie them togetherbut they used one bag cut into stripps,, they did that with the big sicors,, 
	 now joe didnt dearl to go with things. and offten refused to help harry and ellen. saying things like its no use,, and we are never going to suceed,, Joe had been a giant befroe this .. one of the material people , he had a bigg house and car,, but he was alwasy alone. and didnt suffere people around, he was just inthe coffee house to get a large double shott latte with cream, which he spilled when he turned. 
	 the coffee scalled him, but he was sort of saved by the carmel which he ate before he ever bothered to look around,, he sat there in the latte, ontop of the carmel he was eating. for two days. yes he heard voices but he didnt know them, he had never came to this coffee house before and as luck would have it.. he hated other people. no they we always asking him for things. to give to , to donate,, suggested prices,, and demanded voice to him.. that is why he didnt like people. but also he like to yell.. it gave him a certain feeling of truth and honor,, that he held so patiently when in the world ,, namely he like yelling so much ,, he had to stay alone.. his big house..no children left through he fostered three. no wife. cause he never could find someone his equal in loudness. so he stayed alone and talked to his freind thetv. for which he had all the channels and could always find an arrugment everywhere. 
	this was intirely different. the breath of the spac`e so huge to one inch tall excistance. but even here he managed to get his own spaace.. he yelled alot like i said and everyone knew where he was and avoided him which was really hard because there was only the three of them. alone inside the coffee shop. diana lived there before them well really she worked there. Spending her days listening to the constant problems and trying to be personalable. A shiny smile which only really looked to service.. and go home. her new boyfrind was unemployed her heart in him slowly dieing she blamed him his lack of goals as he sat every day and found only making schuptures rewarding enough to spend hi stime on. the things of the world so far away. wh e thought of him often at work with the smile that was grounds for unemployment if she didnt. Now was different. she woundered where he was did he shrink.. and how many miles away a miles has become. It was day three you see and each day created Flaws in this new preception.. 
	?like maybe we will just change back? Harry was yelling over in the cornor.. but after day two it didnt seem posssible. and diana and george were getting hungrey. Diana was the first to see the broom to the counter. and carefull found a way to climb the chasm without loosing her lunch well she hadn?t had any so that wouldnt happen. but it was torturious at first. She started like one would trial and whatever.. failure is not allowed but she had limited experience climing a broom handle which is very slicck and at a fourtyfive degree angle. such that if you fell even at a quarter of the length. you might not get up. she figured and carelfull found a way to clamp her shoes to the wood. funny that it was an old one owing to the coffee shop?s owner who was still trying to get away with not buying another one in the last twenty years. so wood was good and Dieana was the first to scale it. once she got up on the country then she had to pull down one of the bagles from the raised plater.. they had been sitting there looking like food for a couple of days, but she got a plastic knife and slowly wedged the knife between another bagel and pushed until it fell to the countr but then it fell on its edge and rolled off onto the floor which George was happy for , but it almost landed on harry, they still hadnt gotten the hang of going up the broom so on the floor they stayed.. but now they had a bagel.. but owning to its age even that took a bit of trial and error, it was stale and you had to get a peice off and then pull at the inside . where it was softer enough to eat.. harry and grorge pulled at the center and ate for what seemed like forever , finally getting full and sleepy. Diana came back down with some milk. she had come up with an idea to splice plastic bags together and  need the help so she brought milk . the first night they sleep well , the heat was still on. the electric was still on. and there were still little bodies everywhere of the ones who didnt make it who died during the tranfer process. they were starting to stink ,, and everyone wanted to know if more people out there. dealing with the one inch excistance. no knowing if anyone survived. so after the bodies had been put in a cornor. once they were seperated from the clothing. for clothing didn?t shrink. and there was alot of it. it was harder to move than the people. all three had to pull the clothing around. and after three days. of laying in shirts they finally found a pair of sciccors. but by that time no one was really embarrised any more. 
  it is funny how people get over the illnesses of another life so easy. clothing
	
	
	 Novemeber 18. 
	 funny day awoke at four. went to L?s. found her in a state, no peace for days, friend has died. she waits in the wings settling the fights around a the daughter and a girlfriend of hers boyfriend, , there plot i will not resolve here. and can not be, like little nation avoidance of reason such is the state of that conflict. and L stood inside it while thinking about the freind she has lost. everyone is precious, everyone isnt real about it though. we get caught up in our unreality. 
	llike my new pinky ring is cutting off circulation. but i want to keep it on , the softer look of jewerly. how you see me kinder when i wear it.. more approachable. 
	 l?s state made my state the last few days, and what was hopeed to be happy brought only misery,, bring over food which truned only for me cause i was stoned going in , and i am always stoned. the occupy in my head is only trying for some sence to a problem which someone else was supose to take care of. so we have been thinking of answers, really looking for people who have made the statement agasint corporate invovlvement. it is funny how it is done.. but what is more funny is that me being a searcher in human truth look toward an economic system.. a system of seeming greed when it is only survival corporate style.. a corporation is suppose to survive at all cost. even to infocing public opinion but creatig Non Profits whcih stand up for Human rights with the ?correct arguement? and no other, the correct research and no other. there that is why we cannot understand corporations disevolution of the term Humanity. cause it isnt natural, when evolution is more kind that avaristic. as in a balence is reached somewhere , animals dont eat more than is there to eat and not deplete the food source,, that is why the dianosurs died.. they ate everything in there way, and only smaller animals could fit in the balence. and that might be worng. the vegatition might have grown faster in some parts , and allowed the dinosours to live. 
	 you can see my confusion. i think it is every one that trys and understand international politics, it is easier to accept international peace in a human rights ditation. I have the right to live in an educated world. to bring civility into everyday. 
	again tonight in my special place. where i can read and write, of course there is not enough room to play the guitar. and tomorrow night i asked to play at a gig, which is formed for the activistic ninty nine percent. it is funny that i dont agree in a ninetynine percent but it is like saying, one hundred percent. but more like insiting a difference in class when we know it is a fool that thinks the one percent are any different. and that they are alone. no it takes all of us to support them, and at least twenty percent to want to be them,, and that same twenty percent creates media. 
	 here i am creating media. and i can not stay blind while i do it. it is awful that i feel compeled to see , when i should see only th epoint i am on. more is useless, the weeks in the car are piling up, by spring it will be a year i have only been in the car and at leas at night for ?fun?. i would like to be in another place creating music and loveing women, maybe daning every now and again. playing music on the internet. and loving what i can of life. no matter if i am playing on line or in body. i would love life again. 
	 i need the hope of love to spill out; at me and from me. like an organic wheel of hope. but the car is taking love to a whole nother level , one where i have come to understand economics enough that i give up certain rights of living , a safe home for a cheap one. it was easy to do.. the battery on the computer took time. and i still need to get out of the car to play , i do have a small key board that i have been memorizing my chords with. but i have been trying to get involved with something more than the magazine, some acting would really fill in my life well right now. well just to remark what i want more than any kind of peace it would cause. it is doing i like ,, not talking. even as one is the other in the longer roads. Path ways of discovery which creates future. 
	 i am scared there is a reason L has never stayed involved with any thing. she leets others effect her. and doesnt look for her own answers enough. but that is just one more friend in the great escape of life. and i have stayed around her now for a while. she is scared of everyone around me, scared that i am looking though what is infront for what is real. 
	I have to act in my interests. i have to be and can not just sit and watch tv. i can not let another not step up when i have stepped up for myself all though this and maybe have been wrong , but it feels good to live for yourself. it is path. i know she will always be hanging out in front but as soon as the front is a real place she doubts herself and doesnt feel equal to the chanllenge cause it is one. she feels she has conquared everything , so much that she wants only to hid. and yet everything is a large statement, and i have not lived everything enough i dont think anyone can, but the adventrue must be your living. and it doesnt end. 
	 unless you let it. and settle. 
	last week I talked with her about the sexual abuse i went through , it was not the rape sessions so many women have told me about. it was not the wierd foster homes with the exposed ?fathers? or the incest rapes, , it was alcohol . all i wanted was alcohol . and i got it. the price was only flesh. organums. it was a stage of physical expansion. but now it seems like a giving up.. by leting the sexuality of others create my responces to love. i have always been afraid of love, oweing to the humanity i felt around my mother and step father. around my brothers unkindness. and the awkward effects of knowing something no one knows. 
	not far off is what we dont live. even when we know it. like hating life and yet getting up everyday and never questioning self purpose self direction. 
	 I know i have to keep to being me, and everyone that makes me bend for them. must be regulated. just i am not sure ever how to justify the balence to excistance. L will leave me phiosophicly cause she doent acknowledge change in herself. like most people doesnt think she need it. but more imporatnt doesnt see a point to living, she is surviving. artist have to need more. have to get up more , and find point . my living in the car is just to feel the way to live closer to truth. holding on to my sanity as i have been in my over survival. it is not enough for me to survive. i want life. and i am getting it.
November 20th Saturday
  study of the self. 
is the walking of time. you jest at me, to know meaning the smallness of popular support. I am to my friends a moment, a telling of individual and one from death 
to have heart
is to follow again for a moment. to let them 
drive for no destination
extollls , 
the distance betwen self 
and humility 
What is to feel 
when all is feeling
the chushy sidewalk
spred face dwon
a knee against a neck,
soft
of romance all changes
a what was/is only
and the sands swallow
another child get beat
another harm is inflited 
with only a relievance 
to the one harmed
soft buildings in metaphore
the spongyness of a place repeatedly seen. 
?you remark how far away seemed god?
in gesture. 

 I can see now the difference of anothers loving like i can smell it when a family passes by. the aroma all you think illrelvant to your own. and yet you can not help looking with rose colors what glasses you use either reminancing or reaching into some void wich pulls out more void and you anger quicklly at antoher?s tears. or you look in for a moment and can only see tears which come from some where for some reason, and your hand comes out wrinkled and time has taken what innocence offered freely. 

November 11.21.8am
  the winter has come and the nights are cold. the day not so Or i am use to the cold of the day on the West coast enough blankets and cigerettes, light and books. I have the day cover. the night was L-?s couch. where i slept little inorder to arise at seven and move tara from yet another impending ticket. a Problem for the urban home owner. especially the one on wheels. 
So up i am and aware of the mornings beauty the light blueish grey. As the windows dont have to be eased of the frozen water for clairty. all is clear and watery, I dont even have to scrape the inside either, or maybe i should have told that back wards, for the inside freezing is more bothersome. frozen ice in a frozen car, adds to the wet with heat. the steam after fullfil the revolving causes for the first problem.  settled by the statement , Keep mosture out of the car.. and We move on.. there is nothing we can do to stop that in washington, mositure is everywhere. and mold is the alien take over, with its partner Moss. winter are cold rain here. not snow.. snow is insultation so eaier to deal with  for my thoughts. 
  this is the first time i have been ou in the car fully , as in without the cushy excistance of a job. And Yet. This is all i wanted to do and i am doing it. while learning the not smoke . 
for the small car, has only so much air. and you can gas yourself. my arms get numb  my jjoints creak and complain. when after a few hours of Freedom to smoke, I start too feel it. 
  then all call to man the windows. and exchange air. and out side it is raining.. so you figure that out.. 
  i know the exchange of one kind of life for another can only be that of a heart. or is it an insanity. When even that is thinking like some fabled Amercain. A this or that. Like choise is everything. personal choise, but i dont see it that way wholely , maybe it is the Occupy movement , and my latest interview with a ?Volunteer? at the camp. Who Talked about Jobs as the issue.. Easy to Say ?Jobs? she thought her self quit rightious say that. The trickly down heard in her voice.. the importance given that the conversation ended there. Quiet becomes her she thinks i guess. as i try to get her back to talking ,, the other people around all homeless and done types. one asleep in a cocoon body sleeping bag. with the front pulled up completely. and the other a sixty ish man with redish brown skin, wrinkled jbut her walks slow more of the sign of the remark about sixtish , i could not really tell and no one asks the incomprohensible. as i had tried a couple of times to get through an complete thought to this man and got a smiling converstion about the birds and rats and squirrels that came into the camp or something else ungermain to the last spoken sentence. So i was lost to talkto this one.. she is suppose to be a leader, as in her voice often is heard As she instructs people at gA?s to the wrong and write way of communiteing. what the movement calls Fasilitating. I tell her a truth, about jobs being the controled function of corporations, And Defrauding the government of tax revenue, and the Selling off of American HOme ownershhip as an investment world wide, is a criminal offense and yet only one part of the controls inflicted by Corporate Evil doers. but corporations are not bad. in General (my truth) stated and imaterial i know. whe stops talking. and i go on with my bad ass self. 
    It is my thoughts which limit me so i forget to concider others some times. When the brainwashing is so complete that we can not see. we move on. It is me being bad having the only conmunication with a female for which usually i have no problem and yet always did when it comes to authority or a seperation of intellect. I am a strong debaitor? i dont know. and so i was just a second ago looking to create a statement about eveyone who is young, talking of the innocent ego never seen but i couldnt say Young as i look at mysel foly two weeks ago realizing the sexual abuse inmy youth has geared much of the life. a left over unseen , a meanning i couldnt get a hold of . until now. or what is called Lately. 
  As i resolve a communicaiton about Laob as the Problem. and I dont want revolution in government , it is a sure sign of popular controls. 
Corporations have to be Identified as controlers. and we can do that by bring them to court , and proving Criminal Planning. or We move a Pawn. 
  the car is getting cold , I have found aspot away where i am besides a abandoned house the fire marsal has been here. and if i get caught being here. maybe they will just ask me to leave. the hyways speeds pass as i am just to the bottom of an on ramp. Feeling the distance it perposes. the warmth to go south. my life feeling confused. I dont know why i am attracted to the occupy movemnt. it is to do something i know . but handlers are every where. People Young and getting involved for the wrong reasons. Or old and still from the WAr movement of the sixties when a presedent was just shot. I am attkracted by what isnt being said like normal. Like there is a place within this all for reason in order to create a new veiw of future. for watch as they protest corporations, and not Global Enviromental regulations. And Jobs as a protest; leads to communism while what is the differance of commercialism. accept one lives the life and the other says what the life lived is, with a dominance of state economic control. Brianwashing also leads to trust issues. 
  I must sleep.
 november 22, 11
  
 i am wrong. I entered again the Occupy camp. and walkin into a General Assembly is not good for me. I am scared of these people who cannot do anything.  who argue over the direction a protest should take . using the smallest of voice through a maze of experience. and i am can even type after that. 
 it is sunny but as you see things going on. seeing the unmessy turn messy , seeing people be dominating and unstopped the sky clouds and no force of reason can stop them.  I must look at this .. for this man, sixtyish with thining blondish red hair narrow shoulders and pointy nose, is not the first person like this. having seen the forceful always to have an angle. I stop short in my discription. for i have to fill in facts and facts are these. 
His Eminance walked into the camp and started with an assumsion of powers.. he was the man to see about everything.. he was the planner, who imposed himself over others quickly ,, and we let him just not to face some definition of life in general by talking to him. I was just coming off three days of minding the camp. of cleaning and making coffee in the morning.. of caring really.. three days where we worked security , and make rules , Like no Alcoholics, and no Drugs whatever.. days in the begining,, where there was a punch of tents and no one was really protesting. there was no signs, there was no protest they these small town jesters who wanted the Occupy camp,, but only enough to let five to seven people man the acctual protest,, the rest just wanted to point at it on the way by or, come to General assemblies. and argue the sharpness of a pencil.. but at the camp people where just standing around. food came and we served it. the head cook broken the drinking rule and showed up drunk. His breeth a standard for most bar.s i couldnt be around.. and so in those last moments.. the King showed.. I was about to loose it for I tryed to sleep in the tent but couldnt.. my neck started hurting from the mistrust i bore the Clandestine meetings. and outside voices I felt twisting through every thought, related to the Protest, a misnomer from the Occupy in New York , the one i was supporting by being there. The words they used So pointed to other equally important points , but it is like showing up to protest abortion, but it is an anti war rally. My doubts i drug around the camp for three days also. but couldnt put my finger on it.. was it that it was november in washington, the rain often with chilly nites,, wet and cold makes a worst living hell than can be faced in my thought, but I have had the Punishments of cold water showers haunting me,, or maybe i am just human, but no one starts a Protest in the winter.. 
  It is funny but as i feel this moving through me I am loosing the fact of the llittle man, who goes home to his world when ever he can,, but reports to be in charge when there. no one knew him before.. where is he from what is his name,, He calls himself Jon Tomas,, and after a couple of descisions, i was convinced he was a meglomanic, he didnt ask anyone who they were.. and  forced his opionion at every turn. 
  but i was tired.. and i didnt have the energy to argue.. always let things be as they need to be. . i was getting out anyway.  but with him tonight I argued as he accused me of Stealling a jacket..   Now to say i had stolen it, was the offenence agaisnt me..and i guess it is one of the easiest ways to throw distrust. To accuse another without clairity.. the snow jacket in question was from the donations to the camp.. Our empirer decided somewhere along the lines he would take care of everything. and started by telling people what was what and what went where.. he didnt ask if we had a system already in place. Seeing as i was gone,, and the kitchen was answering all questions when i was there. Like i said he came my last days, i thought it was the last hours but i remember i had watched him the first day he was there. being surly to people asking questions. Commanding around the Homeless couples that wanted tents to do crack in. He never asked another anything, and just accused and talked about how much he knew.. but never did I hear him say ? This is to bring down the internation Corporate Bankers? never did a protest seem to be welcomed to him.. his rule was to be one of his laws.. in his camp.. somehow.. and we watched for i was only alone in telling him to watch how he addressed things. Others looked on and knew but didnt say anything. People will really let you work your heart to death, only to tell you that wasnt what needed to get done.. funny that. Representation of the movement seemed what we were doing during the day. cleaning and making coffee and representing to the passers by.. our image a thing to be protected. the Jacket was tonight a flair point for me becuase i have ruined my protest.. my occupy.. I was poor and there were donations.. I stole them,, but the jacket was just a donation I needed.. and so was the money.  i had gone to sleep after that. left camp for two days,, I came back and sat down,, I wanted to see if anyone stepped up to do the kitchen to replace me. no.. the table was a mess,, food everywhere, donations everywhere, clothing and blankets. sleeping bags,, and wet cardboard,, and unused poster signs.. all the planes of the blue bucket for pens, and the front counter for coffee, we a mess,, the utlitiy tent unorganized and unused,, king lear had invented a new space for Stuff.. right where people were to meet. a new system,, his ,, accept he was making rules and not living them,, he was allowing dirt and mess to accumulate while he walked around projecting his opionion based on some unfullfilled need to rule. and then there were the homeless, the ones that are stumbling nothings , th eones who have given up, drunk from morning to night, siting around in the camp.. the same people who the rules where made to stop.. siting where protesters should be.. smelling like protesters are not to smell.. and dirty, uncaring looking people. the leftovers i am always fighting not to be come. under his domanin there were allowed to be present, drunk smelly,, while you talk of politics and corporate control.. to yuppies. 
  it was at this time I had to do something.. yes it was me that kicked out the drunk ,, and then moved another to a tent so his eighteen year old frame could sleep quitely,, without giving the protest anything else to misrepresent us.. then i found two garbage bags of jackets ,, good jackets, great jackets for the cold.. I spread them out to cover chairs,, I asked people if they needed a better jacket and three found a home in seconds. I also need one , so i used a donation. the king tongiht called it stealing. Cause i make a descision.. Donations are to be used.. I again raised my voice tonight, if you are going to call me a thief at least get the right crime,, but he didnt... and yet i treated it just like he did.. That was a donation I said.. Yes he says,, but i was making a ?wares??>? list. and you were suppose to ask me first. lol.. the bags had sat there for two days. in the middle of the gathering area,, and no one had gotten to them,, seperated them.. put them somewhere.. got them used.. and i am called a theif.. but is it just me.. is there something to learn from it. i felt driven away  but it was me on the lamb while i was talking. it was me being wrong for speaking at all. how am i to put my vision on another. a fact of our wrongful disemination. you with your way, instead of my glasses.
  It is later.. in fact the next day , and into the fray did i take that image. to therapy ,, to the celebration of one person as a whole for a moment. like the crying matters after the emotion can no longer be felt. 
  there was a way today. to talk to the infinite,, the telling of a one the real story. without amending,, accpet i did today , i never mentioned the marijuana invovled.. and so slow is the recovery when the security is only a thought,, a wish or hope that transend what individuality has given me. the tendancies to create and be what ever the muse gives to a wholeness. 
 empassioned by the being and all else is someone elses worry , i cannot give any more accpet to give. 
 but in that i am finding my pain written in everyones face as i push around people with what i consider reason. defending my involvement. 
  I am done with the Occupation. for a disfrancizeing element is a people admitted to be common. Big international will suffer after we are gone. the plagues our bodies will create after the first desimation.. after we have to ship in bottled water,, after the seas leave us with mutants,, and our healthcare leaves us for lab rats. they will suffer becasue there is no one to sell to.. 
  Emerging markets are the easiest to delude. 
 so .. America the first will be soon a land of slaves to multi nationals. oh that was yesterday,, no i am talking shit, i dont know a think ,, and to know something changes that thing ,, the butter fly in a forgien land. the lips of sharon rose in third grade.. moments come and go. stay and remain forever. 
  I am no good in crowds ,, i have a way of living ,, that demands enviroment attentions. and can not be where there are people who don?t.. it is a private thing and keeps me alone.. it is apoint of leaveing behind the sufferance,, i was always finding my voice cast to someone else possesion.. i was them,, and gave up self for the foundations of a knowledge, but for me. 
  I neve really did it on purpose alwasy after i could see, where i didnt choose someone else was responcible.. and i was just along for the ride..the pullig apart of the psycosis, the understanding to cause a definite change.  this driven road to sight. years have spured this motion. ideas, so develped on each level that to see is only to step back and mediate for a couple of years. or sless depending i guess. i felt the movement of an isolation of time to the second. it created maybe of my philospies, and guess at the path of life through natural energies. i felt it could be under stood and that i could explain it to myself though feelings and visions. it is the driven side of understand a metabolic change of nuetrons through the usage of metaphysical knowledge transending ?civiliaztion Acceptance? 
  and art can only be in symbolisms. the self is such,, that is a purpose to interact on the greater level of people in the world.   to get out and represent. but i tried with this movement, I sat in the first row in the middle of the street. I sat,, and then thought aobut the homeland security cameras. i thought about the definitions of self. to the system marking, 
   November 23rd,11
  it is another day. My pen, cheapbut flowing , is th eonly tie. i feel to th epage. on which i write, it is disembodyment, lonly as a cheap pen. As my full car is my life . full with everything, i own which makes me feel. my guitar , my computer, extra copies of the magazine form dates gone, extra elements of me in different pens. As drawing and much writing. 
  I am confused about movements lately, a clash between living and bendding my life to survive, for I have no house but my car, I have only life here, ready packed and portible , even as there excist only gas enough, to move from parking space to parking space. and i excist also on a check from the once powerful state, My facts have something to do with love. the loss of it the finding , the suffereing and the living, my facts are a jumble between what civil life has come to agree upon. 
and what is life , whick stands no agreementand needs no reason. but yet a sacrid divnity is metaphyscis, energy vibrates, we call it love. 
i like to right without reason, taking the orgainc path , i havve heard but it is to pratice such that from vision to pen would come , sp-elling optional, humor every where a teaspoon with each mornful point as the expance is readily understood. As energy in a pull toself realization. 
th epoint of mankind being 
the point of mankind. 
  subjects of material and greed without moralss. we gain an overlord without god. 
one for which is the populus
to be blamed for poverty. in world terms again.. 
  in personal terms , i can abe to out of body interactions and paretheory . I live in personal celluar change. i have changed a madman to an artist in one life time. It should be enough. But it is not , the words are false , for notihing is ever perfectly complete , but to acknowledge the changing state. 
  From ______  to _______
Meditative perspective and a understanding for self. I would.. 
with a world pen apply my blood with greater life natrually I have only lived. 
  I am the one who would not show for many days when young, i was gazing at the stars and reminding people they are me different, I was curing my tramas by keep away from crime around me, drugs and alcohol on the streets, but more important i was singing and nights are filled with love if one voice can be heard. 
I really love to think of those moments before entering  any projection to philosophy intermixed with the innocent ego. or talk of the trauma to take it over. leaving an imprint of a mental evoultion. for whcih the mosaic of man grace unties personal truths, to see gold in the specks of innocence is nature.   

november twenty five , eleven. 
  and i did it again tryed to partisipate in the Occupy inbellingham.. different as is a city and its idealisms that run the streets, i sat in while they defined the means of converstion  fifteen minutes are spent on how to conversate..all from the Agenda Item.. We should agree to keep language as fcc ready as possible. this i sat through.. then we heard about the camp. which for lack of campers has turned into a show peice for the Occupy which holds out with dowlies and computer screens..and demands equal time.. as a proposal comes to extent the camp to an agreed apon conclusion. from a man not camping. the Protest is going down into its soul to find a heart among the people at the affair. and no one is there. Some how the Protest has turned into a friday meeting . and from there is restrained.. to be what other who wont protest are doing. the little wills of fish agsint the sea of lambs. 
  and i sit. I am attracted to a movement i hear out of new york i am attracted to the meeting of thoughts, but i listne and can hear very little thinking. here. it like a movement in remorse out here. a postiive vertic would be to remember the larger forces in larger towns, but we have campers on the grounds and people talking of the control.. I sit. watching feeling my onw innocense getting involved thinking there is a right and wrong... feeling the push to acknowledge when a protest is starting to look like a bridge party everyone holding a pile of cards, with one exposed dumby hand. one out right statement That corporations involved in the defrauding of americans through credit swineless through housing investments shoud be prosucuted.. and all the little reason beyond that should be tabled. 
  but that is me here, for i couldnt think fast enough. and what comes from my mouth ment to be help full. is given in frustation, and it sounds it.. i want to contain myself but cant. 
 . i havent been able to wear clean clothing in three days. and my beding needs changed, my head is a little apin with the smell inside tara. and of me.. it is painful, I smell .. but can not change it and just want to fade and not have the crisses, five more days until i have my money. and all the meeting seem a waste of time. yet here, when i think there is little else i am doing , the breaking away from civilization should not lead me to protesting . i dont think the protesters are helping. cause we can not claim sucess on any angle. and we cant see the sucess until the next election. 
or will we?
  and i am glad the self is not ruled by a number of peices. or is that a way to see it. dividing it up into subject areas. this one feels this way and cause of these reason, but even as they are wrong reasons, they excist all the same like the river and its edge. 
  i want to break down the thinking that gives into some american ablity to change government without expending life.. some movement that creates awareness about understanding of government.. and the inflicted concerns of Market.. and in that the corporate ?moralessness? anti moral or just a More-all experience.. fast and tracking progress for succesive teaching. yet.. the stream runs out somewhere. and you fast track backward, hoping the acculuation are strongest.. no product but cash, no labor but conversation. pushing pens creates no town. 
  so a split occures, what was motive seems less than real ,, what is real is less than movitational. or Prespective vanish, and glasses get wielded onto eyes.. 
  maybe that is survival shadow. hungers clairty as the fast is always imporant. the dessert wind is this Meeting of minds created in the General assembly,, every one talking about talking, refering to emotions, and not substance. it is to question .. i can not answer of if i could i would never get the chance.. who are you to fix me.. and so , i am meaningless an dit is interesting. cause if i could play them a song maybe they would understand. and it is only here that i think of the emotional connections.. of the world of people beyond me.. and i watch agendas. with the professional people around, coming in and leaving with a dejected air. and it is of some. they thought they were in cognito. 
 folding chairs go any where. 
   It was an adventrue for a while to care. thinking the process would create somegood. and then listen to L-- tell her being to see what hope she lets down by giving up. we were looking for reasons not to go the whole time.. but i couldnt see it while doing it.. I had reasoned the worst possible sinario. this is another trigger , hoping we will get mad and protest every day , on american soil like they are in Most of the world.. for Protests are the creation of disformities in Principals of government.. A government which doesnt represent the the kareing of a father and mother,, a caring for the progress of society through its health and being,, as well as its security is a wrong government.. you can not sell cheese without a cheese hat,, and trickle down was no more that the ecomony gaints proving they could.. they should feel ashamed.. who told you to stay blind to the global impact.. or are you saying we must have international banking to have international peace then say it already and get it over, that you cant see the Enviroment problem being approached wihtout the Global Control for clean up.  2/3 of all the united states nuclear cumpins are in Washingotn state.
  but we are Americaians becasue of it, we are the great people who stnd up in a unitfied front to world actions and ideals . 
  Thanks giving .. another  one. but here we are november. 
every year is less or more thanthe last it has been years since I talked of the same old thanksgiving, I got use to at the hippy musicain house, a seven bedroom house with freinds in Jamacia Plains Ma,, 
  It was a warm house with children , five of them when they all came, and C-- lording over her kin like a mothers cat distraction. thanks giveing alwasy flet like love. even thoguh we were really seperate , alone people , drinking kept me inmestations then, kept some change fro adventure in my soul. and thanks giving was an adventrue of the family kind.. People we love but can see no future with , the reasaon i say sperate, is more from a rearview, from a sight of nothing working out, in the ten future, the outside feeling which i never really shared, shch that i tried again to feel apart, lately , and failed. As as my heart wanted  to see new friends , i was to ol give to warmtn, to explin and love life, I coulnt the real winter telling you where you can sit. 
  there are friends out in the cold , friends like we are to the path we took, such that people look not to touch. and weather trained to a sorted beastial philosophy becasue we cant understand perspective altruation. 
  I firt felt a certain different ness, only .. I reasoned it, and saw the training, but coulnt and still work on the alteratins, for only physical life is effected, this base materials.. 
Oh yes coldbut not all day, just brief hours of the night, an exchange , what work i have not commited of the last years, a poet with calloused hands which never accpted, oh and i ve not seen as much as i am, 
still scared of what meaning the tronmind could create, the abandond innocent to a world evil and televised , Free Paranoia around each cornor, until itof mind. enviroment and its gossip is our health . the turkey is coming. 
  what game i find moving from element to element weather life within this work, what is to not have plot. like symbolism are inherent within observation  




  
  yet it is only of sex i see.. the women around me are not mine,, no passion am i getting to my system everything is fraud, and cunning. clever ways to get by but no concern is given to love or passion.. i am devoid ,, today i played in the warm winter western wind and it is something you have to get use to . and i can not ,, the fingers, started their creaking each to its own giving clucth just enoug that the beat is to far behind for the next to hit and few would hear it. but i hear it all. and nothing flows from the forced survival. it is what i hate most of life, the forced survival. try as i do to forget it.. it?s such another persons world i can not count on in a fight.  and that is how i count. and a street cornor asking of the weather to hold out and not rain. right now. not shed what tears are of the every day , for a moment,, and there, is fantasy to subsist my longs,, and what i want . is a quetion i am scared to answer.. i want ,, for me, the question of leading or being lead. the quick silver approach might have been my road, but with the loser mind ,, i gained from people around me, i esc`ape the lonely wolf way,, hoping deep inside that i still had the conservitive worker type lurking around looking for a reason. and it is onlly independance i ever saught, the system be damned,, after not showing up it was easy to stop seeing it.. the great apple taken away for the cost to bite. A golden flaked snake wasnt even needed, i would just for the idealism,, a golden way,, the being a travel writer. except my travels when to the sides of self , devided and unitied in a essesance, so i studied the essence, and of that i am king. weather it is profit abole or ever real i can not say , it is the essence of commercial nature, it is the celeanly ness of a medition room, it is now and mostly gone by the time you see it. 
 turn your head to one side or another and perifery double joints your neck. to see at all. 
  inside this lurking voice is armed a personal sense a character created from factors which only physical truth can release, and then in the same time minimalize. for seeing. 
 but special is a matix of you and i combined, 
where we find the movement of dia? phram? aligned
 the speed of breathing, the pace so whole and forgotten much of the time. a place which if forgot is.. .. gone. 
  and tehn there is a child inside a twenty eight year old body.. after a milliion steps accrossed my path comes , a victum .. of a fall.. a fall victum, personal icon itiest of the Fall season on which i was born, I see a real fall victum. i hear her.. at frist i looked from a distant, she is alway alive and infront of people like she is celebrating a world you can not see. and it is mostly smiles , that was of course befroe i said aello to her, or got to know well enough what was her joy and what was her mania to stay young, 
 she had fallen from a highth , the details can only be filled in to a point but they are not as iporatn,, she stumbles around sometimes but it is a fluid jeck, it has point, through you are getting the wrong one from intentions,, but to think about intentions so much ,, aslo is thinking.. 
  it took alittle while to meet her, she talks and talks, her voice doesnt intirely put me off. like some,, but to let another talk at you,, a fact of the streets and mental hospitals and authority people like over talktive employers, and waitresses, which automatically get five percent less for. and so it is hard , to listen to another after all these years. hard to give a moment of life away , they say i am stingy,, 
with myt life hours. they say i have heard for no one tells me directly , i stay to my self on the level of personal contact.. no I have shortness of thought ,, i for get what i am doing with some people around,, i forget i excist.. it is like the rehasing of element i live with , but seeing it through telling you gives me some release, for it is hard to explainn tha i consider myself slow.. 
  and so seeing C-- a five foot flat bouncy square body type talking of the fundalmentals of Greek society , I have to listen, it is almost a surrealist dream,, the cornor the schizon the muse,, just to listen to it rant.. 
i had done this with People.. in the streets of cambridge , P-- was one.. he would sit in the kitchen of a the apartment that was under rent control. that was broken in 90, like around the rest of america. I had a room there.. after livng on the streets around harvard uni, the shelters are well groomed there.. but peter,, peter was a case they talk about , a man that survived getting crushed in a dump truck, red faced from the wind is how i remember him,, not that day, for the kitch once a month was hhis home, and instead of sleeping any there the alcohol lead him, sleeping sitting i would think,, he spent his money on beer , alot of it.. the smell was brudensome, the kitchen classic  with a n inch of fat and greese , with old salt shakers. like notihgin had changes in the thrity years the Renter,, had the place. we give him the letter P-- and move one. i will not talk about a man who paid one hundred dollars for a three bedroom place with a living room,, he did many pills. 
 talking to P was enlightening.. he mumbled. and no one was listening. but he made sense you just had to pay attention. it was in the yellowed like that i knew the muse was inus and to releasaew seems to be th eonly schora that can change. P-- never enver really acknoledge my persents there in the kichen, he sqquabled alittle with him self, but mostly it was resolving the conflicts of energy and Tesslor. I listen carefull. as numbers pored out, internte and primes,, and talk of the other side of the world was making marks in the peace coloring of clothing. I listen as he talk that day, i want to record, to prove what genidus lay beneath the shamos paths, but i was to late , and twnty five years later i think of it, and quickly reach for my mike and cables. but life passes. chritina talks alot, and she isnt drunk.. Peter when he mumbled was .. and it seemed like he was pushing himsel for th econsciounsness of  itk.  seemed is funny , lke you can see an event and still wihout the clues of right and wrong, you get a feeling which sticks. you saw it that way, and yet so far from the point,  P-- would talk of the metapysics of sprituality, about the raw sxienses. about applied indidualism, and conceptual continuations of personal expansion.

 i dont know what made the day special or what connected this day to others. but it was not so special in all , and exzulted in others way.. I would with simple work, bring alittle peace to a Protest today. a protest that has looked in every way possible for leadership and found most unwilling to be that. I to fail in a task in my head i am drawn to, it is a question again of consciousness, this is the second time i have jjoined and orgainzation.. ye si have only felt apart of a movement once before, it was the Low Power fm station i was invoved in , in Mass. i remember the meeting , the over flow of time and assemble where we fought our way through , thou even in that case we were to find leadership in a couple and when they left we  were ?controled? by a weaker leader who had to much on his plate, and the final call for me came when the meeting were move so as to be undistrubed by average people. and all the ?media? professionals,, who saw th emovement as just another place to ssuck up to the major markets from. you know you get known in a smaller market and rise.. but such has not been the case on the larger formats, no. when the major markets got bought up by five corporate enities, the small man lost control of market. and everyone gets the same thing now.. no occupy is no occupy. if it rain grapes and no one wants you to know you will not. so without other media,, we are left without knowledge. especially cause we dont talk to each other . so i sit litening to the Occupy in Bellingham,, the Power leader, or want to bes are rounding a wheel. with out much concepts self created,, or we have media people who want really just to be media people.. who are leading parades.. funny that,, to be the media and to lead a revolt to get media. 
  I did the dishes at the camp ,, that was it,, for today,, i also made coffee and everyone mostly likes coffee. I think i inspired people to take control . and i think i helped people to see themselves as important, I also stayed away from the people that know they are important.. but mostly i supported , and will keep supporting. to morrow is another day and it is getting late. i must sleep.. L is cleaning the house. for the last five days, trying to get some handle on her own mortality. and i am thinking of going back down the the occupy cause someone is getting drunk and causing a problem.. at night the last three nights, and no one is calling the cops. i will have to go down and help them , but people will protect me. I just feel a need. 
  i did go down , and i got attacked by a drunk not the one who was of the last paragraph , but a different one who lives in the camp. who got a tent, but works,, a drunk is a drunk.. and i will never go back to the camp,, i cant handle. drunks, i want to beat the fuck out of them, and i know it is just my abused past that comes into my head when i feel this way,, it is funny that so much is to faced growing. and i am driven further and further to know myself beyond each movemnt that leads to my own discoveries. 
the effects of this attack gave me over to know i can not be invovled in a small town movement.  which doenst see its self. that doesnt use the policies of civil society,, and treates everything as owner occupy.. 
  it is nother day ,
 and i will live another life. 
Tomorrow i get some coffee and cigeretes
 and sit to think.
 today i will go for a ride.. 
   
  to use your self as a charater. or th epoint to a story , for it is all stories. or visions.

  i can barely read what i write and now . my eyes go bad. Did one come before th eother. 
there were many years before thes moment . when i didd see. the silent places . the alone places which only with a street light or a head lamp one reveales, for the scene is ruled by its lighting and sound. again by hyway , empty , for i have moved from the blue house, a two story pretty house with many windows and a sliding glass door that leads to a porch ,, a house that has been rumored to contain two death, one as victum the other  as son. You know i do not concentrate on the vsion enough or is it I say my fill and leave off a topic. the last moments of the safty , as humor uses that. the street safe is loneyly visions as peace. 
   as some new vision enters thoughts. 
  stare at the converstion between lovers. then grace of love well worn off. What foubles they have are known to them . each obstrcution which gets subtly in place , which being around each other envolves to an accpted unity which could only be broken with words. 
  So silence is replaced with arguement and what is said isn?t what is meant , but looking with one set of glasses  , an junderstanding is formed, you dont want to say good bye. even as you leave. but econmoics means devistation. 
  this small town of laugher is only on in a million personalities. 
  tonight you compaired me to someone, you stood and told me about how you and another had simuluar circomstances. you both had male freinds, You
 didnt say you are Anti social and have few freinds. 
   
you were both lonely and taht is why you have them, you didnt say you are anit social  and have few freinds, and those you do are never real artist, not a mucisian in your soul. 
  converstion which never happen yet move into each sircle and opionion. you loved as we accept about our selves. 
   no  the dinner comes along like it was mean, streaching family to some judment of kind and caring, the one ,, ? no one likes? i have heard. it is for another to choise me ,, . Staring at a converstaion. 
  unsaid. and yet freedom is a moment unasked. taken stolen from the medocre of the daily surdom,, or i am feeling some oats on a sparcely cold morning ,, under a setting sun, at three in the after noon, oh the sestas of middle world , mexico the belt of equator. 
 Romance is to say thatwe dont have every thing. that the love of life is oly touch, 
  but yet after the long is over, the failed sence of partnering is achieved. more comes . like a lost snce, and the muse which has always first inspired comes to its own, after the longing lies dormat for enough time to let in more the soul can feel. 
 but it is the accepted vertres. wieghing agaisnt the achieving .. 
  I can not see, and this is part of the vision lost.. a moment strong enough, to control the rest of my life. no job, or economic miracle gives enough to escape the growth that consciousness asks and gives. 
 therapy in its many parts is my heart to feel equal to being my heart. when we are controedl subconsciously ,  ever present rehasing of things learned before we equaled words to learn... 
  for befroe we ask, we answer , the quick is only that way,, the intition so waisted in this land of mechanics,, the sight becomes almost clouded. and traveling fast and not being able to see. .. 
  so within thought and sight is understanding , each understanding is broken to its jplace of orginan, as was read in many tomes. but to the self. looking is the world,, 
  I am this way, there is you , and i can live it or not, you can live me or not... but to see why i am around you , to see that maybe it is so frail thatto be around anyone is the hint to more life, that the singular can give. but lanced with the same, unending innocense,, i forgive fopas. easily. 
  or do i .


and i was to go . to L-- the meaning , a shhower, but the phone didnt work. and the stime moviings was turned to time sittiing. the last of the sun at my feet. as the eclips or oval of the suns rotation closer it seems and i know not but up north of mass. west. 
  last nights writing for i have been writing at night, sktemmmed around seeing Magic trip , a movie from the era, of Ken kesy 1957 . the false profits, the ego i guess. preaching nothing being nothing, except writer of a book. or dyfuntionnal chaild cause there was no folldow up. each member slank backward, composed few, transended dothing, 
  and yet it was a point for me to understand once, the age of Acid ,long done, I revived with the zest of a dealer, . IYes selling drugs is a poverty strickken childs mention to finrst economic freedom.. i have never met a street smart kidd who diddnt. the pause and glim of your eye after giveing out a couple of hits, the first is enough , the drips easer the vial a eye dropper. the liquid transendant. th eabsoultes of sences , but still just a sence, like we feel through out lives and give or dont to its feel. emtionn staunt agsin the barriors , decorum like a cort  every where, external to worry , but i got that from the tv, 
  more i will not say , the experieince so slight of time. but a test didd i. a test to feel , waht its end for me, to feel was enough to guide. 
  after that i found medition easier. found Seth and Reasons for clean nouse and good food, where before , i just ran, 
  there were crimes in flicted on victums mor memoriable.  . 

  ambition . driven. 
 an answer to a guide. a meaning where times tell otherwise of meaning and how much you consume, the product ..  
 it is december fourth or so. the illusion in every Plaace of Meeting coffee shops and such, are a blanket of xmas music, and niceness, out side the streets are in protest, and the courage to face life as it is. and me. sitting in a life style that would be illegal and is in certian towns for each makes its own rules and laws concerning ?travel types? for i have still not found a while addddress as prolitarian is use to .. I am the Homeless.. I am the unspending. If i had a million dollars i would only have a better R.v. i would to take away eaach of the gult layered creature comforts we get use to . and this present that will be the past . except for Places hold out, where the corporate friancial reforms will always have the greatest look.. like normacy can be canned.. I expect people to sue over the constant playing of christmas music.   
 it is good i am not so romantic. i would still be crying haveing to look at all the chrismas?s effects. 
  longing is the only guilt you can not change. them who you have refused to love. 
bitting at each angle of the solid one calls heart. I do not escape them, and each son is further and further into the past. 
  the music has tuned into a rthmic fifties tune.. so retro,, so to a time that is no more.a war won. so .. that s what three minutes give. while below are the brains of western washington. and not to complain but i dont feel the buzz, as people go . they are mostly , anagronous, plain , dressed in gear,, for hiking like we are all going to the mountian after this. 
 so shouldnt listen to the conversation around you. as twoo use different words to get the birthing statge of reproduction; introduction. 
 but around the digital games now which confine children to homes and not politics. so disconnected we live. i say we , 
  as i type on a computer as i dance in a surreal world sometimes. as i like the vsion of a ditigtal age. and know we will use our characters in digital to influence, the living world most will someday not be able to afford. as the world turns shitter, and the digital gets better. 
 it is funny,, the same understands we take to death we take to computers. 
  I am an energy within the greater light. but no body, just a collection of vibational energy i can passon with vision and words. 
 I am performance.  
    
 New day. 2/3 of the disposible Nuclear wste is in Washingotn state.  But we are americans becasue of it, we are the great people sho stood up  in a unitifed front toward world action and ideals. 
  
  thanksgiving, another one , but here we are november. Yery year is less of more than the last, it has been years since i talked of the same old thanksgving. 
  I got use to the hippie/musician house, dinner, a seven bedroom house, friends, children , it was warm which always felt like love. Even though we were really seperate, alone people and my drinking kept me in mastubation.  Now i dont know why. kept  some chance for adventrue in my soul; to care..  social is people we love but can see no future with, Or that is just me outside in the feild when i built the house.  the reason I say seperate, is more from a rear view, from a sight of nothing working out. th e outside feeling whichi never really shake, scuh that i tried agai to feel apart lately , and failed. 
  and as my heart wanted to see new frieinds I was to only give to warth, to expose and love life i couldnt. the need winter telling you where you can sit. 
These are freinds out in the cold , friends like we are to the path we touch such that people look not to touch. and wthin trained to a sorted beatial philosphy because we cant understand perspectives attention. 
  feeling a difference. only I reasoned it.. and saw the training, but couldn?t .. and stil work on the attentions. for only physical life is effected, this base materials oh yes could today , but not all day. just brief hours of th enight. 
  An exchange what work i have not commited of the years Apoet with claouses hands which never accepted oh and I ve not .. as much as i am.. still scared of what meanings the torn mind cold create, the abondoned innocent to a world evil and televised. free paranoia around each cornor, until it is of mind. 
  Enviroment and its gossip is our health 

the turnkey is coming. 
 and gone. 
 I find morning form element to element within life within this work. 
 what is to not have plot, like symbolis are inherent witin observations since time began AI hear myself, a speech wandering weather it is me , or is it the me , who lost from self importance, a tern we are created to forget . 
  i am jsut a character of that innocent ego. and even if i am only created to express from the unavailablity of received expression in the child.  though to the end each part of personal dialogue when conversationed is so stifling, I get worded up in a crowd. fullfiling the role of the Gyspy, the musican gone to metaphysics as so common is the inclination Ancient . for what?
I was walking back to the car, and there was a represtation of occupy , the protest of 2011, as one would say , owning to not remembeing his name, he is an action intellectual , a little plain to follow his dress, a mixture of out back engineer and plain hiker gear, like everyone plain colors and jeans , with sneakers, but he said hello I could only say hello and then lead into teaching wiht the occupy movement.  
if one gets a gift of personhood through a redefinition of person by the suprememe court. then why not liberty , life and persuit. Why not rebellion and insurrection. As well as ? Ignoring the rights of those who act agaisnt the united states by acts agasint the economy? 
  and so givng him my retoric the ensembly of man so unable to remember the body , I know i speak in vien or just the adventure of caring and the attention to mystics. 

ONe day is done before another begins
one day begins before another is done.
 so escapes important to see either.

  I dont know where words came , the flashing of my light tells me a battery is going, and now is temporal. 
  A change of man?s energy and i see a new mind but so much drags me from one state to the next Free will seems a joke. 
  We always look for the richness to inspire doubt. money?s root is yet freedom if freedom is thought. a rich mans thoughts are often highly regarded while th elower classes are dismissed agsint a systme of the rich, but life styles should not trump socological philospy and should be regarded metaphysically for value to the natural laws, 
 But yet I write this from no law or system the only way really for to study in forgin corts leads only to lasws from forgien lands,
  the car works to move me, and it is only to be Driven that i am needing. what plans i have are not bad but alone! in that most would say unachiveable and they would be right. alone nothing can be done, but you have to reach through being alone to do anything for of solitude is first foritude.  
  I notice again the life, you see i stumble for the length of years devoted to some hope of love, I gave my passion to being in a dream of subserveince. Aleader for which is idealism, must be able to rise in the company of contemporaries. but when does life give such only here and there but never everywhere. there is few who reach for a cultural enviorment, so average is the plage of humankind, the plaue of commonality , human made civility is not average, it demnads all types of lookin , the other way or disreasonable conclusions which work well for arguement leads soceity, when truth only wishes for a natural peace with society being of intermixed society , such that the peace for one or few, can not work on the peace of nature. so ripping down the system is also wrong for you need a guide of what is to enact the change through its moral achievents but there must be the existenist. such reinvents the wheel to get a natual view not concerned with the arguemnt of metaphysic but the agreement of life. natural commonness exempfies truth. and so . 
   I am to look from what side I miight to understand, for a part which is natrual cohension so unpreposed and a why for the unpreposal. 
  medition is not taught in schools, we are still stuck in roman and greek treditions. anger and war mark th eporgessive path of economics and our metaphysic is still St. T.A?s Sacrid Doctrins and the death of inqistions. 
that is what moves ,, the thoughts wich open up full. as i sit back on a street cornor, as i call Tara tara, my casle on undertanding of hope which refreses freedom. 
  I dont know if i have described the car well enough , so i will constandly try I only think of less words, more whole words, and we wills tart by listing everyting packed into it. 
2 guitars( electric and accustic) 
 3 computes ( a desktop[which takes up a majority of the passenager side floor, a metal box wighing a good seven pound, sitts square on the floor the screen to the back of the seat, You see the big box takes up all the floor space and the scren even thoughit is flat fits perfectly agains the passager side backrest. the packing of tara is a most interesting accomplishment to me. Try and fit everything important  enough to satrt a buisness with in your car]Key board and mouse in a bag small enough and large enough to hold them, with all cables, web sam and adaptors. 
which also is in the passenagers seat..)
  (two Laptops one broken one taped with duck tape)
Other Stuff in front seat and area
  Lots of toys on the dash board.. 
  now this has been a matter people have qustioned me about. straight lace types that cant understand th emess.. needless to say most people dont litter their dash with toys,, but they dont live in their cars. and they dont see the art factor in crime,, and how alot of protection is provided by these toys. maybe it shows the person who owns the car is not into conventions. it shows that person is fun, and maybe someone you would like,, and so Maybe dont breaking into said car.. so the toys are protection like only budda can provide. 
  
oh other things move my thoughts. 
  I have a meeting or a dinner with a women I would give her name but there is where fear comes in . to write is to expose. and while these movements have gone on sice my birth day , the journal is only complete with its own abstractions. and its own freedoms, 

  Yes a little time has passed with her vision in my head. her stately form, evicted romance to ketch a glimpse, was only lust. her i do not know. 
 there is a bit of hippy that knows stages of growth and that a good man /women is only shown through the  choises and decided life resolutions, art and love never leave fro some because stablity demands it. and yet. 
what is ony lust and depravity , and what is a childinvolved. a child i feel likea guilt of not being able to love, for love escapes me, and i have every child I meet. Loved and felt the guilt over letting that love escape me.  
    I like beasts especially one worn upfront and exposed. like tits that say ?I ask only to be?. flowers on human uglyness curing what scars the street and crime. The politics , dirty and tramatic, get erased. for a movemnt, secret and devine, watch round soft globes , reinged in by a light dress, and there is no heart. 
  Allowed is one half. what heart is physical passionate without selfand personal inter actions, how much of me sees myself. 
  a turning and abusive man who didnt forget and Grew. instead of his own irony, sorted a mazed confused and disemboweld by works fine disciplines other to his caracter. where to feel takes time and time is lacking , such the jungle we makes of average lands. my head to understand my heart while i civilly survive.. 
 but seems to hold on. 
 always tempting on in fear of this inner violence and reevoluation as a treatment of others. such that one question is not equal to touch, and love is a trail, which guilt often proceeds, oh yes , i will love you , like i do myslef. but i look to see and grow and expect that i am positive about that and remorse for the blind like i can see. It is to admit on an open plain where  telling is a positive. Further i see the innocent ego, the easier it is to water bound the notes, personal arrais. 
but such that leads can abuse, out of control abuser, suttle like manipulation unthought. I have hard time judging others, when of myself is the crime.  for what is truth, but the bearer of bad news you now understand. a mirror for all.
or can unnderstanding enough to argue motive. 
   so i saw her first last year , the beging  of summer the ex girl friend to the roomate, Child. She wore a light dress and was just statring a coffee house managers job. we talked of me showing for the first time. some drawings, 
I noticed her physically , but then nade mention of art shomehow and saw a spark I coulndn?t put together, as in she was dropping off son.. him i got to meet, alittle. C-- and dint want to meeet someone infront of ex--
I guess i count tell.  it was like a good conversation that broke off when ex walked up, and it was three sconds , and then fantasy, an illusage for metaphysical focus. but effective all the same. 
  We can , this way , have anyone we can see or have the vision of, the energy equaled the passion completely transendant. but it rjuins real love, for fullfilled planning, and become less than love when suceeded at , predetermination with others sucks, no active now. or i would touch her with an activation of my dream, I wish L-- fit with me physically , I am to short. 
  And so i still look and have most women around me. who inspire my visula passions, a mojo of common nature we can not deny, and so call then schors and marked accordingly . even while sex is still culture and perspective. 
 but love the hight of fantasy, less seen , more pure. 
  and yet i knew not her mind and wonder on C---her six year old son.. wonder on his feelings , lie the sympathi have for al children, and i fall easily in love. show me a speical wall in a town to many times and i will visit it and think of you. 
  meet a cat who i can talk to and i am happy. in the park i bow to dogs, and sometimes speak kindly to pigeons, or squirrels why should it be so different to people. where love is a cunning. hope is sacrife.  such as moring to my dreams but a friend of myslef. such oan interest of replacement my own family so wroght. that jealous possesion , i feel when thining of children to have a son a child. 
  Even that moves my hand to want her sighing voice, and still i can not know her, some how my heads want to please her just becuase she is a hard working mother, it would fullfill me for a moment but the rest is the character of the circumstance, like me. but also fulfill my need to love . C-- doesnt care,, I mean he might like me but i can not know. so many men to impersonate, after all he is only six, and his mother twenty eight which creates more seperation and sparks from the audience. or just causion signs fro me as permeinance has always been , and can always be ,, the goal just a lasting unity , so many women ahve shown me . love is letting go. 
 it is hard to feel , what confusion and doubt hold on us, for feeling truth with another witout them, living a one sided love. is the training of energy, I guess life heaven, i am wrong again , but i dont write to be the answer i write to understand the exposed path. 

 Kanna life sciences 

 and the house closes in on me. 
 the television. 
 i am watching weeds. The funny thinig is the blank side of Dreaming drugs. th ewhite lady. who is not funny. and the goal of the movement of life in front of us. the idea , of places, and tales. of a practised metaphysics. and nothign commes from it. 
 my gut hurts. and i am feeling slow. to try and keep a thought together while. i am writing. its funny like this is what we fight with. the continual fight. a protest goes on down the street. twenty fourty strong. i feel it . sittting here doing nothing watching the american dream, a wido with two children. my mother, difference. 
 a video presenting into my head the last of the creations. the first step . 

 taken from notebook. dec 14th or so 
  I have not written for a week (about). Ideas pop into mind and leave and are lost. So i cannot follow what was before like normal. I spent the week inside at L-?s A cat a carpet a computer,my guitar. 
  But i didnt?t play . The Lease agreement doewn?t allow for people to stay at her apartment. It?s a corporate rule, it means it is not a law but is up holdable in court as an agreement. the constutuion might not up hold the ruling , the law , the freedom of liberty matters little to landlords, ease of taking care of your cat. also so i tryed to keep a low profile.. 
  I tried to keep her out of tryouble , or at least the supreme cort looking to define the means of liberty in a agreement contract, Freedom lof liberty matters little to landlords. Yes i smoked in her apartment  i smoked and broke more rules of the landlord corporation. 
 the guilt returned again, worry , remorse, thnking lea would kick me out of her life, Worry that Bella, the cat isnt happy . Worry that someone will report me.  All while trying to keep my welfare ,, of 197 a month, attending therapy , getting perscriptions, trying to get the organiation to create the next enertialcall which still doesnt bing in any money.   
And Christmas, no phone , no showers, the car stinks from human nesting. the Given of pissing into a juggs, old water bottles. 
  And age, from the sweat and noturnal discchares of sex out of lonelyness , it s been so long , I am starting to feel lost unable , alone. 
 I let a freind call me , Friends all have places to live. but are scared of my acceptance , no job, no house, unaccceptable from ?societal norms , who slave to keep a house  andbegrdudge other to live in them, no the acceptance must be listed and kept seperate, kept controled. i will write , it is funny what a day becomes.. 

 dec 17th. ? I rise and sit into the day, 
 Model cars, Sodemy bars, 
and locked out people. 
just to sit, and find some peace, some innocence, A drunk wihtout keys is homeless, An apartment dewller who has left off the metal, in pocket of other jacket, in the creation of anothers life. One who feel determined for justice, Create his own trouble , agasint the flow, idle comments made whle if you listen, Grand Jusy testimony on a street cornor , with whisky breath. 
  sorted for an hour, as i sit . Watching , cooling off the drunken one, who walks mormally , has clean cut clothes and money. 
  tells uniforms to put down the gun and tazzer, Seperate ody from discipline , from laws, what was , ?Abiding? turns to crime. What is remorse, tells him it not time for this.. ? me sober.  
  and long way from knowing and telling, words of justice, through apology. what is reason when chemicals control, store bought frustration . ?you pissed off the wrong person?
But a toasit doesnt stay mad long, and all say things with the mind in other places,  like when attracted sexually, promised layer of love, but upset by the traumas of devotion. 
 Remembering , while watcching the birds in a wet cocld morning, just before the world wawakes, just before the church goers pass by , wishing for coffee, stumbling sleepy sucpious of conversations, ?are you a left over of Last night ? ? of like me ? waking against the new sunday . Here, Now. 
  I can not remember still what i did last time drinking, Getting kicked out of housing for discrpancies i committed agaisnt a land lord, wo drinks so offten lines blue betweenn reasons in a moment, to the ddust achieved and me, and taara claim home where ever it happens and love as open road and lonelyness. 
 After i try and rememever what i did what was the reaction?While i exhanged chemicals for logic.  Alcohhol was once a drive not to survive, A water being to a dehydrant, the represtation automatic . here one who would  , with yellowed breath tempt police with work. the deffence of authority , Private property, on a sunday moring sitting alone inside a suit of blue.   I would? coming from yellowed breath. but for me.. 
  seeing his absence, formalities unaccpeted in the slightly chilled morning, wide awakened souring opions, the blue uniform gets not the input required and yet, a small word , a cigerette ccalms the drunker monster and apoligies turn a door left close but a moment before. 
 No need for cruelity to defend ownership , No need when quelled violence see?s is silencee as reason, as freedom. 
  Yes, that being said . it creates a wonnder, how awfully wrong, and how right strreet side. 
  cold shit brick walls. my feet are starting gto get cold , i smell can not take a shower having speent the state money. And for friends have every  where have been tired of my inablities to self ssupport most ly becaue i forget rules, job fraility.  and because i remember. the feelings of being alive, changing , creating, without mans?s assorted studiey , classsifications, maybe even thought is its strength that gives the sorted romance to be common, what once was , to show up to your money sorce , to watch time slip by, without such reccall why. 
  as you are classifed and controled , as dreams are left unanswered ?what could have? becomes a montra, with some...
 the cold is moving up my spine, even though i sit on a rug, and out of broedom i smoke cigerettes where i am sober, waiting to get beyond, 
  People dont follow dreams because of this. this cold , this lonelyness, this drive.
 children are coming out ,, I cup my hand trying to hid the smoke, and sticck , they shold not need the referance. People on televsion don?t smoke. well , only on paytv i shold try and stop. 
  but the explain a teling of smoke . interest the day. going by to hear what thoughts begin not to do with me its momments of muse , surrendar.. 

 dec next. 
  so moring , yes again , spinning globes, and again my the birdes, moring at athe shore, the ocean, the high tide. , annd i am handed awake.. a magainze from some religion, . relighions are the hope of sex. 
  they are meetings of love and devine simplicity, the hope of order in the movement of common voice. and they are , representated by there children , stong lovely blind and very beatuful. 
 and what is to sit writing notes , from a book of rememberancees, the cast and fuel to drive. 
  of brown hear and eyes, of ful figue that hasnt figured , or maybe i dwarf the completeness of fa form, in early tewneties, with specialness, walks up to the care, made out for sunday moroning on a monday. 
 i look and wonder , where do they get there printing done. can i jump on the ride and do i like the size, so i take one. the desing is cool fast sleek. 
 but i dont care, it is her the sex youth , the breats and child baring lips. it is the white dress to hid it all. and the braces to guard her,  my sex knows no bounds, and i would tempt myself on to inquire like i had never seen the publiscation. like to look in her eyes would be enough to mesmerize or be mersmerizedd , to falic into a conversation. 
 while i sit by the sea and high tide is here. 
  this is a play, it has a name , i can not see immediately, the sky is again , magnificent clouds, like yet only an appreciation of minimalness can support. the holes for sun, here and there, the white and blue and greys, all of light, which makes the wihte leave off to yellows, all mix symbolisms , and kinder great birds, ugly birds, lots of faces, in minimal outline cloud edges,  I am trying to figure out why they are so solid?  So slusy like.. what great tales the sky gives northwestren amercia,, leaving from cold to hot, slowing mixing tempterures leave intact the ice well above.. into that guarding area against the spacial sky.
	
	the compuer has gone down, but I am asking to recall thoughts , the last words are guarding. 
	 and there was something in the news, that wasnt covered twice.. the last bill which sgranted the title and authority of Domestic terrorist, also included was a rider to give expaned responcilities to who Reports such Crimes. like oddities in the Mail mans responciblies, like the mail United states mail service, is getting pushed around, w 
	 Have you been watching, can you really ,, the time allowed for burnshing teeth is getting sparse. the United states mail service is one of the largest coperations in side the govementment with the most imporrtant service in the government. Has its budget ruled by the house of representives,, and we know what that is in 2011 and will be until Jan 2013. hopeull after Novemember 2012. A law was passsed which forced the us mail service to over fund a retirement plan.. this seperate fund held billions of dollars which is kept out of the budget of the mail service such that people claim the post office is falling as a buisness and a tax on the american governmental system. the funds are the sole reason the service is failing , but this is a deed by International Transporters lobbies, ( fed es, ups, and the like) whhcih have a plan for Privatition of the federal system of mail. Who travel the same rounts, but are not responcle as a federal agency , Responcilbit is the key, 
	Private government has no personal concerns no human voice. but we are loosing ours. some would say Diebolt is to blame, as november approaches , where mistrust become national anthemeand we wonder on president,the blame guy, where we wonder on all Human service of government. nothing but trouble the statements inside. 
	the there with a trillion words, in meaning to more, the travle of mind to walk ,, instead ... instead of the cimate around instead of the dis allusional neighbor with attandtions. what isnt to be explained enough. 
	 I love the citty the seriousness, the crime , the carelessness of cleanlyness, the hard languae which , kept you to you. 
	 yet loves seemed more sweeter. forr country air ispells. 
	 it seems a knife isnt yet
	close enough where a step
	urban reminds. doubt. greed , remorse , civility 
	beep , horn blast , music , 
	drum , drum, scap gather , gash, 
	of tree and building sperate. 
	
	 at fifty miles an hour, the steets are short. miscorseconds stories. they are pits and crevises, dark cornors and inadaquit lighting each step is yet buildings 
	people and what trees remanin, or become imparted, hateries 
	of springs, 
	 Small roomes , clotted blood
	wo settle the world problems 
	for a moment 
	hands claps, taunting heat, 
	beconing release, here and gon, 
	a light house here and gone, 
	but two with a city smirk
	instill deaths living. 
	 ? A pouse, a coffee, you talk to the clerk, from some country , under war, and choise slurppy or bettled water, as choice is like pre destruction. 
	 we bottle water in facgin what is free. chemist cloousure days in major areas, 
	to much of this or that, no desaliaivation no force just a market reconsiled, wo what winds blow to the natrual agaisnt its oppistie , is again a flovered verstion of water, Pure top, clousded with gentically ratified, 
	 Red, blue and greens, Brown and all coloful amazing by brite and noble. serene , a large cup. 
	formulated of anicit dinosouses and applied heat and cooled times, amazing pressure. 
	 Cup with all its uses. 
	 is dna still.
	
	 I lieke going to antiwues stores . to confuse myself with real images and past life. creations, i feel my way through the store, picking up items just to test weiight , some voice comes or not. and the trjift stores scare me, disguarded toys, and kitchen utensils, dish racks , the trouch yeilds based apon fifty milesan hour city streets, whhile i am at the bay again , today , would make the second day, dogs with people , oment with children , but it is the clotheing , on them whhich gives commoint , thie right now. i see with ?not love? , yet the hope, in your spandex. clueless, emtionless escpt how, I do the slanting of the divorced un unifited, alone, them who have outreached love and lost. 
	 but only out of sheer ignormance , to see here in sity streets for a beliefve is not action . action not beliefe, but a representation esily assumend and broken , and better untested, oftten driving fifty miles on hour it must have whole humanness, and yet , for a stet of tight spandens, i am distracted, admit and be done. the shapes small and body partnering matched, enoug that the average size feels large , dominant for a realization of mystic peace. but even that pause while driving fivifty iles an hour, bulding street lights lawa broken and flying by, while driving over under and around makes the senery,, you can beat the cameras but only at fifty five. 
	and better. 
	blurs you become.. the cameras cant fouce. 
	 or wait. good and bad what ballence. 
	 Of a bay , with a high tide suth that the foveroite rock , a large egg shaped, sits fovever covered under the birthing. when volcanitic still the see again, with the the birthing , and correct amount of salt and wromth colide, 
	 Wrappped in spandex , it pushes , ass cheeks breasts what other waters which lend to be providedd, so the sea could survie, the density inter locked and disperced, defined. 
	 and though it is over there.. playing with two totes pre-youth, i find distraction and extentions. a rock in high tidal nature, yet seconds pass and are again looking for birds around the bay. 
	 Dec 27th 
	 christmass has pased and i dont look into its eyes do much, the Holidaaze move everyone to forget and hapy they are at that. the bills passed the claivance of what a government will do. but i also have been redeamed from looking , i am at a house , i will be leaving it is funny but i am not inspired by the living in walls right now. when i know my real life is in the car, dealing with the economics i deal with , to the point of calling it a life choise, when it is nesssecity , for i am not paying to live and mind a cat, who is quiet and sleeps alot. but even he knows what time it is , and pushes his head into mine to wake me at a time before most go to work. it is like he is reminding me of the day, reminding me like he does his owner. Wake you fool enough sleep. Now back to the fight. 
	 i have to laugh and get up like he expects, I cant find his treatsas he tells me they are missing from the regular day, today is the last day , i think . to day . at a time when it will be most inappropricate because they havent called. so i dont really know. and would really like to know to wigh th ehours agsint the normal for me, which calls so as to have sanity , for sanity is normalcy , respected as that. and to much of this innerdoors will drive the survival out of me and it seems lazyness accoupanies doors because i havnt written. and again a note book lays on a desk waiting for me to ketch up with it. 
	 and yes i again have no marijuana to hold me inclusivly into the writing muse. and i am passing attention to the notice of what i am saying, noticeeing the mispolen words, or more the ideas, like driven precents. noticing the inablities of story for there is not one, there is only the thoughts, and feelings of each day and how a man who can not think writes. driven like the miles run, four thousand or more on Tara. but she got new words for xmas, i got one hundred dollars, and a clean car, whcih in the middle of winter i needed to get out the carbonoxide which lingers in the curtains i block out the light with. lingers in the coat and hats, such that everyday in there i am risking my life, and your fingers get tinglely and sometime a slight pain in the spleen. for which i can not really idenify, but the writers of old allways plamed the spleen. 
	 I am in a house, and in that there is people downstaris, people who are fighting over some inconvienance. fighting over a love affair which has caused what it will for people who drink, I am to crzy to drink. and others dont know how the depression comes with drinking , the opionions and dialoges. 
	 and then the coversations of people the feelings that get hurt. a house divided. such that one is looking for a new house and doenst know it. and i am siting and watching a cat, who owner has caused the problems i speak of . and yet has been letting me take care of the cat. . as i look around the house to see the pains of one personal life. by it peices, the collection of ?stuff?. the self absorbed defintions which rule our lives, like the private property that has no concern for the enviromental crisis. and evne with these words i fall into the same mess, to even consider it. Becaue i have no feelings anymore, or they are so buried that only my therpaist knows i am hating my life. for my inablity to control it. such that i live in my car to control it. i write to think i contorl it. such that the pain is further and further let to linger somewhere within me. and that to is part of thedriven, to see inside until it is plain. 
	 the material tells the story , look . there on the wall is pctures of this cat owner with boobs out. plain accepting. self absorbed. defined. the cat is quiet and purrs when held , and loves music when played on guitar.   
	it has again been days , today is new years eve. i can not look without what i am remeinded of . i can not see, and arbritrary is the the self inscults. sometimes. i should with difference, byt alas we are all the same. , three years in this has driven thoughts of a trempor as i cast what is me to the brink of failth , the expeiement, 
	 , testing the wil of god is to test our selves to feel. 
	 Create the passion never divided for me this outer sense to a caring. 
	 but that isnt what this is . this driven , this told , reported , innocense, what to touch is only ourselves first. is only a pulling one unit to a calling ,, for determinism? or the seperation of ARt. 
	 yes i am stoned. i dont like th eplasitic ness of enviroment , i have just finidsh ed feeling bad playing guitar the cold , and yet one moment i was a little looser,,, i guess you just play faster when its cold. 
	 and it is new years. 
	 i am not impressed tonally ,feeling alittle sick from coffee, and arm pit whole , i feel sic`k for i went to the a community meeting. without organization, yet the rule of organization. terms Newly represented, assigned definions, not followed. Time limites. never used, and blankey innocense of breaking the rules as a matter of need. 
	 i hate the noise the air. it is newyears and i feel rotten it is to ask for a shower that pains me , and no wonder i try not to use , leas for everything , and i smell. it is the lengths of a passion that cona lead to undue, the heat has been turned up in th e?movement ? I have surrounded my edges with the foolery called an occupy movement , it is a wisdom of crowd to debase the democractic ways, with confusions and definitions of what is though about.. the democratic base would love he community to come to gethers. and yet, this is what society looks like, the people with suffering lives, the unemployed, the traumaticly effected, low job rates eequaling humans feeling , rampantly allow fee rises and cost control, speperated feelings of chemical food additives, and the reingment of education and the ecoomic Feeling. Rating all life. Peace is feeling you allowed to feel peace. 
	 an innocent i will always be i feel.
	 
	 and days have past i have been evil to have an opinion, torn my the lack of reason accompaning childishness and  protest. Design says where you are. theblue and grey have not my idea of importance to feeling , the importance of creating a movement. blue and grey were a movement, with flourescence, puktred.   design the meaning of colors , and potreits are of that, the maddness of feeling them. the complete and utter insanity to feel. 
	 I am created of my pain. or just high , it is a wonder how i survive. the illusions i cna make of moments. i got mad again. 
	 theleve ppeople chianed themselves by the neck on a rail road rail. we sang, we remember the volutertary opionion of people be remembered. that people could agree.
	 there is a quest on to Prove we are not together as a people. maybe to move us there but. in the end we can not deny theglobal enviromental change. yet no one seems to recognize it. 
	 jan 2, the new year has passed. the new year is here, it is cold in the car this morning as i wake and read Hellboy. who faces a dragon. while all night i was kept awake by yesterdays anger. I have so much that i blame myself. and wonder i am not driven to know just that. so much frustartion in my life i can handle very little. I dont trust bosses to be concerned for me. i dont trust organizations. i see the movement of the Occupy as screaming for a cuase that is like screaming agasint the ariostracy , and not for the concern of the climate controls . It seems the occupy movemnt through out the country is to stop us from having a protest for the enviroment. 
	 but more Each time i go near the ?movement? a movement that seems to have no art, and no posistion. as in every three seconds it is changing in small rooms away from the general meets, such as it has been from the begining. A fight against corporate controls in government are keeping us seperated because of the lack of singular approach, you have to fight all the different ways the corporate controls are affecting our lives. from food to enviroment, to econmony to education. Privatization of the government is costing us jobs and decreasing the power of the government to change and help the people it serves. Million arys are incharge and are the only ones who can run for offices. and we choise which evil to put inplace. 
	 driven is when someone drives you. moves you like cattle to a slaughter. where a movement becomes a distraction and Occupation is taken as the only resouse. funny that when words are exchanged in meaning. would we accept occupationize from nato or Unitted Nations. and mean while i am trying to understand my own anger. Lurking just beneath a calm exterior when i see injustice becomeing the path way to the movement. when i feel the controls taken to committees. and insults coming from the disfrancised. I get mad. and left to that to scream you are fools. and yet it is me i am approaching the drivenness of self understanding that i am pounding down with this document. I am the mad one , and each time i see the pain. i am closer to understanding why i have always been this way , the years of trama at the violence i faced as a youth hangs with me, the reason i smoke weed and keep out of socieity. the same reasons i dont go to school for writing or keep trying to find a job. it is a hatred of society as it is. as it is with corporate controls that i have to manuver around just to survive. it is the constant sneeky cost inflicted on people without there control or opinion all just to get a dollar out of them. a fee here and fee therre, each taking away the base of life we call peace. our pay checks being only what they are while each moment a new fee takes away a way of life. this i can not afford, any more i long for . I long to keep my house hot, and food on the table. i long to keep a house, while the mortage is controled by bankers. and the utilites are privatized such that all of this is money. going out and not in .. to bring it in we settle watching wages lowered, and desprite are most now who dont have jobs.
	 but i am the future, with teh life style of car living i have susceeded in getting comfort with ecomony, the car is paid for and can not be taken away by the system. i dont pay for ulities, they come from the gas in the car. simple even as it is gas. but the cost let me survive on the money i get for being me, for being marked insane,from knowing any one who survies is either blind or really insane. i am sane becuase i still feel. it is yet something i am working on. The driven part of this.. i am wanting more. still. I want stablity and yet know each path i take has been stopped at some point by the evils of opinion and economics. 
	 i was young once and in that youth , i drank to be ree i hid from this. i hid from the anger, and in that i was frree, i didnt do things my soul wanted, i had to opionion of achievement. i had only an animals sence of right and wrong , i was wronged and like a dog, i wanted to bite any one who scared me. and everyone did. i stayed drunk , blind , stupid, for years even now. as i prove in dialogue with the ?movement? for which i would want to help and be a part of i can not. each time i come close to a right and wrong in life. i get angry that the process of change is being maniupulated by a one percent inside this Movement. Power hungrey people who think they are doing good but they are also the most limited people, it seems ,, ignorance knows only to follow and so you get what we have a society of people who follow while leader ship is vage. we have oragainzation that are part of the movemnt who have agendas besides bringing corporatation to justice. they want socialism with violence change. they want to bring down a system , and that is just what the corporations want. the system is what is standing in corporations way, such that the corporations have found away to further cause confusion and remove the power of the state. but taking the power away from the people. and like the people in this grand skeme, i feel powerless and angry over my own life. 
	 It seems to bow to the corporate controls to eat from the hand given is the only remaining way to survive. rules concerning who can water your lawn , rules called Liscences, which demand insurances that you will not get the house wet. cost so that to start any buisness you must get backing and that takes loans. the computer is again going to go off
	it is ten thrity. i am out of coffee. 
	 and whatit is another night, coffe in a smokeless enviroment. charging batteries for phone and computer. from a day gone, with sitting in the car and drawing on the experience of being. it is sthe resaon for driven. the pathways already ilived which face th epresent with an immocents. and todays topic for further definiton and opioion , as persal understanding goes. is the socieal experieince of growing. 
	 with the rise and fall of yet another grouping comes and goes , it is apon myself to see the connections. it is of me i hear, me and my glasses running over the road. sitting. the car only as a protection. a body of steal or of and easy innnocense, flailing arms of youth showing in my forties frame, 
	 it is not the first time, I have , come and gone from innocents, even though noticing is a whole different turn to an itemiztion. but i Am not social, in this present state. 
	 and when i look i can see why i have had problems with the social experience.
	my parent were not social , and soiceal in my head means selling something, that has been different at times. but must social expierience involve spending money. involve eventrually you holding your breath to be part of the social expiereicne, then there is th epains of sociall expeireince, like when i was hanging out wtiht the kids in East boston , and the cops came driving us out of the park. and the kidss taught me to shoot up , and the kids stole everything from my frugal apartment, they got jealous cause i had a job. and i touch someones girlfriend. A short lived event as i dasked at one in th emorning wiht my bed and books into a taxi. my computer gone , my typewriter was the llast in. 
	 or when the grouping was a house, long ago in some distant land where everything was perfect enough money and work. i again had trouble understanding giving in on cetain points. 
	i am trying to look inside myself
	I myself a set of visions. a set i have alwasy looked to to explain thing that i do without reason. the human things i do that i dont understand. It has beeen the social intelligence i have used. it has been one of paranoia. and it is a seet of feeling i take into grouping, like i am mistrustfull. and i can not see the path beyond that.. 
	 so lets wiegh the problem, or really wiegh the actions. for i know i can not weigh the problem. it shows alot. it is everytime i met new people , everythime i try and become part of a movement , a theater has been the biggest one. for i have tried a couple of times. the rest of the time i know i have remeained alone. and in that i call my conversation alot, but yet, it is alone a fool also. it is alone it is a god also. 
	but it is a jplace which doesnt trian one for touching another. i have failed many time siwth the one on one connections. the group lose has been a tough voice to get over. but i find people with grupings can be a group insanity , a denial of reason for some Reasoned principle. voted into agreement more than passing a bar of complete being. there is such to view as i moarn not being able to see conclusions from orgainization. there in the mist of them i am alone still. but it is a forced lonelyness, saying there needs to be change before i can easy up and believe we are all in the same boat. but i do not just let it there. for the world growingfor which is the thoughts at sixty miles an hoour. is the controls is the motivation. and yet,, i can see little growth from old wounds sometime. and it is agaisn this tha i write. 
	 they the parents didnt belong to groups. n church , no orgainization. not that i shame them with the comment. i can understand the brevity of the outside world , i dont think mother was really happy with the dual natures of the step father, the i am this way one day and different the next, settling for the small minded ness of survival we did live, i realize, it was the lie we didnt want to answr so as not to lie. 
	 but we are not alone. 
	 the social become a place you didnt want questions asked. and so you assumed roles and kept quiet. you didnt tell people what you thought or how things are. it become a state of what do i tell them, the truth would bite like i am looking for sympathy, or worse yet i am being disloyal to my bother. for the evils of system allways took our vision. the evils of a seperated family. the evils we couldnt even amass in our minds. just that they were dark and forboding. 
	 when creening around the past one is alway effected and breaking agaisnt symbolism you live as character. 
	 it is funny to see them, and automatically you look for a golden path of that motivation. that innocense. such that even adult hood has cast one into some private ?dont? see me creation? my hands shake when i speak in public. alone wihtout a backing band. you give me a band and i dont hold back. cause you can take time and use it. long pause get helped alone by bass solos. and to remember we only have to forget. for naturre comes without us. 
	 and yet, what freedom to the innocents enjoys there. what natural flow to the dog who barks, sencing the enemy, more then knowing why. and the extra perception must move to see . awareness on all levels. self is th emost important for a change change is what we are humanizing. i must draw.
	 Jan . 16th, 2012 and the days of civil rights are brought before us. I see and look away, the sight looking away is just as merky , the sight looking beyond the only rememdy. 
	 of exces we inhabit this earth the colums. 
	 and i can not read what i just wrote, the pen and paper of it all the small print the going eyes, light , i wissh for light. i can only think to blame the computer. the first vicume to my seeing. 
	 mlk day, jan 16yh
	 a day, believed or not , i was stoned and couldnt care for my caring. I wanted to write , and not think, thinking only leading to a movement to care, caring has been lost to the will to contrimme other persuits. i do not wish to be outside and lonely , but i do not wanted to be acompanied and alone either. watch the smallnesses decend to being , in your face the facelesss normalacies that drive me on. Yes i wanted to write, like the words were pounding in my skull. that to not get them into some form to pass on, i was lackin, 
	i have a fear of inspiration. like to loose it is to create life. in a lost state, so with the bonds of a day , and a movement from a movement. I saw the Next wave of truth , th efallen god. matching what i am to look at, at as far as self, you walk away to the word what what you control. and you ony control yourself. or you dont. you let the forces which hold on to material and possession, that let the binds of the past into their hears such that they deni change. and in that vein are jealous of the spirited. I am cold hearted listening. to another. 
	 the way they have cried , whihcle getting what they want. I sometimes go nuts also. like everything cries and that is why the writing, why i would try and match the changings. with the thought. i miss her already, as i feel the coffee house move around me ,, like so sun in a exofear, and i dont want to get comfortable. i can feel the cryes i am . th ehomeless, when home is where on can afford, and insane , when it is th eony money i have to work to get, i work on ?complexities, filling innocents the vails toxic. I am looking. yes it is not where i want to go. it . the linear is feeling , common cause, but ego lets me see the truth of the exterior. i have no voice if not to speak and today lk, means so little but free parking. 
	 i am to poverty as to innocents. the guilt of what schedules to keep. the emotions which create my connection and movements. you are to listen to the winds. the avoiding will hurt and main. i am in a small towwn in the northwest of washington state. I have no money, but a ten dollar bill. i had state aid for three years. and the fourth is in line, except that one hundred and ninty dollars might be over. 
	 so today what, L-- is sick, and asks me to stay cause she was scared. but the days have piled up where i start to feel i am not giving my all to my art. and then step inside a callousness and endless callousness, alone in fear of loosing my spirit cuase i am a cameleon, a sponge, each like is like a metaphysics trauma, are you what?? and fear and paranoia inhabit me ,, for an instant, an unthought moment, except i can not explain, how sometime writing eats at me.. 
	 there are reasons of cousre, an chilld of lonelyness, so an adult , a silent little brother, but ever though an ego must excist. looking at all the other egos. so possessed to thier own infinity. but truth has to be an agreement. balence. has gone over for L-- she is tired of me. and i got use to haveing someone.. even thorugh i had to lie. knowing someday would be an end. wanting it to end. the slow life, the uncherished movement of living , where everything was railled against an invisible insanity ,, for which pleading with helps not. 
	 and driven away is a part of the word. It has been three years, three years, eating the summer with music, the winter with suspence, Having been in a house for each winter, I am not now. and as the sleep is dependant on the fear i would control in myself. i wake to want reason from day, i am cold. i am lonely , i am waiting on something , for i can not accept what this has become. I depended on L-- but knew it was tempted to fail every time at every minute. every second.. what fantasy leads is easy to break. but what thought inspires must bring reason. 
	 i am scared she will not talk to me anymore because i had to get out of her house and a sickness. she wants me gone i feel. driven out with a feather and a sigh. paid off enough is enough. i am feeling it. no where to go. the plastic world infront of me, each story layered by there own stories of the stories, change is often saught and seldom done. 
	 I guess my mind was made up and last night the axe fell. she was sick and i left her. I left to preserve myself. i didnt want to be around the crazy ness, i couldnt support it, and like most crazy people i only saw me as being the one to take the fall. like in baltimore when i found out a person i was hanging with wanted to go to the bus station to sit and drink whiskey instead of stay at the college dorms which offered us to sleep on the floor there. i left him quickly , she did the same, 
	 so now with homeless depressed and unemployed lets add with no where to eat. no where to get warm except coffee house. it is a lsow mix to going insane, and that is the driven jpart.. what am i going to do next.. lets type from the notebook. 
	
	 one last day , one last rain to was a wway the ice. to foil the snow into sumission and reagrds , like damanding hour what gives life to greenery and love to a grassy knol. and to measure, and ot care. echos what i have never seen. never as the words are there own avoidance. to stare into a globe the caring , made with mad finger . with cold touches of log a go memorites and it is only to let loose and when what is driven, 
	 it is blame and frear of the persuier. invisible and costic all the same, the side that defames its excistance with a stare offinto the paisn from which create it. the Driven like the . ice from the warm rain. claiming you know. , such as are pathways. 
	
	
	next chapter dear brother. 
	
	I write on occasion of your birth. A day I wasn?t around for but one which affected me though only on writing this can I really feel. It is a sorting of myself that brings me to analysis you. you who does not talk to me. You who has made worse the hours years we shared and with your denial of me. I am unloved by. 
	 Unacceptance is the greater harm than any years of the past for one is past , the other on going. 
	 Dear brother;
	 You know I don?t dislike my life though your achievements the world would weigh more heavily then my own . I am not without my talents. but even as i write I don?t feel equal to you yet write to support myself and my independence from the lingering remorse i feel as your shadow of my life. Your ideals I do not share. Your work ethic , so embedded into you by our step father ,I have seen as a hindrance. Not that people should not work hard. but to work for self fulfillment can never be proven as worthy. I feel i have created things, a magazine, a band, my website, my consciousness, and my writings are all events well earned and not as linear as what your life would appreciate. 
	 But yet sitting in the back of my car, the world of material gains would weigh me in different, those who weigh by money and possessions are really lost to true harmony. They give up peace for schedules and individual consciousness for group ignorance. 
	Even as I write this one yearly letter I come to see myself again and again as having the harmony enough to continue on the path of adaptation and self realization. while you Just what? bend over backward to hold on to your piece of the ever lessening stability of materialism. The group think of corporate controls. A group think that depends on subservience and forced subjection to emotionless designs. 
	 I hear so little from you , except your wife sits alone while your work takes you across the lonely country.
	I remember only the last hate filled words against a mother who fed you and a brother who?s life you have no right to enter. And yet I write you , not to you, but to the world about you, to free me. 
	 for I don?t know if you will ever read this , I don?t know cause we don?t talk. Not after the last where you offer advice over a new frind. advice you shouldnt give because of the unfortunate absence you have been . 
	You will never see the one hundred and eighty five dollars i owe you. You will never see it because i am an artist and live from hand to mouth as they say. but you also will never get me to build you a house or hear me write a kind word to you, you have missed out on my love and as such there must have been many people you have missed out on and i pity you.
	 but I did talk to you four years ago, when your compliment another artist because you don?t understand my work or just didn?t give a shit to look at or listen to what i have spent years formulating. 
	While my sin against you are few , you tried to kill me once , chasing me with a knife, subjecting me to cruelties after the fourteen years of abuse had ended. and I still remember how you tested me and my loyalty when at the back of the car at seven or eight you stabbed me with a sharp pencil and i didn?t say a word. You were ,and are still, cruel, inhuman and emotionless. It is a quiet pain i have never really identified until now. even though the lead from the pencil is still a black dot in my thigh. I will always hold that against you, and i can see by your size you hold it against yourself. 
	 You are spineless and afraid . You never came to realize the beauty of true creation and stick to a life of cruel linear emotionally devoid subservience. Just like when you were young, spineless, ?Taught? and never self relevant. I always tired but at 46, I am done. 
	 I write this and most everything i write is to free myself, because i need freedom. I need to feel a true sense of self forgiveness by not holding on. 
	 I guess i forgave you everyday of those years, and one last time I forgive you with these words because you are just what you are. and personal advancement is a self achievement i need for me. It is the loves?s we have lived that we need to understand. and i now understand you for the cruel man you will always be.. good bye. 
	
	tonight I was asked after saying I understood the human condition did I love them? I am not saying I do. or I can say i do like one can, for even if you love ?them? that does not mean they will love you any more than the human condition. 
	Our hearts are our only shared experience and yet our law?s do not up hold the heart. our laws dictate the response to private property, and loss of life. Dostovesky showed guilt over being a murderer but stated a practical reasoning of why we murder, the pawn broker makes enormous profits off loans, but even as lawful , they are yet immoral as love as a legal term would could be understood. 
	and yet today L- called and i didn?t answer, she ran around looking for me and I wasn?t to be found. but then she was home hours later. I had coffee and five cigarettes , before i left for my car, my comfort. tonight again i see i don?t love myself and I dont know what love is, for you must be able to share your life to love and pain wants not to be blamed, my life is sufferance , I can not feel much else. 
	 but i look at life so many times and watch myself in it. outside looking in. I have tried to love others , tried to fix and think for them. tried to be in love, but it always ended because of my inner problems, my anger , my insanity which moves into my every day. 
	Even these words feel like a protesting ego to save self respect , I can write it says, i am important. 
	but you read to know I am lost. lost like the system which inspires the mechanical response, i fight against I see no realistic importance to being , no purpose,, you achieve little in a world of materialism , if you don?t understand truth and the need for an achieved feeling. why else for civilisation, except to reveal truth that feeling is the only real goal of society feeling is purpose, and nothing goes correctly without a feeling of civil common goals. 
	Peace as earth, is peace of earth?s future, We live with the continuation of the race, for often we can not feel the peace of the present. The words written by a man living in a car will make little difference to a world of glamour and idealism. 
	but i feel the need to write this out no matter. it is like , my writing gives me hope , a feeling of hope for myself , for my own self respect. 
	 that was also a statement for tonight I don?t respect myself. and I look at my life and see that is practically true except for my writing. why haven?t i tried to understand the intricate written word, Yes i read but i don?t look to the past of education ( of dialogue conducted in schools) to achieve the symbolisms of a degree. I blame it on a chemical imbalance i was told about years ago. I blame it on the ignorant people with college degrees floating mmmmthe world over, who lead without a moral humanity , who look at nature and disregard it for educations ego. Who with all the learning in the world still can not admit emotions enough to tell of peace.  
	
	
	
	 
	
	
Feb 3rd 2012
	 last night in mist of of morning. i woke from a dream, the dream stayed in my memroy , the dream of me , with a a me on my back. a me, without voice, a voiceless me, strapted to my back. i was talking to some women, ,, it is the figure of carrieing around a self. a heavy useless self, to make matters worse i rode a bike , which is th, it was funny , as i had the body on , strapted to me, i tried to tell someone it was there, but nothing i said of it was heard, like the comments were only my own words no one could hear while i tried and tired to tell them, like i was silent. like i wasnt talk except i could think of nothing else to say. 
	 it is funny how that tranfers into the world, how the heavy ness of my life i have carried around to the tune of my own silentce. my own conversations that other wouldnt hear becuase you have to share the experince to listen even, ,, but most dont want to hear that, cant even hear those remarks, like the silence must be so that they do not start thinking about themselvws. and accknowledge , the pains in there life, .. 
	 the body maybe gets smaller now that i see it there, if its there, like to accknowledge the past and how it effects the emotional being , for which no matter how much we are hard and cold, how much we say we are over things we can not be more than our emtional health, a health that isnt nessacariarily . 
	 this ofcoursze should go into the chapter, driven crazy, but it is a car we are riving, on one which can be stoped, , insanity is in regards to places and people, , it is a common element wihtin friends. like an addcction,. like chemicals. 
	 
	 but the wieght is emence more from accknoledgeing it , funny that, i e man had it as part of his general wight , the unseen wieghguess tt that bothered him though he didnt notice it it was his self opionion , the opinon that lives no matter the wiegh that wsa a, the heavyness he carried along ever day and way, it was the escapism of that wiegh he lived with . you see the man had tan extalked about the wieght before , and with the same reagrads but 

 d (sus) b ( sus) f c d
some men play for fame
	some men play for blame
	all i know the way to go 
	is to try and remain sane. 
	and passions alight with all we feel thats right
	to lead the day to know the way to grant our sight. 
	
	 it is another day ,, the last few weeks i have trying ,which is alot like driven, tryin is another word for facing struggle and equalling the odds to see more. , both have reason, goal. but to try is not to definily suceed, and i say trying because last night i again smoked week for which most of my life i have ,, but have been trying to stop.. 
	 I do notices so much dispondance coming with the smoking,, the 
	Kind? i found is not great as the ?created by the lab stuff? i have been getting but nothing is driving me to do more , accept that i spent to days of cigerette money on the Privelge to break the law,, whcih is still funny in that, alcohol is legal,, and pot is not, on alcohol you can kill people, you forget things, you are imbalence, and you get crazy. On pot you wnat to have sex more, 
 another day . 
	 you know some times it is hard to write. all the thoguhts limited down to be just this point, this focus of writing , and often it can not be done. the world is to huge, the thoughts to massive. or its is just me, the limit of my scope, tofeeling numb right now to most things, but i promised i would write, well I primised i would try and say something so that my therapist could read it, or i read it to my therapiest. . but i havent been able to respond to the driven state. I do not feel driven though i know the motives of these words are to anaysis, what i am going through , what the written word, is what feelling are, what i am driven to to try and understand what i have never really understood, the ways of self involved in history. there is a difference of self to self. for me i dont have to partisipate. i just want a cup of coffe cigerettes , maybe a house but that is often optional. the first two i can not do without. and music sometimes. 
	 Music could be a paragraph, music has been a weird talent i have developed, like there wasn?t a motive for it from childhood and when i did start it was with hesitations it was with chemicals. and escapes, now after so many years, it is just normal and understood only by interests it represents. the das of wanting to be. the star have faded if they ever were there. broken then by ?the buisness, the back biting, foul tricks, like someonw stealing a gig by not saying i could be found, a freind no less. or coming to the stage only to have the act just leaveing trip on th emike cord and distrubing your flow in taking the stage. of the jealousy, watching as the band is taken away to do crack at a studio. and all ou can say is alright its over. even while the crowds started to listen and attend a concept band without one day of pratice. the buisness, the club owners who take your door money yet dont pay you . telling you you had thirty people when you know you had sixty. the difference of ninty dollars. and you just look at them without recorse. 
	 yes music its own paragraph. such that now to stand on the streets and have two people listening at one time is a big deal. is a major motion. to sell a cd is fame. to sell a magaine a hope. for nothing else seems to work any more. 
	 I can not get up and do things. I dont feel love or freindship I feel i am in the way ofanothers magic. or i am just hanging around without stating what i really want because it would kill the relationship . i might argue and have one more person deny me, 
	 yes music lends to confusion over right and wrong. when the people wo do the worst succeed,, playing on the streets is fun though , when i feel like it. and when i dont. i suffer for cash, i suffer what i am , to be without hope is normal for me now. to be talentless seems normal. now, age has me, i am not pretty though that never really helps it was always someone wanting to use me for something, and i didnt get anything out of it. a pack of cigerettes. a free high. people have alwasy loved to get me high. its like i couldnt go anywhere without people getting me high, in germany busking the blond hash instead of coins, last year brownies , and cigerettes, . and i still dont know the nex part. i wan to perform more, i want to have an office to do it in,, the internet the office, all aligned into some maze of creativity on a world where they came in digidal to listen as i streamed, as i played, and sometimes i would make money , and the website would get hits. but you have to market all the time. and there was less for sale, then ,, now i will create more. i have finnaly put up the old magazines for ten dollars for a digatal copy, jsut today , it is like i am trying and yet, what hope is there really, i am just trying aggainst all odds. 
 it is another day. eleven pm at night after a day with L== i sit in the car while i write. Naked and in bed. the bed in car, and all i can hear are L?s words ?Are thing going to change?? i guess i should have said yes. things will always change. but i couldnt get it out. Like always the pain of the truth stops short for what i feel is only me and i dont want to bring her to see what i think , like i am saving her from the fantasy she lives. some descrete hope. some lost event of our joining, when i know someday it will fall down. She hopes for something better but i can not see that for us. I sit and think in the car. the tightness of the space is peacefull because i own it. i done owe for it. i dont feel the guilt of my poverty, infact i dont feel really poor, i feel i am surviving as an artist. and i am not looking to get into another job where i can not be alive. where all my energy goes out into the voice of a restrained compasitiy. but change , change would be to move. and move i would if i could not be alive, if i could not survive. but even as i sit with limited gas, and only a cup of coffee on the credit card and gas reaching three fifty at the cheap place, i still am surviving, I do not want any more. or am i just giving up, have i given up. I can not say for i dont really know what more there is to want. A house? with that comes the bills, for which are not of your control as they charge you to live such that every imagined sucess is filled with the planned hours of the future such that you are only alive if you walk a repetious pattern. only the ultimately poor and the ultimately rich can live free, the poor becuase they dont care to be the other, and the rich cause they can afford not to fullfill the planning, but inside myself i can feel the endlessly repeated stories that teach me weather i want them to or not. I can feel the lovelessness that creates me to disregard the system, the lovelessness i have felt, the lovelessness that has been love to me. weather from parents, or lovers, it has always been learning to unlearn,, learning that only the innocent can love, and that mostly we are faced with survival and step over everyone in our way and if we dont we are subjected to their pains becomeing our own. 
  I want so much to create product and maybe to feel beyond this car, a place where i am accepted for being, a place where i am in full capiblities and respected for my art or my being. but that has not been the case.. and i dont see it coming from somewhere inside to accept this system, to function in the submissive talents bow and recieve dont bow and suffer. 
 or is that yet my child. It is to know what we are talking about when we think of the word driven, to know we are talking about the world facing self. such that we have to accknowledge what we are. and what is the world . I have become torn apart, my vision was of a truthfull world. and eyt the world is not truthfull, the world is a lie of commericalisms, and backward planning. and change is only coming to grips with what is. 
 I say this from a street cornor , lieing naked to the repressions of economics where i have never found my place. and as the youngest in an abusive family I suffered more from the emotionalness i withheld , that i didnt feel couldnt explain and figured only that i needed peace, peace is free peace is escape that is all i could feel. even now after so many years, i fall into the love of others like it is a secret i am unloveable and i just wait for L to figure it out, so when she said ? will there be change?? i could see the first falling out of structures she has arranged around me. we hate to feel we are not helping another, that there is no helping another, even after we give all we can and no change occurs. it is a breaking point. maybe tomorrow i shouldnot go to her, and maybe i should leave her to see the truth and change without me. for that has always been the way , others have changed while i have still remained the same, I have not reached for more growth cause i didnt see a reason, i dont really want the drive, though i profess difference. I profess i want change but really i just dont want pain, i dont want to feel bad about my life. like school would propose. school training one to be subservient. train one to fit into a system made of mazes without reasonable reason. graded and guided into the truth they are to concieve. the battery is going out. the head is filled with a turn to seperations. I am trying to understand my self, driven to accknowledge the reasons for now. and i want to change maybe, maybe i want to sell a book and restore my love. but with the last few years passing by i feel less and less able to love my life, and spend all my time playing a subservince to L to sitting in front of a televsion having my will to love drained by the toxic conclusions of yet another badly played set of logical rules, of dramas of spirit unconvienced of there own emotional balence, or lording it over others of who is in control. I feel i have invested many hours to feeling life. more than most more than the linear. more than my family , but yet i can feel the need for family , who have been so far away, and who with every step seem farther and farther away from me. 
  it is an original sin for which need clairity , i need my brother to approve of me, and yet it wil never happen, not wihtou bowing to the system, and can i bow, is grammer just a bowing, is writing the ultimate subjecting to the masters. as each word has been written in so many ways with so many uses, 
  I should have told her i want change, but i dont feel free right now to do anything. becuase i am secure loveing you. and for that i am without myself fully. more because you dont let me be myself. you are afraid of my self, you are aftrraind of my music, you fear your loneliness, and i fear my needs,  but i dont say a thing. 
  it is another day or i should remark it is another night. the day was and is gone, i cried today and not cause i didnt have weed. though i saw a freind who is dieing, and not cause i am insane , but had to stop a girl who talks alot with my down cast eyes to stop me from feeling that way. today i felt depressed, I explored an option. the one that lends me to be a truck driver, one which lets me train and then gives me a job. the training is paid after i start work. but then again i thought about what i want to be, and would a truck driver be it. like i had thought about being a carpenter, and even as i like working with my hands , i didnt feel it inside my bones. like i knew for one second i couldnt do it. and i was again thinking of going down the road again i knew was a cop out for what i truely thought i could do, want to do. and have really trained for, to be a writer. I wrote a blog today that opened a door for me, once again i was feeling the joy i have from this event , this writing event where i am open and telling all that is in my heart not waiting for a love one to ask, and yet maybe that is why i cried, cause no one loves me, or that is how i feel. L is self consumed and if she gets a better idea she is gone, i am just a freind, someone who can be removed and the picutre get only more clearer, not someone if removed is really missed or someone that would be a part of life leaving. so in that i am alone. i know and feel i have made her a part of my life. and for that i am wrong cuase i dont know what my life really is , when all i do is deny mywself around her, dont take up to much space, dont eat to much food, dont play guitar or ask anything from her. which always reminds me of the dysfunciton of my childhood. like to relive it is all i ever ask from ? stablity? and freinds. its easy to have friends when you never impose your own choises. but hard to live with them after a while as the failure to be yourself has become just another in a long line of people to be suppresssed to , , it is never there faults i tend to like haveing people who are self centered and strong about there choises, it lets me have what i need and do nothing but be silent. 
 A silence i learned as a child and at forty years and some it has been the silence i have only given to myself. I am scared alot of my voice to me, so i dont listen, and let the cycle continue as the only way i know to live, and it is killing me, i can feel that. and ahve often felt it , but never can i do anything but distablize myself and run away from it. i never talk about it wiht the people concerned. mostly i have told myself inside. away from reason that iwould lose the love or what ever i am associating with love if i talked truthfully with them, so i always feel like i am hidding somethign from them, but it is from myself that the real silence is going on.  the fact of a driven idea is hardest placed from inside. staring at your nose. so here we sit. 
  another night in the car, talking about what i should be living and for the most part i am not.
the car filles wit cigerette smoke. and it stinks of my piss that this now getting to be a real problem as my age is starting to effect how i dribble after i am done urinating, the smell gets into everything. but more imporatnt whwen it gets really bad, i start to feel sick when i get in. Sleeping in the car is getting worse all the time. the security on the streets i worry over alot. it is so hard to feel safe when i draw attention to the fact that i am in the car on a street , with people passing , in new england i always felt people would call , and often cops would stop by and check me out. in new england i was always worried about home owners calling to report me, though i dont remember one time when they actually did, in small town more than larger ones,in rich neighbor hood more than poor ones, but there is always that fear , the other night , kids passsed by while i was reading and pounded on the door, when it really just sounded like some one was pushed agasinst the car, it gave me a start and i turned off the light. but ihave had to park on a major street tongiht and all week this week , to save what is left of my gas, to be near coffee, and the shower, it is a free space, andi wont have to mover really until next tuesday mornign at two am , until then there is no other parking notice i am to know. still dont know if there is a law agasint sleeping in the car. but i have talked to people who lived in there cars around here and said no one says anything. I almost think it is the rebell way to do what need to be done more than the east coast puritain thang. so i only reall think aobut security in a new place. that is just after the common eer night kind . i have described the room i have. it is not enoug to sit up , so not enoug to do anything put what you can in a bed. and for that i am lucky i have a futon under me, and many blankets. and i like to read, but this winter have been the hardest ever for me, and if i didnt have lea i might have  really gone out of my mind with the cold. and the lonelhy ness, i dont know why i stay here, but that i am scared again to go any where else. to morrow i am going to write al day , but i dont think i am going to get much done that isnt just tring to kee up with the continual process of wriing for the muse of writing. i sometimes think it is just that i need to get things out. that i need some resolution to the loveless nesss i feel so i write like someone will read this. someday, besides the Magazine, which is sitting in the larger computer waiting for me to finish it. i have twenty pages, and editing to do I have to write twenty pages, i have to live the writer more than just write, like this was supposed to be, to be a product but for that one has to stay with idea. some idea, some plot some stroy and i dont seem to stay with a story long enough to get anything out completely , like here, writing i should tellmore about the facts of this living in my car, an evernt most dont face so of some oddity and interest to some, what is it to live in the car, one might ask, and i should tell more about the urinating in jusgs , and only buying food i dont have to cook. like how i keep cans of fruit and beef stew avaislable inside the car just to eat. and again if i didnt have leas to go to i would be eating just that. and potato chips every day. 
 the battery is about to run out sometime soon press save i am tired. is there much else to say abou tthe car. , i guess there is . one thing i will say quickly before the battery is done. the car is cheaper than an apartment, so i still know the amercian way is here in this car. here where you can save money to fianace what dreams are real. the someday of time, the someday of sufferance for the cause. it is amercain.   
 another day . 
  sometimes i think this time. this living in the car is a spiritual journey, like what if the make up of mankind has little to do with the repeating of what has been learned to the revealing of what can be learned without all the extra influences of mondren education. like what we can learn from ourselves what is inherent of ourselves. It would say that we have not learned all we can from being  , like the idea of prejuedices, are they a advancement of learning or a show of what we havent learned , what is imbred into us from learning its self , like what is a automatic retardant to any real advanced learning one would have if only we could take the time to see life for what it is instead of what it proposes of the us.  as every day is different tonight is different in that i saw a show aobut the influence of alien cultures for which all ?human ? cultureal show in wall art and great unanswered question . like how could the pyimids get built, without the wheel without mondren tools.  the great unsawered questions that have made me like i am , I started this by thinking of the relevance of ghosts, the actualizations of intuition and psychic energy, I realize when young that most of our living knowledge was only the small realization of what will eventually be taken for reality. so why not look for more , not only of self but of the larger implications of that knowledge on the world. and for my small part of words and literature. how can we think different and their by how can we open the doors to others. 
  in these thought have come the ideas of feelings and the important parts they play. I have come to see the reverse as being much of life and in that we do not feel and train ourselves less and less to feel . like we can live on bread alone or as it would fit into this world we can live on Money alone , we can live on material alone , and forget or deny all else except on special ocassions, or in the considerations of a overlord god, but not in singluar natures as concerns us but in larger group think on the matter being lead by books and scriptures never taken literally but let to be once again maniipulated into us.  it is funny but in our lives we need to take time away and most never get the chance, or never get the change this creates. such we grab hold of what knowledge preposes and only that, but rarely reach out for our selves as a feeling unit. 
  as i walk to the car, in the late night i see the street live as drunken children, and know there is a basic denial of feeling involved, a denila i once lived and walked away from as i fullfill my destiny of discover, a life found by not looking but feeling my way, and one which often is portayed back to me as an illness and my depression. but what if , we are really beings of energy, and we only get to know this by believeing it. by living the proof for all else directs us away from that proof, there are reasons that would be the case, like you can not sell energy of self. or it doesnt suppport a materialist commericalism so there is little incentive to expound the miracle of birth for the tragic sufferance and proof of class structures.  rarely do great men believe in the knowledge that is . but reach through that to find the reality and change the knowledge that mankiinds knows because of it.  I am not say i am a great man, but i know there is more to know and it is often just informt of us as we put together the peices of logic all of history personal and public available. 
  on the personal I ahve again stopped taking the drugs i was prescibed. the constabation was to much , and some of my focus seems to be different, but other that that i can not say i am really suffering. we shall see what comes in the days that follow . i did nothing today that would be considered expansive, i slept all day and tomorrow i might do the same. my dreams we different, on the drug i was having fablous dreams without connection to myself. i was living fantasies or compelling dramas but they were of creative dialogues and situation which seemed foreign and unfounded. I am more use to having dreams of my life. sometimes past or future, sometimes dreams   of just good fiction but less like that most of the time. those were the dreams i was having all the time every night , things unconcerning me and intirely fantasy. I did like them but they seemed plasic and only inteneded to confuse me. i like being able to say i am without drugs in my system at all. i will live that way for a little while and see.  i think the main thing was that i didnt feel the urge to help myself but wanted to just take the pills and stay in some land of real mental confusion. i dont feel confused reight now. 
 it is a new day for me one without weed and without the precribed drugs.

 oh and days telling of days telling. by Joe Blue  

 oh and days telling of days telling. I would with eyes new and untold. I would with eyes which are always looking for what the time is. and yet  Information is hidden in the rock  hidden in the excess of knowledge , when once we were all informed from a singular angle  civilizaiton has jumped and now the world is a mass of knowledge.  it depends more where you look and want to know. while the equality level seems to dip as far as true knowledge goes. the excesses have also produced a product of anti thought , the ?I dont want to see?, and as such i go to work and come homes wanting to be dumb, wanting to forget the excesses, the wars, the economics, the viruses, the criminalalities, but with the baby goes the  intellect and we defend our rights to not see. to stay blind and unavailable. 
  but that is not me, not cause i am special but because i know i am deformed. the defromity has to do with sensitivity , and self enlightenment. the deformity is to care. and the deformity is to represent what is commonly know. Yes i am thinking I am joe blow. and the deformity is to be sane, intelligent and watching the flow of it all. Starting with trying to equal my deformity, watch as i see the elements of knowledge lead me to know less and less. such that without knowledge is am most intelligent or at least know i am. my deformity has to do with sight. from self to system. from todays news to Historic views. to day i looked into the past by wthc visions from video. from internet and excessiveness, but what to see. to see food corporation buying securtity companies with govermental contracts. blackwater to  farms , guns and GMO?s, I look and see , sermerian teaches and Iraq, All when i get off a full day of roofing. my muscles asking for a hot shower my hands ripped from asphalt shinges and cramps: the handle , the hammer and age. It is boncing knowledge it is hoping to see me in some votex of importance for what else is knowledge for but to enlighten more than i can than putting down my guiness stout while seach my brian for its deformities, its depression, it singular remission of the native and innocents once preposed by life, or did i ever? I as me and told of the pains i cried over being the emotions beneath such as i would call my love of knolwedge for once you know what can you do. the excess is amazing. 
  I watch the world that doesn't want to know for the knowledge bring forth inadequacies servilities, and subjagations, and i am not common anymore when i listne and hear make prophicies and hear the general aray of simplicities our government and our selves make of conspiratorial politics. I am not common to see the banking system intertwined with the olil industries, as in the path of the blackened gulf and Fianacial Overhaul both ending on the same day, and the bound in which hand is the ball in , as society looks like i do.. Or doesnt, for to see is a quesst and I am onveinced to see anything at all in more limited as we have time for. to join knowledge from thinking to hearing to seeing is a venture of the mystics or the hobo. them who dont exchange time and money for time and life. who by prastise have nothing to owe nothing, and foster intellect over ,material ism. I have to adjust where i sit. my back is starting to hurt, as my encrusted hands type and try not to feel the cramping of meta carporals. the I is a defintion. 
  so i start this by describing how the connnonly know is a excerp of the wanting to know. and so blind we become of the daggers of knowledge to save our skins. blind we remains such that that pretty skirt does not allude us such that we dont miss the shy glance over the shoulder , laid bare for the intimates microsecond she shows looking straight at me. there are awarenesses and awarenesses, i would of history hear. Or make, such i ask the innocents which can not touch her for the pain s of past intreating, i would not touch her for the mention of most part has been a denial of the love for energy the love which unifies, and have been stuck in my concept for the purity my lust would first part bring. the attaction of the ages, with i look at videos. of my remarks , the pre historic societies, the lifting wieghs of anciennt structures for which without tools advanced the race by mving three hundred ton wieghts, and i am not to look at aliens.. i am not to look at the beyond metaphysics of my touching her, for to see is my own demise. i am wrong for being truth or what i accept. the stimuliant in my own as i talk to her, her brown eyes wanting noting to be more beuatuful but a tear. her lips particaly wet knowing a kiss emplanted to create a whole our two halfes to a partnerhip never limited but to reconzise, and awareness a import to being. and yet. Of energy i contain my faith. of such that doesnt excist when i never need trust in the work i do.. It is spit down themiddle with safty and knowledge of doing right from the knowledge of experience to know what is wrong. I dont turn coins or roll bones to feel each Five and a half inches of reveal. and my roofing tack goes in perfectly one bounce of the last i will count the sun passing to quitting time, the area less and less exposed to the weather, the fan cover step flashed the peak incerted with it?s inch foam padding. and each moment i lay with her, in the heat of day, hour and moment until physically again we touch, I dont think of the civilizaions facing aliens called gods or angels bieng star ships, long before we tell of human written language. I dont think of why i should want the death of others from the death inflicted on my fellows from wars created to do only that.. that to create death, or is it just dispondance,, if a reason is taken besides the guarding of oil resoursces corporatly controled and told to me as cheaper prices which rise on every other level. i dont think of that, i wouldnt think that stonehenge was rock strewn from the earth from unknown localtion and put up with unknowns soursed, even as all the blanks make me thing of censueing, like New reels in World WARs bent to leave out `considerate opiion. of location markers for once again alien races. which inbreed mankind loong before i climbed my first roof and landed my first nail. before i could concieve of rain gutters, and electric to melt off the new england winters snow, to save a roof from collasp and survive another year of it s old age. streaching the product of cheap pywood incessnt to the mildew it can be prevailed with . End of Joe Blow  

  
  Time and the Eviction of travel

     Zaleron was a poet. Well he thought he was a poet . it was not in the words he com-possed together as having all the necessary postulates of imagedryor the verbatum wisedom of some other worldly body they were mostly about breakfast and his two headed lover from the Planet Phais. but he was a poet as in he would write poetry and when ever he got a chance would spew out his poems which he memorized like a good poet when ever he got a chance, at dinner parties, at work, on the tran and even to complete strangers and often as it is said without their bequest.  and often with less than contemporary acclaim in fact so unset were the people around him he was zapped many times by citizen critics wielding zappers he developed quit a twitch and eventual memory loss which gave him the right to forget he had just delivered his epic poems so he would often do them again , just because he had the urge. It also lead him into our present story , 
  for just being a poet is not enough to warrant a story about him, he stood five five nothing and weighed almost 130 when quite wet, and as has been said his poems never made it beyond the office cubical or the tran even through the party deliveries were really the cause of all the stir with his friends even asking him to stop in fact they made a special room for him every time he came to a party at this or That house, for when he did a poem, he was often transfixed by the delivery  and would become unconscious of the fact and forget where he was , such was the zapping effect it might be said, but he never remembered, not even from early childhood, just the forgetting got more in depth with the electrical and nerve rendering zaps of the zappers.  His friends would carry him to a room , and there he would find himself when finished waiting for the audiences reaction.. often to look around to no one. but that is also how he met Twinta, his girl, she was waiting for him to finish and applauded so heavenly that it was love at first double sight. one head with a fawning look the other with a tear.  END Time travel lead to rebirth, or Warning you become a time travled baby.. 
     
   the Maim Problem of people 
has been an inability to join
in promise
and Yet only that proves civility.
a promise of whole life, 
or fights for ethical rights
 for all. 
  
So few get paid
to rhythm the way 
wise would or 
 few pay.

A fill of words
on streets where 
love decides 
discussion. 

i don?t know 
what makes this so
I guess only. 

A tender symbol
to human 
environment
 tone. 
Few choose an alarming violence
transient sighting a grab of bags,
and yet
come to fill .
Life more
 than Hugo, Tolstoy
 or steinbok could weigh
the innocent shine of 
the gutters rhyme

I have always
had a problem
I hate to dance alone. 
  a cowardice , no
for dance i did and loved it, 
a proof of being 
a box of chocolates
in starvation, 
but to be dumb, 
your face so close 
without meeting hand. 
twisting spines
 to line intend
to wills amended 
adjusted temperance-d
 taunt, releasing together
your difference given
willing conformity.
because you heard what i couldn?t 
speck so yelled
and I do, yet, hate Loving my dance alone. 
Loving rise tides gives wet eyes, 
tooth size and crinkled skins
with a partner in wind
if only self, soul and sin. 
  If only energy electric 
through waters aesthetic
and a poet?s price,
for a one of the amateur
and what is silent of . 
is all. 
a tone of exchange
a clamor of towns
and invention of self. 
 All, the street of orange , blackness filters cancerous
blind humanness, sufferance addiction?s self justification
in a seventy thousand samba
someone must write of the dance. 
the pretty close or open
  I really hate to love alone. 

OH Poet
but what if 
no one wants
 to read it
knowing one knows.
Know one.

 kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk

 it is another day. I should look back and resolve what has been with a define eye toward what you will see. but I will not. 
  I has been a couple of weeks since i again came here with just the idea of telling the tale of the self and the car. the endless tale of homelessness and unemployment. the extraverted case of depression and that common sufferance i have sucome to .. and yet little has changed, oh there have been small changes i have taken a drug for the depression , i have not taken that drug now again for a week after taking it for a month and maybe will again start this week on monday, that much has gone on since last i opened the computer for jus tthe driven aspect, the book i told myself would come of these writting, and you see how far off it has come into my consideration. with  the statement of I told myself. like i do not tell myself any more. and maybe i should start talking about why it seems so far away , but that would be telling about how the word driven seems to have been eased alike all drives in my life to be just a distant memory of what i will not do. like to accually do anything I think i have to start over again. Move from this small town, and get some kind of schedule some kind of hope, but i am wihtout that drive. I am getting by every day with the same forces i have been , this much money equally this much freedom. and no more. such that i am almost afraid of all i have been lost if i venture to far away from what i have. here in this small town i have come to a balence. I have no job , so i dont look for one, it is the excesses of my resume, it is the inablity to do what i had done here. being a cab driver has lead to employers calling my past company ,and my inablitiy to take a piss test because of the marijuana, but i hated being a cab driver, so many hours for so little money, so many back sliding moralities to get by , to get alittle extra, lieing and cheating the rules of what ever is the controling factor being law or just companny rules as a rule is  a letter of conduct i had broken them all when a cab driver, and would do it again if i became one now. there is no keeping within the rules and making money , in fact mostly there is no keeping in the rules and only the successful learn how to break them and not get caught. fact one of driven,, but it is for spiritual peace i would be driven at all , and for that i must face what is the depression first before i am able to do much else, 
  and yet i would want a lover, a home , a job. I would to get these things with what i would be happy with , and yet my chemicals dont lead me to happy ness, becuase i dont feel that chemical enough . things that make me happy are usually basics. like money, so just give me money , and yet , i have no reason for them any more. when i go to a job it is hold old i am , not weather i can do it. it is how much marijuana i smoke more that I only smoke marijuana, when the world has so many other drugs one should be more scared of in an employee.. but mostly it is that no one trust me, i am always going to be the outsider on the west coast. that i `can feel. , you might want to stop me at this point. and remark that it is my paranoia, lol , i wish it was that easy to explain, i guess i dont know if that is not the point , no it is the depression . mostly now. I dont get up most days , now that i am sleeping much longer than i did when smokeing, i havent been getting inspired and yet it is a matter of course that i try to tell you what has been going on. I do like to type. well as much as i like anything. 
  really i have become complaycent. and the days are just passing by , i sleep in until four or let us say late after noon , get up, have coffee, play chess, go to L== watch movies with her, sneaking cigerettes from her eating dinner, watch more, forget self, then it is again late night i go home. right now it is three in the moring , i watch movies until two am. and this has been a year , one year since i lost the last place because of drinking i say of my part, but it was more , i was living in a green house where marijuana was grow and it was just starting to be planting season, was the real side of it. i played my part and left. again into the car, and like i have said it has been a year since then, the landlord was jealous of me also , i was plaing on the internet and raising money with that, wiht my music as a parttime job for which i was enjoying ,, L== keeps saying she wants a house where we both could live. i really only need a large tent like the four person tent i had before , which has gone the way of a lost sock. but she talks of the house with an extra apartment. 
  i can only think of the day when i get a job, and get off welfare, or get state disablity which would put me in a higher class of pooor , i would get six hundred then , instead of the one ninty i get now. i live on one hundred and ninty dollars ,, it is funny to me, thank god i prepared for this , i live well wiht only that much as in I have a computer, and can write.  but i am scared for any little fall out.  but that is life now. i rode the bubble wihtout any savings. i didnt know it was a bubble, i didnt know my boss would die, I flipped out oon the cab owner, i did so much wrong but not enough to get jail time. such that we are here, as west as i can get, but cold and rainy I dont know where everyone went, i wish onl that i had never fallen so low as to think i was so important, or at least that i could follow my dreams but never did in the linear scence. I think more now that i could but it would jsut give me a reason to get up , and basically i could be fooling myself. I don?t know. 
  I wanted to tell about the car,, cause a little thing is the roof placements of the guitars. you see i have bungy cords strung across inside of the roof, holding the acoustic and electric. it makes for less up and down space but it is great for the usage of the space, also i have been given the new drugs which i mentioned, but i didn?t mention the side effects, constipation comes with it. and a need to eat , for which i only do mostly once a day, so i was having problems with it. so of the last pages were with the drug in me, a focus seemed better so i had them up the dose. but i haven?t started it now. i had a depressive episode and got drunk and stoned one day last week, that stopped everything, the focus was different i shouldn?t say better because still i started things and didn?t finish them as you see, , i will maybe get back to the story about the poet who time travels. and the poem i am working on for  contest. the battery is running out. 

March/17/12
 I am having a hard time with thinking of doing. No Job No schedule , No reason. with L-- tonight I was depressed . these drugs are giving me constipation. I wake three times a night because of them. such that outside now early  to leave L-- , most nights I am with her till late. so I spent time with V-- a friend who has cancer. It is like seeing the end of him, he will move tomorrow and i wont know him . He lent me money I can not pay back He gave me my guitars after my others were destroyed by a crazy alcoholic , a mad man where i trusted the insane. but the years are passing and this year, writing Driven a book, I wanted of this year, but i only feel alright alone. not scared of anyone, not bothered by anyone, the crazies are every where, despite poor, unemployed, in need . alone i remember myself. not living in a dream that someone loves me. It is funny but I have enough drugs now, to really fuck myself up. but I am still not sure if i would die. die the easy death, asleep.  I shouldn?t write that shouldn?t expose what runs around, like a death would stop my problems, a death I almost want, because this life has always been so hard.  and i never meant to hurt anyone , and I did, I hurt everyone who ever loved me, seeing me as i am when they only wanted to see some greatness, i could never become. that is how i hurt them. A----, E----, J------,L--, V------. all so many names right now. as the stories can not be separated from the story teller. and i never did what they thought , always short of the mark, always letting them down. I guess P---- was the last. the last of my love given to another who didn?t love me enough. We started sexual only and stayed that way , to bad kids were there with me pretending i could help them, but it felt good having someone to fight for. but yet i always felt used and finally started to save for me, I know the end was near and to not give her anymore money brought it on.  
 but sometimes i think this is all I ever wanted, to be free enough to write, but this freedom, this living in the car, was more what i feared from art, more than a great time, I feared the devotion, for in that I would remain nothing else, and would be locked in just like any career scheduled and doomed. there is no difference between fiction and reality , maybe i should amend that, but for fiction can be anything and reality is limited, but in the telling truthful or not this is no difference. I always write about life.  but i feel like a fictional character, so lost to being what i want i can not see what i represent, for which fiction will ascribe to me without me. So the psychology is the same, character or not, because the outer world looking in is the culture, the critic.  
 and this is the dream life. this for who can live on one hundred and ninety seven dollars a month. who can live in there car, sleeping on whatever street which doesn?t have a claim, which doesn?t observe me. I tried to find out of the way places to sleep but there people can do ?out of the way? things like when the back of the car was rammed. the day i was caught sleeping  in the driveway of an abandoned house.  I had been there for a couple of weeks, no one walked around the car and only the noise form the highway bothered me, Me and L-- had actually looked to find the owners to rent it, You can get used to anything. 
   My alarm always rings at seven am. but rarely do i get up with it, this day I almost did, easing yourself awake, I had a feeling I should move. when just before nine I heard a truck behind me, It rammed the back of the car, then backed up. I was up and out of the car in a second, butt ass naked. some guy saying this was his property and you get the fuck out of here. I was trying to tell him i would leave but he doesn?t leave his drivers seat, and yells from safety and cowardice, and then rammed Tara again with me pleading for him to stop , Pleading like a child for i have never really seen a real man plead, and that was it. I jumped in and drove off to put on my pants, that was the last time i tried to park to sleep in an out of the way place. with the back of the car pushed in the lock doest work anymore, and if i was in the city i would worry, that reminds me i need to fix that next sunny day, 
 this book is new tonight, the pen also L-- gave the book, V the pen but she wasn?t happy when i left, I wasn?t happy when i was there, it spreads fast. I feel in the way in her life,Like i would do more for myself without her around me, she has been my only friend in Bellingham besides V. 
  It is funny how I live right now. Mostly hanging out with L--- watching television, movies , documentaries, but she would never come to any of the places i have lived at here. so people though i was alone, and they could do anything to me without social implications, and have. but when she would ask of me I felt hard pressed a lot to divide my time when i had a place to call home, I would create most nights, a video or a painting or streaming music. and she would call me asking me to come over, You could hear the loneliness in her voice, like she expected me to do things and i was wrong to stand up and say no. 
I cant stand to answer to any one, and yet now it is all i have because i have let it become that way, to live for any goal will make you alone , at least in side, or involved with people toward the goal, only tonight do i feel like me . a pen and a notebook, i guess tomorrow i should type this out over morning coffee but then i think of the reality  i live as being painful If L-- was to read it. like all the others who really didn?t make me happy because i am more involved in being my goal orientated character than human. 
Love is energy Love is sharing but you can not share if people won?t let you. if they wont talk , most relationships come down to truth , you talk about or don?t. L-- has never been truthful with me, when she said she plays guitar she doesn?t on any kind of devotion to music, or not more than what songs she has written on chords she doesn?t know. so there is not playing just to play , it is a big deal, lights and camera and filled with breaking the mold fantasy, tonight she said you can make yourself happy and I said you are or you aren?t, I am scared to listen to myself, because both are right , but one leads to the other, if you are not happy , change what is going on, I have been inactive again for to long, that is why the word Driven , comes up, yet I am not driven for money but am driven for sanity , for a true meaning of happiness, I felt good showing my work, my painting?s on the street corner four years ago , the day i met L-- . I wrote while sitting there, I was trying after I met L-- I stopped it was like i couldn?t because it would effect her, she didn?t want that lowness around her, and i wanted to be her, so sophisocated with her art, years of respect behind her. Galleries and shows, but i knew from the beginning the way someone loves is the way love will be. you can not change another but you can forget yourself. I have always hid that problem, I guess more cause i never felt strong enough for myself, and wanted someone to love me as a support, or just liked being taken care of, that i stopped living for me, alone , strong, tortured, its almost like i do better tortured. Or i don?t think about it and just react. Somewhere I settled for the life again of watching television L---cares, but what i think is is just a fear of being alone more than a love for me.
    I really did dream this. Alone.  King of my world if only to smoke a cigarette and drink coffee, Living in a car, all to avoid the Way it is . a statement, I have run from, broken houses over, left jobs because of, a statement that yet never goes away and most just accept. I know why inside. I know that never having the love as a child , step father and beatings, Mother and work, I couldn?t come to grips with life as it is,, Life was boring , illogical and a torture. It seemed preordained and as it went I would always be unloved. always be stupid and never do anything right; doing carpentry stoped a lot of that. 
I did things right , being a cab driver also , as in i made my money, and never had an accident, even when traveling at sixty on a city street, late for a call. stoned out of my mind, so some of that left with work, but personally i couldn?t be happy , I wanted more art, wanted to write stories .  i have a hard time remembering myself, like you forget yourself , your dreams or ambitions because life distracts you, you get comfortable instead of fulfilled , it is something i have always faced, and all do. I have to break comfort to remember myself, a constant pain. 
The perfect size note book to write helps a lot to remember a great pen, Pilot g-2. 

It is funny how attractive or inspirational a certain size book becomes. How easily it hids when not wanted say in the back of your pants tucked in like a crime story detectives gun, or folded neatly and placed in a half length coat inside pocket or front left or right , such that it inspires just for the availability that and an easy gliding pen. 
create peace with the despite muse wanting to get out. into the land of Nod. 
  As in the living fantasy of the writer, as in different from other more cumbersome arts, and less exacting. 
 My misspellings are slants against decency, but whip out my dick or expose a breast and i am a star, ?oh how novel to think to do that? 
  the proper tools for the  proper muse. 

and yet almost by progamin you correct me, I know this from talking to my brother who thinks i am delusional to say I am a writer, for spelling is required , grammer a must and punuation manditroy, but every time you read me you get it. can you understand thepoint , or can you understand there is no point, and I am merely being. Assorting opinion and grazins over the emoitonal inflections i call my life. 
 Now as i should not let this enter my space, I have.  L-- and I tonight conversed over a F------- of hers, I wouldnt cal her a friend having ,after two or threee years , not talked with her for over twenty four hours total ( ?at which point I might remember your name?)  so still a question mark to invovle myself with a discussion.
  But it remarks on ultimate flattery as in , what do you call it, not replication but copying. A freind , who is much L--?s junior always need to copy L-- ( the word escapes me I will admit) but as L-- is an abstract paint so the friends also dabs paint in a close but only simular way, L-- has a cat F------ has two Both are women, and now both have a male around, in my case, and a boy friend in the other, Named K--, who thinks he can write and has no job.  of course the randomness of the facts is humorous and true comparison is yet to be delved into and remains only News if it is covered here. 
  L-- has a K and F has a K. Like lives in different dimensions. it just hit me of course and of what importance I will have to think on. 
 I like to bread down the smallest of topics into world events. You break them down to basics ,, like two governments could be compared; one replicating the other. Where runs the gambit of their actions and responces? if not intentional and quite psychotic?
 the effect being a replication through another?s stolen ideas?  Or is it just an agreement that ?I will live anything you do i can do better?. Back to the Jones, is that natural order , am i just to pretentious for words?  PLease remember my name. Being ken and living in the plastic America, as in our Romeo and Juliet was replaced by Barbie and Ken, to a replication void i have filled myself with ,, i remember well my first Barbara, creating such a love bind I hitchhiked from Boston to North Carolina to fulfill. Seeing along the way great skies I cried over cause there was no camera and later No love. 
  So replication psychosis i have experienced but mine have often come with the astrological sign i am or simple referances or other un-attributal facts or even sciences,for which we would have to talk for hours on and still leave with a ?believe or not? argument. starting with Planets and gravitation waves on a metaphysical body of energy. 
   I care only to observe the obvious more that interject romantics. And in governments I know little yet my thoughts come to American and Japan in the early seventies. America and China are not replications. and if china?s copying it is Americas early 1860?s all over again. Communism just gathered the land owners of the good old southern slavery . 
  But, never fear, gas depletions will lead to a growing local marked ideaology again  This time an easing of environmental disruption because the advancement of an robotic industrialism. if there is time,, for all that next wave . Economies turn in five year intervals. 
 L--- and America 1970?s Friend the 1980?s.
      I think more and here is where i get in trouble, I think one is a women who always  wanted a sister, and didn?t have one. like me i understand this, when i wanted a family or just wanted love and never accepted one. cause i couldn?t accept myself as i am . or as i was, ?Change the evergrow Driven is tied to.? 

We talked until we had enough , Remembering our lives , instead of ?therapyizing? a of young sister, Well i didn?t tell L-- that cause i just now thought of it. and yet still, is it intentional and there by psychotic , or is it hidden and the by-product of alcohol and weed poisoning, and through that is it L--- fault?  is there a morally ethical question of identification and responsibility?   Simply ? MY sister is competitive? or  do I interject and tell them ? Breaking the ground of another?s fairy tale? Should Star Trek intervene in lesser planets or hid our phasers and proceed with caution. 
  the countries eventual agree they like their life. the second cause it  hooked on to the capitalistic ?easy glow wear? Americans instill difference and individualism which creates the need for knowing what they are by watching a mireard of examples called A?Cultural Entertainment? and Two by buying it. Creating markets which are always flowing with the tides of personal opinion and basic survival we think about or don?t. 

Never accepting myself is where this all leads me, the reason for which come from an emotional nuclei more than a reasonable neutrino. with the right wrong and psychotic i understand of myself and move to cure through slow understanding and interaction. 
  I am hungry , I poured out my water in the dark thinking it was waste, didn?t check and maybe drank old orange juice.  Maybe as in I am sure it was old, and not maybe I drank Orange juice. 
  the size of a book makes me remember days where this was my only goal. Even as  it suppose to be hard it is a step of what i expect.    
 
  March 18th
  A sick wind flys over the moist plane of a field.

    Joan was just pullin gin the last of the laundry, it had been a nic day but as the sky truned grey , she had gone to grab what was left of the bed sheets which refused to be dry  the time out. 
  She could not do the laundrey this way and had been paying and driving  all winter, but today was a great day for it, well since morning. 
  claude was inside waiting for the paint to dry. Waiting for a hope to cross his throughts something which would help. something to ease the poverty of his and Joan?s life. 
  Jobs on the internet lead only to messages where he won the tottery in some place warm and would have to just give his bank account number address, social security number, and other information. shoe size was included on one, he guessed to fit for the fool?s costume, they would send later.  
  Would the hope come ? He was so smart. he thought about most things. He figured out almost everything he ever placed his mind to, built and or fixed lots of houses over the ten years on and off working carpentry which started just lifting shingles and watch for his hands with the saw, and ended with telling people or really answering question if the crew knew less than him, his boss always looked him in the eye when telling what was to be done, just before he ran off to get the next job or just say hello to the people who have jobs,, everyone worked, 
  So Claude knew he wasn?t that dumb. but he just couldn?t figure out economics. Not the part where it says, You have to have money to make money , he understood that . it  He understood give a pear that cost a time the price of a dollar, Just cause you could. 
  Hell he figured everyone knew the Game called Drug wars but he couldn?t see spending his time that way , the catholic's had a word for over charging. In fact all religious orders understood avarices. but it don?t feel right to make it a common practice, everything was such an investment. 
  Investment lead to pre planing of life. such that if my time is invested in scraping money from its owners, his soul would forget the second. would invest in physical pretend, a fostering of plastics pretentious plastic people . plastic potential. Intuition and souls, ecomonic is like shitting I have to do it but i dont want to talk about it. someone said sounds like mark twain, One thing clusde never did was give up his reading , Unemployment also suited him.He once even got to spend four months in jail just ketching up with contrempory publsihing He wouldnt call it letereture grammer school wouldnt cover his declairations so his writing he rately shared. 
 and when he did he cheapeened it some how wit his presents, we discount what is infront of us. 
 Staring at the computer screne gets one to wondering . how many micor waves can one person contact with ? before you get cancer. or how many animal studies were done before releaseing a wide screene just after he wondered what kind of sites did the rate go to . . the rain had started Jean ran in. 

     Two and a half acres had watched a sky together since 1924 as Movers would measure. Burdocks and crap grasses two feet high.. again as Moblies would call them. escaping dead leaves and bits of trash , off  highway , a small stretch along the eastern edge seperate from the other acres, the two and a half would all join together and sing. thought songs they call it , Movers hear it, As their words russel , Wind against the long grass hairs , tenicals , feeling, ?The sky passes. Clouds and their sick Jokes, Making shapes, just to amuse themselves and tease the ground. The jolly over all.?
    Faces, and animals, long streaks of whitish slim puff ones condensed to frayed twine-ish-ness, or and larger puffs like countries, each edge a profile,  shaded, changing with sun and multicolored in the moisture.  Rain changes them looking grey with heavy sober eyes, the weight of the world in the exchange with a far away mother sea. Moblies are made of her, but only we are able to understand the breath of life a constant, Each for a place of being each an importance. 
  
  ?What Plants are in a Montana Plan??
    You see the clouds don?t really care sometimes, the sun does , at night comes the Moving ones, those who travel, mostly four legged ones, small mostly , mice and moles, which leads to snakes and hawks. the birds after what the ground lets hid. they run beetween us. and constrantly eat our young, fresh little seedlings gone to the way. 
      ?Dizzy with speed they must be.?   the moblis are to go walking at all,, but off in the distance the aged stand,, moblies call them trees,, but they are the next life. there standing just over there. the hight of being plant. the tree. it is grace filled to see heaven. the time lessness of tree. protector of fertile ground.. hope of the expansion of knowledge through all.. material voiced knowledge, 
  Most statified am , in the rain that comes to me, Always asking the silly one , for more, Accept a couple of times where to much was to much  but all of us just loved it really , to go swimming is fine. foating is the way of All , well at least of us,, the one,, in-Moblies real inert, for one my kind is really here. Moblies run so fast, scared.

March 20th a springing

And it is trust of you I write
the words lost and merry
for clarity is not me, 
 wanting never to be so concise, 
i wanted to write contrite.
I would have /will quest
for the out of focus
self mirror if only to give 
me something
 to do.  
as technology 
is a feeling
character balance intellect.
what is modern air
to neutrinos and metaphysics
Rhyming with Quantum
so willing  Physics
my eyes closed, 
concentrate on the work of the wood, 
drawings by tree knots
bowing infinite image
A search for form 
and structure 
while breathing 
in justice. 
is in Just-us. 
  and as i say things
 I see more and 
more exterior. 
Placing conversations as an another 
acting as i would if i remember
that I am trying to forget. 
the  baby and bath water.  
  to remind myself 
of personal choice, 
the dark once horse, 
of surviver?s without choice 
without suffering the riot
of a storm?s marching
Upon a peacefull parade
Cells unity. 
Against Broken mirrors and bad acts. 
Rumors of illusions , 
the best boys in town. 
the  conclusion of belt welts whelps, 
two  by four attracts
 stand and take what you cannot
 fight back from, 
A soreness of Equality.

Like a tree to nature , 
solid,studied, stoic,
   I want /have /will 
Would have/
will dance with angels. 
   sharing telling being 
like dew
spread, clear. reason 
a touch
common and quake me
no presence  forsakes me
among to one
 and gone. 
What I couldn?t love. 
couldn?t know. 
  I will/ have/ would 
dance with the angles
where pinnacle peace
 gave reference,
 romantic idealized intriguers
without mirrors
innocents to tell and leave. 
Like so many 
, like never needed
 never here.
for all had 
 a moment 
before now,
out-toxic conclusions 
will titillated blindness, 
dancing with angels
 as i sleep

I wanted not a real change, 
No, just a little more devoted. 
would have been fine. 
the ways
 feel like falling up
a happy cliff, it feels ,
 I feel. 
Substantial for being. 
not a crutch 
or an  arm chirst needed
no wrong choice 
and it is loving
 what you do. 
by the endth degree
 you will be closer.
a room is more than a room 
to hid from the world around, 
a place inside and exterior
once we give up crying doubt
?negative subconscious true? 
reactions, the personal Pavlov. 

I never have purpose
 when i write. 
It is life?s life, you give it . 
  I  prefer to stumble,
 investing ever path
 ideas give and take.
 I should be more controlling,
 and only come to the floor 
when i have something to say, 
but found hardly
 ever a chance.

 Importance cares not 
 forty six year old
 lives in his car.
 a younger man, once 
 lived what he sought 
each part celebrates.
 this one 
an endless joy 
of guilt free living.

 tired placements 
apartments and others. 
great relief  art.
 I was, am, will be 
afraid to admit it, 
it is excepting yourself
 that makes you ill 
and accepting your self
 that will save you. 
by love of the cloth humanity 
silences surrounding me, 
frog listening, out there,
 just beyond the waiting. 

Saned glass

   Stained glass is pieces of cut glass fashioned into Lamps shades, windows and other decorative uses. I mention this focus because of a story i want to write, but can not seem to get it done.  Like Most ideas for stories I dreamt.
  I mean that I literally dreamt this.  A once of a next day, slowly waking up, concentrated on a stained glass image from the night before. it is my active imagination or a complete disregard for reality which gives me to do this. 
  So anyway, i have a story running around, which is basically about a maker of stained glass, an artist who take pictures and divides them into little pieces of color and thin lines of lead. 
  YOU must see, 
 before you can start . 
     The usage i am getting from my ignorance is the beauty of delay , as in i have ,since coming up with the story , wondered on the symbolism of stained glass. from it?s basics. to the lendings all around it.  
 It is common joes of me but first i envision the  windows of church. the perspective of a right and wrong , of morals, of life, how we look through things to see better or ?more romantically? Maybe it is that we just don?t want to see what is in front of us. 
We are, intentional-ly blacking it out, or ?red?ding or ?yellow?ing. Erasing whatever we want,  picking and choosing our ignorance , it make us civil.  Gives us peace, where otherwise we would be merely, ?not at peace?. I would be more twisted if i said ?we would be concerned? ?we would be reactive? but we bow to any real ?I give a shit? making gestures and well meaning words when captured, when i say ?we? i am talking of the we that gets in front , the we of politics but we know what false rumor that is , but all the ?we?s sitting who answer caring as leaving the pennies at Mc Donalds,  but don?t tip a waiter, All them We?s  sorted together with lead, I guess i am exploring stareing glasses, 
 the types of glass and the how to install. wondering on, research has been good or I really don?t know how to put together a story.  and tone . too is somewhere there. the how to . you know like you are suppose to put it in an order, a known to discus at parties. 
  I sometime think I just want a real voice like Hewingway or Stienbeck, but then i want the art of Melville, Poe or Conrad, or the drama of Tolstoy, Hugo or the criticism of Dante, or Moore, Shaw, Albe. But to read isn?t to write. 
 Concepts as full as a novel are whole people. a one for one, I must know myself. You can never really know another book. does the mind turn off personal  problems while writing. Say I am getting close to a telling life, so you seperate, 
or is it again me, presenting pages of ?around topic? playing with glasses. 
  they live in my head, and i have often thought about they. So many times to hear the secret agreements of  singular groups.  
Never tell how big the they are, WTO, IMF, NSA,CIA,FBI PBS the last one is wrong , got you with that, 
The Military Industrial Complex, Apple, Microsoft, The theys of excuses and planning. Are you part of a they, Each ?they? could you Please form you own super pack so i can tell you apart. 
  but reason allows blindness, while society imposes it. When truth isn?t agreeable. Emotional truth leads conscious. ? am sad for My children? I know weather science will trump all. ?and technology says  we can answer the waste of oil with solar, electric home generators and Millions of off home systems, Off grid houses by Walmart. 
as the next round of real estate, will be improved homes. Updated , retreads, Mandatory for all new builds and maybe bank loaned houses.. 
 Dear Obama, 
  Federal guidelines should be created on the best ?off grid? housing designs, 
with a design contest Ten winners get to build the houses, and a judgment is measures by the house output , then engineers come up with systems to refit Old houses.  Does wiring have to change, or is it simple into the electric box? there is that which says look away , but sight is young, It?s harder to put on blindness , the more you see. or is it...it is just a guilt system where you sacrifice a caring with a caring conscious effort, almost a pride. ?I am so above caring. I must like the meat and don?t wonder if it is human.?
   but  little pieces is all i can take itemized and broken to beautified cells. 
I try to not think about the interconnection of multi colors as real community.  a symbol of everyone together forming something that changes light. or just colors the world around. I don?t want to include it to analysis mostly because , sometime most times people are uneasy to fit together a larger portrait, would be how nations are made, with lines around the edge, important line boundaries we should not cross,  nationality has nothing to do with my equation. and yet you can see a planned image divide up , fully with isolated unclear glass, and each nation does have a romantic part to play. 

    I would rather think from the individual dividing moments, learning education. into a whole character, we are to ourselves. Each remembrance spread over a form. 
 and even as not all the red moments really happen , many of the blues did, less yellow then in a final design and much more green unless we present a wooded scene,  somehow green i would give a tenancy to represent trees and a peaceful perspective, but green the money also is the envy , how did green become Go. and I leave it for purple. in royalty or is that blue blood, is purple love, 
  All symbols of one Event , a strained glass peace. 


 another day , In the car in the life, i feel so apart of , but only sometimes not today, L-- wanted to ride. a fantastic trip to dream about a house i can not afford but yet she interests me to be apart of . I guess, for every time it comes to the same end. You can not beat the rest you have, her in the room with an apartment complex around, Me in my car , you can not beat that ,
	 and then i wonder if it is not just me accepting what life i lead because of restrictions for survival.  I must admit i would feel quite destitute if tomorrow L-- was gone. Like i have made a life around her, and yet always feel i would break fantasy to follow myself again, risking being unloved by feeling my will full devices , to play more , to surround myself with musicians, Even as I am not one of them, talent leaves me short, or leaves me wanting , for the best have it as second nature, when L-- wasn?t around last summer i was active, a day in fairhaven ,three days reading/ writing to fill more notebooks trying to expand some settlement to the honor of being. 
   I can walk by myself and the places i can go some can?t to much control not enough faith , And Maybe it is important for me to tell people I am an artist , I guess i don?t look the part enough I think or the words I produce never seem to get much comment. But then is a said that works with comfort, an affordable dream where what is rather enough for some to guard their conscious. 
it is that I often feel to look at another is to know where they are to go. but where is self bound, I don?t know future i only know what other events i want to take place , I have more freedom soon, summer gives me an ability to play the streets Play music sometimes just strum and wait to play an original song , but more people then me hear me, and each smiling look of appreciation gives me something, I rarely acknowledge to myself. It gives me a lust for life. a will to keep going, through it may stem from a fantasy 
  So today i drove . letting L-- pick the direction she looking for houses , me trying not to break her bubble with a reality i feel true.  Who?s is right Neither but i guess i can not see L-- with other people , we always comment on them but rarely on us. 
 I guess here i do just that , to try and understand, I guess i don?t want to be in the car, but also don?t want a false life, I am driven to truth you have first to live it and then understand it, physically then mentally , and on and on. like you can say . ?i was a beaten child? but then the effects are hardly understood with much contemplation and even then emotional product takes even longer, Leading to more and more gates opening. Such that living in my car, has controlled me, also , even as it free?s me , i think and feel closer to my goals by living what they are more than placing one foot in a construction boot and the other in half art. 
  Now I am full in and I wish practise and realize personal change, had been my life more. Years do produce our incrimination of self sight , I layer my development with ?if only i knew this before?  this intricate self harmony and accepted love . 
  I still wish to be in love . Like product doesn?t make art, Art is a lifestyle of devotion more that product , for it fulfills each second and waits not , and hardly wants audience . 
 We drive , no where. Taking turns by a throw of dice. i choose sometimes never really wanting , I have seen places , passing so many, but i want to get out and touch the soil create by acknowledging creations. blessing soil with a song. 
 I will try and get more video this year, more art. 
  and if i go to ca. I must get a bike cause i don?t want to get pulled over or get parking tickets , I think we should go to Boston and shake some hands , tour the city , you will get your own ides. 
Newbury street and a show at the Moca, we could go to museum on free Wednesday , we could record my album we will take more hi eight video.. battery is better and converstions about Expansionism. 
  An idea L-- talks of , and i guess i should love her for just that. 
 In mankind?s ability to know anything he documents his change, it is the dialog created from the steps, which i look at with writing, as in telling the layers of self like a one time film concept influence Italian Painters , so history moments are created of common preceptive's. where as culture is humanities documentation of now.  what profits prophets 
veins conscious ?Id?ty and not , we are the mistakes of others concepts of perfection. balance with natural happenings a common space recognition of waters simplicities, 
Expansion doesn?t have matter. in this usage infinite is thought, emotions and perspectives.
 Layered each on another and of these we balance technological humanity  we expand , we understand change, personal to devote common sense to nature, to show the expansion is to let levels become of themselves. Like surrealistic automatic writing, that which comes at you , like a conversation, direct concise. I?ve been in bars saying these things. it?s funny to repeat something so often , you forget what you know, for how you feel about it. 
  to expand and communicate is part of technological freedom ... and is change in personal recognition of energy , god,aliens, space, self absorb-tions, intuition, schorkras, and every old hat new age-y thing, and yet balance to economics precludes understandings and abstracts humanity. 
 when one is peace is gone another moves forward what you write you reap. 
 In L-- abstract expansion visual act. is create in layers portraying to the subject, depicted by the name of the piece. A painting is created around the answers philosophical and symbolically , and the viewer gets to see the image of the whole , L-- uses the steps of abstracting self enough to expand the concept of humanity , for the whole of many layesrs each advancing the painting to what we get to see.. a whole.. 
   there is no mistaking her work is teaching , Expansion comes with  recognized stepping stones of self and world graduations.  
it?s only tonight i thought of this . 
  today the modeling clay was on the front dash , during a hot morning.  I have many things on the dashboard of Tara.. a GI Joe has ridden with me fro three summers. the Tigger stapler, since before i got tara, or since i moved in ,, bed and blanket i tried a pillow in the beginning, the damp and cold effected it. but the modeling clay has again melted i moved the women, the piece i am working three and half inches tall sitting on her haunches, siting on a head.. i moved her to the back carefully, I didn?t know she would turn to liquid if enough heat is applied.  sitting on her haunches with your feet under you but you are leaning back. 
 tonight it looks nice, in the cold almost melted ,, but it gave me a trill to remember sculpture. i really enjoy it like it creates passion in me and lives through touch.  
25 March 2012 
 Listening to the news on the way to the resting spot, a place just by the highway but with a high wall divide thirty feet or so or cement.  the resting place is not directly in front of anyone?s home. I like apartment complexes where no one is in charge, you rent an apartment and feel less inclined to call the police over a stopped car parked on your street . It isnt your street you only rent , and with that dis-owner stature you envelope community. Renter are more communal globally then locally.  We don?t feel apart of the Local because of our temporal nature of residence. 
  Or at least that is what I imagine having little real time to explain it. Houses with uncool people call police there are many places where poverty is a crime. 
  I hear there are city?s towns that vagrancy is a charge , a jail able offense without a credit card.  The intellectual aspect of car living would drive Einstien to know practical physics. YOu park outside . you sleep outside , you must recognize the natures of communities around you. Looking out for predators and the paranoid. experience and tales from shelters are normal exchanges of information. Like where have I been woke in the middle of the night by police. Almost never. In crimes stories the homeless live in abandoned cars. People represented as patients or going to be patients of mental wards, for there are no more state hospitals. We don?t gather our crazies we disperse them, after proper meds.
 Staying off grid involves some thought on you daily security . but you know i often think the more you have the more you would be willing to die for. the diversity of cultures are just characterists of philosphy. Preceptions rule emotions and somewhere become Heaven/enlightenment/Narvana because it is a nonphysical state. as such is now. Transpriable in a seocond a metaphysical understanding. Preceiveable in techological understanding. 
  to many thoughts, what neighbors hear
 to park in street takes over, alone. 
and each corner is a rock.
 So paranoid television watchers
 crime shows. and such long legs 
sexuality. optic training of half seconds. 
Product chart what the mass hears
what self converts into 
subconscious as taught. 
a bad thing to live in your car. 
a bad thing to owe all the time. 
  a matter of security.
I can see the without, I
have given up pretension 
of survival under a gun. 
the movement of money troubles me. 
but it is a learned event, 
in exchange
 goods for quality.


 Each job i have worked was for the money. I dont know writing had me for the sake of cash, I said to J--- one time ?yes? He had asked if i wanted to be a poor nameless poet or was it?  ?What do you want to be a Dead Poet??  Keats and all that. 

  I didn?t answer because greatness is really only remembering what we want to be . and has nothing to do with the mind that dreams, and writes it.  Actually Greatnesss is the use other have of the information you represent. I am nothing , yes i write but i will not be seen by the majority of functionaries the world see?s daily , it is not of truth we are attracted to Now. it is How further and further can you take me to the lie, to the story, to the blame, to tell of the self is a sin. it would ask for a further of heart where there is onlly more suffereance to be spread around.  
  I was with a small town Occupy, the rising of people agaisnt corporate control of american , a rising in the streets, Watching  as street sence pointed our usages, central factors, misrepresentations, dis unifiing ideas, simplicity started to rule, commonity diveides rising quickly , like we werent all first out there marching in a show of strength for people planet and peace. that names and reasons are secondary to why. we took over a steplight, and for once let out anguish over representation without Listening. 
  The blood lines to think , the controls inflicted as nature, both mental and physical have ruled out a peoples leaders one who saw earth as planet. but our consciousness as the true realiztion of space. Prespective lead thought a culture becomes known.  





 March 25 12

  the day has proceeded.. escaping with L-- but there is no escape and i feel trapped by what i can not create myself. it is to feel. the difference , the alarm that this is all just hanging on to a movement which many have lived but few tell of ,, what would someone want to know of poverty , i limitedly deal with , for it is boring right , where can a story go from there. my middle class ness shows through as i am homeless but have a car,, i am poor but both my guitar are sellable, my computer could be gone, my video camera, all just representations of some kind of hope i dont seem to want to let move me.. i seem becasue maybe i have learned nothing is to move the system off the coarse, so why me? i am directly relationable.. i am poor , ten percent unemployment, when you dont count those who arent registered with unemployment offices. The system reports jobs into the system at the same time it says how many were lost, each balencing out to change nothing, or the system adds jobs but people who has stopped looking suddenly get some hope and start. for every person newly employed is another watching , you see the smiles change, the see thehope return to there eyes. until they realize they are doing the same as befor efor less pay, and just getting up is just keeping up.. then the smiles become the hard baring substance of getting by, while the amercian underclass becomes the third worlder,, except our garbage dumps are bigger, oh and we are not allowed to build shanty towns.. no structures are errected without permits. 
 the amercian third world is make up of people from here mostly ,, it is a land of who cares, and we have died in number for what ,, for this ,, for a land created to be control by the money before even health.. with reason for a blindness, instead of a cause, Is it cause you said there was no god,, and buisness was let to have no remorse cause once corporates structures where included among the people we found they were those who were tarred and feathering in the small town analige,, those who would leak oil just to maniuplate global media. distaction destution denial and demand. hehehe such the pregant we and them, the buyer the seller, product and postiveity. while to be negative is to understand ways of the evil in mens minds. the push and stubborness not to be one of them,, in poe tonight i read of the vulgar class,, lol. where once money so seperated themselves with good ness, with god,, with reason fo being in the front light just for birth,, they worked harder it is said. 
    makes me want to walk into a bank , and say i need one hundred thousand, to get three programers into a room , with the lastest flash software, with the streaming capasity, with musicians, with community develpment, with computers. with a secondary school..after one year. 
   I will create a media corporation which organizes the Free schooling method of teaching. with an adoptable system . i will do  it through videos, and streaming music, i will call it the enertialcall because i have been working on the marketing of the name for fifteen years. and with the right money involved i will be able to get the product up and running, 
  the product will be many products, a Litertary art magazine with mis spelled words, and slanting opinions, with each dia loge unspoken in society, or spoke with only a hint of sincerety or ,, a whole hearted Agreement. ,media survives or fails on the philosphy projected , find the philosphy find the schora, the schora is what we are reaching for. we , being the enertialcall.. ? we unitfy in the mind ? 
  profitable enityies,, 
   all ?product? will invovle a considerations ad revenue-

l. Accouulated from a membership organization-- 1000, dollars will be used to get the 501c3, first step is to become a nonprofit,, then, this organization will fund the Enertialcall media with talent, and social mediums, with donations, toward the mission. 

the mission of the Enertialcall Society involves conversations around metaphysics, The whys of life. the achievement of a world philosophy through learning to have an awareness of change and personal growth, a non physical peace realized and understood by our connection to water, and Energys path ways. neutrons go through everything, Spirit is a collection of energy. Peace is easy thorugh understanding energy.  
the Mission of the art of the Enertialcall is teaching,,for which wilth every learning portray we save anothers life.  (minding you that alot of what we will do in the buisness will be organizing to create people control buisnesses) the idea that you start with the Orgainization of people, In this case a non profit group with people organize to do what they like to do.. such that Money comes just after passion and detailed clairity, and at first will be given free. 
 like facebook or any SM except, then the Media organization , will pay after a contractualed amont of hits, We will reach out where no one has gone before. by using a fiction approach,, 
2. Enertialcall Media.. profitableity is in Ad sales off the Magazine, and Gallery, Live performers streams,  (Gallery will be an on line gallery where picture are given the whole screen and  there will be rooms,, )   
             2a.  Show sales,(booking clubs to have a traveling show called Enertialcall Release parties. We go to a town get a promoter in each town through the us, or enough promoters that we get free bands to jplay ,, for a six hour show, with the highest culture we can get on the road,, and sell magazines,
              2b. the Office.. will be the place we do all the recording and prerecording, and for the beinging ,, a live Jam space... with all the equipment on stage.. and coffee house.. with two urns, and you have to bring your own cup. (we store them for you.) and take all donations. .. the perfromance space will have booked events on weekends. . if we have to. in the beinging. just the atmosphere of the working back buisness, for we will have an office and a space. will drive the front stations, we will get involved with people and try to find ways of them partiscapting in the coffee house. in the back buisness, we will move them to be come part of the enertialcall effort to create an employee own buisness. where you come in with nothing but all you have ever been, and we find a product that fits,, we create a product. be it a craft section, where you buy the crafts around the counter, we also sell cups .. like ones we find in thrift stores,, and put peoples names on them with marker or we design cups and sell them,, A kiln in the back , and clay available, a spin somewhere. 
  if i was living my life is what L-- and i talked of tonight. I have never had much room for converstation about actions. i dont like to preplan, and yet , i have been all my life. 
  you know i look for points of my depressive thinking. points i can shave off by appling some sandpaper in the form of listening to myself. the point of writing is to idenifites these blunders of  attitudes? of  reasonings and place them with the others i have already read and seen,, more seen of myself than read,, and yet.. reading enhances what we get of reality , of what we can see is more reality. 
   I talked to L== tonight, I wanted to tell her, something she would not hear from me,, or hear in general. from the begining, there has been a certain giving away to be around, a being outside of myself with limited attentions. as soon as the first time you told me i was wrong about something. and then you respond in one of your states , that you felt lonely , and so i can not hear that, i am lonely all the time. so to ease another?s pain anothers loneliness gives me heart. but it is a trap , for inside that, i stand with little self respect.  i am to this or that to be a human in your presence. I must like the cat , be quiet and i condoned that. i listen and respond and run away to be myself on a street corner because i have no friends that let me be myself.   Cause i don?t know any one. and only feel accepted where i am known,, I present a lot to take in the suddenly. Leading to many incorrect conclusions. Personally  I don?t deny what i do..what i think,, what i want to do.. Life is only to be without denial. 
  simple ,, without denial is with hope, and without guilt is to feel whole. 
  simple..  so i run into my living as a silence, like a grand wall i didn?t see myself building, again. it is me and my comfort of what life is,, it is a left over from years i grew without personal power, and now I see the connections to clearly and have little to understand accept living what i have said. Words are easier than action, emotion and clarity. Or maybe my brother is right and i am Lazy,, And no we don?t talk but with someone that close you feel what the would say , you feel it cause you think you know them, you think you can be around them and tell exactly what they will do.  
  it is to be alive in the moment which is life. the moment is death , a point, perspective or position of life,  is there is no change of conscious only a change in Awareness.  Death is not pertinent to real living and yet you are most aware when you are dying. (kubla ross) I think perspectives start with our understandings of time.. and a large amount fitting into a smaller amount,, like when you meditate and time seems to leave , when you are not connected to it.   here is a misunderstanding of time..and yet it is the concept of what we call death that has moved Humanity.  But the faith and fear of retribution after life ,, which is funny ,, because in that voice, It, religion, denies life in the moment, for the life ever after, and yet all is ever after only body is temporal, and yet your cells are all energies. . such that utopia is a ?now? state of personal consciousness and an awareness of change to promote more self awareness. with only peace at the end, but a promoted lived intellectual peace at all times. a Peace of state through promotion of progressions, paid by the state.. 
  
  If a state is to be true must be a constant. but in the same vein Uncontrollable,, and more turned toward immediate truth then politically sided reasoning of truth. I can tell you how it has become and i can not talk about what i want to do. i don?t want to do it. i would rather just be accepting nature and living inside that, the wind creating my air conditioning and the heat then when it is gone  accepting the cold, the rain, just because that is. but same with the birds, and feeling the green of trees, talking to the cat through its desires. I have always felt i was helping the people around me, that has given me a wholeness no matter what other events are happening to me ,, i wanted to feel i was helping others. and when i become a pain i leave,, and often i have, jobs have been sparse since coming west i could say there was is more i could do.. i guess i would drive into neighbor hoods looking for small jobs handing out cards again. 
  the Many Services agency. 
        smart guy with muscles. 
  ? someday never comes , casue its already here,?

march twenty something
   this is one of those nights where i worry ,, I have come to rest at the same place i have been using off and on for about three month, ever since the problem with the driveway of the abandoned house. I have scoped it out, limited visiablity , by an apartment complex. and it has been quiet, little walk by traffic. but then two days ago I saw a home owner watching me , pointing at me,, almost a hundred yard from where i was and still i could hear the word. ?there is some guy living in his car over there.. You see..? his hand pointing the way to younger man beside him. The second man had a organge jacket the kind road crews wear. I could really make the connection to why he would call him to look. but never the less he did,, and they stood there looking in my direction for a moment, until i stopped watching them, and rolled a cigerette or something. and they were gone. and i drove away. 
  but it is reconzitions like that that remark something else going on. you cant hear them but often the sign of someone sleeping in their car is a dirty sign, a poverty sign, a mark that this is a new world and people are getting really poor.. Or i feel mostly for i can not hear them I just read their eyes. Or .. people think you are just lazy, and people with houses usually feel so tearatorial about there peice of the rock they look down on those who dont give a shit about the rules. the get up and bow everyday , the economic escapisms of money and some sort of gold pride that comes with it. alot of the time i think it is just jealousy, they know how much they bent over to be part of the system Pay their taxes, home bills. the really nastiest usually are males who lost their wifes. who will talk to anyone and complain cause thats just what they have done for all their lives but with someone to listen. Men dont seem to get nicer as they get older. women seem to appreciate culture more as they get older, but all that is just genderisms and i should stay away from it. I have bothered by Men more than women, i will say that. 
  but to go back to a space where someone has given that warning sign, is dangerous. Unknown, like a foreshadow of some rightious citzen protecting the neighborhood. there peice of land their stable minds.. already so cohersed in to thinking they are right. they dont see how close we all are to living , if we only tried to live our dreams more often. 
  I have lived in the car ever since i left a lovers house. a place where their was teenagers, and my favorite cat, I had started to drive cab then, and wasnt getting home much, i would get up at one in the afternoon, and drive until three or so. She sometimes wasnt home when i got there. i stopped seeing the kids. off to school , and i would leave just as they were getting home. I tried to stay but then i got depressed , andinstead of taking the pills i take now. I just got depressed, crying , turned into myslef. such that no one could understand my pain , and i coldnt tell them, I couldnt tell her i was lost every time she cheated on me. and every time i thought i was being used. So i couldnt look normal and that was that. I started to save money , and stayed out every night until three, hoping to get one more ride. one more to make today a good day, afford my life alittle. and i saved and didnt give her a penny , she lost it then. and i left. 
 for the next year , I slept in the car and drove all night. on the weekends i would get a hotel room and talk to women on the internet, i started the Enertialcall as a website. and planned when i would again start the magazine , but first i would create the website. and videos. 
  it was a fun life really , i spent as much on hotels as i would have spent on rent.. but i didnt notice really , there was something about spending my time in the close comforts of the car. even through the winter, where i felt more alive. For alittle bit i camped out at C=== house in Woburn Mass, a small room off the hall way, Her son lived there, and eventually she moved out. her son had a party when she was away and the cops were called , the door broken , i had already left. heard about it all second hand. Micheal was her son. I liked him, and when i las ttalk to him i thought he was crossing over the  ground between on world and the next. the difference between sucess in everyones terms , and just lazy drinking and such. 
he died right before christmas the three months later. in a car with partiers on a hy way. all for not C==== has never been the same. 
  I guess it is late so no bothering yet tonight, i will leave here early in the morning. 
tomorrow is day one again without smoke. I still dont know what life is like without it. will i be happy with the focus and intelligence, has it realy all just been the week, lurking through my viens stoping me from being myself. I guess its easy to fall down and stay there after you have been pushed there some many times while growing. but a step father, by a brother. then by bosses , landlords and lovers. you have to cheat little to stay beyond them. I think it is more just paying attention and believing yourself. 
  He did look and point me out. i will start looking for another quiet place again tomorrow. somewhere to take the pressure off here. 
   
 March 27th 2012
  
  I remember the difference of sanity . . the difference of drugs and real character, again. like when i quit drinking. 
  I smoked Marijuana tonight, again ending a long week of nightly and morning smoking. Sitting in the car, sorting life into thinking and feeling or plans and forgetting. as all the world is a now of its enjoyed moments. I would like to have nature and so after years of marijuana daily , three times a day, I am to quit, for many reasons, the first of which is i found a lesser sobriety fulfilling, lessor for higher . to little an event of drunks , the sparkle of the world mixed with a trip. You wake up when they close the bar. 
 the lights the mirrors, each a countless remembrance of a time before or just before, just before i lost my way and forget, I walk blind or have, such that the next event of my own perspective is because i have felt the reverse. the words without the ?smoke? painfully hard but more connected to plot, which leads to product. 
  I know focus is to replace the controlled now. Yes, I feel again, I will be sad for a week, and yet this time i know things, My neck wont get stiff that much, my writing will be worse and yet i will work through that, it was a daze, but i love life on it, could deal with everything because I dreamed it all. Believing myself and sometimes doing things where i was only desire and basking in perversions, absorbing what transcendence lends, fantasy is only an un-lived want. 
  I don?t know if i have been remembering myself or just completing a cycle. but i am starting to pull out of one stage, I forget myself sometimes I forget i write and want to write.
    That was all i could get out that day ,, ?and want to write? it is like i forget what i want , it is because i could hardly feel what i wanted, it comes with being stoned to much , it is funny ,, today is the fifteenth, and yes it has not been a month yet. but today I read about artist. i read about the chain of visual artist. the oil painters who?s classic work has gone the way of them mind which follows thought in comprehension of potraying perspectives, always reaching through to the next , stopping for a while at each stage, changing , the body of work that has become our cultural history is like a person, accept we only get our own one hunrdred years or less, or less.. a pause for death , 
   I have seening agaisn an appreciation for myself this weekend, maybe it is just the weather, It is April fivetheen,, and the sun is coming out more, the days are turning, as they do in washington, to a california representation when the winter is like no where else. and mayb ethat is all i am feeling , my i am not stoned. and havent been for a couple of weeks. I have the exact date on my cell phone , on the calendar, stored waiting for a day to be remembered after a long time wanting it to come, because i was and have forgotten feelings for the feeling of getting out of life. teh subconscious is easier to see when it is not rulling your life. , when after all the years have gone by showing what it has meant to not be conscious even while you proposed to be, to tonight i was reading about artist, of them getting in rouble which their worlds, like one that was almost killed but for a benefactor who saw the beauty in their work, all the fuckups who could do nothing else but art, and rarely did they make money off thier work. and that is not really what i wanted to mention. For while reading , i remembered, seventh grade, adn my first painting, I remembered that i started off this great adventrue wanting to paint , and not because there was such things as great painter, no , it was becuase i saw a painting of a dog my grand father had done which was on my mothers bedroom wall, and how that painting stayed on every wall in every room my mother had, and it was my grandfather who painted it. a man who worked all his life on the railroad, or atleast that is all i know of him, and he came home and painted, he created on a blank canvas, the look of an boxer all black and white wit a blank stare that was never changed and always secure. as the world proceeded it was that painting more than anything else which drew me to art. and then it was my brother who wrote, that drew me to words, it was funny that i automatically forgot my brothers leadership.  I demanded of myself other reasons, like ?every famous person, and that meant every person of worth, wrote. I wanted to be a worth person.      
  So i had to write, and so i did, but it is not until now that i feel the work as i do it. feel what can not be taken away , the love of creation and communication. ,, if you are going to do weed , Marijuana, you should know something , It takes away a natural ablity to find joy , you get doubt full of your true feelings. and as such you are in a constant state of need. either more weed, or more confidence. So you don?t complete projects with a full heart, maybe that is an over estimation and it depends on the person you are an the amount you do. but generally I find in myself a change , more of a connection to the ways of life. around me and of me, less everyday fear, and less need to be, for loving to just be.  i have never really wanted to be more that myself, never wanted to portray myself for other that what i am , but you know no matter what you do , people get some idea of what you are, by what you say, I have always said i am a writer, but i have never written for money , Maybe if this gets out that will be different, but the leading has often felt different and i felt like i was lieing. and yet i always did write, and mostly always will, but tonight right now i feel different about it.  i feel like it matters. and that communication is being served. 
  Each of the great artist have been comprimised by the attractions of money , limited in there pionts of exploration becuase of what the times asked for , landing into different explainations of visualiality and cultural prespectives.  I thin i will be doing more drawing. 
  it is late. and the computer my eighthundred dollar friend which is this communication devise i cherish so much , is tried. i am tried. One oclock in the car, i am again at that spot where i was thinking i would have trouble but none has come. last night a van with large lights pulled up behind me, no one got out, it left early in the morning, scared me a little. my safty a point of worry sometimes just for a secure sense of self preservation more that accual fear, safty first, is to be aware of the world around you , as i have said. 
  last week my other spot became trouble , as the community around me called the cops on me, it was my second night , the police officer was kind, and said , ?mr ambrose, you are scareing the old women around here.. did you know this was a senior citizen community ??  I said i did, it was early and i didnt know what i was saying , I had no idea. but i responded in a frightened way , which made the officer alittle confused but he didnt follow up on it. and went away. In every state one has to carry insurance on the car, except in washingotn state right now you don?t have to prove it. unless asked, he didn?t ask. I calmed down right after he left , and i left just as fast. 

No need to write more on that right now. the world spins faster than we can ketch it. and every day i am waking up to a new descision and every night i forget it. and hope instead, I wish on stars to change things for me, even as i know that is wrong. and almost stupid. But no matter what will happpen or has , I know truthfullness to self and sufferance is the key to knowing love. It is a subject i have researched but rarely knew personally , It was something others had, and that wich i never to give myself so never really gave another , though i pined quite a bit over that point many times. In my beatial mind, knowing i was ?in love? a fact for me then where you gave away your life and had little to do with you, I was again wrong. One can only have themselves and then love. but so many of us never recieve love and have to define it anyway possible, just to get through the day,  definitons come mostly as excuses until you see through them. I still would define love between two people as like the helix of dna, spiralling around each other energy.  But now i look closer to see each of the helixes have to come to love for the energy to share to be worth anything. if you are not in love or atleast accepting of your life, you cna not be stable enoug to form a whole life with another , i didnt think of that in the past, it was always tinging the helix was the love and all would cahnge accordingly , but the love of another can not replace love of self. , self repect and trust has to come first.  Maybe i am comin gcloser to realizing that kind ofself love through this life i live now. for there is little to seperate me from thoughts now. and every day revolves around them, directon self understanding are all i have now. I dont even have money to get me away from the point, wiht money yo buy yourself. and sufferer the ego that thinks all is fine.  
  I have lived in the car since april of last year, I had a place tfor the winter of that year. wher i built a shake with a sleep loft. but before that i sleep in the car also. and then i had a place for a couple of month, and before that i lived in a storage shed. but off and on for the four years i have lived in washingotn state i have lived in my car. i wasnt allowed to sleep in the storage shed, and was sleeping in my car, so really more on than off, During this time i have read alot. Tolstoy , Dostorvesky , Hugo, Balzac, Poe, Camus, Conrad, Mellville, with no order, just what ever struck my eye, i have a gift certificate and tomorrow with go pick out a new book, I was thinking Gram Greene, or Nabikov. it doesnt seem to matter who i read I am just reading for the fantasy , and to be able to say i have read them, the intricates of observations of humanity inspire me, the plots are all just what happens, but he way the storeys are told the smallness, the minor sentences makes me rememeber that every part of life is important. but as you can see i dont write in fictional makeup, Life is ficiton. because of how we see it is often only as well as we can interiorly understand it. which is often a ficiton to what it is .  I wonder when i started to walk away from love and self desing, Or weather i put self design in front of love and so didnt love as much as wanted to dirct my life no matter how much I loved somehting else. 
  I love animals, but couldnt make a career out of it, well really didnt understnad long ago that to love is enough for a career to happen. A professional cat sitter, Well no , i couldnt do htat either for when some animal shows there need i must love them or i only give them as much as any customer service worker, i dont go farther,  so maybe that is why i never whent that way, No that isnt it, i designed myself from early on i started, i started with painting in seventh grade, but my step father torn up my room , and so i felt that art had mass and mass could be taken away so i descided to write. after seeing my brother?s sorrowful journals.  i guess that was it. i remembe reading The heart of Darkeness , and Watership down, earl on. they morved me to a point of understnading that smalleness inside of how you thought that changes you, and evern coming to understand that importance is the smallness we silently carry around, and that we all are universal philospies, such that i starte dto write all the time , sitting in study halls, for my english course, which i took to in my final year of high school. it was an imporatnce maybe that carried me though , that also kept me away from my heart, maybe, events could have been worse  but all i wanted to do was write. so life always seemed so easy , it is onl know when i look at it that i see such was the advent of my escape, and my ego . but over the years i have come to apprectiate the understanding of mental deformities, and knowing we help others. byexposing our own humanity,, that is what humanities are, but they, the great writers, use the story to expose the delicates philosphies, that a person lives through , seeing how if we present it as an outside defintion it is easier to understand , describing everything from that vein , more than living inside of that, like i try here to get out, i guess the inner Nausua is to much , and is boring, , such that to tell the story of living in a car, with no beginging or end is not literture. there is no cunning or clever nesss, becuse i dont see the picture before hand , and write as the will would take me, there is no contrrol , and it is all what ever happens enoug to make it on to the page. 
 telling the truth is the hardest part, for there is so much to say if the head falls into this directio or that, I could start telling of old lovers, and my own crimes. , 
  and that is where i strted to night, i started thinking about my own crimes. and how , on moment seemed to incrimiate me sto such a point i have not been able to get my heart aoudn loife much since, seeing as i become to human , to beastial in a moment of self ingrandizement , during a time when i had a band, and was preforming. a time that ended wihtout me knowing the conclusion,, and yet, a crime of passion it was, .. we get driven by these , . again the computer is out of battery , luck for that. 
  i dont know wha ti had written just befor e, i am not looking to tye things together becuase in my thoughts they are not , i have been thinking, alot about sex, it is funny thses last years have been without sex. without a romantic love , and it gives me a wonder about the years i have spent in love wiht someone , in jpain over someone. 
  Hand crank films. 

   and without the force in my life i have moving slowly , i have been in confusion mayebe , it is like th epurpose has gone away , but closer to self purpose i have been. lately , closers as in the confusion about it. like sex and love where my only forces, ilike i worked cause i wouldnt get a date without money, and no i dont work and but not out of self choice butout of confusion of what to do. the world is passing every day and i dont know what to .  i am not looking to be involved wiht anyone, and yet, i am involved with L-- non sexually , independantly , like family , romance is not determining my life , but i can feel how much it did, how much . i remember often i jwould feel then how i was wasting my life. whining cause i didnt have a love. and now wihout one, i feel, free , but at the same time there is no push , it is only me i live for , and L which is wierd cuse it is just a fullfillling thing, that needs another, and cannot feel themselve. i guess there was a subconsious  direction. that said you were not anyone without someone to love, like the only true power of life was to love another, or was it. to make up for the love i didnt have growing up. I am not sure, i know sometimes i feel my whole life might change in a moment cause of love , or lossing love, , that has changed my life in the past so many times. i was in love and happy with what ever i had , in a sort of blind spot where everything just was , personally though i was always thinking about being somewhere else, i dont feel that now. liek this is a good thing, te events of my life even with the unemployment and facing the depression or what ever it is , still seem better that living in a half fulling excistance. now i am building on a personal life. more than i had been in the past. but still i get to thinking. will i change this world the enext time a women looks at me with somekind of appreciation of my body or looks. in a moment giving up all i have to be consumed again my some delicate love so representation of my own symbolisms, while i struggle for self idenity. . why is everything so many question , the future based abon something i must feel instead of a create world around an intellectual belief, for i wanted to believe each time that a complete unity could be formed with another before i found a unity with my self. such is the jobke of excistance. learning where you wnet wrong often so far after teh reality. that years get lost. 
   Joes was a normal guy , never wanting more that was right in fornt of him, yes he created things, he would when no one was looking. Draw, and paint, but he never really told anyone , never became a ?painter?. and never studied in an offical capasity , but he love to draw. he would do it after work, and work was what ever he could get, most manual labor which he didnt mind becuse it kept him fit, and gilrs like that, he like girls. he would like to show them his painting, and then with the awe in there eyes of something he would never become they wold fall in love with him, until they realized he would never be anything they imaginined. then like a true poet wh would fall off the charrts, crying screaming loving what was witout him , and looking to draw his way out of it. like inside a drawing was all he needed, and all he wold ever get. 
 and each time he swore next time he would ahve it all. he would find a love who fullfilled him , but he never really saw to fullfill himself. 
 years passed this was, a girl for each five year perior, they would last for a couple of months, his longest being a year, and then he would loss everything.  


dear skye
              of love we live a day
              of love we feel our ways
               like blind the human 
             well born with sences we bare use
             i find suddenly , again when i think of you. 
  It is not the meloncollie of what could of been and yet more , 
of what yet lyes in my heart untainted, unromanantic for the vertues of reality cst apon us, what survival determines farther than our hearts imagined when first sex years ago we loved.  it is a pasion that runs deep and discovered almost as a surprise, that i could love again ,even when it was without touch , i close my eyes to write this letting fingers talk where the confused brian would not say for not to open a voice inside me that can not be fullfilled that lies dormit, waiting for you, alone.  I have not touch another since, not another out of love full and free as the imidateness of our exchange , of holding you at night in make believe with digital connections where the body coldnt go. I flet you , and wanting only the closeness of your thoughts , i loved , such to come over the grand ways of a thousand miles. to this state of still more lonely ness, for which i still can not hold you as my child , as my heart would. and have cast you away in my thoughts so as not to lose what conection i have with a full life. by thinking like i am right now. but now for its moment is enough to live , it is enough to hold what kindness our unity inspired, what voice i found inside you , a voice you could only speak to me, i could hear that also. it is like we are different peopel together, or different as we trusted, for a moment no matter what that intailed from truth around us. me lonely in my pains, waiting for a connection with you to sing into. to laugh and get giddy around, to hear you remorse life when you said hello to me, to listen to the idle converstions we would have while watch that movie that night , and loving that we were free to love someone, and forgetting we had bodies that could be hurt, and torn away from our own romance by the cruelity of the world. 
  You were my inspiration to come here, to a world far away from the eastern one i had known , not that things are diffent for me there or here, still i have trouble living, such that i feel i have to feel more myself than ever, i guess i spent much of my life in love with someone or in poetic tears over someone. but you have never touch me physically and i could not cry that perfect was reach and lost. no. so i listened and stay distracted from each of your  problems, and thought only of what if. or thought only of a perfection that couldnt be reached without you. for you brought out the love of my own goals in the splendid ways we enjoyed our selves with music, i loved being with you every time, i like you stength when you wanted something diffent in the digital would, and how you would create and skemm like me to create money and a future. i need someone by my side that wants to create art and economics. and truthfuly feel have been my partner infact none could be. 
  I heard you and felt you again tonight wit the smallest of word, it is like a spiritual being whicih we share when you said you wished i was closer, there is no closer i can come, i have tryed and you know i have, you know i am you equal in pain and progress, like we together would reach a peace we have always wanted, but you dont come down and i can not come up . we are stuck and i can not go on either from it. and think of you now like a momment for which i can always visit but am only fooling my self that i will ever love another as much as. Only, yet i would want to help you becuase i believe in you. and i would do anything if we came together to have you and me without pain,  but still it would be my heart i would offer becuase only that and my mind do i have , no material do i hold no money do i have, i am all words as a poet is. i just feel i would do what ever we needed. 
  but the choises of your leading in my thoughts has not been in vain, without you i have been for the first time in my life without any one i loved wiht my soul, and have only my self to come and understand, and that i have been working on. it is not a created peace, it is an understanding , i guess it is part of an all. an understanding to see and move with. 
  I have been looking at my life with a firmer resolve to try and equal excistance like it is . i dont live in fantasy , or in pain form not having my dreams, i deal with what i have more, like a buddha, but i still feel yo when we talk , i feel your spirit crying out to me, though you would never cry i feel in front of me, and you wouldnt respect me if i did though i would someday, it would only be over you, or if i met you, because i would know what you went though to make that momment happen, 
  I will tell you , i would change everything if you came to me in amercia, as in i would create the world we lived anew with ever strength i had because it was for us i would be fighting all the world for. no just me alone, for me , i have little to fight for. it is all just survival until. i do not look forward or fight to have more right now. i sit and look at myself sitting. i would say it is a hope in my heart sometimes that you wil come, and i will get bck to living, where i feel now i sit in a cell of myself. waiting to involve my heart again. 
 i felt it tongiht when you siad you would like to have me around, , but more i felt it cause you said things we not going well. i waited all night to write to you. my fingers wanting to tell you i love you and would feel fullfiolled if we came together, i wold push the hair out o fyour eyes, and ask yo to stay and the i know i would be inspired to play , and write new songs, and copy write them, and join bmi. .. or what ever we needed to do. . and if it worked  and we really found what we wanted in another i would ask you to marry me, and then they couldnt stop me from coming accrossed and you could always stay , 
but maybe again i have started to dream, and i should stop this becasue you wont come and i can not come, but the connection is so close it is lie our spirits already know what our bodies can not. the hope of an all .  
If i could remember the important of surival i think i would stop looking so close to myself. I could not want to search out the ethics or the morals of life. this human being so cought up in being human wihtout definiton tha it search to prove what is not human as in not basic to the mechanicisn of beast, for all the intricates of our lives , drained away is the pure form, and idealoligcally  that is the basis for growth, but first stripping down what has become coincidentalto the me, the past running through my viens, over my mental spaces such that i disregard or forget to consider and live within, th epison of circumstance and understanding. preceptive born without intellicet and without judgements of survals natures,  so i go to the voices, i sit for hours trying to understand why i hold a fork just so, the buisness end up. a fist in the grap. No from lack of food and defensive stance needed to guard it. except for the fact of the homelesssness , for which they  say promotes such behavior, at shelters leaning far over what you have and can not get more of. but i can not say , and it is that doubt that makes me want to sit and thinkk further, instead of just loosing my grip and holding the sppon with some grace and civility , that i must plan and take on as natrual . I like to understna dwhat the grip is , wihtout bowing to what is civil even as yu call me a heathen for the way i scultputed my dinner repast. 
  and then truth comes like a matrics of math problems where you can not deny one and one. where the individual is devided , this one suffereing this and responding wihtout knowing responce, like again palov. remarks , like the sexual abused chaild and the meaning off sex there after, the ower and disregard almost denial of any love for the connectios alread adhered to . human loving relations are just possieon s and retardenst to human will and freedom of spirit , my responcility my foul banner of tranquilty, the the child doesnt think ever that , and it all become consiquece, and unspooken , or representation with other names who have with philosphoy  proven the face with their schools of thought, cush to blame is anothers resonce, so foul a thing as love, Camue didnt belive we could have jsut one. I think he was abused also. but that is only part of the ever ending story never remarked apon but shared by so many that we forget as a hidden. like we are trying to do about so much . so much is become fullfaced lyes instedad of bold change and human reaction. backed up by who ever reasoning gives to prove it. this one saying that that one saying this , and oppisites are left with specialist. argued instead of felt. such is the respct we have for feelingss, and so i sit. still.  
    It is Sunday and often in the past i would write as much as i could on Sunday , a day of rejoicing, a day of reminder, not because i am religious , wanting a sabbath need a holiday , for i do not work, but to remember life in its pure form is for every day , there just is less noise on Sunday , and people are amassed somewhere adding to the general flow of the day , i suck up the simple sharing.  so i like to write on sundays, unfortuantedly this sunday is a sunny day , waking with the heat in the car, not being able to sleep enough , running to be with hope for i stayed awake to long reading last night, finished yet another tale that has notihgin to do with my life. and proposes ideas of good and evil never lived on streets made of the under employed, and under utilized, for feed third wourldness for captiolism has someone to continue the game with , even when we can not longer expost and save. we will still have the poverty stricken here, the under educatied  here, the under feed , even as they buy fod we have found a way to have cheap mean quasi, plastic ingrediants, and you have to be rich to eat well enough not to suffer . try and live off chemicals live raw for a while and you willl see what i mean, after you go back to food.  or what is called so Gmo-ed products, food stuff. like what is called cheese, which is a name brand , and not a cutureal product. like jello. 
   I stop again and pack up the computer, the shade is getting cold even while the air in the sun is sixty or seventy , in the shade there is a chill. 
  I wonder when i will be sane, and what will make me saner, will it just be, forgetting all the arguements to systematic rewards. like linear is , like mazes are, predetermined. 

  I wonder if all writers feel unable to express themselves to people without writing, like to sit and just talk has been strip from us. maybe it is all th etimes we have talked, and the people who were to listen didnt. we were left being misunderstood so often that only words written down seemed to have merit as in you could read them later, when you had more time , or when you could accually care. 
  Most who were to understand me, thos that i loved left me cold for my love wasnt enough , or the way i loved wasnt cohesive to the ways they were, like i didnt move like them , didnt respond to what should be , and always went my own path, a path i could never tell. for even early i had secrets. before i was fourteen my secret was my ghost father coming into my room, my secret was art. my models , whihc were dissplayed on the shelf but i took th elove inside the love of creation , the action whcih couldnt be taken away , like th elove of through , for whcih i still keep secret.  but secret has also become secluded. isolated alone. wish i could understand other like i understood onc apon a time, knowing has left me i guess it is age we get dumber as we grow. see ing all we dont know piling up, or watch what we though we knew never leading to much. i just wrote, playing music really was outside of me, such that i sit on a nice sunny day , and think enough money is seven dollars. , enoug to last until it runs out. three more days of coffee. the tank hasn?t runn out of gas yet. thelikght just started to theaten to come on.  the cigerettes have just come from L-- and i am fighting any addiction . or at least marking how muc it effectss me inside. wathciing my breath change as i smoke less. feeling the need to eat more, feeling the acculation of slowing down  and sppeeding up of time when i dont have sigerettes, time movess slower without them, while i suffere but even the suffereing is to be apppreciated as an alive nature as a feeling. 
  and I know i dont respect myself. I know becuase i thought about creating a story , and then thought i am in a story ,, the character so laid out , so natrually , L-- a famtasu pf a [erspm/ wosjomg ;ofe. bit wjo;e fifo;;omg eacj ,ompr mess tp stau wjp;eomsode jerse;f/ [eoceomg jpirs tpgetjers with cleanlyness.  with some allusion to sanity , some trol for which only she can see, and it is outside of me, to know anything any more. each perspetive register leads to no perspective known. and i see to much, the uselessness of life. breed school die. wathc as the rich move life into their own controls. watch as freinds, invent what matters. and people with families do whatever is needed. feeling righious explain fact to themselves. but staying away from anything that could distrub them, 
 it is funny but it seems the mondren man , mondren intellectual is a homelessman walking the streets trying to feel his hungrer as something he can touch , for all else seems untouch able. defined, and opiniated. what is good food, good atmosphere, good oceans, good people. as a specialists feild and what is commonly held is quaiet silent, and obnxiousness mistreated for its simplicity .  
  the mondren intellectual remembes sex is much a beastial reaction and yet, wants to forget to feel shole. whole with over population , whole with transmitted desease, who with his depression teims two. .. it is sight that kills , and the popullation rate incrastes, and the food, gets watered down, the symbolisms pile up from orwell, to to many movies. equaling a predeterminatioed vision one doesnt want to see, so blinding is the only answer , so maybe the mondrern intellectual studies blindness, 
  i once fathomed it was change that the intellectual reach ed for . personal evolution . abandoning all prearaged conclusions. god. reproduction. eduction.  
sex become wieghed against th enonsphysical , such that male and female floated off to light energyies, and the bodys controle by them, such that you could love any one, and should remember that inorder to find peace with love. and loveing. but i couldnt love, becuae i was never loved, to be loved on have to accept themselve inerly , and i was always and am still , merely trying,  press save , and feel secure for a second. pounding keys on a key bored. and maybe that is all this is, sitting wandeing inside of reasonings to be alive, and what that change means, when you realize so much of yourself is a reactiion. if you were loved as a child you might be able to reconize your own wants and desires easier, i can not even chois a sandwish , so important what you are, to what you will be come, and yet,  there are paths tryough all lessons and lesson from all paths.  we walk them to know and tell of the walk , the peepples in our shoes, the blisssters, and the soft grass, even as we step in squshy stuff, and have to clean it off . 
  it is a process. 
  i am driven to know. and taken there in my thoughts daily , to know more. but a sprial it becomes. to know anything, to seperate , what i do to what i am seen doing, the preformance art of writing. you dont have to do anything ,, i mena write anything, to look like you are writing, and the sight of focus, might helps someone some where.  passing. 
  I have not been smoking now for a while though i can not remember how long, i could wigh it by the days i sit and do nothing, playing video games on my computer, a computer, who many times have i seen that in televsion, , not much right , casue no one wants to admit how long we are on them, looking for things we dont have, haveing entertainments instead of interactions. but i dont want to talk any more. it is a waste of time, i hove told all the lies i could. found out there were lies years after i told them, and only made so becuase i couldnt feel enoug to be them, the singer needed to be commerically responcive, i didnt care and the songs sit in my heart,  safe, control , mine. the wirting doesnt take on storiy for which i wa   

  was talking about earlier, stories seem so contrived around what you symbolichally know, they are lies. .. but the crime is celver, the murder inventive, but truely what we read is makeung us all psycotictic and alsone. 
 clinging on to those who agree with us, and disregarding thos who dont, like we are not allowed to discuse, and still hold connections. do , now you need me to repeat you , so that you feel safe, yo values mucst be mine, cause we are seperated by how much we have, and the hatred and prejudies we persue.  genuflcecting to our ideas, while all of it is only opinion, and leader ship  is submistion to the facts of submission.  no one has a pont so as not to offend. 
  i am insane, i guess, and have that writing desease, accept i am still trying to give words and emoitons some thought and adaptation to intellecturalism. 

 It is another day , as the year passes, i watch my life go further and further into some subconscious realivation.  I am depressed, or at least i am not awake, i sleep whle walking , numb, yes numb i feel against all the effects oflie. the love i could persue the hope , i abandon,  I can see no way out now. i dont even try the drugs i used all my life are not round any ore. i have stopped using ,  i have started other drugs. but they dont work, i would have wanted this to be different , telling of the stroies of the sure, the rrealization of the better life, from the absence of the marijuana, but i can not , i have less energy , i have less hope,. I have not played my guitar in a couple of months. and with no hope insight i wake tired, 

  the sun wakes me mostly  other wise i dont get up. the sun creates a hot box effect waking me that i am in an oven , and i rise some times to a slightly chilled day , but the sun pounds on my wiwndows, I wake knowing it is another day to survive until the check comes. the first, the first the firstl. while the tank goes to empty , and i wait with no food accept the hep i get form L-- sometimes i am thinking i should throw myself to the wind again. counting how many people i love here on one hand , on one finger.  and when she has other people to be with i feel lost , like this is the end , and i have not been taking care of myself goodenogh , livingon the edge of life. wondering why all the time. why do they over therre work , smile , live, with some sorted apprazal of the world that lets themsurvive.  like they can not feel the nuclear disaster in japan, the economic controls of thesystem, while i invent things i guess, global warming my invention. cancerious food , but that is not me right , i dont go to the hospital so they can not tell me i am dieing, not tell me i have been waiting for some proof.  of life beyond my hopes , for there has been not hope for so long, it is subopst to come with life , joy, happy ness, like i could live looking into dogs eyes, but to be honest it was only love and money wheich moved me, and yet love turned sour when i looked at how we share it. how we prevert it to form fit what we need or our fantasy , and if it doesnt fit we disgard it , and most dont learn sticking to the dream unrealized, or the subconsious undefined, and money , of last become doing without , while wowrking many many hours for it. the cab was a lover sore and lonely. determined to brake me from any hope i once had of being more thatn the living i was, more than myself. my construction hands notw useless, haveing been told i am to old , those years away into an unused box. the years, with drinking and playing some part i didnt want, such that every day i felt i was disusing myself, a traitor to being ,  so here we are, I reach evey day to feel more and more my true self, but yet here i now see the truth is a pained place i tried not to see.  I avoided, but cause of its hidden martyerdom.  
  the professionals all say it is chemical , i come to think of it as philsophic. the turning of the screws of thought , and we are both right for one truns the other , and yet, noting can trun the immediate. and i need action to feel good, maybe all actionis harder now. as i think indidicual is a farse. the mechanics fo being the same in all of us, we get to exploit what we can of ourselves. a slow process of accuplulatied sins, called work.  , to futher our sufferance and control of time. we paln our slavery, to mention good or bad, but the more honest and alive are yet unmentioned ,  for they do not steal the golden ring. which you must,  by your denial of antoher chance for it. we all live on the shoulder we deny. glorifed in excesses. 


   it is way into june , the way is a joke of the summer having 60 degree highs and rainy chill lows, it is a forced concentration for no concentration is normal. I dont mind, repeated like a mantra, It rains sometimes, and is cold alot, so what, i am no where but here, here with only truth to get in my way , as i think of that so mcuh, the ideling voices, stageing riots to care about anything, mis gotten mind, assort with the clavoiants of my enviroment, surrounded by the killers of violent video games, the lovers of voilence sex and drugging rocks, my frinds, the wiseman who introduced an world economic structure to honor the averious they feel. Matching me with my enviroment, or wait, cause you can prove me wrong with your friends, as you talk of music and poetry and art, you talk to your friends about sexual intercouse on bar room steps, or other mental masutory objection to why you dont give a shit, or you that is offended, you show your friends, vegational truth healer, where mediation is a thing you do while at yoga, and not a political venu unless you look at the culturized china, others where suits spawned you tell you illicit shockras and holy devowering, the unself ruled for a god of kind, as the old is the new, ask the lastest , techonogically spiritualized.  or wait , you point to your other frineds, happy back from war zones. mechane to see the truth then must forever sit by the side lines for else would mean, Truth, mixed with system mixed with nature, forget the last of the disreason, like a corporate higherarky following, cold stair at the hippy. 
  in side the light is the shine of time, 
a gold learned ensnaring
to do
 to do
 to see
 silently.
  so really where my thought would go it is not me to see or live , no i must like my love deny i care to ketch up to the innocent falling to the criminal. of self and society is only to call a minute home. 


  To fill every page
writing like speaking 
through amber windows glass behind viewer
I would to reacall 
 a why for which 
youth aked, 
when youth knew. 
so flet and obivious
which fails me like memory
as age decends. 
i am filled with 
in the Age of Feeling
for once was and yet remains , lived less
 as dreams supported some yesterday
hold no shelter now. a guessed romance
a story with character 
where is; ?ever after?
Supported , trusted weary
calmly professioned 
money stablity togetherness
a vision whole. 
It Age of Man knows
feeling cast away
like a weakness, 
the rotted beams 
instead of the cycle 
of light. store bought arguements
explained tunnel vision
and a why for blinders legality. 
invested neutrality 
for what you do to me. 
age of man limites an age of feeling
of Acceptance, Mutuality.
 screaming illrelevance
of common sence 
in spite of thee. 
 governments should have goals
coonly held as love and freedom. 
of wieghed whole of a one.
 if i can think it
it is of all.
 where romance the lived dream
fantasy lifestyle need
understood itemized inclusions
when life style leaves for law
lust love liberty
lapsing limited limmerics 
with lecturious learning 
leering learning 
love liberty longingly level law
liboratiors lead
linearly leaning love for law liberty 
legitimte longings
I can reason like excuses
Until i feel and know more 
knowing mooring
living light lanes. 
spirals to limitlessness
living fantasy in liquid
oh bio pilot. 
  You see I write like i am talking to you , reader
like i can accknoledge we are naving a conversation through concentations culture
but more and more you speak little. locked passive
where you would once 
explain. now you sit and enjoy 
where once you would touch 
now you type. Teaching temporance talents
a ches game in smaller reactions
exact locations
when you are in know where sold 
eggects self denial engendared solitude 
only hearing voices passing. 
waht are we , but often seconds 
of expalinations told 
with itemized emotions
communicated minute, If i told you I cry 
you say i live 
different 
Age of feelings 
so deported 
from the age of man. 
where common sence is an explaination. 

june 28th
  today is another moment .  Idea five homeless people in a sitcom, the five are musicians slash scientist, computer geek, artist,, ?? for the main people the rest are street people with witty people or just deformed people. alcoholics meth heads, prostites. defromed educators, the idea cmae today , after i thoguht about how l__ is teaching me spiritual idenifications, the creatures that interact with me, butterflys, spiders, crows.  it was a test. i did a drawing. but I smoked, it is funny i still come to a clairity with weed, a kind of being able to live my life with weed, it wasnt real it was resin, 
  they say that resin has more thc in it than green, but the effects we the say mand yet with less side effects and maybe it doesnt last as long. but the clairity in my thoughts, intuitioally , logically , i am always amazed atht ehighth of thougth i can reach , how much i am different. when i smoke. 
the day has passed of smoke . thought limited , the same clear control of my thoguhtws come, the same releiving super focus, I asked a contractor for a job. but seein as i can not be on the books, becuse if i was there would be trouble with the defromity thing. I really think i will be going back to weed sometime soon. maybe not till th ewinter.  abut the idea came of a tv show. with five homelsses character, all playing music, it was an idea. another. 
  like another buisness idea. with a generator as the key, a truck and coffee delivery,  a coffee truck which also sells barkery products and such. 
 but then its gone, and i sleep ost of the day becuse i couldnt sleep most of the night, it is funny how ot live in the summer as aposted to the winter, where i couldnt sleep cause of the cold and then slept all day becasue of the warmth. Last night i started to think the reality is i am worried about the sleeping in the car, where the bed is not even  it rasises in the front. and its always hard.  
 north american cannius consortuium
  united nations rules on 
  dennis corum. 
  resistance ink , vampire .com
world wide canibussius community
leland kole

july 8th 2012
  and what is moring? a new day, a roaming through the undergrowth of civilization, of which i am. What elese is a man wihtout a schedule. no where to go , no where to report in my location, I am here. with the silents of me, my typing fingers. surrounded by all else man man and confining.  
  To day now i sit , early as i am early in the waking day. traffic, a constant different tones depeding on the structure passing over the earth killing road, the worm trap. I am looking at tara in front of me, my 89 totota, who never thought she would be on the road as a home, away from the schedules. and yet is mightiy , a purpolish red , a darker read, darker that plood with words scralled on here, marking me. my slimence. the windows are open on the drivers side, left. the back shere i sleep has books. forming a sort of libary in the limited space. , the contence change as i read, but now wit shakespere and Darell, Robet adams, adn one through four of some thing called Harry potter, whic will or wont be known by the time you read this. it is a testiment to what is silence, 
  on the side of the care is a website. the internet, the computer lands that talk at each other. and i have souled life with a statemtn of myself on it. casting the wordsinto the silence. Instead of using my voice in larger growwds i have settled for the constant reminder if one looks, So in advertising fame, i have put the words on theside, enertialcallcall, a irrelevant magaine i create occastionally , maybe nore to feel important than to create somereal publication. no subscribers, no ads. I sell them to who ever would want one often going to the copy store after being given the money cause i only have one real copy that isnt on disk. . but there are the words, a larger yellow crayon they seem tobe penned in, a font of a child. like it seems more important to remember, that we can be children, and maybe i have never stopped being one, like mysoul stopped reaching for peace having known the endless perfection of that state and stopped grwoing. 
  there is much else on the surgace of Tara. messsagess like the scralling of ancient egyption tomes, before books, but it is through stickers. and there are stickers everwhere on her. the rags is one, for the pun from rags to riches, with another just above saying be the media. and another that shows the shockracs as a color system. and seventy nine percent spelled out in thin peices of duck tape. together it is politaical. the 79% a statemtn of for who the social governance applies, for the rest are more that the poor. and one hundred percent seems to be a farse as we create laws. twenty one percent that the time to guard there interest , and scream that government is  only taxes with no benefits, as they scream for more police and more arms, to keep the seventy nine from reacting to the eilimination of taxes druing a time of war and furth and further expenditures, a lose lose sistuation.  
  but has only a door on a car, it is the opening to the car, to the home which is the car, to thoguht, for which silence marks for wholeness. 
  I have only the time alotted by a battery, stored energy which runs out, I steal it from coffee houses, and any where i can, no one notices it is gone, but yet i feel the theaft. like i once felt the stealling of rent, with a sour taste in my mouth, a sour need to keep the crime going, the other side of the car is the same though different, a Large enertialcall. and more stickers. thoguh no facing that side, i can not remember what it is there, so it is clean in my sight devideing the world into what i can seein front and what i can really know. 
  the front hood has word magnets. scattered around so that people can play on it. and hopefully remember the website. but nore just to get a giggle and let happyness protect the valuables inside it. people rob artist but not much, somehow we are seperated into them who can replac the things lost and them who take everything they have and work for the common good. the enjoy ment is a plow to keep things in the car. a laugh as a security system. 
  so far its worked.  
  today i have coffee, from yestereday playing on the streets, well from a frriends house where i created a pot and took enoug for my thermous, i sit peaceful in the shard, for th esun is starting to hurt, and i have warned about its effects at the same time, Washingotn ony sufferes a california sun for two months and we are in it. the rest of the time it is grey and cold and wet. funny how the chose of weather is starting to lean toward uncomfort becasue the somfort is kiling us. 
  this journal was to be so much more that i could get in. this last year starting at my birthday or just before has been filled with all sorts of our influences. the Occupy movement, a rebellion of people agasint the corporations who buy the governments of the world , not marked yet by real voilence in the uniterd states. in the rest of the world it has different names, and much more blood, the united nations is controling it but i hear limited ly about the corporations involved, but they are there justunder the surface. keeping themselves out of the mix, represented by the governments they buy. such that the movement started in the fall . preposed by some canadian magazine, taken up by the unemployed ,the  homeless,  who made signs often wihtout cohesion, about every pain they are facing becasue of the limiteds of government being further and further limited and the Corporations that keep that bllod sucking going, until our taxes have been stpent on interest rates paid to ? the full story doesnt fit into my head or stickers on to my car.  
  for me it was a realizatio. of what i am like when faced with enviromental sufferance, I have never been one to let my exterior rule me, it is the peace of silence ihave held since a child, when the world got to be in my face to much i wouldwalk run skip away, and forget it.  the movemnt required making camps that protested, that exposed the point and told the story, they were disfransiced, and collect many who jsut needed shelter more than could answer a why we were there. no protesting by using the temporay to survive, so stayed there while looking for work. otheres just used it to drink in tents instead of the street. yet, they become the pawns that the ?Organizers used to say there were people sleeping in tents to protest. the orgainziers arranged the tents. created websties and social media pages, came to a daily meeting and talked. formed concernts and collected money. and generally consumed the movemtn to their own points of interest for the ?Organizer? were from other social movemtns which couldnt collect there own massive country wide media. and the Name creded a copywrite, some thoguth it was a cia or homeland security plann. collect disadants before the next press apon the nerves for a peaceful government. like the phoney 911 
  july  31st  
  oh yes, and nothing can be said without the mistakes of economics. so today is the last day before disablity money. I try and find some work.  a small moving job, two hours, i try to help a friend , who is an hour out of town, i try and fail. not becuase of me, the painters say no go. they say this an hour before we are to start. I try to call the friend so he doesnt drive all the way here but he doesnt answer the answering thing,, for its no longer a machine, answers. I only think he is on the road and can not answer. 

august 3
 Inside the dream. sitting with my first love, pulling thin thin worms from my skin, in a driving job i should take , watching her argue with someone, seeing money change hands, she is holding cash, all i wanto do it go back to the way things were at some other time. 
  I wake to choises. choisces i dont seem to have made. Loves i have left because i could realize life is choices, every one was wrong, she was my love we could ahve worked it out, but how many times after that. when i could have stayed right where i was and loved it. the restruant job witht he big corporation where i was asked to be the manager of a whole store. the taxi where i was learning to save and started to realize money?s security. Long ago when i first made the magazine, and alll i had to do was try and sell advertising. Another love where all i had to do was ask her father during the Pess State Pitt game to marry. I was driving more for the frist I know. the next was the next, and for all my negatives. I didnt step forward. and bowed my head and said she would be better off without me. My head in the sand so much, Regrets i didnt realize enoguh . couldnt see. always the fantazy of some lifei wanted to be available for, waiting  endless waiting.  shuch that we are here now, trying to realize what choise is , what familarity i want with life. a joining of energy toward a goal. It is morning Saturday the day sometimes i go play music . for little money,and i am not sure it is the money that stopes me from going now, it is the planning, the follow through wondering what choices i am making with actions. as in am i digging deeper into a world i will not fullyy live? So outside i always feel. but you have to get up and complete the maze for something. 
  

Are you gone?

  Are you gone?
Is one missing,
From side and line
Talk and touch
All as energy
Spirit, tideBlessings with water,
Salt, secretion, 
Can not be dryed of
Mixed of chemisty
All ever of us
Given.

You might not call
But opening in
Open torch can not
Be reversed, as path
Completes lights knowledge
Proof loves residue reason rythem,
Which never goes away
Adding what life accomplished
for when life?s converge
Each butterfly changes winds
Pushing tumbling over the breeze,
Enough our over feeding
Consumed by and on my tongue
Every sigh, .
In each movement, 
After.

trip after three years of standing still. 


   Port Anglese aug eleventh 2012 the small unknown town on the top middle of the washington pennisul . Roaks make the shoreline, big rocks ofthe jetty out to the coast guard station. with a seal to watch, grey with spots now thre are two. the game thoguh it doesnt seem to be fro me, is to flap your fins as hard as you can, the slapping distarting me to see the game throughly, Each comes to the surface long enough to roll over and flap. you must be able to hear the sound far into the distance under water. the two are a hundred yards apart. there eyes all round and pools of place gives me a smile. i dont know if they are looking up to see if they see me.. but do all the same. and spin and go under. if i am watching they dont flap.. I remember this shore as one i looked accrossed years before to see a women on the other side so close you can see the tops of the Canadian mountains of Britich columbia. 
  What difference I am now. and exlaimation point or a question mark . begining here replace three or four years come back , sit , It was on these rocks I took a picute of the black guitar destroyed by a drunken roomate , replaced by a diening friend who i will always remember to have loved the sea and music. he had so many guitar he didnt miss loosing that one to replace another. Friends are not so easily replaced. and we make more of them the odler they become with us. the older we become with them, I am not sure which is right but the years mean more and more the closer to the end. they seem to go fast and faster also. 
  I have a seocnd reason for coming to these shores again. another reminder of some kind of attration which distracts from the reminders, i felt ravleing so long ago. and for whom i looked accroassed these waters to fell. 
 the first reason i didnt think of , to be apon these rocks again, and even then i didnt come here but one I feel full circle and all the last four years come into form clearer. I didnt see seals that time, it is a treat like i have done something right. and maybe i have. it will be worth the hardship of the rest of the month for this one retret but then secondly there is a women.  i found on the internet I thingk she is beatuiful, yes. She want ed to met me. so attracted as much by these rocks as by her I came. I guess the perfection of washingotn coast line has brough me back to the little town I failed in before. here where i had my last real job, here where a dream was broken , the idea of joining and growning a buisness. like a seed in the soil of self I felt my failure and thought i had also lost a friend. his life was a bakery and a women, but it was wiht a side line that begged for attention a side i was asscoiated with him through , music, he put on the character of bakery and women, he lost both. 
 Since I set last on these rocks. I should n?t tell his tale, but it is so many in the streach for truth through what we do in loves name. verses self love. I was in love and all i wanted was music and my lover was again on line. 
 So we are bakc to the reason a women , her name is much for me a montra for sucess as it is a name , Tara, my car is named after the green tara, the progessive immediate mother,of budhism I should know more but i do not , you will recall the world was filled with female gods at one point , and so anciet must be the five taras each with there ablities. 
  The living one i dont know yet, really Only that i found her all smiling in a profile page on some point on the internet, her smile is why i cam here, a love in her eyes, but after that i now little there is so much of me on the internet i fuigure one could know me better wihtout knowing me, without includeing i live in my car, without feeling my conneciton to a martyed class, called homeless, a class which feeds us, provides services for ?us?  but doesnt understand ?Us? budha was homeless , jesus was homeless, the Dali Lama sleeps where ever Tibet is not. but as a whole we eat the food, and occasionally accept the shelter, but the homeless are the last of the really caring people , even as generalization never work, It seems the housed people are the Martyrs. but the meid sitll portrays Homeless as being wihtout a shelter made of cards or leases mortagers, for whcih the rich explaot and televsion and entertainment ignore. I am happy to meet Tara and more it raised that passion in me i wanted, Needed the romance of discover every artist needs comes with a lovers touch , a chance to find perfection with each kiss or caress, with each caring. the creations of a perfect world in another. 
  Tow or so weeks before a women gave me that feeling , she was truning thrity six, and she said hello wiht her thies, and short scrit, and cowgirl boots. and one night of talking i felt in love. and castiong al the poverty aside I reached out again. but she was just a twinkle, she didnt really want me, didnt know me, didnt care, also didnt read or play chess or an instrutment. she would not have cared or understood me, so while fondling her i was all nervous, boht the seals are back
free seals, maybe brother and sister, maybe mother and father. but joined by the flappping game, as they go away and come back , gracing this moment , which i dinot want to end. smoke another ciegerette remember the point passion partnership , Tara plays music but has committed the ultimate sin , sellign the guitar, I know that will wigh teh condiitions. I dont even know if she plays chess, we worte back and forth since March ideas about a house once , she know of my carpentery, then nothing for a while Life interruppting our communications, still her name stuck wht me, she has L- last name, with Rainbow as a middle name, the forcasting of intuitions took over there and i wanted to return to here Port anglese , I guess it made me happy to be a little loved by the town, by soemone here after the lost i felt before. the town i slightly knew and that almost became my home. 
I am so tired now , the long drive little food I love bieng here, the jetty , the seals, but  they have gone, I think its a jetty , this barrior to the see. 

  a week outside of the normal like a week traveling on the last coin no sure if the car is good not sure if tomorrow will be any better having played on for crowds who think the honor of yur playign is enough while yo doent have the coin to shine your shoes with spit. but it is another day , and asking the goddess is the being and ending of the days work. I have been making the magazine yesterday, my dream iff faded as it is is still there inside waiting for better days, the hope of achieveing what is need with the particles necessary. I have again intrusted to another to hold jim goad.. shit magnet , redneck

Aug.24th
	To coffee , to listen,
	 the ?how are you?? 
	 to invented replies,
	 Favorite director 
	. Exotic beauty
	 in white tight strippers body.
	
	 Move to sit; again. the same corner
	Wearing sandals , Roman straps,
	 toenails splintering, cracking,
	 of when cut, white dust 
	in cracked dried skin ,
	 a summer in sandals. 
	Heat awoken,
	 ten thirty or so, 
	the movie like dreams
	 to much television,
	 old word for videos
	 with advertising. 
	Morning pen interests 
	short women, 
	twice already,
	 broken human sex 
	looked at breasts, 
	caught once. 
	Listen: 
	pounding cement,
	 cars passing ?hello? 
	into cell uler device,
	 not to me.
	 a breif horn,
	 ? the car is locked? 
	steady traffic , seagulls
	 call repetitive,
	 Exotic beautiful walks away
	 with ?mother? a dog leading
	 uncertain which way it is allowed,
	 a short leash. 
	See: bikes , father
	 is front, ?come on?
	 crossing an intersection
	 ?I know? the high voice
	 response,
	 dull soft tires on street sound.
	 Half a mile away
	 a train blows
	 for intersections 
	even at three am . 
	impossible to sleep 
	if you are on a close street 
	until the fiftieth time.
	 car doors slam,
	 a tractor trailer holds
	 on a hill then goes, 
	slow gear shift shift,
	 plodding up the hill. 
	 A city silence is all this
	 and smell. the mini van
	 with a fuel leak 
	you can make out when it pulls up. 
	Rock music blaring, shuts off. 
	Shoulder length hair
	 cut off button down shirt 
	gone sleeves, bum style, 
	a  rampant scissor 
	or a knife.
	 open and close
	 coffee house doors,
	 the hot liquid in another hand ,
	 toxic awakening the death 
	when given to spiders, 
	which humans use hourly
	 so commanded to faster
	 thoughts out speeding forgotten lives,
	 turn to or turn off. 
	 the students are coming back,
	 more clean pickups in 
	Washington state to go
	 into the hills of private unpaved
	 lots where parties scream
	 into the tall saved trees,
	 from battery powered light shows. 
	 A light wind ,
	 the cluster of leaves
	 from the trees placed
	 by landscapers intrinsic values
	 on a presentation board
	 long ago. Some starting 
	to be covered by furry moss
	 up high where strangers
	 hands can not touch them.
	 I sit breathing in / out
	 the heart pounds while
	 i tempt it to deal
	 with more spider poison
	 and carbon emition ,
	 little burning sticks 
	with sights of first loves
	 extra chemicals the lovers
	 i will never have ,
	 gone from not saying hello,
	 gone from age, 
	gone from sitting ,
	what use I put out, watching plants grow.   
	
	
	
	so We have written the last year. trying to cover as many of the hour i have lived as well as the stories that have created the minutes i have lived. Much has happened to the world and to me. less to me, but what could you expect, I laugh at my omission, but have seen much I feel, about what has created this world i have lived. the years, from youth to adult hood to this, this final realization of end and importance i don?t think i really ever felt before. 
	 the end is the summation of all the days until.  The strength of self motive for the time yet remaining before a question is answered, a question i feel closer to with each body acke, tooth pain sore muscle, each age reclaimed creation till the dirt. From that perspective I come to see also all i am, in this smallness of being. A fact i hold onto more than if i had been different. I have not been normal. I have sacrificed self for the feeling of self, for which a system doesn?t allow as much as if freedom was really the curse and not the path of the true living innocence. The courage to live is the hope of the future and path of understanding the self, this seed of created life, Spiritual innocence is a self evident path few walk; the accepted retardant of the artist. But we walk that we can teach, to transfer that knowledge into the direct conscious culture of modern times. It is the path of the abused child, the trauma survivor, the path of health beyond medical historic system for now. It is the Om.  This pre-theorize discovery creates a fine line of understanding on a mass level if only to fulfill the hundred monkey elevation. As such i celebrate my birthday. one more moment for which is another new year concluded and gained. I have tried to discribe the changes i came to understand. I dont know if i have really done that. 
	So lets do a little recap of the mental exposure i have felt. You see I was develped in the innocense of loud voices and violence , creating a person, the seed, of being , subjected to life. a living fostered only to repeat if such is left without change, maybe it was the path to fulfilling what is successful in life. Much of living is only that. the bowed head of many of us is relevant daily, bowing to system, to economics, to the boss, to controlling forces, I was raised a proper slave, but inside i wasn?t satisfied, my ego and need for discovery personal and universally i felt inside, but I couldn?t break the system i became, I wasn?t lead down the path of personal self creation, no system of self discover was allowed me, except how much personally we have, if i made a personal decision it was control and that control was pain physical pain, and so i learned that the system created only physical pain if you choice for yourself. Personal choice equaled physical pain. 
	I ask you to remember we are talking of the subconscious seed . A second personality we can not see Freely. and that which only a change of perspective can relieve. I do not agree with the reasoning of the statement and yet do acknowledge philosophically, and politically, but surface(external) pain and inner pain are two different worlds. the interior world lives without you, the second life has to be understood as important and the drive for which this is written, the explanation only a self view can lend. 
	 This Ill logical live response has always effected me, this year has proven me that from which i suffer, and yet i only got the time to see it through the total rebirth by a total self sacrifice, living on the streets has given me a freedom to self understand, a path of understanding how i feel. to feel is to live, to not feel is system. the separation revolves around low cost living, taking survival only from the most meager of means, a fact i have never personally felt accepting of in the past, I was longing for better all the time and yet never accept the truth of myself. in the drive I have been able to feel myself from a subconscious spiritual effectiveness. the life of the searcher. It is the life of the found. for what is is always, like heaven can not be separated from living if it exists at all. like dreams are only the living, and living is a dream. fantasy is the first step toward living, reality is a question of personal choice and the courage to discovery. These words are the evolution sponsored by the technological discovery. Never has knowledge been so prevalent, with knowledge and focus change comes, weather system likes it or not. we will evolve but to know our path is a question of time and consciousness. 
	Once we look at the facts of personal evolution, the next place become where do we want to go. in that love and happiness come. as in what is health mental and physical, for we are finding more and more stress is the killer, pain is the killer. so perspective is the savior, in that also comes blinders. a free consciousness is the whole we have inside, but we can live without a morally ?sustainable? conscious, in fact the wholeness of system supports not looking outside of personal life. but like my brother would say even a killer can think he is morally correct for a while. As in the monsters of the banking industry, the oil industry the fracking industry, all break down the meaning of ?reason?, economics is an insanity. and avarice creates pain. These ,in consciousness, are unstable causes of global ruin. 
	 Greed and ego are ruining the earth, blindingly obvious ill-reasonable characteristics of big business are creating the replications of that consciousness of our big business class and our children. our systems consciousness become the survival of the children we create. it is the subconscious effect i am talking of , it is the subconscious life i am , self discovering as my point of change. 
	
	day Septmeber 1st ketching up on writting
	
	 the first morning in a transient placement shelter, a house, Large yellow slightly organge think painted hayers, and layers, cracks and chips are caverns smoothed out. I sit with coffee I made. I have already brushed my teeth. Went to the store. given away two Pairs of shoes, I could have soldbut was so happy to find a small coffee maker with reusable filter;the balence demanded the next to give away. 
	 the house where i found the coffee maker , had the shoes, a set of sneakers , and a set of spikes, I walked back up the street. At the next house, sitting on the low porch, a visibly weary father of the newly moving in students, sat, his legs in front , his large feet in brown boots sat. ?need Sneakers?? ?no, but my kid does.? ?does he play baseball? the spikes are a famous name, and he rises to get them ?yo are my man today? as i pass him the shoes, To large for me anyway, Balence. 
	 I cant stop smiling today. I want to tell everyone, but only tell the cashier at the food coop she say how does that feel, after i say i have been homeless for five years. She lets me have an organe smily face for Tara, the back of the sticker says ?kids love stickers? 
	 All up and dwon the street people are free shopping. Students move in and throw things out to the curb, Sneakers, cds, microwaves , books, in the beginning of summer and then again, in fall. the flow is less now as summer school students are fewer in number, the others are just moving from place to place cheaper rents or off into the world. 
	 I have collected white paper , about a ream, and some college books, which i might sell when i get short on cash. 
	 I am again sitting on the porch of the house, while everyone still sleeps. there are eight others here, most have a room, I coulnt sleep. its very early. I am sharing a room with a man who snores, the constant noise drove me to Tara, last night. Its a thunderious sound on and off, the main reason i never go to shelters, besides the people who are 10 percent criminal, fifty percent displaced and fifteen percent just alcolholic, or some such set of numbers. 
	 In small college towns , it is always the same. The young girls are still revealing, need to be pretty passing flowers, it?s funny how beautiful we all are but our spirits can get  distacted and create our ugliness. It is painful to watch, as the eye change over the years, freshman sophmore senior. Some become brighter with wisdom and some dull with the depth of truelife, for some the same wisedom sharpes theeir eyes and ego steps in, now that they have drank till dawn and can recite plato. Some become dull and distracted by the pain of preocccupied beliefs and distilled morals. and there is nothig you can do, they are being judged, and only the well programed will go on, and of those that fail and fall away just go missing and get quickly forgotten, in the first lesssons of subserviance and the importances of conformity. Of course some are just lazzy and get claimed by drugs that look for the weakened, the underfedd the tramatised, for them there is only the self to study. System has no time for true humanity. 
	Tara is sitting by herself. A free parking street aside of the house, not even having to move for street cleaning. She was faced the wrong direction for sleeping. Down hill,even just slightly, isnt good for sleeping. Up hill is better by not much Level is best. Residential Renters streets are best like this one. 
	 Sept 5th Moving I shall start to document how many hours of I sleep and include meals eaten, sickness felt. some how to document a why of my indescisions concerning life. for the two are linked. and i rately remember to eat. and then like to stay awake , feeling i feel more mental activitity and clairity when i am tired. A descions, like I havent made a descision even though i live one. 
	 Yesterday i made a picture, a pen and ink. It was a connection to a develpoed muse, wihtout druugged inspiration. I played alittle a week or so ago also without that ?inspiration?. it came easily , and the the guitar sits now for so long, Not at ease playing in the house scared of attracting attention, still scared to feel good. when this is temporary. but without inspiration of chemical, I perfromed well that day, It seems i get to the meat of life, and further knowledge and organization easier. I have to accept the years i smoked and will again soon test the theor , I havent been drug tested since the beinging of the year, so it is still my call. 
	 I walked to the art storre yesterday and saw a girl who walks around alot. Ihugged her and felt my lonlyness, but just after also just after, felt the pain a relationship would cause me;inspiration aside. I have lived in that and the rest of my life has failed around me, makeing changes for the love and forgetting the bbalence with self. I would ony mess up if i was to secure in it. I am my only secureity righ tnow. I have to remember besides a little street girl would be to easy a target not a real lover, i would regret it. for the fullness i have felt , has been who ever was giveing back, and yet little did i see myself with them, each become a spiritual love, a whole wihthout wholeness, wihtout truth of self leading the change , i molded my life to them and not them to me. But i needed to be lead, and any cause was good enough. 
	Everything has fish on it. it is stuff, cups and place holders, dishes and signs, picutres of fish as if there werent enough adore the halls of L-- house. 
	 Last night i thought of the number 8. 8 x 8 squares in chess, 8 to the tonic in chromatic keys, Were the ancients telling us something? a test for prime? obvservations hyposis, experimentation, the final step i can not recall. I am living it. 
	Obeservation , I am disasscoative, Hyposis, smokeing weed is depressing and yet shamanistic, over usage creates a life without feeling, which equals without substance, chemical fantasy distarcts from true felt love. Limiting progressing of love?s smiplicity and innocents. Experimentation , stop smoking weed. the daily clarity , the lessening of paranoid thoughts , and legal paranoia, spiritual paranoia, General forgetfulness, and over reaction to stimuili replaced negative ideas and enaction. new hope I react and do. 
	 I could sit here all day smoking cigerettes and writing , neam while watching the world go by , noticing small things. the truck with the preservation services tattooed on the side.
	 As the Free market turns houseing into commoditys, making buy houses as perminate acculitive incomes, a house is less a human shelter from rain and storm, but a given need a nessecity for which someone must own while someone must rent. But houses need repair as nature is constantly trying to destroy to create anew. only mankind fights that. both in self and civilizaiton, fights it by not accepting it. telling of th eperminace of being with ?God created me? ?this is how i am?
	 But a house shows the ture nature of man to nature, as it ripps off shingles, and suffers, most immediatedly human replication of nature, breaking walls and soiling carpets, namely houses must be constantly fixed. Yet if dont live in them You cna not fix them, so the word preservation is being used, for all the rented and unrented houses of one?s portfolio. One needs a ?manager? a sing of the times. No longer is a construction company just building, Property maintenance is part of the over all industry side lines, No Renters, and image must be maintained, a facade of ownership and community. the lawns cut the house painted, the roofing fixed, all to look Normal lived in cared about. a whole new industry where once was every persons right of shelter. Now we have only bought and sold properties for a constantly transient population being pushed around by the whims of economics. 
	Basically handy man services. the rise of free market ugliness, for housing as commodity drove up the price of these commodities. drove up the price of home ownership, drove people out of their houses as they couldn?t afford the taxes, and with in flux pricing people bough houses which were worth less a year later but they are stuck in the high price mortgage, the default or there income goes into a house and they and the market suffers accordingly. But most importantly the house will not be improved, it will be ?maintained? and the world wide Refitting of houses will be slowed, for a house is one of the largest drags to the environment. which would in our time demand refitting to off grid, a combination of wind and solar, or thermal seems to my every day knowledge needed. but wont happen. You buy a diamond you don?t fix a diamond. So Preservation systems of home ownership leaves no room for progressive development and allows more people to be homeless. It is ?drive until it dies? system. taking the planet with it. though energy waste. 
	 Two college girls pass. One on a flat screen Phone,plunching away at some note to the out world. The other looking vored to the ploysicon in the phone, a major rival to the solar panel,Yet as polysicon is dropping in price , no big push is on for cheeper solar panels, just more flat screen techonogy, Roofin shingles wiht solar energy usages, arent talked about openly, such that you can text your friend how big your ass mole has gotten. but the two bored with each other, for one is in text land but they are just breats and asses, the price of which rises with each day as you get no sex witut being a secure partner, both being quite youn such that they are not directy concerned with the previous referance, there cost going up the lower the age or the distrubances they would cause if they were so willing. the converstiaon depleteions cuased by age and remberances. each age having its own assocaitons through culute represntations and lived through world history, acculated life experiences that the escapes to an equalized plane would cause stagancee and individual personal obsurity. 
	 but i stilllook, wihtout reasonable concerns or even morality, they are body types, the ?pretty one , self concerned well dressed, is the ?social ? one, not talkin gto the partner for more important texting. the fruppy one , ill dressed bad color combiantoins lazy attair,. one with texting fingers stides, except fo the body represtations of a blind person. who really inst looking whats around, the froppy one with shorter steps arms hand dwon, a persoal dullness showing in every considerations, seems to be the service animal for the preoccupied ,?want to be Pretty one?
	But that doesnt stop me from undressing them. looking for a remeder of my youth. when all were more available. and i was so self concerned where love and forever world come from, or where i start to look for just forms to a cultural, schulptual sense, weighing proportions and consuming the flowers passing of street watching, my senses yet not weighing males with the same intrigue, my memory holding on long enough to write one sentence of male regard. 
	 sex is still a door we haven?t walked all the way through, the mixtures of chemicals, the intricatacies of energy . have not been fully monitored so that the average love would know balance. Maybe love should be understood as separate from sex , in order that we come to appreciate what is the individual as opposed to the objectives. So that Health care would include sex for a cure to personal mental health issues and stress levels. legalized and state sponsored sex clinics. 
	
	oct31 /12
	 a giant is running from just behind a bookshelf, he is clad in all the gold that can be, his jacket is gold. his sword is gold.  he , or she is a goblin or some such thing, with green head and pointy ears, a large mouth , dark green lips, which are snarling.  His sword is raised, and i run, me and Andy, who is wearing normal street clothing, we run into a hole in the book shelf where a book is gone, . the other side of the whole is another large room with the same large bookshelves , but there are floors and little tables every where, like the book shelves are giant size and the floors are where ever shelf is, for little people seeming we are the little people and everyone one, and there are hundreds or thousands, are sitting at tables, playing little picture games on the books in front of each one. 
	Andy says ?Watch this?
	 As he goes again through the whole. I follow ,though surprised he would go back to where the giants are. There were really two ,i almost saw the second one just as we went into the whole.  Andy , he is a friend who died not but three or four month ago, runs through the whole on the other side, and then changes, he grows, the size of the giants, his clothing changes and he is all dressed in silver with a huge silver shield , boot, cloak, and swings a mighty sword at the golden green goblins, or what ever, two swipes and he runs back to the whole. and changes back just before the entrance, on the giants side. he is smiling and laughing,
	 ?the goblins cant get through you know.?
	 then we go out the other side, his huge smile is all i can put together for a second beyond the shock of seeing my friend who is supposed to be dead, laughing and pointing to the rest of the people sitting at the tables. 
	? I have figured out what they are doing really yet. . i have been here for a couple of what seem like minutes. but extend, like i have been down there, and watch them sitting in front of their books , the pictures keep changing and they say things sometimes, asking question usually , some make commands, but then they get frustrated like nothing seems to work and i guess they are working out some weird puzzle. but i  never get hungry or thirsty, or bored.? 
	 Now we walk among the tables. and yes each has a book with black and white pictures appearing in really fast changes, people ask weird questions of the books and the books change, one women says,
	 ?Tumbling is legal and purple for today i can feel it? ? 
	 then another says, ?Of the lst part i don?t know but the next is made of ivory?? Each statement ,in question form, creates another question and on they go, all chattering away like that, but it is silent , and the voices are only heard in our heads Andy says, i can?t know, I hear the chatter, then Andy says ?blink your eyes, five times quickly? , and i do and every thing quiets, well the voices quit , you can still hear people turning pages, or fidgeting in their seats, some people get up and are having conversations which are soundless to . i blink five times again. and i can hear them talking a group of five standing around one women , her long hair and stately posture says she is different from the rest as they ask her questions, and some get answers and leave but still it is those interesting question, nothing you could answer,
	 ?when i turn the left screw the right one moves, how can i get it to stay green?? or ? photo plasm of the egg seems to begin when humidity stops, can i tell what will happen when i raise the temperature to quantum five??
	 Nothing really makes sense, so i again blink five times and Andy taps me on the shoulder, his mouth is moving but i cannot hear, him, i think he is saying ?blink five times.? i do so, and then i hear just him. his hand is on my shoulder while i blink . He says 
	?i still haven?t worked out anything here. except one thing. if i have my hand on your shoulder i can talk to you. even if you have blinked five times.? 
	then he removed his hand and i could still hear him. so i guess a connection comes after a while, Andy puts his hand on my shoulder again and says the words and i hear them.
	 ?blink five times?
	 ?Andy i can hear you.? 
	?oh? he says ?i thought it only worked with my hand on your shoulder, i don?t know. i have only been able to talk to you and that one with the long hair since i got here, and it took a while to touch her long enough to make the connection. she told me i had to touch her to make the connection , and then the crowd around her got bizzy and i haven?t been able to ask a question since. but i did find out something else. it should happen soon. A bell will ring and ...? 
just as he said that a huge loud bell tolled. and some of the people ran to get in line at the end of the book selves, Andy grabbed my arm hurriedly, ?come on let me show you. this is more help than i got. ? and we ran after the crowd which had formed a line, once we were closer because it was a long line, we came to a set of lockers. small lockers, like in a school , all neatly in a row. but one was open, and all the people were lined up to it. they would pull money from their pockets, and put their hands into the locker, and the locker, sometimes said stuff which we couldn?t hear but saw the knoding heads of the receivers, some time people pulled out more money , when we finally got up close. Andy pushed me ahead of him, and inside was a sheet of fine golden cloth stretch on the back of the locker, and a set of red lips, which you could hear, which just said ?place money here?, i reached into my pocket and found coins, i didn?t know i had, i pulled them out into my palm and examined them, one was a five dollar bill all folded up and looked like it had been washed such that it was all pressed together into a triangle kind of shape. but i pulled out a dollar being four quarters, and moved to place them into the mouth, the mouth took the coins and smiled, and said ?more?  and i did give it more until some words appeared above it, which said in red letters, ? Next! come back later. ? 
	______ i woke up______
	
	a theater is a fine place to understand the nature of economics. it has seats and each of the seats must be filled to have the theater make the profits it needs to maintain the theater, empty seats are empty profits. now there could be new usages of a theater, this is one idea. with the advent of apps and interactivity of computers, especially phones. why couldn?t the theater be an open war grounds, with a larger screen being the general area for the main game, say a theater hold one hundred people each person pays the normal ten dollars to get in. then, as each would have the app. to play the theater?s game, they play the game interactively within the theater. you can see your opponents, and everyone plays until the theater is empty. 
	November 4th Sunday
	Wake. Follow morning thoughts, left over dreams,regards to the day next and me, you, and all. The election is two days away and all I will say is that government of money for money is evil. 
	 Money; which doesn?t feel, which rules people into slavery , which destroys civil rights , which longs only for more money is Evil. 
	 The American system is attacked by money. Senators and Representatives create welfare called ?influence? and the spoken voice needs dollar signs to be heard. And yet the common voice is heard, when we sleep or when we pain over a future in a common concern; plainly when we love life. The present revolves around a false security which resides in bank accounts and is then of No account. 
	 I write this as a last will of a person. A last will until two more years come again beyond our grasp. so much is done while we scrabble for shelter from floods drought chemicals in food, radiation from cell phones, microwaves which I suspect of much more without proof. We are all so weary and sick we have not time to think, and are told our thoughts by advertisements, layered everywhere to remind us how we should respond and to what issues. . But then i have been thought filled about pre-theory all my life. 
	 Thoughts which change reality and guard my soul. Thoughts like the science of spiritual energy, for which now i can refer you to quantum physics and movies like ?what the bleep do we know?. I can refer you to conversations between Jung and Einstein, to Buddhism and eastern understandings. Thought which start with a simple reminder that we are a large percent water and the death high of alcohol. Thought which go on to prejudices created by sexual morals, and a subverted animal nature , which can only be understood by years of reversing sexual bigotry and personal enlightenment. A spirit has no sex and will not be repressed. A spirit lives from schoras highs and lows. 
	 Thought like these have lead my life, I pay attention to environment and look to change it as much as myself. Yet i can do little about the culture of evil in money except to publish thoughts , the world thought that passes through me, It is the importance of the wind. 
	 If you can not understand the way money changes the future. You haven?t noticed how a new car can get sixty four miles to a gallon of gas, Or that solar car races began more than ten years ago. You also forget the electric trains which are right in front of you as being proof of the electric car technology corporations stopped in the 1950?s. You have forgotten that progress must come with a one hundred to five hundred percent mark up or they wont be sold and the progress of mankind will be applied only to entertainment unless forced by government. Even while progressive patients are held back because the future world has already been invented. 
	 Money and the personal freedom of greed rule if we let them. The avarice of lobby groups are shaping the world. Billionaires hid behind trust funds so we can not personally blame individuals and they are ?free? to wreak the system to their own advantage. 
	In the days leading from the Bush tax cuts more than a trillion dollars has been saved by the riches people. We gave them a break on taxes and they saved that money, took it out of the economy and only spent money to save more money. Deregulate more, crash the housing market, the oil market, deforest more and insure governments couldn?t respond by fostering upon them more debt. 
	Such that you buy security more than harmony. You look at your material worth more than a planning for the air , the water, the soul. For we are creations of environment. Our children run to what they can control in escape. Drugs or video games such that the common emotional response is not seen , is not pained over. and so they become as cold as success demands, The alpha?s have no soul. 
	 I write a small letter to the universal mind. We are our environments. Our future makes us cure what harm our laws have done under the money politics of corporate Nature. We must see a world of scientific spiritualism. or we will be few and fewer who see at all. In this election please Occupy your Mind.  
	 
	 monday november 5th 
	 Obama?s address to the people on accepting the Presidency
	
	 (walks to the stage) (cheers flash bulbs)
	 Ladies and Gentleman Thank you.
	Thank you for again electing me to be the leader of this great nation. I guess we all knew no god damn Morman , who pretended to be from that Yankee state of New England, that same state that has present a candidate in five of the last six presidential elections, was ever going to be elected. 
	 I am the one the money wants because if you have to to have someone to cure a problem , which is only a problem if we consider Mr and misses average , you who breath and eat. The money likes me because i am reaching out to make sure bush era planning is going on schedule. But notice it is with your approval! Romney is the poster boy for what an evil American looks like. Someone so agenda driven, he would look you in the eye and says your government has no purpose but to insure the terror rights of the one percent. 
	 So you voted for me, because you know the government is in the hands of the corporate extremist and the president has some responsibility, though not much without a congress, without a supreme court having some caring for all of its people. You know Republicans are only of one party , a party owned by the Koch brothers and that Israeli newspaper and casino guy. A broken party who cherishes the money to such a degree that they have members who disavow the theory of Evolution and environmental problems just to get elected.  the same people who see Fracking and further deregulation as the answer. Namely a party of ignorant, prejudice money parasites which smiled all the way to collecting 1.4 trillion dollars of trickle down cash, while saying , no, screaming ?no new taxes? and ?smaller government? this same party responsible for lying about W.M.D?s to get us into the Iraq war and sponsoring the Drug trade to pay for other wars we were not even in, and deregulating banking while you see, no , feel , the results. 
	 So you elected me because we as Americans suffer and at least I pretend to listen. While I look across the aisle at biggots , who would rather burn a cross in my yard than look at me and I am President. 
	 so in this first speech of my second term, Let me tell you what is really going on. I have been strong armed by private government since I came into office. I was forced to keep cabinet officials from the Bush years. I have had to sign bills I didn?t like. Like the extension of the bush tax cuts, and the banking reform laws in order to get other things like the Pay off to the insurance Gaints with Obamacare, which is basically a pay off that the insurance community doesn?t start a conversation about the banking community stealing wealth, or the Oil community stealing wealth from the American people. Where do you think the borrowed money goes to? When we borrow to pay for a war , that money goes straight to private and public American companies and then if its really a lot then the money goes into off shore non taxable ?trust funds? or right back to lobbying efforts, which is a billion dollar industry, it cost money to buy senators, representatives and the like to keep this ?government running? 
	And after all that you still have no voice because i really have no voice. and you elect me because the other guy , even though he lied straight at you, couldn?t get you to believe his dedication to all Americans and not just those who are left with some money , that isn?t in bed with big money already.  he couldn?t get you to believe he would care about anyone who wasn?t ?buddy upping? to him and the two thousand rich freaks like him. 
	  the Election managed to not talk about the Morman elder. not the mormans aversion to ?colors? or their god who lives on planet something or other. The religion Jerry Farwell called an Evil religion until just before the election started. 
	 but all that aside you elected me because I have tried to do things. tried to make your life better, but have been working against the laws put in place by the Bush years. Who created Laws against your interest while telling you it was for your interest. Laws that are still around today, Supreme Court seats that are still around today. You need me to present the point that we will not go quietly away, that American is the home of the free because we are able to see when the home is intoxicated by the wealthy and will fight to keep it the land of hope. 
	 thank you for , once again, seeing the truth. 
	 I was going to make this a longer speech, but i ran into a welfare mother who voted for the Morman, and i had to have a moment to wonder how the ignorant reproduce so easily. how people could be so stupid than bite the hand that feeds them. and for a second i just gave up and let the world wash over me, and just smoke a cigarette. 
	Tomorrow i go back to work, but i just need a day of rest, thank you again for your vote. Later yo?s 
	
	 Finish to Presidential acceptance speech.
	 (comes back from smoking a cigarette with all the other smokers from the crowd. People sit down and quiet down)
	 Ladies and Gentleman , Again thank you for staying with me for a second of rest to share the respect of a moment , To inhale the possession of mystic reverence. To have patience enough to wait for me, and to let all i have said sink in. 
	 Now we start again. I stand and you listen. So lets tell of the future we will create. 
	Number one We, the American people with me as your Representative, will provide a Governmental Mortgage Loan program which will effectively Bail out home owners, by giving out mortgages thought a refinancing at lower rates, and buying foreclosed homes. But we are going to take this a step further, for now we are going to ?refit? all acquired housing, all ?bankrupt houses for sale through the government will be the new home model. Complete with renewable sustainable self contained energy systems. In order to kick this off . we will start a contest for best off grid housing plans with a prize of one million dollars. Which starts right now, so get your pens. 
	There will be a new office of the vice presidency in charge of communications with the peoples progress in this matter. In other words all entries will be sent directly to our offices and you will be contacted by the vice president. this will be an open exchange policy and everyone is invited to send us ideas, on this or any other matter. 
	 Two We will provide tax rebates once again to anyone who refits their home with energy systems, because the government can not do everything but all we need to approach Energy waste , Our new systems will be the greatest in the world and will sell world wide after we prove them. 
	 I even had an idea that communities would support each other and start a fund of say a block worth of houses, and slowly refit them all. with the tax incentives and refits for all in that block. which follows United we stand, and community from that will grow. 
	 A side product of this will be new and expanded businesses. I know there are small business waiting for this and i heard them asking for their turn and they have been waiting patiently. And it will be done.  
	Next we will create a new tax on the oil corporations profits this tax will be used to fund clean up operations and take away all ceilings to the amount they must pay back in the event of a new Oil spill. this money will be invested into patients and research such that we together will end the need for fossil fuels. 
	 We, the people, will also create a new Patient type called the Protected Patient which will be a non profit status for all life progressing and protecting, new technology. No longer will corporations be able to hid away a patient and retard the interest of the people! the government will get first rights to all Patients thought this Law. 
	 Next , As Democracy demands, We must have a form of Free schooling, And this will be done, by the methods of Buckminister Fuller, and the public media each city has ,as promised by the community television Law and the internet. Every two years all lectures in colleges ,through out the land, will be video taped and testing systems will be put in place to guarantee the rights of each citizen to college level education if they so want it. 
	 This will also mean that brighter students will be able to start earlier and not get bored by the slow pace of public schooling. We will uphold the promise of America having the smartest public and our voice will further lead the world. 
	 Just through these programs we will change the world, get people back to work , create a new good will though out the globe and be again, not a corporate entity of greed through capitalism but a documented supporter of the democratic way and the way of all Free people. We will also create a new Federal Voting Holiday. 
	 But something has got to give. so in order to pay for all this, there will be a new tax imposed on Lobbying groups , all money exchanged will be tax at twenty five percent on the dollar. And on a 600 million dollar industry, just that is over one hundred million dollars. this will also keep a public record of such money and  keep expanding the public programs we as a government can provide. 
	 All this will be done in the name of the people. but that is not all we will do. We will go through our governmental expenditures for all ways our governmental debt can be reduced.. Like Producing our own money, and eliminating the Federal Exchange which is a private company ran by the banking elite. We will Pay off the debt, and create a stronger union between private and the public good. YOU will feel that you ,the people, know we live in a better America. You will again Trust government and the vision WE have for a global peace inspired by the systematic response you feel and see at home. You will no longer have to worry for your children?s future over the air we breath or the chemicals in our food. 
	Oh wait, (presidential laugh)  I forgot to mention the New FDA standards for Grades of food. Grade A of the new standard will be totally organic with Raw organic being made Grade A plus. All food will be marked by what grade it is.  Lower grade products, high sugar content or preservatives foods will be marked as such and All gmo foods will be listed and labeled as such. 
	 These are all forward notions of a technological democracy. and they revolve around you and me , through the concept of an Equality for all. 
	These new Laws and policies insure the liberty of mind, health and the freedom to pursue said goals. 
	A freedom that has been taken away through deceptive labeling and corporate lobbying. Democracy demands that we are the smartest healthiest people in the world that we are informed such that one person can vote and live with all the information that matters. 
	 Thank you for your time once again, and remember we suffer government for a reason, to insure the peace of all. 
	 Thank you for electing me President and pay attention.  For i can not do this without you. Call your Senator! Call your Representative! Keep them on speed dial and stay on top of the issues that will arise, Make them know your voice like you have by electing me.. 
	 Thank you.. Peace out!!
	
	(cheers)
	(President waves and walks off the stage)  
	(a gunshot rings out)
	
	You might not know I go to therapy. Therapy is when you relook at all your experiences. Re see how your tendency to think and feel leans one way or another by a constant meal of body emotional memory. You look at the present and compare events of the past. Or maybe this is a ?how to? of therapy. 
	 Little things come together in you mind. You make emotional connection and with the help of someone to listen, you try and create emotion memories which countre what ever is hurting you. Maybe i am highly evolved in this because i feel I have never stopped thinking along these lines. I have cured negativity with a little orange ball. I have cured lack of drive by accepting life is a fantasy to live. Namely i am as self aware as I can be with the information i have. I still go every week feeling i have no one to talk to for whom it is just about me, it gives me some peace and inner strength. It is yet a battle because the subconscious takes a long time to change. I compare the conscious mind to a plant growing. to mend anything to quickly will destroy it and make the information useless, Emotions grow like the status quo.
	 My point in writing today isn?t to talk of me. but more to point out how the slanted media tried to make this election closer or even portray how the Republican should vote.
	 Even talking about how ?their? candidate was winning, It is like me listening to the emotions streaming from my long dead step father. Who told me how stupid I was . How I couldn?t do anything and then at ten years old I beat him with a Fool?s mate in chess. ( a three move check mate) He beat me physically for at least ten minutes to and hour and made me stand on my head in the corner, a favorite of his small disciplines, His reasoning, while he yelled and hit me was I should do better at school. I thought it was just a game I didn?t know I was playing for my life. 
	 It is what I remember when listening to Fox new or CNN or even ABC now. I hear how every word is carefully scripted by slanted people. or is it smart people invested in the corporate agenda of world control? 
	 the self satisfying reasoning of the appearance that we , as the abused voters, are to consume for our own sin. To change how we commonly feel as we see the pains walking down the street. I guess these writers don?t walk the streets or when they do they are texting their next great idea to smart people and claim a physical reward because no matter what i say they get a treat from the over lords for producing a slanderous legalized truth. Opinion published as news. Liable and straight out lies to feed the corporate mentality just like my step father. Slanted one sided and abusive. 
	Once proven wrong they will contend only how right they were. We are going to hear about how ? what?s his name? is the poor abused person. The election is over so we will hear about how Obama lied and how Obama cheated. we will hear about the money Obama spent if we watch those sources. 
	 and I will still be going to therapy because i cant find a job. But for all the talk about how it is Obama?s fault I think it is the economic culture which calls me to old to be a roofer because of insurance. Which doesn?t understand that i need to take off time to understand my emotional health after working seventy hours a weed for two years as a cabdriver. Namely that i didn?t do well in school and just wanted to go play , wanted freedom over a mortgaged system of education which just leads to slavery of a specialized job, which leads to consuming the unreasonableness of a boss, of my step father or the republican media. 
	 It is only the unemployed who can afford truth and only the abused who will speak of it. 
	 This election has been a win because of you. You the Occupy movement You that got arrested, you the ten thousand who blocked the George Washington bridge. but you that could see a problem like our economy takes years to fix. Eight years of Bush 2 was a coup-de-ta to the tune of 1.5 trillion dollars put into the overlords hands just for him to tell us we are wrong to want a house, a job. We are wrong to want standards of schooling and welfare, that we are wrong because we don?t work as hard as a investment banker.
	 This is an Occupy win. but even that will be forgotten. because the IMF and the World Bank don?t get elected. Because British Petroleum Shell Exxon are not elected, but they effect us and the world while they will still scream ?jobs? when they mean fracking, They will scream jobs when they mean deforesting the earth, Wrecking the north pole, GMO?s in our food. Hell they will scream jobs as they lock you up for screaming ?Stop the corporate Police state? and at the end of the day History will remember only who writes it. 
	And that does mean little blogs like this one, or does it but I know together we make history.
	 I envision a government created for peace and Equality in a Democratic consciousness is an acknowledgement of Environment as a consciousness for the all.  I feel there fore i am. 
	
	It is Thanksgiving like that in it?s self means anything. I do not lend a grace to one meal which forecasted how evil the white man?s politics could be to sit at a table in Plymouth Massachusetts one day , a meal which was saving the lives of the whites , only to have the next be a slaughter and slow genocide which took over a hundred years. It is not that, that i would call a holiday but there is a protest in Plymouth every year to state that point. 
	 I would rather think like the ?norm? the Acceptance of an ideal without history. like the concept off world peace or God and choose to accept this day for the backward morality that inspires it, Consumerism, No wait not that one. Commercialism, no not that one either , the true equalization or acceptance of a new president, once again No. I choose to see the day as thanks giving. as giving thanks, the ?thank you for not blowing up the world , the thank you for warms day and drought condition, for viruses that cannot be cured for all the antibiotics fed to caged turkeys or the trictophain that replaces my need for sedatives, if only for one day. Ben Franklin wanted the turkey to be the federal symbol. in the long run he couldn?t of been more right. 
	 A year ago , huddled in our tents at the Occupy we came out to delivered turkey?s ,all fresh and warm. We were the new citizens in the land of corporate wanta-be?s and against the wind which had ravaged the winter revolt set up the Arab spring , we ate with the drunks and felt homeless, alone if only in reverse to the community surrounding us. that would leave after the meal. A moment to say we are at peace. While the revolution was almost over and in our hearts would never die. It took twenty years to come to these winter camps and inner city blockades. 
	it is the thanks given to a moment of idealism, of the hope for perfection which someday will be. or is it the hope against the toltarian fascist corporate system for which provides our moment of peace, celebrate in most American homes, the ones with family , the ones with jobs, the ones thankful for a crust to share after the mortgage, after the credit card bills. no forget all that ,One day of thank-full-ness,  just one , then tomorrow we will feel the guilt of Christmas . the pain of a subconscious reminder of how little we have to give . how little we are able to materially give our love. which starts with Black friday. where nothing will be done for one month, 
	I have fallen off point . I am sorry, the pure ink pen i love goes its own direction and forgets to create point, Loving as i do its delicate flow , it unnecessary retention, i am thank ful for my pen to balance the insanity normalcy creates. 
	
	 It is early in the morning after Thanksgiving. and I had a great day , so great that i didnt want it to end. So the hours after i came home streched until the early morning. I write at six minutes until three am. and i sit on the computer trying to recall why it was such a great day , it wasnt because i was with family of blood, or many friends. I got to see one freind but only because he needs my help tomorrow. the other I see all the time but today was different becuse i didnt live my normal I didnt wait for someone else to change the rules. and i did something i wanted to do. It was only that that made the day so special to me. and it wasnt a big deal. I didnt want to go to the moon or recreate the perfect sonata, it was only to read, I wanted to read about the indieans out loud, and it wasnt that i wanted to read out loud, but wanted to share, and had a freind to share in the learning, for which i have always wanted to share that gave me heart. It was a simple act of being allowed to share, Learning, and have someone enjoy the knowledge of a book, The fact that most times i have tried this people would get bored as i suggested it, and look at me with eyes that said i shouldnt. So i never did I have a friend who didnt stop me so i did what i wanted to do. and i will always smile over an hours worth of reading about indians and thanks giving 2012, with potatoe pancakes and peacan pie. 
	it is late I streached tonight, I watch a movie, I prolonged the hours, to feel the day , and now i will sleep and remember what i did to remember that every day should be alittle more pleaseing my simple self. for whcih i forget so much of the time.
	Dec 24, 2012
	what youth we hold to discover
	 looking through the pictures of others. 
	what is meant seems hardly the care
	 it is the infinite we look for there
	to shrouds us in innocence covers. 
	 Like hope is the  silence of shimmering lovers
	the promises of all in its twinkling. 
	singing , drawing, continuing 
	when static consuls none and lights go away until
	another year discovers. 
	when the spectacular represents an apple 
	with shine but rebounded off infinite use,
	 held just beyond your grasp
	the inner core hardened with green mold
	the outer shellacked perfecting
	a look  like a ?should?
	glassed hardness
	 like a rock
	 which isn?t. 
	
	the bows of ?why? abstracted on surfaces
	leading to creations against normal purposes
	like creating the apple to know why it is so hard
	so cold , so reasoned. 
	and a picture gives back our souls,
	 to be ignorant,
	 to be saved, 
	to be romanced
	once a gain. 
	
	 Slowly the last of the Year, fades its distance in waves , work not , work, a constant reworking for vacationers. Empty streets line buildings. 
	Streets departed from. 
	the congregation of the corporate. 
	 Structures, Minimally staff. Skeleton crewed. 
	speckled block wide empty lots,
	 the seeming movement , 
	infantile rush hours, 
	are inhabitance, civilizations
	 which shortened hours, 
	counts the days until all 
	returns normal. 
	 Busy , impersonal. Comfortable. 
	 You making money off you. 
	you making money off me. 
	 Speeding . Anxiety and slower
	 personal exclamations. 
	Spotty Personal. 
	secretive and sexy. cultured lust in blinks and 
	by passing looks.
	Real Human. 
	Unchallenged. 
	 And then I read, what becomes from purpose inserted with doubt, i wonder how well the listener hears. 
	 I do not hear myself well. the story from the empty streets has no mind behind it. 
	the intricate specialization of Joe or Joan. I have only scene. the street. A New England winter. Christmas in fact. 
	 All i see is spread with me with the taxi driver, alone and waiting for the next chance to make some money, some fulfillment . Some achievement. waiting.  Watching the birds, . soaring in the now quiet sky. A silence which leads to soaring on winds, telling of peace without the bi legged.
	 a small town by number of inhabitance surrounded the lots of buildings, fine lawns, batches of perfectly maintained like a suburban paradise by uncitzens, outer towns still with Many trees and residential homes. With streets named after contractors children. Mona street and Cuddle me drive.
	Buildings of corporate-ism. Boeing , Itt, Sun Micro systems in habit for land of the older east. The whole town was a huge pig farm once. Years ago 
	A place where you married your cousin. When Boston , forty five south was still herding cows to market. All relevant until one day. Someone saw a lot of Bye-able land. then their mystery people talked and planned. Small rooms with scotch, while the worms turn tree dropping to nutrition. Mosquitoes bred at a million per second.  Farmer grew close to a worst season ever then lost and mortgaged equipment , house again. and again. Indebt and determined to live. Men with suits come and measure, Take pieces of the ground. Gives the farmer a cigar for each ten acres, the box feels good like a marker for ones personal best.
	Mrs Farmer is so inspired. Seeing little junior going to college and would love to stop milking every morning ,, baking every night , canning, feeding, sewing. Even the flick of thought comes of not dealing with Farmer. Forgetting rise and fall of the market. Each Year removes more color filled hair, a slow working to grey hay compared to the Irish sky.
	 The chickens peck, the dog barks 
	 While higher and higher the trees grow. the squirrels live inside. Scurring here and there away and back. to go away again . Storage for more and more of the winter is coming in the middle of July. the spiders create webs which birds fly through to go to the fertile places where the dirt is soft and wet, like farmers fields after the plow, though in the early predawn today the vegetable garden will do. and tomorrow while waiting for Farmer to do his season of destroy. 
	Images forgotten to pavement and solid lines, compacted earth stones, tar, asphalt.. taken from so many places , trucked , hauled Here to cover the fine earth , The farmer would never remember as he looks onward, Years later. Investment to keep him warm control by that young guy. given to him by the cigar guy who never returns calls just sends check from unknown sources and farmer fattens for the kill. 
	I sit on the hill and watch what was my vision. the empty streets. the holiday spirit alone. the car, my friend.  I sit here a lot to see stories of the unmoving. inert. Consume like a cat of the tales How and where, saving shadows and following flys. Chain link fences come from somewhere and long tired hands , have manipulated large rollers of hard wire. Leaving imprints for psycics.  
	 the fence link for one place Barbed wire for another. the asphalt the cement rock the glass and each car tell of people and places they have been touched. passed by , adjusted such to be sold and left with purpose but without moral rights, the fence argues who is he to keep out . when anyone who wished climbs over. or there to stupid to figure out the gate. 
	 The car has a two way radio that sqaulks at me addresses , times. It get angry when i don?t listen. It is Christmas day . I am the only taxi out.  Sitting on a hill.  Missing what could be; if fantasy really worked. 
	 The tree , the gifts , the smiles , hugs and kisses, special food and the community meal. If only I wasn?t working, fulfilling the services which can not sleep if it is to be trusted. Someone must be on and i sit like the cops, the ambulance, the fire truck. But it is all time and money and the longer i don?t drive the less i earn. 
	though fantasy is always greener. I have no children , didn?t fall into that space race of training another's mind, consuming a life of emotions , smiles for profit, frowns for pain, but I am the most loving friend, Uncle, guy you meet. I stare hopeful of recognition from dogs and cats for all moments of love I hold for moments to fill these long hours to consume love. 
	 Eventually once the bankers talk with the others in the smoky room, figuring out the set of organizations needed to complete a renovation of a ten square mile area. Brands and food chains , residential houses for workers, convenience stores and bars. Five corporations buy 100 square miles of farm and forest with only purchase of 10 square. the city created has other towns around which must see this economics take over and applaud. Not to comment on industrial waste and higher carbon emittions. Not to comment on the increase in home values which raises beyond the owners ability to pay. Its all cash and more cash. its great, while the water supply suffers and cancer regionally grows. the once sleep fishing tourist town of summer houses forgets purpose formerly , and builds, and builds. 
	A new town created from a number of Farms only increased everyone else and more come, as housing worth drives higher taxes. Driving out more farmers.  the first five large companies come but the fix is in so the next company comes and the next. I do business with you so i want your available sharing parts. My children want your schools. and I tell two more of the boon bringing my culture and my plastic movable demands. the Catch a worm replaced by Walmart. The local store by a Seven Eleven with a gas pump; the small leakage never seen. Only the worms know. As i sit with the engine on. the warm interior to the cold outside. 
	Tales come from the inert. Storeys we don?t see because we don?t look. I have no choice but to invent a patter of reasoning to fight the insanity of progress. I don?t drink the water. Everyone in town is having troubles with fibermyalga and tooth decay. I can?t eat the treats for there isn?t anything unmodified about them, and the beef has antibiotic so i only eat meat if i think i am getting a cold and to ward off the flu. I wouldn?t breath if i could help it. for the partials of aluminum spread by aircraft to ward off the suns now evil rays scare me. If i could only accept the cancer and stop my attempts to understand the inert. for it is only me waiting for a job to ease my thoughts of permanence. on the hill side , alone. Only me to live some fantasy of understanding speed and media have taken from me. So fast that we cant see our wake. while the heart of the matter is left behind for people without jobs to consume the left over love. to remember the inert as a heart.
	
	 jan 10 2013
	 cold is the name of winter. cold dorment I have not slept in the car for a number of days , pet sitting hidding. waiting as i say to myself. waiting for winter to end . waiting for hope to again be a tide . but does hope leave as the winter pushes me from behind. glancing off into an absolute. asking me if i ever really had it. hope. even the short four lettered word seems forgien. like love. invented from others talk into their beer . 
	So these days are spent, writing when i can get to it. when the inspiration hits when the sun comes. but it is rain and cold. it is escape and waiting fro a passion i swear to but.. like th ehand hits the child but.. the endless faces of judgement from employers who look at y resume that life i have worked for. that life i wasnt not. because i have wanted and just went to work doing somehting else. something fast easy, well something there. not something i had to work for. work is lifting and sweating it is cursing , at inadimate objects. it is the proper looking tool belt. the layers of paint on old clothes, it is how many beers you drink and still walk away.
	
	
	Another day , (taken from a extra journal marking my unorganized nature) 
	 antoher day . so much of life is told around enviroment. But I can only see consciouness. So i sit waiting for therapy . what is my converstiaond with my twenty six year old thearpist? My childhood , my present, my homelessness, my friends, economics. sorted talkes all. Less than most greater than some. but still equaling confusion and generationsl torment.
	 I am labeled and apply for labels.
	
	 I love to restart all the time with 
	Another day
	 Yes still homeless, but while that doesnt really apply, as in i sleep in my car, my car is a home. just like having a house isnt housed if you are renting and a greater part, and growing greater yet, are, because not but a missed rent would create you here. so there really is no difference between the housed and the homeless except one thinks theya re better than the other. 
	 I have written many time that same sentiment where the homeless and not do battle. effects of depression are said to have made me homeless or living in my car. drug abuse leaves people without cars so i am not in that brand, alcohol the same , and as it is another drug i dont know why i feel like i have to sperate it. My homelessness is a posistion against the rise and fall of economics like i just have suceeded is giving up that rise and fall. In a land where connections and youth are everything I have neither and i would venture to say i have very little of the first all my life. connections we my only talent in youth , well that and i would work hard, a fall out from my very abusive step father who inforced a word ethic, i want to say bordered on the insane, but really just was the backward connection of the actual abuse. you worked out of daily need to survive attendance was maniditory.  slapps and beatings might have in sued other wise, i dont really knowbecause we just did it. i never said no. there was alwways beatings to go round for every thingelse. even trying to get out of beatings got beatings. such that i became automated regarding work. though i did get out of some as i got older, creating theatter as a nessacary alotment of my time, and little league and boyscouts but that was my cheating my brother didnt learn and hated me for . it is funny that even now he doesnt talk to me , not like i would know the difference without televsion, you know where everyone talks out the problems and reveals what they really think. no we didnt do that. and so no one came to baseball games or boyscouts, i lived in silence, and like i just said only realized the difference while watching what was an accepted responce from sit coms though i didnt really see that connection formaybe years, i learned to love aht way also. from watching televsion like a spanish speaker learns english. on day i watched televsions and it dawned on me that if you love someone you consider what they like and do not and that was part of proving you loved them. I never learned that so was pretty bad with many women. But i also learned love through sex, but that was mostly hidden at first, because the ?love? was always drugs and alcohol, and old men that just lusted after me. I played so many girls like that, its been many years trying to learn what was the real me in all this , such to say I finally invisioned self love, well, maybe not fullly , because i am still trying to find that to take my next step. I still have next steps. but love is getting closer to being know to me. you see you can realized somethingbut not really impliment it into your life. it is an idea, or a thought and then it takes alot of pratice to live it. such is the way of finding happyness or knowing love. 
	 I thought this ?book? would be about that, the road from thinging to doing. the driven part of self discovery and sometime i would just change from not being to being. because of all the lives we can live without really living one for the fulfillment of self. Self fulfillment is all i really want, I want to love my life. 
	 as a kid i thought it was just truth that would lead learning. but personal truth and world truth exchange places over the years, each has levels and we look to creatte balence between them , but that balence naturally comes wiht levels of subconscious behavior for whcih it is a personal awareness that changes that and in society true awareness is limited, some would say it it the all. and can never be reached. I might agree accept for the need for which if you want it you can have it, but beware of it at the same time. for when you are aware you also atart seeing things you dont like. like thing built into the cultural system that make you have the external system ,make you know that certain characters of the subconscious are controled by an exterior force larger than any personal descision. say the chemicals in your food , making you act one way or anoother, the alchol so approved by every movie you ever see but yet still control you life into an unseen mess of doubts and depresssion for which all those big guys and girls can just handle , but really cant. and really our countries are lead by people who cant and yet dont admit it.. the whole facts of materialism isnt humanly nature as awareness would be seen. but yet there it is and everything tells you it is the Way. greed little beast we are. with the propercontrols in place. 
	 i have gone off point , but didnt i have a point. oh yes 
	 we are waht we need to see. I can see nothing ahead or behind me, so i am looking to awareness as very key to seeing self. and yet, the nasty solids of say rent get in the way and create subconscious influences for which you either forget and live with living a limited consciousness or you coragiously become aware of and live in your car to get over the feeling of personal guilt for not being able to pay your rent. Society can hate you, they can hate you for the color of your skin , but that is to easy, they can hate you for what you prepose to them, like on the west coast or in small town there are to many family connections. you are not apart of the family units, so you are an outsider, and that will keep you unemployed, like i had just said , connections or youth. Youth is important becuase youth just wants to get by, they dont know when someone is exploiting them, and do not care, they just want to survive. and so they are easily manipulated into any form of work, you can know to much which makes you less hirerable, because you might asked to get paid for it. cut cost train people young people. 
	 also there is the fact that after a certain amount of time, an part of a resume becomes out dated, yet i have done that type of work yes it has been years, but one doesnt forget how to flip hamburgers. oh wait.. you say i dont know because i didnt do it for a while. well how do you answer that. ? so you dont have experience any more. and next thing you know every thing you have done is old and you can do nothing. 
	 never mind all the other influence of real life, the outer awareness can really be a kill joy. so here i am in this state. no family , no connections. and still i sit here. i have come to the point of saying i have ptsd, i have depression. i have these cause no one will give me a job. even though i try alot. maybe i will try somemore. 
	 over the next few weeks i am going to try that but also i am going to work on this book. like why am i writing it. it is for myself i will say first, but also , i am doing something no one else is , i am waking my depressed child from the safty of his sleep. his subconscious. to reach for the dream, the fantasy, or  the envisions ablity to love you can take you pick , namly i am trying for a definition to life to proceed with in and find happyness.
	tonight i came up with a lead sentence. I think it only takes that. One lead sentence. I must remember i am poor. i mean economicly poor like one hundred and ninty seven dollars a month poor. such that each of my cigerettes cost about twenty five cents, that each gallon of gas cost four dollars or really just under and by the time this is read maybe more. but that each moment of my life is consuming what is my only income. the wieght of which effect the hours i get to accumulate into words , Art can only be done when you are at peace. War creates bad art, need creates mediocre art. when you are hungry or confind again baad art , for it is greedy art and the muse wwould hid from exploiters. 
	again tonight i watch many movies. three to be exact. each with the american sound track i guess we look for but never really get. i guess we look for and react to when we get it. the slow song with the love of your life. the violent heavy metal.and beig thrown around in a pit. or banging out way through traffic. on the way to the car i listened to a blues in an up beat way , and so my head rings with ? i want to play with your poodle? sung by a street perfromer so happy to be alive and a little vicious for the crowds pile of ones. I found it gross and it reminded me that some perfromers think they are the cats meow by playing what they live in the way of beeing rude all the time thinking maybe that people dont get it. the cynical have always been a turn off to me. my romance so complete to feel that by denying the anger we feel is to not feel much of what is life. but that isnt a real statement i guess. and no one listens to me any way . 
	 this is day two where before i go to sleep i pound out on the keys some sembulance of my day. what lttle was there,eating processed pizza and watching movies. playing chess. i told typed fuck u after a game today when the oppenant came out with the queen, like i was just that bad and they were so good. that i wouldnt understand how to chase the queen around and just wait for opprotunity to take peices. as he lost i thought it was disrespectful and told him so with fuwhere normally you say gg or good game. i guess i felt bad after, but it seems i have been living this seperation from self for to long. and occassionally just want to go off the deep end with somehting that is even less than me. I need it to get some steam out . i like at times to get mad about something. so may injustices seem to come around and nothing can be done but to knuckle under that i get a back acke from the bowing. Maybe i need to go somewhere. 
	 maybe that is why i have to remember how poor i really am. I want to go to seattle and live without L for a couple of days, i know i can make it on my own. and do things when i am not around here. she really keep me quet and unable to break away because i am comfortable. but what sence is it to be comfortable when truth isnt comfort. yes i am comfortalbe when i am on a safe street, but there isnt really a truely safe street, but a street where i feel safe, knowing that to look inot any cornor for to long and you will see a shadow. but inside when i am more alone , i do things to make me feel alive. like i cant change people around me so i am always looking fro new peope to be around who i injoy. maybe i am just looking to be superior to someone. or act up and play my guitar with drunken friends. i dont know. maybe i just want to get stoned and forget so much of the wolrd is doing the same thing. just to be closer to the muse of life. the fun of life. you have to forget things to have fun. the sober world is aware of its ineffectural behaviors. there would have been art without wine. i wownder wha thee five years have been but a lessen of what life is witout living . without pretending. without avoiding. such that i just want to avoid again for a little while. and appreciate the blurrness from standing in a enviroment offun. like an enviroment of doing. like now like writing or doing art. control save. 
	it is funny what i learn when i am not looking. 
	
	 the phrases of ones life are spelled out to them. them alone and there is not exterior understandings which can settle life for another. So left to our own understands we eventually give up trying to understand. and clear is the understanding we didn?t want to see, it was to hard it was so intuitional it reminded one of feeling. Reminded becuase of the techonological analzes of spirit.. emotions are secondary to the limitless never , seen through astral travel,, or schorka experiences.. namely ,, the now ,,outwieghs then . a someday 
	a goal. 
	releivances to body state,, history emtions narrow our understanding.. such that we are forced to know them,, first.. and yet.. most dont.. becuase the consciousness of Belief is larger than a conscious of the know.. becaseu we can not handle the blantantly obvious.. to large meaning ful.. lol.. when it is ony feeling. at its base wthout the hindracnes of a someday,, or emotionally learned self belief I e.. history. 
	 when the now changes ,
	it is logical,  holitsic, well temperanced.
	 as well as historic ,, emtionalness.. the focus of faith. and the devotion of religions. but as a natural function a sence of faith, metaphysical love.. energy and causation. 
	 most would agree on the useless to the single person.. so masses must admit the simplicity for any thing to happen globally.. a rule one. in a maze of captiolisms.  

	
	and empty pose
	assorted to an individual
	haunt , endless notorious
	self scrifice. 
	or to know you must die. 
	 if to survive 
	on what level
	where is important but self sight? 
	what reads
	pains in progress
	and as long as
	they are not right here. 
	here repreating of words.
	for onlysfour letter word 
	examples
	 celebrates all what moves.
	
	but know one is pain need to be described,
	so inherent of visions. one day we are older
	crying trying
	wondering what life
	aswers we lived
	to bad the wrong way
	but yet was the only way we arenot loverant of mistakes fomaliies forever
	a live must represt
	but no one is pain need to Be described
	so inhereent of vision. Give yourself Reason
	
	 They = I wish 
	I could deal 
	with the seperation
	betwen , 
	they represennt mother 
	brother , spouce
	they corporate dreamers
	oour lives int he hands are nothing grants
	self develpment beyond clostered controling
	body system
	dna
	and 
	convert is easy 
offer until they get it, 
	but to it constantly 
	
	
	Dear someone.. after getting through to this point to be true
	 I have found myself alarming. 
	but such as a known has given a perceptive of hope. 
	i love myself. and yet will always be without , if not for you. 
	 endless the passing. of ?what if?s? to a crowd of ?well gones?. 
	a moment for no other will. for some a league divides, for others a class of crosses, a road of lies. but for one. who reads this there is a light. endless tunnels teaching love through each loved.. but then what is love if not whole. is gone tomorrow like the faith we have been given through the pains we watch and feel. is there another. hight unrushed. a rebirth to the soul .. I would share that with you. a celebration of spirit , to share the fantasy of life. if only are yourself. loving yourself to share and not confine. 
	take off our sexes and we are lights. that is o more than i wish , through all civilization. and see of the last retention of self. 
	 what would that be? of music played and listened to .. of words in poetry and prose, in discussions which challenge us and grow us. to planned art and not so planned.. to a legacy of simplicity and a romantic unity.. for one there you. 
	
	maybe i have awoken in a dream , maybe this is the way it is when you try and find yourself. aggainst a world which doesnt reprect the individual for the prposed and the man made system triupheting over so sight of humanity we have for each other. no one can see me, i go to job interviews, and i am my age , i am a resume, when in each year i have changed for the better inside ,i am happier then ever and eyt, what comes through , you ahvent worked in five years. I have worked, i have sorted through the excesses,, i have looked for personal self respect and inner love. i have been driven and waited to know the self i really want . and stopping all ?illusions? which maddened me. 
	 but here in the world of bieng is noone to love but self. for no will join and distrub my self growth. 
	
_________________________________after this date__________________
	
	
	
	i would to remember there is audience, my so many subscribers hanging off in space without attention you will go away, but then how much is worth a subscription for free, how much is guilt and how much is pain worth for not speaking. lived Driven.
	 and yet i would force feed the dialougue, grazing from importance to a common determined survival of spiritualness in techonology, I would yet only be able to tell of self. the breaking of what is to what has been, and what ultimately is and has been. Truth is what never leaves, Nature is what never leaves. of self there is a determined voice I felt. It is only of me to tell my own insanities, though if all was put to test it would be more. the science of a metaphysical nature more than anything else that lead me to ghosts. to waves and energies, to holistic mental mediations, a sorted brain that reaches with ,, I think th egovernment has to take over the production of solar panels,, a world we unitfy around a clean energy souce.. well as clean as the smelting of polyscion will let it . what a gasly smell. warm liquid sand particals plasticised.. but  i believe all of the middle east should become a green house,, and the imf should collect taxes.. oh no i got that wrong the World government bank thingy,,and save the rest of the Amazon as a Global Preserve,, the first in the global preserve system. oh yea,, creating new zoning laws making solar panels manidtory with tax writeoffs,, buy raising electric rates? ALL Buisness zoned structions..with only Redential exeptions to be allowed as in what manor of ?free energy? used. reacting for a buy back system that will out produce electical stuctures,, nuclear power and coal. but having the solar banks on every building. this also would reduce the fear of living next to a terrorist target decentralizzing power. 
	and then we come back to the first arguement,, to rule self is a powerfull thing, but rule one slices and takes what one needs and cast aside the rest,, but then ,, the layers built , and removed, are only versions of life. Each subject to obswrvation. 
	 rule one.. there is no rules
	rule two.. all action could lead to personal clues to ones path.. 
	 rule a,, ghost are real, aliens are real, corporate world domination is real.. you are infinite, as a conscious and even if that is mute, you will never understand how close to lightyou are, and yet you will. and pretend it is a new thing. You .. you becomes a small ness cry in a room , as much as a lonely road hitchhiking, as much as all th eother roads, and posesions physical has creates as the path move. but it is th epath which is knowlege ,, it is the reminder that you like crackers. 
	 and touchs , taken or torn, tourtued or tempting, 
	 self envisioned esseances of shcrokra,, out body lands, and astral innocents. a place of being then it choise only to feel or not. so yo go and drink andforget the sinnes, your emotins become bubbles and fine glass yo can not touch for fear of yourself. for feeling at all. 
	 your fault , you loved again.   
	
	the next recorded day, so i was going to .. 
	there was no one home.. I asked at the begining of the day where i should... 
	could you be alittle clearer..... i think a phrase can drive a man crazy.. i think it takes only that to see civility a farse and a letcher off truth.. a truth it could bring more to the for front of change and adjustments, a reason that could be used.. but yet.... to know is only for some, taught quietly in prep school.. without the words off course,, for all knowledge comes from including all knowledge. Accept an arguement is easier to control.. and as such defines what facts are used? Excluding all which could lead a different direction.. a classic rule of debate.. the founding of law,, and the lessons of energy teaching through all of the religions,, Faith as a common sence,, out of body and pure road learning of ?in light they meant? 
	it was last night by a fire, talking to a boy of fifteen, remember they demanded Socretes death for speaking,, that i heard of his hearts interest in ?mechanics? and i said you know when you look at energy as a mecanical thing,, its easier to see as Spirituality being a energy mechanics.. ?It has been taught for many years ,, and yeilds feelings? I said .. ?the questions become what if the defintion for god is energy? then i stare back into the fire.
	 i want you to know i am not without my guilt in telling such a child.. but for the commerialized guilt crosses me,, the ? what is my motive for talking to this child? ?have i one? ?older men are not suppose to talk to children for fear of being labeled? funny that,, 
	 I hear off in media.. this sexually abused child that onen.. the men,, the women,, the coldness,, and yet, that is not me and the loeta does stand, I have always talk everyone, unless i found them violent. and i am being more careful about that here in washington.. i was never bothered by violence in boston. but less people more animalisms, pure the that which wont leave that is bound,, the homeless , the poverty,, ,, but in all lands there is more, the bound to the earth,, the hope, which a battle of ego. funny that, i dont tell that to the young man, the extra voices play in my heads somehow.. i dont listen , but they are there, like i am not to be in the world for the worlds exterior guilt would limit my actions. a sociel guilt,, and yet,, to sin is to owe. 
	to own is limitless.. 
	 he looks at me as say,, ?that sound interesting? 
	 and closes back up , and deals with all the interactions that i dont know. the battles of questions a prepertiy child is making, a trillion waiting for descisions. 
	I dont know if i did a right thing today.. 
	the words which can  insane ..the verb to create instable opionions and mental aboristions..  
	?God is energy? 

bob was a dog.. and there we have it

 September 12th. 2013 the days go by like i can keep up but really i can not.  So many inspiration and so little time and yet, all is time enacted and devoured; consumed, Life is love?s actions.. if we feel apart of something we do less for what we are not apart of.. as one looses to another.. 
  the internet is such. The model of the true character is marked by only one thing for me..action. .. 
  the internet is a derpessives dream, but where for the depression.. do people , can people,  learn to much? And isn?t that consumption a two edge sword,, 
  (consumptive games, movies, our conversations being shown as advertisements. Do we become of the ?to us? a friend?s words,, ?the sold Fantasy within the creative physical conversations refuse to have as a world body,, The Emotional Impact of World Responsibility And Vibrational Mental Health.
   it is a funny thought, because as i look it all changes,
 Waiting in some quiet part of the mind is perception.  
Waiting for reality to align with the dream. remembering nature, until realized, politically , economically and culturally.  When awareness perates where words wont go; square pegs and round holes.  

 this is a new computer and i like (and don?t)  its automatic response. 
 the internet is some where behind a button..
 some where just out of reach

 ,, the internet stopped people from publishing real magazines for the price of paper. But the disposable cost of knowledge seems the premier problem. A thousand hours of mankind erased with one mean mind or just a mistake (the Delete key or a burned out hard drive) .  The action of the arm on a cup of coffee and all is gone.  All of you, words hours motives. vanished like it never happened moments, so easily typed, related mentioned, alluded to , made simplicstic and metaphysic, Gone. where ink and pen dont follow.   
  I can not read my writing. long hand it looks worse then doctors,, even with my years of eloqent sqallid trying, ( i have been making the ?o? s bigger, and in the sciptive  font i write in, for which i can not change b ut have tried.. makes square letters, contracts my goals of curved lines like in nature nothing perfect, perfect is the ultimate fobile, , in philosphy and line.. 
   
the writer being tricked to use the computer.. ,, Maganectic surfaces, I would prefer writing with buildings again.    Watch the nail going in. Giving the spirit to a set of spierits, the memory of joined conscious a trillion attoms only know, frames and walls and key wholes.. 
  . What was, is no longer. and you can not share the facts of time and tide with another. a humanity is lost for the suppression . So devious, for true knowledge is permanent. Who controls the spread of knowledge control history, funny that, with rumors already of electrol magnetic devises,, electro magnatic pulses,, they clear hard drives. 
So if you are serious about anything make more paper work,, Likeing to think of the before paper time, where it was buildings as books. 
 what would our work read,, sheer surfaces, all. 
   Of course Masons
 had to go ?see
 Crete?
with an emblem
 of the maze. ..
?they didn?t know? . 
they didn?t say..  
   the words of reign.

 
 and funny how we respect the ?knowledgeable people? in this age of reason as motivation to economic devises only,   And ourselves, a hindrance, our emtional sight an opinion of what we see and not, what we see.. like it can be changed, that a ?plant? becomes its definition over all and not the many greens that accompany a leaf. we are constantly thrust back and forth between what we are and we must be. remain on either side and you are either a humanist or linear.. one will  never fulfil the cravings of society. one is the water the other growths. I have been and will always, work on the water. 
I care not for schedules or ?must do? stuff..
for where is the crying to equal
the tortured,truamaticed
what crying equals, 
the unknown. 
such that stepping into place besides some sobering thought , projects answers,, our bio electrical thoughts giving to humanistic tendancies,, a one world feeling. and energy concern,, i will not be good ,, happy until m, my projnect for the future once agin leads,, 
  the mind a child to care about,, for desperation produces, global realization of the white winter deformity,, we know what?s write takes from what is wrong. a million books on crayons.  

the beingings. of ego.. as sole interest,, formulated  ?reason? 
the superior man,, alpha,, blinded by health, on top of know one. doesnt answer Morally anymore.. to complex the systems spreading the ealth and protunity to the ?all? yet to make a really dollar ,, you must have Real money,, watching the risk play of a world market.. watching the Payoff to those families who created it,, the largest bear does nothing but ,, get larger,, mostly by crashing on the smaller.. every now and again.. oh and collecting for the creation of the money.which are old goverment loans twenty five bandkesr own pennies for every dollar out there, and still collect, cause we still create,, never to pay off,, a straddle to the government. .,, percentage of income ,, off the ?budget,, MOney given to money,, debting the power of and sudden rise of idea,, the government is weakened ,, in face made illrelivant by debt. So who leads our egos.. so private , so individual,, that a one of light isnt relivant,  the trow aways of man knind care,, and they have been trown away , shot, plagued with crimes unimaginable. to have opionion and the benifit is only the welfare of humanity.. the commoness of love as wrold direction and a mental health tendacies for better mechanics of civilization. they must leave,, so they started rising in forgien contries, and left yet again to face the same systems,  IN DEBT your national or we will over throw, you, Economics, a a funded rebellion against you. funding is all it takes. a will and a gun , a check and a plann. j
 so easy are the targets it is almost as the tragetsf we the creating. more that the system, to them,, no pushed into a hole is the final stragecy of a gobally millitary domestic. especially after the Aliens anounce.. 

  
    ,, how does that make you feel. insecure and inner psychopathically oblivious to our hindrance. of caring. 
spread out the geodesic domes,, but make it fast i have a dinner date.  IN fall out shelter five. 
  ,, welcome to a representation of a ?reality?  A side effect of knowing anything. 



  .
 this must be the thirtieth computer i have worked on. yes i am computer loyal. and am just wiating as the last gets fixed, and this one, a lease goes home, i have learned to just store everything , the rest of my life on Hard stick memory chips, what trillion s will fit into a libary, congradated to the bombs. a dead mans library i should invent for all the writers who never could publish, the may who without words , made them, the without publishing is with out the tree in the woods,, but yet,, to answer what is seems to incorporate into the sight. such that , as one get heard he she it is an echo of the millions, , as we live , we breath and spread words. in causal conversation and hints of the analogy. Only , we don?t like analogy, who would read ?ficiton? the narrow minds. of few separating.. 
  why is it that every time i sit out in the world , i get to listen, when i thought there was silence. 
  lie is so temtion, ,, it is a thrill o the internet to not be tempted but to experiment, to dirverge personality , for what is perception, it is almost pure reason to give the beast ,the adapative beast, a place to roam,, and the spriit the inclusive spirit to love freely , for no tendances of reality sepeerate us, i am not ugly , i am smart. 
 i can type fast and never fart. 
  a spriti is light and takes up no room
demands no space, 
 and doesnt incriminate
  self with body movement
language dance
  we love sexually everyone. a shared beast, its over, known and doesnt leave us pensive,, is shallow, but energy cares not, spreading like thorught is , addictive and coutagious. 
  springs springing,, the balence of mankind being 8trillion who can read.. and touch and love. 
  so much less noice in the eighteen hundreds. lol. 
  my ideal time for wriitng, no big city language, no over heard conversation ment to be private for the stupidity , that cat stories become.. and yet i listen with relish,, for i can do not other wise, what is there to hear, young er girl , i vent ,, college type , the accented gigle with each word,, she was in the bush on the other side of the water, giggleing to a girlfrined on the other end of a plactic spqare ?phone? computer devise atatcted to head, from which another is conversated with. 
  i am going to go pla on the new electric guitar. the old accustic guitar. maybe do more, i can not write about an artistic plan and go do it.  . so to mention it is to foretll it,, foretelling sucks, so many choises in life they fortell what is to be of our excistances. ducks in a feild. water on the brain, so formulated from so points of veiw to get over the lack of being able to effect self change. for self is the problem right , it is not system trianing the rich children and poseing them as experts, wiht only the morgae of souls going up. the finance createing a lesser citizen, in the americ the european slave,, whos ideas was this system anywy..
  when off lately i have been again living,, my moments always were to the end for which i presnetly accoumplise,, this ,, writing here on a sunny day , under a brider with many supports, and five pigrons, a duck , and may many spiders. 
 spider flowt away from the nest , and there is life. feeding birds killing mespitos. and create art. in the wes, 
funny that. 
 the trapping of conscius, art a paiing, a spider web,, though we have attributed it to the web weaved... and all. . five webas different trees and the supports under the bridge. there are four on that one, the larges sees almost to feet whid,, all round. off ling tage lings. You feel the wins as the connection bweet the spupposrt is realized,, push off a long top line, 
  the lineds all step and ladders. like apple tree ladders, braod at the bottom, narrows at the top
 i must play. 

septemer     --------------------------. i tested the track i have laid down already, the sound is somewhere and i hate my voice ut i dont know if it is me or so i will need helpl. tommorrow.. we will see, I should write from the jounal. .. . we will see. 

 september 13th friday.  the summer desends and rise again and again when fall comes to a full bread, today the reminder of the cold and rian to come with only a grey sky and a heart turned so but enviroment. it is coming the out world is approaching the zenith of an inner world that must replace.  but yet i will not give up yet, and closter myself in doors i think this might kbe the most productive winter yet. i am free from housing guilt and only the smoking issue is my greatest concern effecting housing. money has left the problem in a free house stranding me away from the car, giving me hours to think and write. ,, but only outside am i really comfortable the walls and reportings , a nessacary paranoia, but you would say follow the laws and i will be alright, like you bowed to the seat belt law, and to the dui laws,, as you bow to each and every law aprivacy taken away is the illegal soul left ractioned and devided, good and bad being not a mortal question but a physical one, like hell has no voice for existiencial freedom. the potenial of the one is the limits left to freedoms. less and less will we understand nature for the cutlureal responces of our fears,,  but dogmatic as religion suffers sciense of th eunimaginable. the uncreative left to figue out the boxes edges befroe the space inside, bent to straight lines. 
   these hours and days are years now.. just to concider the freedoms edges,, my five years of living in the car has made me mindfull of what edges are, the cler instablity of street cornors, and the daily panic strugggles of what could be,, freedom witou law, for law is a weak willed victum its self. composed by those who complex for clairity. yet can not simplify for true civility. 
 edges like space, space3 i looked to the world for chinese motels, apartments in Germany,, the state of massecuttes the size of britian,,  freedoms,, space3, edges,, awarenesses of knowledge, but then look agian and it is universes and molecular understandins, the rate of change, the speed of factualized ancient concepts.. and it all builds up inside a man to write, to cast off the energies of money and guilt,, for it was personal guilt of self goals. depression of monotony and fallling in line becasue falling out of time , tkens away survival.. but it doesnt.. so the survival is the balence, yet,, it does the work we do the time we spend,, i descided i was not going to watch the paint dry,, look before i ever painted,, the carpenter watch a building not his own, giving the energy like magic rituals , the caring to a wooden gutter.. high in the air on a ladder , tide off upper and lower safe,, working at a wierd angle, you straighten up and see th epatch sky ,, the puffs and reminice  on nothing but thim and a squirrel loking from the tree wondering how you got up here and are you competion for the last of the nuts on a fall moring.. it was more than that  to get down and top , to quit and forget lurking behind your bar eyed vsions.. i could drink no more so i couldnt be a carpenter.. craft and rituals to and for people i didnt know or share in the energy off,, needed to wait again for me,, after i have tryied and dyed maybe, after i have give over to face what i didnt  so trust into what voice would give economics its chances.. 
  where do i inveswt makeing skin to grif, by my own hand.. 
  so a new day comes where the voice runs free, echoing away at the hours i have to echo.. .. Remember yourself in all things is a balence,, of love and listening.. ,, self sighted , ansers take years to qualify between fantasy and being. for so much is in echo,, the commoner phrase being , ? thats the way it is?
  rise my peasant soul.. frist from wealth?s forced lines  but rise from subconscious emphasis,, dream back and forth, the now that will never leave for it is .. so like the man said ,, ?someday never comes unless its already here? 

and what do i think september 15th 
  i can still not remember my name when around a women who would get near me. if only for the all of it. i feel them and react, over react, lost in my age and celibacy. it is funny how sexed we become.  Our lives leading only to more than we wanted ,and with little guidance, take roads beyond us; but we come back and that is our lessons. Slow learning a conscious love.  Patient like a tree lessons. i only reach for girls who?s agenda i might be able to occupy, like a warm night.  A girl who wants to be passionately loved for her spirit. it is because i can hold a relationship. undateable because i like my life right now. i have achieved this , so slow into depression i have walked. the six year last homelessness is over because the federal government gave me an apartment, and what to the world do i question but myself and ?system? (that joke of generalizations). That hopeless blaming, when system must conforms to intellectuals some day as natural prophets. and the voice of the arts are the expressions of the all. 
  celluarly,, as an enlightened cell in a trillon that make up a body. Simplicity comes after domination doesn?t work,, such that we talk of the good the system is creating, not a man behind a house. but a man behind a governmental mandate to feel the naked being first, all effecting the progression of the people on an inner level. someday, Funny as truth exist so must answers that never leave. 
september night 2013 i have often wanted to talk about sex. here and everywhere.. i have wanted to talk of it. and free what i think we are killing ourselves over. the love of one to the love of all. , i think.  for as i am alone, stoned and homely , what choise would what wonce was behold, the cringing around me , a room full of girlfriends. and not.. now i celebrate to much the minor hug,, feel its essence, the celebritcy creates, the long left to dids of bieng , waht another has always what yet long ago , it was they wanted from me,, that i want to give without asking. .. the best schro, and eyt transendance,, doesnt seem to teach enough for some, why not the holy land of parneting... it is one of those nights, the moom in and out of clouds but full. demanding its halo come in between the lightly dense clouds.. .. and it is a night when i dont care, eding so well it begin a market,, there is no extreme in nature, so one thought is many,, moteratest and electromagnetic spirituality, let to the for front,, a mind changing. evoluving, casting off and takin on newnesses,, the philosphy leads time. and we heed timelessness and health. we heed peace within to express with out. healthy philsophy,, a reason agreeed..
 two days from my birthday . the sound of another year are attentions. what rememberances we make of our lives is what we take, a celeration of a birth is alone to know intent of the observer. 
  I have not like my actions of late. cornering a street surviver with lust. saying do you want me to a mirror uneasy to self sight , no reality do i see accept my own that want sto have sex like the world depended on it. and it is not just me i have to remind myself. but it is me to oberver it. what fuction of sex i have become , Telling the priestess of my vision so to be alive to the animal nature, a truth untold but persuasive. everynight i have sex with a twenty year old in fantasy, love her like you can not seem ,, and i hear the acdiction call more than the whole statement and i will go on like that, without regrad for it is silent . .. but ever television radiates it. every ad tells for it. and yet, we deny it to keep love away from actions. for love gets tarnished,, and we can only love without recorse like it abreathing mechanism , functioning without us, and my birthday comes and i reach to feel loved, and can not , can not because i have pushed people away for so many years. unable to understand what feelings come when you care. it is easy to see why ,, it is easy to see even the actionsof technongy that inhance it. namely the lonelyness of the internet, which world of people who are just not there right now. and can only read you as an ?all ready happening? twitch and tweet the world is saying but only to the young age still feels the time before.   I would call the final stages of brainwhsing the internet, invented to keep down the ribelion by dispersal of importance.  everyone is important, observed,, a character int he web of life. and no one is there right now. when you are lonely . no one had become a symbol of our accepted control of life, further and further we go into the lonely ness that all is escape even the government is putting off debt intoorder to call the global economy working. in orger to let corporate organization go forward. squelching nationalitis for sufferance of ingrooved govermental weakness govermental defromities, to lock up the profit margins.. so what if you get 1.7 trillion in taxes, you still owe 17 trillion.  and all personal develpments are statistic to sell to. marketing to understand well understand this ,, what is an accepted idealology of marketing is mere prespective of human develpment, such that if you create a system of guilt and cold facts your people will be stagnated by the lovelyessness  and global conflict,, and thousgh who are not , ?effect? are stranger to humanity. 
  I walked down the street today to pull apart the words profit and phophet. switching what our market is , and what we beome accordingly , if profit is phophet, pensive is peace. poverty hightens the snce of self, what are te need i can elimitnate , i am wrong , needy , worried. so i look.. the growth of one is a portion of all so i look deeper,  , i write my time by looking inside. i write what is there as apposed to what i create in projection. i do not ask you to look at the puppet and not the hand , ripping down the curtain, ourseve is naked and lonely , responding with yes, to set of tits no matter how the connection no matter that whe downt see you or have anything to ask from or for you, joining with a good conversation where you can stand being around them, no they are tits like it is a dick and you a parasite on to sex and unloveing really , lost to an attract to over haul all the sufferance felt. asll the little things yu can not change. we drink and use drugs for the same reason. excape ing the condition we can not feel for feeling is the danager, as a pup is trianed so the world trians , so ev er waking day is an understnadin of family and love, such that you readch without feeling. and cry after. 
sept 22 1965
 i have not been happy with myself. echoing my pain by not looking how i offer myself and to who the world awashed ones own mercy as long as it has no name. to call it something markets it idenifies it and gives guilt, to me. for what i can not afford,, in definiton..reasonable wanting the all of solitude, change. resolute and intactable explorationof the experiment man. Looking for a reason my head can only write about abstractions. the molehll turned mountain, nature of person, of a unit of organizeds bio atoms like universe.. unknows batting against unknowns, and if true excists it turns all to ?present day? man?s civilization a joke..and future a shame. 
   But for me to respect my words. i look at the universe of self.. so driven am i by the ?present day Man?s civilization and tenological approach to being, that i look for the ?nameing? of areas of change, I look for generalizations. and over used clichés,, and i weigh them against a forty to seven hour work week, i weigh them against a lovers kiss, fleetingly into the dawn, against my mother on a coach teaching me the time in a seventys new invention the suburban trailer park, complete with a sled hill , a lake and evil step father. Tales of folk hero?s and blessings of early trauma. (late trauma is harder to rationalize,, ?i did everything right!? So elite and egotistical) but  within the early is visions and emotions harder to see nakedly, Flash back should be avoided until nessacary..     i will grant.
     Harder for the sight is not enough. Trends and rehashed pictures of innocents waiting on street corners. a confident eye and sorted guessing. who am i now. knowing that to be in another?s eyes is to loose self. for the vision, unknown and godly . able to be for another the great acted game  in street vice and board rooms, but lets not for get the mirror, where acting can not so coldly be remembered,, for its sin to burden self. and each side creates more understanding as it focuses the inner nature to the travels of human experience.. piling up like a change can come,, the one ,, change personally to understand the motives of a natural peace, for the second question is always 
?change to what? 
  what is health ,, and does that come with a personal revolution,, a forced take over,, a sufferance in to poverty to have time to think.. to think is to feel to feel is again to reason , and each falls through the spirals without confidence and a bit of fantasy,, for true is a feeling more than arguable though, a direction and yet ultimately a resolution in the beauty of a natural system that understands a why of individual life and strives for that.  the theocracy of self for proposes a metaphysics of civilization. 
  it is time to make coffee.. a running commentary is what we as? the millions of lonely despondant people sitting at key boards looking to be entertained, 
  Should that be spelled ? inner attainment? 
Can radiation from a computer screen 
weaken the eyes, stress the brain
  tax the soul with the untouched fame
 you there,, it is not a book, for it takes electric,, ,
 it glows and tempts your inner space 
to decide to be funny or sad,, you are worried over this ,, you are sore over that, and i can read it.. like i could understand what you are going through, and i am forgetting myself for our problems , i forget self to much again and again, never going with my squirrel mind, well not as lone as i belong. so i leave.. 
quietly on the next train, i can find.
only to see it is also empty ,
 so complacent is the changing man,
, for change is a constant, seen or not
. changing into symbols without
 thinking you are changing at all..  you are a craftsman, a fungus, a business man  a whore, what ever, and after that daily thing ?enjoy? is taking along what ever culture condones to make a dream, and you don?t remember much, for memory is knowledge and knowledge is sin, to think without action ,without god, leading is guilt.. and yet, We never hear gods voice, better than our heart, until all the supportive dialogue fades ,, the a dictate of natural change first we must learn what we are changing. merely perspectives, which effect neural pathways,, in a one is to find the global realizations easier, the whys of what we live, the openness to all history not just the one?s on the buildings. tattooed all over your body in invisible ink few read.. and even less actually empathize understand or even put together more than a foreign language, for a sex organ. words can be so forgotten, for the flesh within,, and yet we pretend to understand, and equalize our lust, exchange our change for a first step of solution, you against me.. love and proof of dreaming. except now i am character, i am you parent your frined , but also left to my own world of understanding each perspective piling up to understand that which a conscious mind can not handle so it lets the ego take over, auto drive, facts unfriendly , when is it me. ? 
  a day after a day
  the begining and end , looking for that start and stop , yearlic al, rings in the tree after decapitation. fourty forty ,, like a bridge leaving. falling. the hollar from the way down, up accrossed, insidethe rain drops, and fleeting with the air. , gravitaional waves asking .. telling . fith as a chimical electrical materialism, ancients ?never leavings? though we try so hard
our rubics cube. many color six sided
 self creation. with a seventh of empthay.   
 Dear Stephen, 
  I am coming again to want to quit smokeing. I know ever couple of years I say this , but over all I have slowed down. But it is the last of the weed again , and I am looking at the world , again different, a spiral i can not say, have i dont this over and over. but yet never see it. I ahve to have some importance to write it yes,, no i know.. 


  maybe cuase i just want 
to maybe because 
of need.  I feel more emotionally in touch, Yes just that is enough for me to want to write and play music clearer, more trusting myself. more pushing the boundaries of what i know and how much i am to learn, for i do not achieve when stoned, i don?t reach and want only the play time of understanding. the slow time of use and reuse,, but never adding for an addition i might become afraid of might come to think of in a negative way for my limited capacities, 
  It maybe the strength of emotions to create from the feeding of a clearness or a closeness of self i feel after , my last flash back which happened just before my birthday, I celebrated it more here than it seem,s, but changed my writing area, and wrote for a number of hours, i am feeling my lacking and that can only yield a greater wisdom or more an accepted fantasy like all things. 
Yes the flash back was like chi.. was like the touching of something calmly me . a place you have to see,, to look trauma in the eye and absorb yourself looking traumas in the eye. But even as that was in a marijuana stupor.. i felt the lesson. I have escape being myself for the heightened  visions. Timelessness was there to keep me safe. All to once agian feel a real strength. These little thought experiements have been my life. little break thorughs , sorting out the complexities of a child raised in moderate violence
  I have reach the level to emotionalize what i have already lived. it is our pain we have run from , it is my pain naturally that i have ran from. given up my hope of what i felt given up about me. In that mystic, to see again a new day energy. . for i am free to care with my passion as i once could feel them, and stopped feeling them at all. i have not to hold back, and yet it has taken me years to approach this.. and hope someday to help others by saying so. so little to preserve the independence of spiritual being , as a mental health, of being. 
and someday the meaning of what and where of law. 
  the emotional self. is survival. but our system is creating a hatred for humanisms,, ?want paid still they must force themselves to getting working, fullfiling a system that wants to rule out human responsibility and deny family, the hardened heart for it?s empathy faced off into a mirror.  And comprehends only personal suffering and not eternal energies.  love of form, materialism is killing ,,   

 September 31st. 

  a long day has past leaving behind the waking again of a fear. I vistied the indian resuvation. played guitar with someone, and yet, it was fear. I was again jolted to an in human tide. a deal with the Way things are, and dont accept it as my life, and yet, my is a ego. and a accepted device of securtityso much the so. 


October 3rd pass away pass away pass away month. I am here becuse i was down stairs. smoking and into the journal. a three by five notebook,, to short must stop , to stop is death of an idea at times, such that perfect was reached with the inventieon of toliet paper writing pens and computers.. i will heart still unfocuced come to an indescision of writing in general , for me ,, i mean , is one a writer merely because they like to spend time , pounding out what a sixty word a minute muse might.. but yet without forms ,, like there is a short story , their is a poem,, no.. prose only and without much focus,, a streamming picture interrupted,, the freexe frame a piture of the main character , lips agast slightly parted, up from floor shot , nostrils deprting a larger film that we never see,, so large where they. it is of innocense to face the day. 
  and there in the hauntings of imagination, lurks the incorporated cunning colflict , man for what man, as breathing becomes next question. and i can only think of deluxe nuclear fall out shelters,, and zoning rules changing to make all new builds Off grid.. solar panel roofs,, and small windmills ,, but many , and a large battery station. beneath the house,, somehow mixed with geodesic heating.. for which might scare the grey aliens that live in the earth, but there you go. limits are easy to see.. for what they are to what they should be.. the poverty of progression.
  but yet there is self,, to stir around and make light off, a system thinking its self proud of an global economic equality . with a sheltering mask , falling away into sections,, for nationality is fading for esperaza. and i am thinking of me, trying to get to a point where i can write fro three hours at least, inside a subject. like i do a play or i finsh that one story i never could get into . or did and stopped oh so long ago. not many stories or ?rational Literture in my jounrnals. just mumbling form the most important person in my life. yet mostly i enever knew it, , 
I guess ther ewas a certian, if i couldnt control until now. what is going ot make this experience different. I can feel that as a tructh , 
you know i have come up with philsphies.. no ,, good questions. for my self to answer on each little spirla psycological growth , . stepes. the bash full crying of a backward child. 
  he was a short man, five nothing and large stomached,, 
my step father.  he terrorized our lives for years. sort of like the republicans,, in reagan bush bushy,, sort of like war for the children,, and gold for the gods, i have been trying to write out the events , like flash backs, but they never really wanted to come before. i couldnt look back for there was no forward,, love is seeing inside and not worring,, it is what is natureal. 
  Haveing a flash back is interesting. You see its been so many years, since lsd,, and since the dreams and stral travel were left to the wayside. this is after the mediationation and chi learning . holistics raw food,, i never looked back , consciously , into the pits of terror, young eyes who think today maybe the dey to die, .. never knowing how fora someone would go. just because they are bigger.. just becuase they have an idea this is right, and conscious of the pains as an important job. torture
the ignoramt man, slovenly, but he played motown music, and buildt speakers. i always hear Supertramp when i think of him,, elo, the ink spots and the four tops. its to bad he didnt know Jazz maybe everyting would have been different, or maybe he was a musician, who was to lazy to plays. Maybes filled mason jar in the basement. Crusted with dust stored with each turn of abusive phrase for the hope of a new day within. 
  
 Oct 6 the first thought that comes this week is all about what to write. You know i do not plan these writtings much , a pen and gone, a computer and what ever takes the mind defends the self creative discipline of writing, though that is what i am talking about; the discipline, 
  maybe there is a real fear of overt discipline, ? responsibility? of the craft of writing, but there is a point when you come to the edge of your own understanding  and see yourself as needy. what am i missing. i don?t value the story telling angles.  The craft of writing isn?t my first regard, for craft like may things has taken the creative and taught it;  broken it down,  told you what it is. Resulting in same forms being repeated and the over story gets old and all we hope for is a new angle , a individualist twist. but the facts of a case still don?t change,much.  and lately all i can see it third world exisitialism as having first world grounds on the larger stage. Buying their poverty to tell the first world it remembers what real poverty really feel like.. and even as it is the first world . thaat only means all the rest must go through there time of rebellion. for as a nation we all must come to idenity and inteltual comtrols. humanity must understand why it would look to live. 
 Such that american poverty is only covered by Rappers. and we can eat on a daily basis. we get health care, we are free as that is a word for walking down the street without daily searches,, We wont be killed on the average by the millitary just because we belong to the wrong political groupings. Our terror from government is the big brother kind. giving up eletronics secrecy, and for the most part not worried about death  truama we are comfortable, unti you start making up answer for our comfort.. 
  then look and greed takes control put into the dialogue by Edward Albee. and others sixtish writers. Maller, Kensy. or fity is and forty ish , like Hewingway and stienbeck faced the humanism straight forward, we changed to include the secret factors, the in the know factors which read between the lines, where this is true is all worlds and if you can?t see it, it is you who are lost. like our media,, spreading through reporting on its self. The channel said this and its a slow news day for what slant is allowed to be reported, cleared through the central trials of the Pepsi generation. through the facts of law suits and slanderous censorship with ties to IMF controls , where should be united nations standards. .. 
    I admit i am so far away from what is literature. sitting in this little town on the way to Alaska. but i cringe at the new york times list.. simple words for simple people but yet how did the mass get into reading. how did money get into real art.. ,, becasue art wasnt the matter .. at first  it was communication. Here horses, and bulls,, here a lion,, who will eat your children. .. factual stick figures, that lead to crafts.. always to crafts and to religious objects.. still no mention of an artist.. and artiszan was a crafts men , my object is worth more than yours,, worth in trade barter or other wise before the invention of currancy.. but who paid who to write the Bibles.. why were they written, words from the Gods?
    Art as entertainment must have been a given. if it is better why is it better. accept beauty makes one think.. thnking resolves the lion ,, the big pit with spears sticking up. and a grass mat laid accrossed,, my education Incomplete but you might see how the complexity works, such that symbolisms. remain and the quest for a complete communcate might yet excist.. 
  but it will remain format for fiftey years. until it is taught. and education comes to control. but wisdoms are silently absorbed. 
osmospmosiss. 
 such that we can see the rich plot and can hear the voices of thrives, silently aro0undall we look at.. we imagin ewhat comes next more tha live it.. the symbolism have become the leaders for most people . the job, the over all picture so well and true because we have choosen.. we choose life. in such it is our responce that comes to qustion.. and can a system which revolves around the future accknolwdge the now.  
  That also being the holy grail of Americanism,, the now.. if you can see it you know what to sell,, buy.. you know what to generate and what to cover up.. you, are frewarded in cash, or your reward is poverty, for to know now.. as a feeling , seperates the materialism which grant exterior sucesses,, for to know one is only that. one, not an economic structure unless, your one is of a groupong, and you are social. which moves now into the first step of then,, then is a party , the smallest faction for future living, the event.. the celebration the then. the now doesnt go to parties unless they happen on them, for set up a then is what we are fighting , the now is a micro seocnd of time but you have to be jquiet to see it.. you have to elt it be and consume it for it is always gone. except in wolrd where it become tone. if you use to much blue there you are with a blue painting.. 
  So the question again is what do i write about? 
  
 I think about me ,, the metal patient,, un mentally existing , holding on to some point of humanity denied by the larger picture, to them i am lay and un aware,, i have done nothing that an ape couldn?t do.. and i feel them.. I feel the system giving me the thumbs down , staring just over the cracks edge, Innerly knowing point and process have been motivations. Knowledge and  experimentations of humanity by feeling: by response to ?facts?. 
    oh maybe alone and guarded facts, sort of like people talking of the green giant of environmentalism being a bad thing. Like any ultimate truth is fascism..
 god equals energy.. 

 the battery is about to run out.. cigarettes are gone, i stop writing for the night.. The street has the same lonely shadow. Orange lights against the white cement embedded lines. Grated  straight . when they say there is no straight lines in nature. what surrounds me I am. 
   
     but yet the Reality should lead.. but i guess the powers that be blame system ,, and why system is supposed to  be in a state of change, no perfection allowed.. and yet body is perfection natural and divine. a ?given? , and can not be argued; truth..  so much time is wasted on discussions.  discussions which in global economics  makes people a lot of money , and denies others,, for one that profits looks for no change but their increase in profit. and money is not oxeagen, not food. and yet you say it is .. it supports planet ,but only against Wars,, major wars, minor conflicts are always going to happen in a global system , and the child that thinks of aliens and real life. real life.. 
  thinks of the need , but scowls at the deed.. 
    , and planet is yet dying because of the arguments and with it ourselves.  i can argue my pulse,, while the world divides into factions of the color blue to get a number into the Deluxe Nuclear Fall out shelter.. or the Geodesic Dome in under the sea.. and i can not stop dividing myself into polarities.  I love you I hate you. i accept you i reject you.. I occupy , i have already died..  

I slept after that, well only after hours awake, staring at the ceiling, staring at a cigarette long away .. the movies all have been watched , the nose and brain have felt the effects of the ink for the drawings. Reverse glass paintings thin layered colors, with choas of little lines which turn into beasts and faces,, small pictures moving in and out form them, displacing horzen, forgetting from and all intent,, a childs drawing , for as we step inot the future so our images become of the past, our sysmbolisms a figment of reality such that starting over again does hurt,, it merely reminds we are not as smart as with think, and that the images is our creative view.  
But my head is filled with it, colors in ink , kill.. I can feel it and want to move away, or set up a wind tunnel. 
  
 the high out is fifty five.  and we sit, the car and i , Bella by Present name,, for the ?through all wxcist . and energies of awareness hang out together, 
  I have lost my weed. 


  no not sure where. Somewhere between going down stairs and coming up .. a bathrobe,, I was only out for a minute,, smoking the end of a butt i searched all night for.. woke this morning to nothing.. nothing in the pocket, nothing on the floor, not this floor or the one beneath it nor the one beneath that. out to the street,, and walk the gutter,, and walls.. look slowly without wanting the attention ?of what?.. are you looking for? 
  And then again this is Washington state.. hmmm, i guess i shouldn?t care anymore.. yea right.. Watch as Marijuana Dui?s come and tickets for smoking in public at 250 a pop. or so the street noise goes.. 
             No it is the consciousness that Marijuana promotes,, It is the investigation of objectives through the hype focused mind.. and we as a state,, voted in.. and I believe we should have one hundred percent vote all the time with, a law to make all citzens voters, by getting a tax break for voting.. lol.
     i dont know..  but we have started the first mass step toward understanding and accepting the conscious mind.  I believe this is a step needed to advnace mankind,, and that it is an offshoot of mariujuana ?high? . This vote has made consciousness a political relevant,, you might say something different, but we get all sides with one,, the acknowledge meant of smoking bars.  Perspectives on  change and creativity are the most important subjects of our time. the entrupetnural spirit has been fostered for years by majuana.. Many great ideas come from Marijuana,, it is a focus wihtout,, it is a being , for personal and world change, if properly used.. you dont get stoned and beat your kids.. Most philosophies should be read stoned.  the bible and I ching, . Tabud Koren, through the last  seems hard to get a copy of, but all of the most fantatic shit ,, should be read stoned. 

all ones life.. can be easier
looking back through 
glass pipes
 smoke fading emotions
 visiting tentatively, the past sight hurts
and smoke is a cloud which take you there,, 
 we change ourselves 
back and forth 
we care we don?t. we care. we did
we , the collective self. 
so much of it told , advised, instructed, 
demanded, or in extreme 
effecting mobility
 each movement of conscious mental activity is good
as long as it isnt
 asking for its rights, 
rioting, or sitting on a down
 town pavement, talkin
 on the phone 
about bombs
 while driving , 
as long as you are not.. 
over taxing the debt card
 allowing bankers to steal 
your unemployment check ,,
 As long as you are not personally
 stealing, or littering
 in a sixty mile radius
 around a school 
wearing blue on a all pink day.. each movement of conscious mental activity is good unless it is trying to get an education while worrying about how to pay for it, and how attached you will be to the system and how suppressed you would be if you thought of that all day, As long as it isnt thinking..... each movement of conscious mental activity is good ,, 
   

 hmmmmmm 
a butterfly and a joint,,  
a jump start
 never hurts. .. 


  the walking back through what made you should always be done stoned until you can handle the reality of it.. but to research out experiences with marijuana as first step to meditation.. we need hope from somewhere,, imagine a world more attune to the world.. that lives its pains and creates laws accordingly. 
Washington is a state of Martyr?s maybe. Coast lines filled with left over lumber and paper mills. plywood and rail road tracks, hard streets with bars at every corner. and some two to a downtown block, .. 
My representation of Washington, Lumberjacks and Seamen, colliding with the factor worker, who?s children?s children remember only , and a scar on this building, or over there a crumpling dock three steps away for the new pier set up for yacets, .. one claimed area along a bay where once was a constant flow of commercial ships. , . and These noble people stopped the only large work source they had,, so that we the collective, might live cleaner lives.. but they are the martyred for a less pollution orientated economy. 
  Washington state, , with the largest Waste Nuclear dump in the world.. 
Maybe we do feel the panic which creates one to think,
, the light in the darkened room. 
 what else will we vote for. 522 yes. Label GMO?s Label it!!! GMO. 

 and yes i have lost my weed, so maybe the other side is the more truth you would like to hear,, playing the guitar has been what it can be, when i refuse to change the strings, and still feel slighting suppressed by the lack of smoking here in the apartment , taking me from creative to watch full and feeling guilty as i try and figure out how to cheat. but i hate the rules , why else sleep the car and get use to it.. no rules.  No not being, 
 
the rules there were different and i had to demand certain things. but i never felt controledl. i couldn?t loose my car,, my house, because of something as silly as smoking. one person addition, I know ,, i will shut up now. give me a home, where the acres of land stretch, where bunnies watch me drink coffee.. and the chickens eat bananas,, and let me write, .. 
but i have been tempted to do another shulctpure, .. no fumes. .just the smell of earth, . 

Later, and tomorrow again i will think of things to say, rememberances, and witty dialogue, except there is nt any , all seems so long winded, so we look out and watch leaves , and see the rain for more and more steadily,, with each litter my life has become something.. more than was intended,, house and home i would have been satified, but so auquard dream took over, to escape and plainly i did that. escape into a system you think you are part of .. but a whole within a whle is ever lasting life. 
  smoke another cigerette think about the loss of oxergyn to major body parts.  
  
  you know i feel our sense of ?the criminally immoral ? comes from empathy with any news story, and if nothing else this empathy creates your vision of what others see of you without knowing  knowing you. or why they feel that way.. . ,? that could be me?? but dont you eventually flirt it into your mind. ,, knowing in the heart that it isn?t so but it leaks in to keep you aware enough to care for others feelings. .. but does it pull me away from my natural feelings ,, i mean i love kids, but all the nasty stuff,, makes it hard just to hug a kid for me,,maybe it?s me always feeling the stranger,, not worthy of love and can never give it for the gift of love seems only to be time, ,, time spent addictions shared..  sit and do nothing.. i hate nothing. I need action and social nature, though i can not keep it up for long if it is going to clubs,, , and tend to show to much of myself.  
and then the full package is the reason you were alone in the all the time, Human, be not Human unless it is for art goal?s or design. to spread an illuison some fantasy i will at the crowd to understand what i am is lost to me, i am, what you see,,  
 ,
, right now i feel again like a fool. escaping into something i always wanted like it was a want and anyone can want anything, but i also thought a cab driver knew the big everything, and then found out you couldn?t.. and a cab?s knowledge you don?t want,, not like it will change you, it will just steal all the romance of taxi driving,,
 i guess i should go back and read what has been put forth,, 
  after a cigerette,, in the wind.  
           maybe i should write about Syria or Egypt (notice how they were interchangeable for a moment) like afhans and iraq ians, but i cant because i can no longer hear the radio so easy as i might when homeless, but i have to turn on the radio in the other room, when it was just above my bed before like everything was just above my bed before. i have to walk places to get things now. but i can sit up.. i like that. 
tonight i put on the reading glasses 
my head gets heavy with them on,, to much in the props department my mind is. No really there is a certain heaviness i get to my head like i want ot sleep.. or maybe it just feels odd.. There is a dizzyness when i look over the edge and my real eyes see what i am really seeing.. the buzz is mind knumbing. like 64 oz Slurpy.. ok that last remark will not stand the test of time.. flavored ice drinks will most likely get a new name, and another dime added on. but by the time this computer is pulled out of the grave yard,, or.. when the aliens come to see our defunct planet and someone turns on the internet and finds,, the ?sight? that takes pictures of the internet everyday,, and stores them, , we will have a time bubble to share there,,? the world went nuts in the last decades? they wlll say,,?like you know when animals go up hill to avoid a flood hours before it happens, ?  Every conscious and moral opinion was up for grabs, elections become direct face offs between the have and the want to be havings?,, verses the have nothings and need government.  its sort of like levels of love you have the player,, the romantic and the nothing but love.. of course everything can be wrapped up into some kind of trinity. 

      and yet,, my state is reaching for the labeling..not the whole country, just my state. of course sponged by a washington DC firm somewhere in the bowels of do gooder land,The only reason i care about gmo labeling is because some day i want the standard to be Raw Food.. I want to change the FDA which will come with exposed medicine and anti chemical new age.. the next step in healthcare.. preventive. Did you know that most cancer can be link to the chemicals which cause them,, like behind cancer is Dow chemical.. and jr renyolds thought it had it bad.. but still we argue over taking out the shoe shine boy from the front hall of the senate.. and hid all cuts to food Programs while talking up what the 68 billion in pumped in money is doing for the other dow. It isnt simple to be a kid. 
 all the while i am fighting my depression wiht anything i can.. because they wont give me a job, sorting of like the whole house crisis.. they dont like me, so my only answer is I am depressed.. like everyone feels aboutthe money they have paid in all these years and they cant balence a budget.. which costs the government 680 million in interest just last year?  and i have to make 197 last a whole month, with 200 in food stamps.. and i make it work i suffer when i dont have,, but dont you thing the government whould be depressed right now. like we should be able to get something done, A long ride we have been taken on ,, the american puplic Royal wee i mean. oh what ever i am going to sleep.  

again i watch my thoughts go to a women, you know they are every where and my lust i haid behind, knowing it isnt so. it is love for what i love.  there stems apair of eyes, a cuasual glimpse tell of youth and a fear mixed with ego. the dirty sweat shirt. the half legth hair shining out of the hoody, red, with baggy blue jeans, yo
 i can see you , and around you could create an empire, just to gaim your favor..  the knights of don quoixote fought and died for; your maid mariannes, Every where is the same, but the inspiration is in the living of one true love. while all else happens around it.  and there walking away i see the small town around us , for it is a small town , I saw her frist a couple of days ago. and i feel the savoirs need from her, i feel it in my self and fight it for a moment, and yet, can not just forget the feeling, micro seconds passing me..  a devotion from the mist of air, and we dont even make eye contact. i can feel the barriors around her, can see the gutsy boyfriends and the miss shapen hands of touching her in the dark, it is them that touched me, and anicient. But the senate is a model of the closet cases, and so the people do yet follow. 
  my passions has a purity , for as i would love i would hold dear and cherish what comes from the inspiration provided.  I would never need to touch her, just feed and house, and tell help her through the ages we self create. But i wouldnt be heard , Sweet cheat gone. what money and none create.

  but yet Its all a feeling , and to others i am jsut to flirt. one will take me,, one will love me again i know this. somewhere inside all this verminisn, all this humanity, is a conscious that look out of physical supression to exhale health spritually  is hope physically.  
  
	
	 i started an arguement becuase i was tried of hearing of hearing the negatives. becuase a potion of what another said made me rememeber a bass that wen tto a pawn store becaise i needed cigerettes, maybe that wes it ,, but realy i walked into a corld of a coffee shop, demanded on me by someone whos interesting mostly because what they claim to be, and , more than can be, like the world of the fantasy has taken the place of reality,, not that they are different but a musicain who doesnt complete a tune, a social musian, as in ,, they talk of the world they create,, it is conversation , it is extrememe lieing in public as the engrandizeing of a simple act becomes show tuens for post pubesent women,, and further glore holing proproganda for th emen who s egos all shake with aggreement, and then it own to ?metaphysics and what the world doesnt know. ? inbetween the small referance to the the drugs one is buying from another. .. of course everyone know everything, and will base there egos on it.. so little do they value like,, to answer only adjectives , self cfreated and group inflattered. 
	 the sahllows.. I lesten and want to gag,, or at least edit,, over generalization that no one calls on. like secrte language, and freakishly like giberious,, but reconzied as lanuage by all the head knodding. while th epoint gets left ,, hey look a flower.. 
	 bar fights have been made of lesser things. , I am ony here to play some music and some a friends week,, to play that computer game of his, and smile at the dogs. I amn not listen to his ranting about his life wihtout feeling inadqueate to my own. and i know i am not right, he needs help I need money , but i can not hang with his friends. the coffee shop is no longer for me, to fights and i am scared for the third.. i will not go back there. 
	 but i felt that before. I knew it, i couldnt be around such blantant left overs of philosphy and pretentious edicts over the whole of mankind,, and just bow my head,, yes this is what life is about. no.. 
	i need my space to enlivene me, agasint whatis a al of self. the failings of mankind happen without me alot.. but me as a failing i can try and cure. Enviroment ,being the best we can give to ourselves, is sacred
	 it has been weeks well one week since i wrote, the hours of going from here to there insearch of something or collecting somehting, ?hanging OUt? have been mine force, the excesses of me getting my drugs , bribing people we personality or friendship. just to feel my high, it is a pettynessness i can no say i respect of myself. but there are alot fo people who dont listen, to themselves. enough . and many who listen only so as we dont say what we feel. keeping my thoughts to myself off. work is not my forte.. the endless retoridone hears passing as conversation reminds me of why there is a small worship of zompies going on. of letting someone give you things. while they only want crowd and not a shared experience, they are conern with they, such that unity is ony an idea. not an action. it is conversation and romanitc thoguhts, agasint the sheer been there enoug to feel the fools hereacy, his constant reminder of ignorance tolerance. i refuse to further isolate myself by accepting the stangnace fo envirometn. .. so again it am alone. it is manny times this way, embittered by the surrounding foolery , my excellerated visions that see a character trait, i dont want and fights its soource instead of walking away, I should ahve walked away again. like in the past.  
the start of december , first day turns to days, turns to dust. 
	misfortunes of seeing .. what others had done and then telling a child his patterns, a wild look and a threatening gaze.. anglur rocks the supremem memory of a youth, twenty maybe, pink purple speckled pimply pucker face, with long strinking slod black hair and a bikers leather that is to big for him, i dont know how it happened.. 
	 One moment sharing a smoke, I am listening to his ?young mans, conversation of ?I would never go to a pawn store!! his sitting at home with expensive equipment he cant bring out. and being the whole ass of a tweleve year old.. he says this and i lookse it.. i dont know why , the level of bullshit ,
	
	 for weeks i have been sitting in a coffee hoouse,, just one, ,, where someone was meeting me.. mostly coffee is for solics i feel.. for being at one and comfortable,, not chatty,, so i was in the wrong circle. i know so, and had previously made up excuses and went to visit my one friend,, 
	and here is where a whole nother agle start. 
	 this man is in pain.. back ackes,, and haert ackes, but like most things. it move though the whole of the reality, and pain leaves lackof real understanding for other. your world so small. you need the ssubconcious goals to push,, you need to think you need to do this.. and so you do it.. but you are so far behind,, yo dont know. you are looking at a road,, like a person living ,, through what ever medoum to be somethign worth Humanity,, be it through paintins of writing through music or Masonry,, creation marks history. 
	but when you can not hold your own hands over a fire yours to quit yours to live, you sturvived long without anyone questioning you. you anger such , your devotion to them that needed your devotion. my ?freind? had a good heart and made women pregant,, and lived that, then when he wants to play his creativity came out , and he is battling cronic pain wiht Paino.. of so he has been saying, we played the other day, he was happy. but he really doenst like my playing,, two chord when ever i feel like it. eric hate is to.. 

it is another day . the table sits still un right. my hands get caught above the arms, my back almost straight but the key board is to hagh , and the table un able to support anything but my lap top.. my computer, leaving my elbows in the wind just above my legs. two more inches or a half inch,, but more surface is needed,, i never will replace the file ing cabenet in pair with a old door.. the perfect width, the eight foot length. but one need urban affairs to achieve a unit as that. there much be so much in and out ,, tat and old file cabinet can be left in a pile of buisness doings more easily , more people more buisenss,, 
  
 It is late three in the morning almost. well 230am 12/27/13
  i feel some new ness to self, as the layer have moved off and the interest have assumed the place of goal and or drive as is this case. i can feel the need to write and yet it is aonly anothe rmoment of drugs,, marijuana,, and the chanllenge is to write without , where all day was sitting in front of movies pasing by learning by , escaping by.  me left as an understanding unit. wh can not get anything accoumplished wihtout a cigerette,, or coffee.. and i have th ecofee. somewhere, myabe not available as i write whinc makes me want to finish diversions, it your man on the right drugs, echoes inside. 
  so many thought scome to a person in the hours unwritten , where thought and words echo. this thinking a long string of what i am and what is or the questions of greatness and th epeculaiarities of animal and beastial aroads unwritten for fear of the interest only affect to mention th elower shchrakas.. to mention the passions missed and or taken away depreding what you see as half full. and yet, i must always rememver what is future is only accepting what has been life. so as not to cry , the endless unknown for the contiued knowledge which isnt ,, it is action , where a part of history is only the part we are.. i have seen less grasp more.. less caring ,, less point less thought, become so much more than thaey ever offered.  so why not me to have effect these words not wasted in the in convievable breathing regularness. 
 but do we concider.. should we consider ,, brating, as an individual talkent. 
 well we have made it the time is ten fifty six am it iss the first of the month year being 2014 sometimes i feel like i am living the sci fi. like all of time has been the creation of the mood of people the prespective is the only idea stoping or creating the world and yet here i sit. Its been five or so years since i had a job, living off the government for one hundred and ninty five dollars a month. for which i keep my car running, my house running and my head hidding it seems the average no body , the telling of depressions that come and go , but have always effected me always takenthe substanial from me. but i am not you on certain levels. like the brain having been so misalign for so long can only feel the brain it lives so we tell you we aredepressed but it is a chestry problem and we all have it .. it is a matter of everything we have consumed about our lives which crreate us.. and if only one moment more was granted we could or might tell the endlessness of cretion if ony we had the time. I have tha time and still can not feel my speciality as no more than a lent moment. an escape tht gives me time to understand .. 
  from this perspective i have a number of things to say.. you see i have not suffered the normal straiins that can change everyonewhen a job become to much i quit, now weather i was intended to create this for myself or not, for intended to creat this is a large statement, as in i considered the ?purose ?  sistuation or not i can not say ,, my faith has been based on how i feel and feel is someting most give up as beastial or a part of the past as in our innocense once created this as important, and i have been regarded by ?Professional? as childish , and i am, it is a postition fo which will end you up here sitting at you computer wit no semblance, and living on a governmental stipen.. you could say bounty,, as is any Give away,, when it is taken away i will really see the importance. and i expect the minimal bounty to leave someday. there will be no safty net no ground floor to what the system can do to you, when you become pryamid grease, when all the free money leaves and you are looking at why you can not be a good robot.. be it for religious reason or not. some people are just made different. 
those people can not handle the hourly , the show up when another says, work without emoitons,, life and lift, and bend and crunch the tiles up stairs the piles of stone , the lift lift lift, such that only focus is the matter, the difference between rich and poor and poor and crazy, 

I can not remember if i thought about my depression. I did, i know and have but not with the eye that sees but with a will that diddnt.. i didnt want to. couldnt didnt have the time.. to stress and strain under memory, so key the programing, so simple the desing (deign design)and yet time is the faction of focus. take my time take my focus.  
    and maybe only I would think of that, I the worker. years and years staring into the void. the difference beween doing and thinking. my thinking didnt go with my doing. my doing reacted inside a ecomony importance i couldnt be at one with .. always forcing me to hurt my hands. telling me to rise, and wieghing me down with excise tiredness matched with excesive drinking. writing becomeing a treat to the mind, the importance only that it was done, i didnt mark off time  until th ebook , or product make make the stands. I  is and will always be the muse of dancing findgers agaisnt a wymbolich silent tryth like normal. mis understanding so rampant.. deyal.. the exer explaination.  , and more and more choises on Fact.. the reason seem a lost cause ?real socratic of you? 












Driven too.. 


	Of endless frosting :the joke and the rage.


	Of endless frosting 
	the joke and the rage. 
	endless for the infinite 
	which could if 
	was, could, is
	 a harmless reminder of control facilitated by innocence., Yes i always turn back to innocence; the true nature. with here and there and no rules but feelings. 
	 childish ,, like illiterate
	  both i have been called. ;
	 and each to there own
	 is correct , but yet else
	a flower be. 
	alone with rain and sky,
	 in-divided. 
	
	I try to write without cigarettes, 
	Another day aloof maybe , another day to deny, one for another. choices untrained. morally i feel the need to quit, and yet another of the natural facts is to face challenge.  With all i have done it is that which i still need to do. the ?i? aloft and unnatural to blame. 
	 my joke is less and less , 
	the more and more that seems to be failing. 
	the i 
	can feel
	 the hope
	 so i governing with care. 
	a goal is a constitutional amendment saying government must take sides in all issues, equaling promise.  A clean sky, no war, free schooling with a non exclusionary education system. then i could quit smoking. 
	 I really want to tell the truth if i know what that was; is. could be, 
	 Years have been this . pen and paper of all sorts.  Now. digtal.  Now clearer, ink pens are my favorite. the ones with rubber bladders,, I am not sure weather they make them any more, now the vial inside is refillable made of tin or some light metal and cost more than poverty affords.. but its a lovely feel. but i can?t read a word of it..I just like sitting outside on a lovely day and scribbling what ever comes these books pile up and only old age will get me to translate them. the was,, the is the could be.  
	 Writing hasn?t really been about the production for me.. Words composed less than the flow that inspires them,, direction and story seemed a waste of breathing time. contort philosophical self into plots and symbolism to be based against all else considered the human effect.. some broadcasted into your face ideology such that you don?t have to see that which might lead to a different result maybe, as power controls with opinion and regard..leaving else to the unknown or out of vogue.  
	 the earth is flat and there are no aliens.. 
	god is a being.. god is energy. 
	energy has no over-lording falseness
	 no scorn or maliciousness
	 it is,,
	 just is.
	no time and no history.. 
	Other systems ask for bigger minds than humans to consume. 
	
	
	 and i have never really had a dream, it?s all for a living..no dream of someday when now is.  I wanted and received, the long lost nature to just be.. you would think it is enough. Along the way .. i have come to see that which i should have seen,, the escape becomes happiness only while all else was, is trouble. convincing yourself to not love; for love dies with  devotions.. or just a way of looking through the darkening window of the ill treated,, 
	Yet one is never very far from that which invest them.. invests. I say .. like possession and yet.. 
	To join and be silent. is what i felt system asked, this land of father hood and daily attentions. no I like to watch the breeze.. and  smell the earth. I had to be outside.. i had to write sitting in the strangers chair in the local bar or coffee house. back before ?Starbucks? back when simple models of good european kinds of atmosphere went with any gather house. before they become the home of the pretentious and projecting serial killers and students. or is that before internet zompies, when sitting at a coffee house was communication .. with nothing in the way accept wanting to get back to your physical book.. while the gayity of  arguement keep you centered.. when once people were laughing and talking now is 	quiet,, secret communications with people you might not ever touch but know so intimately or touched so long ago to only remember their smiles. 
	
	 There must be a million books on the changing landscapes of social interaction.. but with the new comes the old.. penned into the cells of some glorified moment you had with self,, inscribed on the building boxes, the essence of mankind..  i find the reading of self more interesting than the prolific postulating of a ?cartooned? world.. and i can not write stories.. or not yet .. the illusion that an exposed inner dialogue tells of the ways we change  as better than just finding ?realism?.. as something new.. 
	 We watch the great stores of literature as mostly tellings of history. we forget the art,, we forget sometimes the purpose which is the advancement of namkind. (mistyped mankind)  And not just the feeding of what is so known. 
	 but i have yet to accomplish this feat.. and i am only starting to feel a truth in my words.  i can rarely follow a concept past the introduction.. ?the house on the hill seemed strangly aware of its self? then i forget or get a blank stare back from my canvas. the house.. hmmm,, and i get absobed in other things around the house or the cat moves. and i am on to other things. abandoning the character who pains to get out.. for they are parts of me i have long never seen for the fantasy seemed hard to take as a reality.. i loved something and am scared. 
	 we forget everything when we love. and of the times we love to love, like one picks up gold because it is there.. and it is gold.. one has a hard time turning down.  we are what we feel. and yet, to feel and loose so many times. i  come to fear the love for its image,, my inability to understand within.  to many loses.. it is the only great killer. if only i had loved me before i loved another. but i have seen a whole life pass without seeing one for myself. innerly, i me we Us and them.. 
	  and that is worth talking about . that is the care and devotion our hearts need to see a way through  . so tossed up in the air by what it can know, that it knows nothing and escapes from reality more than incorporates common sense. 
	 like me . running from a mortal wound. 
	
	 jan 11th. 
	 Sometimes i get weird about my cat. mine as in i mind her, share what love i can find. Worry about her. our little idaho. with doors and window. though some people in idaho might not agree, but with the wind and rain outside, i remember just one year ago.. when the wind torn through bellingham , and i was sleeping in my car. A toyota Wagon six by four, by three.. feet all.. pictures thumbtacked to the roof inside. the windows painted red or streached with curtains. Peacefull rian and wind.  
	 the days were simple. shower if you can, eat. waste the hours of being awake with a book.. or internet if you can afford the coffee. I keep a card so that one out of twelve vistits i could get in without money. one a month. 
	 those were the last days though i didnt know it. the wind gently rocking the car, like greatful mother rockingg the last of the crys away, I was cozy within, two sleeping bags two blankets.. a little desk with paper backs mosltly, a stuffed animal looking with his dumb constant grin..  and me happy to a fault of having the car at all.. the pings of the roof  telling me no one would be on the street and i could sleep. for i moslty parked in a industrial zone.  People walk to th.A.A.  meeting down the street or go to the small beach at the end past the electric plant. You are startled for a second as they pass hearing bits of conversations sometimes aobut you.. the foggy window declairing someone is in there where you would rather people not notice. the streets PTSd, alwasy alert.. wating fro the cop radio. whaiting for the beep of a parking ticket person as they take down your liscense to call the tow truck.. so every sound is noticed. Like a animal. one could imagine the sence of fear. shich keeps the small alive. the constant twitching smelling listening. where to survive one needs a dire focus. 
	One year ago.. before a couch and three desks before a miooion pants and shirts. book and chairs plants and my bella.. well actually she was there in smell. I would to my artist frriends house every night for dinner. and we ate well. always vegatarian which helped my high colestral count. and i didnt wake up with numb hands.. and she always gave to me an un numb heart and head... everyone else was only time.. they would never listen or trust me and i was ultimatly a survivor simple ,, just survive.. 
	this cage though bigger with window. walls doors. sounds still come thorugh , people pass on the way to the elevator. children come home from school . adn i dont hear law in my ears every minute of the day. as when i was just surviveing.. law so pertinate to forget is another kind of death, where survival goes living in the street. and further breaking laws. private property is the next law you face all the time living without a car. sleep ing on porches and fire escapes depending where you are.. realiestate. sellable but only without inhabitance.. and if they wake you in there sectioned off property you might face law. Law really is only for those you get caught. all else is buisness as usual. 
	
	 doors open and close many steps at a time th ewarm night and innocents. 
	stand agasint th ewall for me. so i can look.. cherished acknowledge outlined in the walls colors. portected by ist flimsy papers where once bricks stood .. the first degraded over time,, the later is no use.. and yet there it is .. the room front blown off,, where it is not just one story but the accumulation of all stories. crimes sabotege disciplines of moral conscious but not a spritual one. as spirit become what robes you wore books you referanced,, blinders you wore. off course its all vilence and you and yours ,, seeing oly you and yours. And i heard a lady on the radio. say,,? I am old enough now , to say whats right and wrong? or some such thing. staright forward control .. she was a republican campaign manager.. who worked on bush verse gore.. 
	
	 green celtic design journal 10/13 - 1/14 
	
	October and winter comes, very slowly. thhe night changes from liveable to untight with rain and cold. I watch from behind glass, in a living room. Last year I was looking at the first day of winter from my living room, a cars front seat. strechingout over the passenager side. my ppropped up legs a desk. the radio playing . staring at the rain. Just the day to survive and fears of the street. limited in reality hightened by meida. the glass all around fogs an steams, a curtain on can write on. one that says someone is in there and people on the street say so like an animal expects over the radio with history importance. Billions of dollars , secured and spent conseled rally to a forgotten as yesterday. 
	 I can only see dim forms shades reminding of an outer world except the clear voice of comment?can you believe the police let people sleep here. Here is a back street which runs many blocks from a power plant and a train musuem. and it is a choice of here or an alnight department store many miles away where ?do gooders? wakke you up to give you food but you only wanted to sleep a mildly warm rainy day , the stock market rising and falling a nd words spaking of panic and when is the right time for it. there is two recreational vechiles who shared the night with me on the lonely road . tomorrow they might not be here. We never say hello any way pure homelessness revolves around invisiblity. the curse of bing ?caught ? is those voices . discusssing some such thng before a pause , walking by then?someone lives in there? you can be noticed and targetted ?why do they let them sleep here? ? 
	 Some times the voices talk about the stickers on the care , slowly reading them to get aperfecti pronouciation. sometimes theresponce is the mute knod I can not see as we all realize how close that vision is. 
	 Homelessness angers some?lazy people? but nost homelss people dont know the word, going to the shelter to wait for a meal, waling around looking for a leg up, finding clothing or a place to sleep , using intitive street learning to sleep with some safty and most homeless dont have cars to hid in. And most homeless dont come back and dont stay if there is no work. ?most Homeless? what a term I could only back up wit statisticees produced by ?civilization? in order to seperate them from the unemployed and housed. My ?most homeless is from tweny years of being homeless off and on. Each respiet from the weather getting shorter and shorter. each job lasting less and less time. then the discpondance of looking takes over. You notic so little while life is gay and and so much after a few months of the projected traumas of the down and out, the left over stries told by clothing and body language the easy accetance of reality in the shelter food line or the up tight closed dorm. or logically discussed at the sight and wonders. working homeless are alittle more arrogant , to wake and preen for social acceptance another invisiblity. Really pushes the adaptive muscles the ment fact of nothig and rebuilding ?normalacy ?takes a strong will for which excessive or sucessive experiences of being without shelter have played havoc with my rebuilding . I guess one comes to understand the myth of ecomonic security , the myth of Learn and Earn, the myth of self. ?for you can not be what you are not paid for? and i call myself a writer yet cliam no reward it is a documentation more than and invention that istrue writing. th epowers only buy the lie. 
	i can not remember where i go with this a side effect of certain preservatives as i read some websight. 
	 Depth and arguement; arguements covering feelings.  
	
	10/17/13
	 what ever I am facing a spirit knows more. 
	 Subjecting my intuition to explaination is hard. People but the rights of animals, tend to find diversion in blame and often your relationships with unstable people brings out your instablity. 
	 I write this facing what has the last few days, I let myself get involved with a women. No I didnt really want her, or could I find a way to like, but offered ssex right after she preposed it. becuase really that was all i wanted. trippping chemically charged touch. so long from a loving relationship for poverty doesnt even let me do the normal romancing the dinner or movie. No . there is nothing like that,a walk and conversations are only for freinds.and yet as she was homeless, i imagined she would understand but that was wrong. she didnt consider herself homeless She was fighting back ?going to school ?traveling except every night she wanted a home. 
	to be again part of the system her drug usage kicked her out of. I didnt ask about the usage. what kind , how much . there were children involved . a fac t which drives parents insane where is my love if not for my child? who am I? Never having children I can only get annoyed . where purpose seems so clear. or that is the other side of the fence speaking . for one arguement is not enoough my own experience 2/06/14
	
	so long from typing, a new fountain pen, inspiration from a lifes goal. I guess i have some still. like rampant little visitors between sufferance i disregard as earned. lingers. around edges, my home, a n apartment th ekind i new liked, the square walls like jails. like cages, like ,, all the space i am allowed to inhabit.. sectioned off.. qauntified. emotionless, cared for. ward of the federal government. captured for the quiet saddness i could old off once with small jobs and lack of personal direction. for i would even through what little work i could get away sometimes. with stince in giveing up.. a constant ?what are you doing ? echoeing,, the fool hardy nature of a man feeling what he doesnt understand, why this ambtion over another, why live in the shadowss with wisedoms, like wqter, where swells the eternal soloutude, un wanted like always, a shost to daning, and hope, community ,, and people who know to much about me, i am a fabled alone. every excersize a particular and i dont need control if the emotions is correct following naure, nature nature, so muc we dont do. when only a little branches the likens of civil and yet, we are never our hearts enough. i havent been writing here. like my fingers dont wantto step into the boat and findout how really boring i am with joby stating to be come a motion. to me,, a smile to the life, i feel thorugh mine is supported like the oil industry, like churches, though i am not sure these are the right thoughts for fthem, uderstanding as everthing is evidence.. evidence i can do something, 
	evidences tha ti am not depressed,,, and they would be write, ,, years and years of denial , becuase of my lack of production, the ?journals i woud sell.. sit in unde the bed,, and what right have i ,, I cannot afford to make more copies. i have only one. and the disk.. which is found on my flash drive ,, but, and can be lost .. so many reasonable words have never made a change, yet we speak them like montras, effecting the enviorment around us, for the enviroment around us.. 
	 this last year to tell has been a bllur.. a home a cat and still not moment of mneey,, everything cheapered.. ,, a term for find short cuts to spending like rolling my cigerettes like the coboys well before the media blits to sell larger cigerettes, in the day of the horse and gun, it was a little and paper,, a meet and leave not a stranged ten minutes, or five depending on the brand. , stand there and finish it so you dont have to smell like tabacco. by saving the end in your pocket. like Edward g robinson in Gaint. 
	 I spent the whole year watching everything in the libary, that was another ?cheapening? You can take ten from the ibary,, the mechnaical ones at the store, though they do have first runs,, charge 2 two dollars. between that and playing chess, it has all been wtch women get naked with a smile and a forgein accent. who i romanticse will touch me and never will. then sometimes also i write. Queer reason and distrutive thoughts are not the common ness, it is buiness ideas and getting further with the magaine, it is the same as all time, with a cat now again, this one like the last oh so long ago. but the same . a long haired pushion, but not, she is Hyminlane.. 
	 the car seems .. dwon stairs,, sitting without battery or some such thing. i have been painting, reverse glass paintings, going backward the twelth grade excecise, in crafts class. the one i broke in /the Dog techers class room my second english senior year. i cryed,, the peice , though small, was the cover of the comic book Daredevil? on his kness, begging not to die, defeated.. you know he would be alright.. but it looked close, the dog teacher, yelled at me to stop doing something.. someone was teasing me in the back.. 
	 i cryed.. silently,, 
	 the car sits outside. and yet it is ages away roight now. a pain i will again go thorugh if this ?refuge is denied some day? of if i get caught breaking some simple rule. as i dont do well with rules. and some have been invented for me in the past just to break me ,, and i lost everythign, because i refused. .. 
	 always job. then home,, but always love romance. endless togetherness, I loose the job becuase she is gone. a noble effect of ones love but after a million times doing it. (or four.. whcih is enough) i find i am only loving as much as i would,, and i could love myself just as much, . thats what started this all. the living in the car, the moving out west,, i had been living in my car in the east also.. the lst year up there,, i had a complete ptsd moment.. where i was afraid of myself. and lost my job.. by yelling at the boss. after i had the same moment with a dispather two days previous. 
	
	 the next time i typed.. 
	feburary 13th..
	
	 I find pennies in the air. 
	and stop them from falling.
	as such stillness can bring
	i laugh from crying. 
	 no longer innocent
	the air tells me. 
	behave, believe, be free
	Waste my work with plans
	 armmed by forgein demands. 
	The plum that spreads , of earth
	forgets the tainted ground. 
	
	 I watch movies, read news
	 the same fantasy 
	around philosophy
. how i think  i created me. 
	nature of man. 
	
	pennes in the air
	. all the wounds i ever felt. 
	i will feel forever
	
	as penny , a penny 
	as penny in the air. 
	I am never sure
	if i am , if I am
	sick because i havent eaten
	or from what i have. 
	never sure
	if its the water
	I have drunk. 
	or  that which has 
	never touched my lips.  

	not sure it is the work 
	i do
	or the work i take home.
	that matters, 
	
	pennyes in the air. 
	some pride from dispair
	
	never sure. it its the secrets i hold
	or the ones held from me.
	
	 pennies in the air.
	 I breath to be. 
	
	my valentine
	 this deed.
	Pennies in the air 
	are free.  
	
	
	the pounding keys are not as inspirational as a pen ,, I will admit that.. the edndless roboting factions the tedium, of the learning subconsious now. if i get out a couple of lines i am all joyful. still the Not right Desk.. and the empty nesss of my head seem to go hand in hand, the paintings on the wall ad up ,, the pages in my head wonder where to be released, the street play sparce this whole last year.. but again soon i can feel it coming. 
	 a state or man in one kind is to little. the small that need cash is to defined for the interests of global marketing or world philosphies. and yet what isnt mentioned is exact the thing needed.. to be exposed, not that playing on the streets is the great surrendar,, it is,, on the level of the perfrormance is hardly . 
	
	
	from today?s journal.. 
	
	 why have guild the the register of sin
	debt is guilt. sin is debt
	economics has replaced god.
	
	Love is devotion through loyalty . 
	The silent bow; My captain , my captain, 
	and never is the lover alone. 
	Infested with seeds 
	illusions to eternity
	?sparkley? schrokas
	amass of rhythms
	excess and delight. 
	Oh in change the memory of the day
	to self often forgotten
	a survival cramps
	innocents once. what is can often be decided.
	Slow and patient
	the wheels turns 
	I would to sam-iz-dot
	as word self imports what wisdom agaisnt 
	take over. 
	to owe , to owe , to owe
	and off to work i go
	as they say my val
	lets learn latin.
	
	
	four days of valentines daze, 
	
	I walk fro house to coffee shops, two blocks , sunday , a warmer day then most have been of late, couple and crews for breakfast after church. after drinking all night, after work, before again. they smile and laugh, the new mornig sun, the hope somewhere from something. that can not tarnish. that holes no time for irrelvance,, that knows the now. of course not all. extreams of which sit on the sidewalk, stare thorugh the glass,, ?i will not be tarnish? and the eyes just happen to look away , underlying Us and them, exstreams are always easier to deal iwth , to avoid the ey of. and yet when eyes meet, it seems a devotion yet to the shallow exchanges register of a sunday moring in a ruural town, declosing nothing, accepting only a clean clear surface and proposing the same, dumb down and dulled of any edge, the employment security,, the long time to anger, the frailty of defense, ?I will not be tarnish? I am pure? 
	 of course i cannot see that,, and so i pretend to know. what i see and a classification of insanity, the arguments we are left with after,, media has given stamp. the one gone,, the corporate entity guarding its own,, the ?I will not be tarnish? to go so far as to embrace the media the convinced the world WMD, was not White Man Defense,, or Wouldn?t Miss Dis,, 
	i am pure,, i use to be news.. until Reagan read Balzac,, or one of his four fathers.. the trintiy in plastic figures and the almighty dollar.. tied to Prescott Bushes planned to get a hold of power long enough to cripple every country in the world. or Carniges hidden connections to the Nepolians or was that God as an Alien.. did someone say listen, If there is aliens we have to be an earth,, the only way to be an earth is to have a common money and legal government. the money part, is the ?establishment of a stable governance,, stability is cheap ly bought in most countries, so we must have a more connected set of ?players? i e bankers,, and banking to insure people can think they are able to prosper.. ie the ?credit? term INstead of the Debt card. which it should be called.. oh that is right,, the debit card,, hmmm. and you say words don?t scare you. that advertising isn?t so sublime?,, and then you still ask me to spell correctly ,, funny that,, can not take the allusions? to close to home? or you think words should be easy to read without the secondary. which comes weather you see them or not.. . the romance of the squiggley lines. from Latin to man.
	 i am going a little insane with the merit of my forwarding. so uselessly of one man?s candor , i hope words gets out through sublatteral brain waves just from reading ,, from seeing a twisted dividing ability to recognize common controls.. of consciousness ,, but as we divide so do we unite. 
	 I cross the glass ceiling, the glass wall.. the other side of the type,, font, or fiction i still don?t care.. written in the the explanation of every word is a concept.. Idea,, and lingering effects to control and concealment.
	but i have gone off the page again , talking about self, when feeling is my only offering, the plane of a craft. a moment. 
	I am somewhere else now. like Slaughter house Five. i bounce over things. leaving paragraphs in wake, the thin lines follwing the boat. 
	It was the best winter i ever spent.. a great winter for me,, a freedom, and thought. the winter I read War and Peace, and watched the atmosphere of the farm i was on.. hunting for that one peace that in effect was only the landscape . the image so compeling to look for it in all things. how did i start this conversationin my journal.. 
	
	
	
	 THE silence of time.. 
	by K.a Ambrose.. oh memoirs, gone tone of remembrance. 
	you ask me dreams , so dreams i remember. 
	 From the back of a Toyota, a wagon, an automobile, a walking , driving home, a snore comes. a sign of peace and property. the last hold long of the descending kind, what heart the limit to offend. what comfort of rains? impedance and wind?s scorn, as tappes on metal and the rocking of a storm.. left of motive?s participant. 
	how else is it effected,, passing cars all speed, revving, Constant, declaity, trying to disembody perfection. the sudden of three am. The constant more at noon or nine of river. each with its own suddenness preying on the comforts expected.. you expect none.  You can only be shocked by the peace achieved.. 
	 It was in the fall that the first storm winds come. playing on the streets, a guitar and a man, the coins to get cigarettes,, and more than the hope of ?rock-star?-ism. Sometimes getting a dollar feels better than a million like shelter in the rain, like hope from despair.  
	
	to the left a desk. not with drawers in the three high space, in the fully windowed, curtained, stickered space.. a simple flat surface,, as desk,night stand,dinner table and book shelf, as representational of how long the hours spent would demand a place, for coffee.. which rarely happened , but did on occasion.. with the constant reminder of the last time,, an cup up ended, a porcelain cup, a tiny sea of despair should the wet find a bump so distractive to create a tidal wave,, lashing the shores of sleeping bag blankets, warmth, wet has to be approached carefully in the winter especially , the difference between comfort,, and raw survival. rain freezes and all cold stops sleep. sleep comfort; the last sanity of living. 
	what if your life , as this body knows it , was to die? it is a question times asks us after much time has passed and when time is new to us, depending on the first time we found it. I was lucky to discover death with my step fathers abusive nature which threatened  life early.. but of late with the statistics of cancer and the piling on of age, weak vision sorenesses and sudden pains i am inspired . it is the first realizations of death that have created knowledge and the last moments which create product.. We create because we are going to die.. 
	some would call the endless ego needing approval.. or recognition.. but I feel more that the individuality in our time needs to express what balance between knowledge and than individual actualization of change for which our society is creating of us. the last 20 years have been about change. so the individual must realize what to change to.. I can only answer the hope of individual peace. long since unasked of common man.. for which we have given the ?motto Heaven on earth? 
	 Notes.. I want to have a better life.. To this end, I must follow out what little plans i can make, secret little plans in the normal course of where everything follows. 
	I like my idea of a magazine which breaks the mold of literature. In my thoughts. the publicized americium response. Our thoughts on freedom and justice have not changed.. the human is still American,  the human voice. but American media has changed.. publisher won?t break the bounds for a new voice (statistics for marketing limiting progression) . and emotional voice and relevance to the time we are in,, for the reader has changed,, the consciousness has become one of invention and rediscovery, though ?money ? holds up a better world. the money of big corporate super rich while they play the war of money old against new ideal verse exploiting commercialism.. ?you can only have the progress you pay for?
	i have written this , but yet the extras are also interesting, coming as the pen flows in the computer. 
	 and I can not let go the importance of free view of life. a definition untainted by prejudices of ?educated importance? Everyone is a part of the humanities, the expression in writing and living,, and should celebrate the individual physcological adaptations we live though. in our rise to an explaination of health and inner quality. we must train each other , look for the good in each other and plan ways to enligthen ourselves further to a loving life. free to feel a peace and hope. Presently i can only hope there is a style which runs parallel to what i prepose.. such to have on someone to recieve the blame,, but nature will come out.. as survival seems more and more threatened,, the peace shall eventually lead. I have not seen this kind of doctrine though i know little but what crosses my path. send me a book. 
	I create a magazine to influence and spread my kind of literature, which has more in between the lines then of them,, yet both are, by me, deemed art. but writing has come so far without enough insults, style and abstractions, the sheer understanding of latin explains much of the character of the present life written inside the stated word,, a leaning one way or another is a subconscious philosphic influence.
	
	
	
	( taken from a book..)
	
	today is another day,, and you can not have economic unity and not political agreement you are wrong.. the Ukraine is a battle ground of ideology.. E.U. money verses russian money???? or IMF Economic REdistrobution ,,  Russia supplies a large part of Europe?s natural gas..Today Lithuania got some new planes.. but Germany is the controllers of E.U . fuck me ronda fuck fuck me ronda.. 
	Karmeria is south of Urkriane,, such that it sets up russia to control the black sea.. and pinch out the whole country
	the ?New Prime minister? is a man who ran for government just recently ,, and his party received 4% of the vote. reported,, The new prime minister was elected with Russian guns on the parliamentary floor. 
	 this is a lot of talk but it was choisen well before.. and all this is Imf Econmoic retritrobution .. a RUSE.. store bought.. bad russians.. lol.. following the plann,, and not one Voice IN Venuwala,, hazy hazy look the other wayismsssss.. damn,, and now its time for the Presidents budget.. lol.. 
	 all about tension and release.. 
	she touches me for the fun
	i cring of the love i dont hold yet 
	what sex is magistic, reaching reaching,, 
	humanly failing again again.
	waiting fro something different as i play in the night, a rag taggedness, a hope way off into some fantasy taken from now in fantasy, I can not look at , such not to be blinded by reality the sinsister inner persspective so alone, with my thoughts i get afraid of them being known,, that is when its time to tell self the truth , and fear is the pain at feeling your weakness. 
	devid me from my sex free me from pnis and vagina,, or not, what whole money factors made of the schrokas healing, what love we need is never understood when given,, endless hoping to fix and cure and heal. a plant to the light. we will never ends of trying to steer, taking short cuts we cond only fantasies into faith and foreverness.. 
	I can no longer, wiegh my sex with my wealth, for once i did, and subconsciously still do.. the passion to be all empowering, give as such not given to self. a self less act ,,where the act is whole, such these many months of theapy and lookking Staring into a force of faces,, past distant reminders,, acking fro someone to listen who can talk about it.. but i get only the learned individuals,, and no one can understand the linerness,, so simple yet ,, 
	what good is health in an unhealth world. 
	barriors and edges.. this rock climb , no that one,, well that one to ,, and here are others. pebbles after bolders,, after learning to ?get small? leanning to eat yourself. like soilengreen is the food we can not understand and have for breakfast.. 
	 the computer scared me tonight, blinking into some virus,, but so far it hasnt taken over, and i will save this .. 
	
	
	Reason why i want to quit smoking,, 
	 in reality i would be happy going to my grave without facing another whats wrong with me class, but smoking seems a fact within a fact, An addiction i have been able to see as forming i ran from.. and that means, anythign i liked more than myself,, even to the sexual points.. but smoking for refernce was always an image,, or a safty devise,, I started cuase kids would leave me alone when i was a kid.. I have just come into a new school and the cool guys who had freinds at th cornor . the bus stop was on first street just by the bakery and a bar accrossed the street from the foundery and within view of the susquahana river.. I was there for a river rat.. but i lived two blocks up the hill.. On socend street, we got to the little two because of my mother, who was promoted to manager and her branch was in york we lived in Wrightsville.. no i never thought of the pun about being from rightsville until i was tellling some girl in a club.. ?god that sounds good I said leeringly to myself? but the bus stop was more than it seemed in importance,, a new school and kids, new to the area i alwasy stood down the street by the truck dock,, being early no one was working yet,, and i was alone , in that i always felt safe ,, after the five schools i had been to already said , give everyone room cause kids liked to pick on me, for something or another, really anything you siad was enuogh to get them started through a nick name or just through wanting to beat up on someone. I remember my fisrt fight was wiht a kidd my size, i was always small. his name was pickle.. and almost killed him,, then i stood by the truck dock and smoked every day. 
	 mother didnt know it and my step father wasnt around long enough to find out.. but i spent my lunch money on a coffee black and a pack of cigerettes every day for a number of years right out of the bar?s machine,, the smingen of conversations were harsh and no one noticed me.. the smell of whiskey and spilt beer,, i was a man,, and back out to the street wiht its bright lights, the bar was dark ,, with the door open it was like going to heaven or something. But having what i came in for was enough. and down to my truck dock, and wait have a smoke and wiat for the bus. there is where it started,, puffing for show. like a sign i couldnt wear saying fuck off you heathens I smoke and will burn you with it.. I didnt know that i ws disguising my hatred for my step father. so took to disguising myself on the street, no one know my inner thoughts, for i hated violence was even and mostly scared of it.. I knew that violence lead to murder,, but i neve thought of the difference of inflicting it compaired with been the reciever. I was always the reciever, so my ager was the dismall acceptance of my own in ablity.. when i hurt someone like the pickle kid, I was lucky he quit.. hands in the air quit... the world might have been different,, people who get beat up on alot learn to control themselves especially when the only alturntive is someone?s going to die. I started thinking about death early also. 
	 it is a sorefull thing i wasnt ever able to talk to anyone about it.. I was always someone i didnt know to people, to my mother my brother, oh and after 14 years of daily abuse,, my life started becuase i wasnt getting or taking anyone shit then.. lol.. i smoked becuase it said that. I smoked inorder than i didnt have to say that. 
	smoking was my first big evil once my mother found out,, I dont remember if that was after, i drank all the burbon or not.. look at me reciting all the sins of y youth while i try to list the reason i am to quit smoking , a cigerette in one hand a coffee in the other.. thrty four years have passed. i should have just stayed in the foundry bar just by the bus stop. maybe life would ahve been eaier, and i would of been dead. from boredom,, my wife a couple of children? no. Jail would ahve gotten me.. the second and last fight i had at the bus stop was wehn i got into it this kid throwing nickels on the side walk,, somehow he asked me to play , yelling down to the dock, YOu pitched the nickels against the wall who ever was closest pick up both nickles.. my first gambling experience, well not reall my grandmother taught me to play poker on day while my mother took my brother to the hospital. i loved my granmother , my grand mother smoked.. i thin with her was the longerst time annyone talk to me up until that point, and maybe util igot my first girlfriend. Mother owrked harder than anyone, the fiance industry and loans at 21percent interest create many hours of reports and such.  I guess i never really asked what she did and she nevver really told me.. we stopped talking many years before. i think silence created the many years of abuse more than anything. 
	Silence is the greatest defense against questions which could only be lied to. I understood the lie. and hated it. but when you lie inorder to not get beat you are good at it. a writer must be able to lie well. A victum ends by lying to himself.
but its not a lie one can feel. It is a solitude becasue you need to. no unappreation, no question , or confusing choise.. alone. taking the cigerette was granmother going to work everyday, great grand father that painted that oil painting while working full time at the Reading Railroad. ablack and white ?Pug dog, his flat face looking to go for a walk, in my mothers room where i did go , but would look from the door way , for many years. a simple cheap wooden frame , so much importance to art as reminder of a real life . a real sight waiting for us at home on the wall above the bed.. 
	the wood pneling, the cat the dogs. the memories.. smokeg was always there without takin up any room, Like my mocel cars, filling a shelf , eternally jplaces, collecting dust for sight causes no stir. . the first pack of cigerettes i had , i stole.. ten maybe,, on my way to little league.. an open car door.. a full pack ,, i was going into car for a cigerette, when i was a paper boy.. lol school holiday no lunch money.. addicted at thirteen,, sickly addcited at fourteen, drunkely addcited by the time i reached basic training.. where they realized i would do anything right if my punishment was not getting ?smoke time?. I even formed my own ?smoking Team ? at our Fitness day.. where all the basic training troops competed in shorts and sneakers tug a war, and baseball.. i sat and smoked.. did a whole pack in three hours.. one can not really tell why it fullfilled, i mean i can forward ideas. Smoking was a choice,, and i stuck by my choises.. naw,, I can only reason it with an anger toward life.maybe.. There have been children fouled in every economic debate over the years. their heads fall with each utterance of ?civility? and we give nothing back to that which was us.. confused and torn guilt and passion. so holed mission to understand we love when love falls as short as the minds that lead it.. Mind confused with prosperity of a control enviroment, the brik a brak on the shelves wall. People saw you i now reason,, subconsciousness has been waiting along time to come out in the open and know the difference between what we do and what we were raise into.. I was raised into the escape. a mental note of the lower middle class.. mother was my model for reading. though she read best seller lists, like going to the movies, every night before bed. A normal event. I would never found books if it wasnt for my mother. we take what we can get.. whe also would write th epapers sometime. and get published, i would read with pride, and think about my blood that can write..,, you know how to go with what ever direction you can see.. I never had parents asking me about me, it was alwasy instructional factual and loaded with opionion to talk back to whould create traumas you didnt need and never even knew they were traumas, like inner city kids hearing shots fired. just apart of the hood.. my hood was the dinner table the breakfast table. the living room.. I escaped to the woods growing up but never felt at peace until i was 13. 
	 but how did i get here,, i guess this is as good a time as any to back up.. smoking ,, this was about smoking, and today is the second day i have consideered a full quittal.. a full dya saying no to mytself. wondering what i will say yes to to spite my nose with the face on it. I tried to remember the money and the corpoarate controls i have left to be inflicted never looking at the media but seeing it all. every old movie and some new ones someone is smoking,, drinking i am use to and some how i am not what one would call an alcoholic as i have not been drinking much , one beer in three years is good. the other night i had that beer walking the streets drinking it. everything looking at home, when i passed people i smiled and almost start a conversation with , one guy instandtly handed me a cigerette,, the party in the streets.. and i remembered all th enight i had spent on drinking. usually ending alone, as i would want to walk and enjoy the hightened sights or sounds,, the relaxed way i could walk down the streets.. i have been plagued i guess with ptsd,, lately , they say for a long time, but more lately as the years of living in my car finally causght up with me where i was again afraid alot. shocked by simple people coming around me, but couldnt see it. even now still i am worn out alot and can see the world likeing me much when i am out, always feeling like an outcast though this doesnt rythem with playing music.. its almost i like to be a character or nothing at all,, a ghost becasue nature must have represnetation. the unknown on the small town streets of bellingham, my age makes me suspect out there, kids,, all unsure,, looking for a way to feel alive aginst the world that wants them to use them, or to represent them, but not love who they are enough to get over themselves. animals on animals. 
	 my pretention smokes, hurls its self into a magic land,, the fire is the keeper of gods.. my smoke bless the area,, and i see prophecy in the clouds i create. why do i smoke , you can distiguise me from a beast.  ,,beasts do not smoke.. our only claim to fame in the woods during a hunting season.. smoke equals human. I think John Wayne was paid to smoke. its funny the guilt that is lifted every time i conside the fact that i could be a non smoker. i tryed for a minute today , and again wanted to knit.. i fumbled with the peice ihave been making.. and descided i would wait unti this wednesday when there is a free lesson at four. such to start again knitting. at least i know why i am doing it.. besides wanting to know how. 
	 tonight i am chain smoking ketching up on the thoughts,, i need a special day to provide a story why i quit, I must quit , to many close friends have told me of cancer and th ewind says to a spirtual feeling that now is the time, my hands can type and stay indoors without the guilt. i try and avoid things that kill me generally . it is like my body is reaching for the highth of the drug before letting off.. i wish they got me more stoned so i cold have a bad feeling concerning cigerettes,, but i only notice the good when i am stung out and wanting on,, while i pick up cigerttes of the ground like H.G. Robinson in ?big man? or what ever. so i am pounding out one last pack it seems.. 
	 but there is the irony of it. I have been having problems with non smokers attitudes at me when i smoked.. but somehow these dsame disagreements would equal denig me as a person equally. i saw this at a meeting, i was not take seriously because i smoked. and yes i am an easy perosn to disregrad. i can see when someone doesnt like me ,, and shy away and contimplate why. mostly i am vindicated as in ?i dont want to know them either? but other times it is civil life that creates its own set of rules around dogmas mostly , which get even stronger now with media poound us dailywith all the strange and perverted people such that we come to question our seves, and respond to the control factors more than any real sight of the person infront of us, it is hippy to love first they say, but i think its hippy to love lastingly.. for often a smile one second changes to quickly.. and what hope you felt was again foolish. those people dont mean anything with the symbol of love,, there smiles care not for the intention as you become subject to forms and rules. more than your words. a style of dress.. so i have grown to be distrubed by non smokers. a prejudice,, as i fail to resque myself to a further divide in society.. sex,race, addcitons, religions, 

  does all creativity come from the explanation of sanity. for only of sanity can we explain health, maybe its called philosophy and stored away in rooms with bigger than our minds to understand.. but this refers to the God concept and Unresponcibilty, so i guess i shouldn?t use those words. but then stumble agsint the words i can use, with this presuit of living and writing. 
  I have again smoked ,to keep my focus against the pain i have with a toothache and care little for what is said for the meaning of saying it.. the confidence words give . the reasoning proposed so as to understand the meanings of fingers moving over keys.
 I am time, we are history.  And I but one more penny make, yet in that we all look. so i dont sacrifse my self. I live to undersand and wait not some degree of debt to come to allowance.. 
 
 Standing on the morning i was still so tired a dream alst night , so many dreams as i started from sleep so often, tooth pain, I ahve a friend who was seeing this lately , him the super man of health when last i saw him,  I guess only gives this to understand, for we conversate on what comes into our minds more than reason lut our directives. well that isn?t suppose to be right.. they think only follows the other .. meaning and reason. 
 i feel commonality with a friend i have had for a long time, and yet this community also reveals what pains we have morally had found out ablt earch other and a we is not an i. 
so the dreams were many, 
Last night. the ?once wa?s of hours ago. 
  it moved me to write a page beforee i smoke, befroe i wa sable to transend the pain and find fingers caring about the motion, out time , our history. 
 i will type it here , you see i have it on  the word processor, the type writer of just before computers. just before we could loose everything without back ups, and an artist has no back up.. an artist doesn?t say i will do this for another five years and then be done. in my option , as i found instructed to say from Ben Franklins bio.

(type for cahs and profit one peice of paper, ) 
  no work today, and well at least i have come to accept it as what i am not doing. my character rise with a cigerette in my mouth like some fitys dective book.. and maybreing, but its natural or not somehting like left and right , you can forget ,, weeding out easy responcees,, I hold up my hands to remember. and i need the excersize. 
  i bought a computer in early tdse i should try to write product , but ,, i should try and remember yestereday i should . remember things, and should care about remembering. what bases for this life remembering , and what is live ,  such to remember doing . the light sunn comes early and stays, yet i leave out what brian makes of the glaring heat in summer , fall and winder are the only ones i get really happy about.. the summers are swellering. . heat ,, imines sex to me,, so you are walking though a wolrd of passion. realy it is hard to bare, 
or is it that every season is sex to me and i am lost to it.. i could use this to mave from where to hear, if love is the representation. why is my want to want and love anotehr so crazy, another to replafe me, to gorge out the insecurities i have with love , as a word given to partnertal ownership.. or given as a mate,, 
 the buisness proporosion for the day is a group of artist,, and a communical house , slash coffee house.. Gallery up starits..  with weekly jams, by ?pre-event

auditioned Mauians and Performances artist and groups. 

 POST Criestlist.. 
  Auditions For a Bass Play, Lead, Conga (percusionist) (and any intellignet beings, that want to play, we will have one member who is totally new to must but committed..  being held for the House band  of The Enertialcall . the Abstract    LIt/Art magazine, seen at Enertialcall    (google it)   (i had to transend the .com for a googled word hehe.. when did laughing become part of my writting?  find me at enertialcallhereiam@gmail.com


 and in the next instance , i might consider playing music to much of a distarction. and the equipment could buy me a computer.. and then i would need the equipment to play on line. 
  the general reason i pllayed is becuese i liked imporvisisting behind ,, with music.. not creating it.. I cant play well enough. the years of training,, and me playing hammers by day at one point. maybe respecting your limites helps focus you energies.. i always felt it was for not, or maybe it is the larabee, 
or maybe my fingers wont work , and my ear now it is thinking cant handle the thoughts , forever in arrangements,, in tune and key but not.. the salute and gone, the infinite nautrre of formulas and inventions . I can not handle.. to controling. and yet, something is always wrong... the forever ness of creating soul.. is hard to stop creating. . so i dont wantto be organized and hate wasingting time, if you think its only for me.. 
  there theres that, to get out something more than media uputs in our throats,, ,, when silence says respect our land , and love all that is famity, and yet we are grounded to love know one. the endless usages of our beings. toward a goal that isnt ours, dened idenity. with some lurking in ablity to see comunial buisness.. and create then sell. joint buying of a community.. and joint recycleing.. nothing is definite and i want to float,,, escaping from home to apartment, from a car , which i owned  and a rented room created fro temporal excistance,,,  walls amassing us all.. sepearete but equal, but no paintings are on the walls,, and the front area must be tilled by a ?professional Hand? no community garden, no community conversations. no chinese organizataints understand self policing, reporting.  spy me to break the only rules easily broken.. distractingly simple, no smoking.. 
  in side that one phrase you condemn a smoker to hell. but lets not for get how one got there,, like thirty years of film with a smoking charact or twevlev in every seen,, and how about the ?red cross? packages in two wars? and tehre,, one can start with understanding sub consciousness.. addictions in general.. i dont know.. i have .. pause, been lining with out cursing myself for anything.. it is how we get along,, some of us,, obviously there are moments when i have let down my guard and been wholely houman, where really it was me attacking me, the doubt of a moment coming full ..  Subscious demands,, can be converted into a balence of happyness. or a balence of self respect.. 

    So neat and tidy, the typewritten word, every up to fingers to hammer and just the perswasion of interest , i have learned to type, not discovering from whence on a memory that my word would matter , But yet i type. 
  Trianed in milltary , like a skill one cooould use to feel the interest of life, flowing though you.. you the bieng you the changer, evoveling out right,, but we know not what directinon, to accept the duality of up and down,, 
  a laugh line, 
daze of duelality are done.. sort of left of center.might hidden behind boxes,, i would ,, the telling of memories, this is why, haunting for clarity and simplicity, the meta physical fact will change the world? siad during a safty meeting, silence links love with a material spirit.
  the desk is still not right. to high . all of them.  this one, I have three of them , the one that roles anywhere. rises the closest to pressure point , where atleast though not good for th elong term still. is enough to get out these words.. a deak which suppor the elbows is best. but i am in the land of gaints.. and evern the desks feel it. many people the size of the trees.. . it effects me. 
oh th ehours of wiating for a parnet to come home, the days of waiting complied. the turn of the key to discover something different in the world , a hole ora broken such. 
  she didnt ask weather i wanted to make any money, no she just for a moment cherished the effect of music,, she said we would agai meet.. or what that more, Imaine ,, her chin going into the air, the light reflecting off the sunny hair, stright and thin and blond. ten years from dow we meet in chicago.  after we had done our lives, and comparied.. now i know that was the announcement we were to part. it was for good reason. I have never aloted my time well with anyone. always off in a funk worken? tell you talkes which you always seem to listten to no matter day or night, no matter the world.. you are there with huge ears,, and prancing around, a pink t shirt with a clown and ballons on it. you who change and grow. cherish and lose. , who come to the greater suffereance,, the time man finds knowledge, 
  the words befroe didnt afford to knowledge,, as knolwege is what is known amung everyone.. personal knowledge is then the attributed naure of a sub divide.. and feelings change,, conflicts run away history is the creation of appreciations. and i am crazy,   
as is such th elook at an eveolving member,, the changeing accomplished with small admittances,, we are a world , we are a space, we are water we are plan.. the caring and contiumation of nature is relyant on the global individuals knowledge of the whole. in such we have no further than self to imagine, or is that the rube. 
 for ony peace is within, and then a daily reminder of all we dont have to decide. such waters off aduck.. and yet, ducking .. is demanded.. avoid thinking for that only goves to idea,, idea can limit ,, but respectiable dis agreements,, and gangland tactics with clean biblilical suits,, ruling . idea yet that masses from energy in water as a replaced understanding of what is god.. simple natural ,, only man trying to get accrosed the words of mastery. a civil planning department. in the early days of needed procreation.


  Hello and thank you for reading. IN an attept to find employment i am bearing my soul..  but i am not a normal employee. I will be your friend or dont hirer me.. I have mild PTSD.. and a genenic history of depression.. But i balence that with Art and writing. and my cat. I get depressed over anger issues so i can not have an angry boss.. (so i do my job with a ?trained? character.. as in you tell me to do something and I will get done you can depend on it.. )   I really should create a buisness.. but all my buisness plans fall flat cause i refuse to owe.. debt is sin.. SO I NEED A KIND EMPLOYER.. OR INVESTER to follow through on other buisness ideas.. you can see the following of one of my buisness ideas,,   or Google Enertialcall
  but for an relationship involving function with limits..
 I have been..
  USNavy-  (for ten months)
 Resturants (fifteen years, in resturants,, (from the slicer to Operations Manager )  
Resideential mover and international shipping consultant (from running boxes to Office Manager) 
Construction Laborer (form clean up to Site Manager)
  I have driven Professionally the hole time and have lic.
  
  I am from the east coast (Boston for twenty years orginally from a town smaller than this in Pennslyvania.  arrived two thousand and seven, I was somone there, Supervising crews doing General construction. 
  And i know .. Go Baack is the first ring of a unified tone of bellingham.. wallking the street i?ve met many and ran from some.. The lumber, Railroad and Sea make from strong people. A freirce race of larger than normal people. bithing the crop. Genes then placed in a Paper mill. and then not.. I guess the paper mill was then replaced by housing prices and construction during the ninities,, and then not. Went i arrived houseing was used up, and Maintance companies set up.. such that high end construction seemed the only thing going on.. 
  april 22 2014,

 the day of the day , 
spent giveing love away 
through bone and bruises, 
hard  hammering at concepts
fullfiling function . 
to question 
is employment 
controled mania? 

i watch with distant eyes. a creation created destroyed recreated, endless. upgrades coming wht successions, you can gelological see, a peices of these from then,, a another distrubed normalacy under the shadow of sins. outerness, demanding sanity its way. a distance.. equals dreaming while a slip could cut, or shartter socials blood and guts , which must be keep inside, the contagin control.. tttansfered as illusion to the dreamer, the pain and possible.. but I am robotic, each wieghed movement control. continued into the plan,, th eover view, thinking subconsciously ,, where its still whole. agaisnt the rumors, of god not excisting. Energy matter material. the sore thumb and sliced hand, the outer, forgotten, in balence,, the Fruad is the warror, 
to deny emotions is real death. 
  perspectives changing a day back and forth from martyerdom, to mainstacy of supressions, to exchanges for economics, so to contiun the outer gola. the lost 
thinking in the easiest answers to quality questions. 
 mechanics all.. water divideing muscles and thought formes. 
    
 To : Brent Davis  Program Manager , KMRE bellingham

 From: Kenneth Ambrose    Wanta Be Voluteer for KMRE Bellingham (and creator of  Enertialcall Lit/Art Magazine ) Actor,Writer, Performance Artist


Hello.. My number is 360-223-5475
           You and I had a hurried conversation two weeks ago about a Show for KMRE bellingham.   You had mentioned if i was interested in production of Said show,  And that ?The show? would have to run for 26 weeks by agreement. though we didn?t talk about how long a show, or what time slots it would appear in:  I am hoping we can have a dialogue by email.. or in person.. about said show.. 

I have been feeling out my community for a production team.. Sound man and A Second ON Air personality to join Me.. I have also . been think about Different kinds of shows that i would like to create..All Involving the basic issues of poverty as involves homeless people  but with a concentration on ART, within bellingham, (the local art news) I am thinking of creating a whole Different approach to the Normal One hour Radio program . ONe where you know what to expect.. with our show you will not know, (Accept with some Feature Segments.)  
(well basically the program i have been envisioning would have multiple  styles including interviews, live music , film reviews and radio plays,, even a un-factual news show  ((  Called News from 2043  ))  Segments would  take between five to ten minute slots..Flexible 
   ( Minding that these are just ideas and i have been thinking about )  

  this email is to start a conversation.. 

 I am really excited. and  i already have some movement toward a production team.. 

 thank you and i hope to hear from you soon,, you can call me at 360-223-5475
  and to tired to write is beautiful. the dull edge on an over worked body the shine time of the oppressed soul  wanting to claim activity.. wanting to tak control form the second mind of body, it seem.. the telling of time to a invalid, must mean it it tire,, to remember , what excistis ?withuout? body, Only a really tired body can let.. can understand,, the escape wihtout ecsape.  Being that is heare,, also, and forgotten , mostly. To tell into a computer what exists without you. 

Yesterday a thing of the past. episodes created today. segments with minutes as moments. Here an ego there an insecutiy. there a passion, there a discovery. there an interest there a determination. a self watches the passing from, to and around.  Easier to see in another. but painful to bare when you see it in self. 

  and once again the mind muses out to have a day excapting, the trees by the side of th epond , the shadow loved. onged for looked for constantly . as the heat feel beyond the encapsulated harmoniousness of th elight, This sun is out for me, and from it i can not run, the sahdow my only welcome.  this life a creatinon of difference, i do not look to deeal with the sun, tingling on my skin, hard shelled , an exfloiation Then when winter comes wiht a forgining gesture. apoligies even as its self comes long and riany. pears for th eunloved.. equaling the numbers, 
 the greaaping light touches my toes. legs extended to the shore line, the tempations of bass if i wans so big,, moving wingling, little crums of dried sock fallin as the bi toes dances, dragging th eline of likttle pigs with  it at a joggle. sporakith in delicate, toes are not good dancers, they stutter,, and cant keep a beat , fro the the whole foot is needed.. pants legs rolled at the botom , the wind bushing public hiars, passing dogg walkers, chatter by , so important, so aloof, as we see others, never of the heart of right and now. 

for there involves you. glusterd to mention hello. unconfident with strangers, petty , reactive, judgemental and incolnced in opinion,, rooled up pants, three days worn, mall mards from left overs, turning white ageins the black color. They say there are no racest where there is only one color.. white people need someone to blame besides themselves. the wird are the next available.. hippy, hopeless, can?t pass a piss test, dirty,free spirited, junky.. in a wirkd if  republican privately democrate at parties. ?my sister knows everything about me? 
  telling family jokes as interesting. me me me. ?Postively,  I saw the homelesss man,?, ?as astute as i am .?   

So much happens between pages. between words , live else. 
conversations stopping , covered by a laugh at an unconcerned object. 
   it is a day after I stopped my latest ?painting?. ?Russia attacking Ukaine?  (i know) a 30 by 30 painting of oil crayons, watercolors and black ink. but it took only a couple of days until my cretivity my beastialness, my passion, to follow a road toward a body. she stands five foot three and i persoalize her even as i disaccociate with that personality. And this is the thought. 
  for you can only listen very closely to extend a limit to the plots a future with her would make.. the one that doesnt hate eveyone that stops my fantasy ramblings i call writing. besides that one, it was only after she left my small apartment that i was so glad she was going. and that the hole experience i would like to forget. but i am alive to to much sex,, and want the passions hopelessness to call love when a fullness willnever be,, People dont read , escpecially if they are good lookingand raited in the gutter. which makes lifestyle of forgetting any conceren but their own. the consern for intellect or for culture in any form.. no the fighting for herion.. the reputtations of punk and killers. the bad people you are supposed to be afraid of .. gving


i am a fool to think i can thiink before writing, it is a farce of masturbation to plan and conive.. like story is lie. like soul in a forgotten while greed medias the individual. Oh as control stands and knows wiht tired eyes the children can not see.. or do not look.. 
 I havent created a good writing desk yet, i can not see the tye , I would have to expand the computer screen, and i guess i am lazy, one  more page . just one more page. like the monkey on the keys could remember something. flickering between shot glasses and pharmascuticals. or is that ideal and ideas.
 there some coffee to the side a pack of cigerettes, so weed its night and we are wearing sunglassses.  absolutes in front of our eyes, 
  i watched ,, you guessed it, blues brothers , the extended version, though i didnt realize much exenion,, but what little i did created a more home quality of the lod saturday night ive time, the left in scene fullfilled the story better,. 
  but what struck me ,, for the fiveth or so time wacing is how, the representation of the purpose wins out agasint the oppressive. No matter.  So thin chance of something being done correctly , it there.. Watching the tidal police car crashes,, the last moment when we would laugh at the keystone cops befroe some invented toresticic plot enfolded the world in oil pay offs.. funnedled money america blood. 
  hut hut hut hut

this seems to be taking on the RE Veiw section of the enrtialcall call , so i guess it is..  And welcome.. 
  Of course to introduce a feature in the middle of it is silly ,, but ,, This section ,, (we will bput it in bold letters, so it seems, to rise to the eyes.. ) 

 I devoted to movies already in release,, and some even old ,, what ever,, this is a re-view movie section.. Old moveis and what we got from them as we watched them,, the expericial being of the movive..  Techniqual aspect often we dont even mention.   except for 1920 or 30s creations, franz ?danmt what is his name?.. early german filmaker. the way he expanded the usage of camera and lighting,, like the shadow becme the place and you didnt need computer graphics. heheh.. 
  so the quick list,, from the Ec or what you should watch before the actual re-vies except for the Blues brothers which i cover breifly. A German? film I watched The conterfiters.. so good, to well written ,, for the fact was it was true,, a number of years ago it won and ocsacr, and the stoe takes you.. quick versionis love and rocks. what you will do to survive. and acting which fullfills the sight of lose.. 
but i must more on, only four pages ,, three really is allowed. 
  quck notes,, I saw the meniong of th eIMF in two john waine movies,, stage coarch and i cant remember the other. in fact i maybe making it up.. .. Check tomorrow for the old notes. 
  this feels good to sit with flying fingers the dance of death it might seem sometimes if ony that could inspire a people to assume energy. and i smile at my coffee cup.. the simple desings attract our attentions. the simple explaiatins. like to know th eworksing of the gas engine. simple,, mediation is the starting point to thought.  for it balences the ego. and challenges the silence.  ( yea yea) the silence, what is filled with preemptive strikes of the symbolic. 
 the silence is lovely  to equal a abract land of nuts and trees and ggerm proof containers, and hygerglifics,  to stubornly remember the sweaty workmans hands which loaded the plastic lazy suesan on to the freight car for its first ride to me.. me after years being someowhere elese. with each expeience wrapped there,, not even caring to stare back,, these all have sotories. so limited the anger of voiocd sorting them selves agasint belief for the believe represents the first fact, to be energy is to live feelings, in all cast of life. this small sater ment could mean the society will never ??????Feel ? Health without a concentrationof peace. glaobaland insured by international one world law.. 
 so then , we step back a pace and as i look at me in a mirror, what which can not be seen is like pimples,, i score and score away daily earesing , whild exposing the self that acks to be first in something, 
I know it is theat petty somewehre inside. the ?so you did this and i did that?
 but digresinis is what i do.. while looking at the being i am , this temporal phrase, while feeling the vice of creation. agsintitself,, like even the body doesnt agree with time, and a death march is not to be a martyers call.. as in exteriors matter so little. in the ultimate creation,, except to the point of exterior social pressures,, and of that i will talk likttle. class structure higher archies, i will not mention. I will wait until someday i am asked,, but look at all the is,, like you didnt know you were talking to me, or that iwas addressing you. you want story and i have known,, i have only ,, she tells me things wiht a head turned. 
a heart that is sis making to believe befroe she again extends her breats in your direction. a suttlist touch . confirms what leading her control demands,, pale faced and soft spoken, alcohold.. and the lies told to get the naive , which it was once a realism ,, but now has truned to a play on the dowerness of pills.. and i am interged,, for some much is unaswered,, and yet i felt her coming closer t me, like an animal. and i was proud the full strength of passion enfalming me, such to sutle what time has not been to led,, 


  what a wonder to read.. 
me. the ego complete and coward a little , except to look thouhg, how hard it is to say .. we see .. how hard to try ,, the entanglements plot driven , as i have said beforre. check out the scry soundtrack, elope between the odds and definitons. rampant is the ever craft, illuminate, sossilisze,, what rain comes. agsint whcih we cry , must mean we see,, a sight glaringingly replacing us.. unless change is graspted.. until perspectives en hance the views,, distrub the peace and forget fostering focus first.
  I have read myself today, .. a me,, screaming for his rights. aginst how is without barriors, it isnt pretty or mixed with mans extras,, no stunt doubles. no caus and effect,   a homeless man talks of love.  ?the Native will rise smiling?
  eog still ringing from a voice controrted and innocent striving to fight what brain wahsing wowuld lead to ,, what joining the crowd was wrong, for the crowd bit and bites, and swallows hole branches of innocents. until you can see no we beut a paraded idea.. and scream to be.. free.. to breath willowws. 
 escapist, hermitic. 
  i am talent less, i am all pwerful. iam convicentd of the ball bounceing ketching the sun,, it patterns known from the gravity steaching beneath my eyes. the tides. i can not desided..they seem so few where there is many . a step .. a shared fact of two , water percentag and the movement of brian energy.. then i know what is light ,, particals to negatives and positiveds. balence without manipulation. consciousness without confussion in the movement of healths natureal growth. 
  face away the path , as mmuch as you like , you will find no room yet the mosaic.. you are what you were menat to be..  
  but how is choice and change perseeded.. how is thinkings usefull.. 
    a book for transitional Spirits. 
 still there are parts i can not feel into ouch with , the gliming eyes of metaphysics,, for if is and was  for which i have no knowledge of ,, as a reading. but the combined,, ?average joe? can understand the energy  process,, and then come agin to the health process,, innerly , without aids,, but for the cultural awareness of living .. transends physical ness.. through mediation and energy scienses,, our future is a whole.. the changes are going to be great, when all roofs are solar ppowerred, and gardenintg.. when mediation is tought in high schools. and we confine our spiritual to to what god gives us focus ,, and little presents of will.   

may 25th, sunday. it is another day , and now i know another life has been taken by ignorance a self made creation. , what motives the holding of harm to throat over the innocense of art... is this mine to subject myself to the long hours and limited reward, the scravenging love from any section that offers for you feel the unloving, the un measuring up of a rogue system of steortypics interludes of personality.. down play , subject, sucume scheme but never tell the truth for the walls listen with voice they only hear refected off the warped vision through glasses over contact lenses. oh pining in your hometown for the times of other lives. Looking toward what others would put forth only to face a gain and agaian that wall.. or why ,, the subjective voice choicing between health and art. 
  And another has cast into the spirit so as to not fill the world with themselves being what they want refuseing the change of change,, why cant anyone see it is no different if you are going to change physicalness for non physicallness why involve the body,, why not wake to a fantasy the hope is for the individual. the spirit has no time so why end time for it, with the home you know and the hope ou can create for others as model. not willing to stand,, or willing to forget what standing has meant, my grandmother was glad to leave, but for the trials of an eighty nine year old women, and a thirty year old songwriter, the balence turnes to one on subconsciousness,, of arguements and blaming people who enviroment can kill ,, like pins and needles of comment causing anger where should just be time spent and love given,, but we take it so lightly what we do to others. and no one knows more than people who look to express interest in the process... but can not learn fast enough what is known of self. there my borders and boundries,, my rating i think are my own until i see them written by other hands, 
the man i knew as one knows someone who loves you while you are round and loses focus like the maze they had tried to explain to your face.. but couldnt see themselves long enough to breath, such as on i beleive left, the body behind. thank god i feel him reading over my shoulder as i have learned again from anothers death what will be the death of me,, unhappy ness and reistance to my own change, my onw passions  i have to use such for what else can be built,, conclusions about the death, why answer by speculations. 
  you can ask my friends but we have seen other sgo the way of forgetting , like an army surrendaring some fight with flailing wings over hyways in the distance with a tree limb as support fighting the last moment for yet even as the neck streaches in a planned surrendar the body fights the spirit wants more for there is no end,, and just no changed harmony and the devil wins another one. . i remember when i wrote something great once, thought it was great celebrated by going as close to deaths idea as possible. 
 we talked last week of a stoy , of a father for whom life was even worse,, the long slow alcoholic traits and trails. started long befroe him, enviroment creating enviroment until you leave behind the ?I gotta ? to the I wanta. but wanting isnt enough if what you want is a fantasy as large as the love you innocents saw when it thought of life. . 
 squirrels are old by a week and a half, men progress slower. this one walked into the sea, so is again told as often is no real knoledge has been released.. it is all over there words and i heard,, a Neighbor sounded the call to server networks, a neighbor who was always harsh and demanding when talking of his playing non musicians, the ill notes are consumed by a patienter ear as prgress.. prastice needs its perfromance to predict perfection. and up and downs come with the feilds, such that the neighbors slanderousness as one point become gossip , then prestege the whos right in the hope you dont suceed game, 
  but i can t take this on but yet all night have felt disturbed. like i tried to tell him we arll are on roads we need to travel. where did he go wrong enough to case a martye toward the litter godly fromnt lines the fight of the dead is a win for the slavers. you can not adpat to the reality live for passion and eat passions food, if it makes you sick so better to teach the wounded child one more scar is good for the skin. absorb the storm.   . 

 there is so much to this living, a wasted tie is a concept of some achievement larger than knowing you whole conscious, liveinsuch a techological age and still what we deny creates us. 
  when it comes to be to late. when the stoping at the border of this thought or the next complete a travel through years of suffereance and devotion. each questionthe tother. whil all you try to do is right, and maybe if rigth is oly your own distant set of books harbored in trees some where where shat out though shall not kill. and leftto where they are read by spiders, and convincing burdens of a metaphysical feeling called God. 
  it is ony of our selvs that we can ever help truely but to open the door is enough walking is a matter of why , and why is never enough of a key, for how did it get this way is rately you. yet for you the bell rings the man said. 
 i listened as much as i listen to anything , sinificant meadorings. a four hour conversations on the rocks behind the bank. I didnt hear about his father and why we wanted to create the radio show with me, we had been talking about a radio show.. i was and sam still woking on.  the enertialcall radio. he didnt seem out in the  boat which leaves with a thoguht , he was drunk he had to be, so thin, easy to get blottered,, a couple of whiskeys over and waves are lands loving again to the womb,, swim until you cant.. join back . 
it gives me pause, like today was a day before i knew, and could absorb what i have learned from myself to keep going ,, to watch as the skill full and harmonies find only crosses in their path,  my frined would always want good conversation, starting in with htis litertary histroiec or another. as we glaormize ,, for most meetings started with you got a cigette, to a negative shake or and second thought yes,, with care if the time was write. i have to shark this, tired and all day lonely against my own reprizals to forget and move on.. anothe day. another day,, when so like me  and not,, his words getting out as long as he didnt look to close. the prespectsamss on many levels , reality so adva ce to watch as morality and social cunning control the common day.. we talk ofhis father , a once on air personality to find a crutch and a crime for what is caled parenting, so so colver in a breaif, there until five, or something. he passsed over areas of time like to remember was a pain and whay waste a good ihigh. we talked of the magazine, raido show. with new stories from the thirdties, and stuff,, skits,, and interviews with anyone we can get to speak on Metaphysics as a brand of philosphy and the scintic inplcations of a genral common sence of Metaphyics. 
 heheh. enertialcall raido All meta All the time.. 
  i was going to host and d.s. was going to run sounnd and pick on me from the booth, intro callers and stuff like that,, i still like the idea. but he was home playing  writing new toones so he could do another album,, he was playing the morning lunch resturant that give free mels for an hours world of play tip extra,, he was at open mikes and had a new girl friend? he elude to things but never stayed concentrated like it wasn what we were there to talk about. 
 and its mourning.. the sky is grey two days of rain make up for my lack of tears. its funny how you doint crymuch in the rain. or i am scared of my emotions when i see death again. I am letting it effect me like it was my only friendwhen i know i was outside his life and that is why he liked me.  I was outside I had no link to him except a old video i made but didnt like th esound quality of. he like to dream with me it seemed, as i planned my media focuses which i knew was out on the wire for me , for life. as in something you never hear needs words but you feel the strain of speaking for the comon voice is the one you are effecting and the one which will bound back at you causing you to strengthen your ressolve or stop talking, shutting up and dispairing you will never say a thing while the world burns. 

 And why not take ones life. 
Though Ease becomes first answer
Yet to know your soul 
only this much, is a problem all its self. 
and a lame meaphor for loving. 
difference between self and other. 
Refer to ?Eacy way out?
  heard but unsubstanciated for you pull the trigger and feel that. You touch the gun, you lood the bullets then talk again, Ease. 
Ease is the Taxes you wont pay, the advertising which wont drive your schokras into a world of wealth and enforced ideas, of  ?I can Buy anything? like money is the answer to uphoric utopia , like peace is a dollar and a dime.  Or ?i Cant afford the beauiful life? ?just there just out of my rach no matter how much i work, how on time i am with my bills, how perfect i form myself into the form of self needed while pushing away the foul news, the prostrated seas, and the mountains of ignorance.  i cant afford the beaitily life, Just there , on my screen of a computer that lives in my hands as documentation. my sold sanity of a laptop, ddocumenting the Ease as society polishes the gun, which gets loaded with bullets turns muzzle to frame and puts the finger on the thin metal half arch. Ease is not feeling the guilt of what more i could do for my loves, What mirrors i couldn?t look into for fear of a different sight, a difference which changes me, Ease of not changing. the Ease to forget.. 
   A walking dialue stops me to sit and write these words, the ease between here and there as a task was completed,, some video delivered to a freind of the freind for whom i write,, or really i don?t write for the freind but what i feel , for him as for all. yet inspriation on the saddest side is a muse, give me pain and i will write you a novel. 
  Peace full remembering all that life calls Escaping in what to escape from.. the ease not to be confronted,, the ease of not dealing with a unaware world. the ease of not seeing the pretension and politics, the crimes the casual hypocrisy in words and symbolism, the ease to forget.. 
A car pulls up,, brand new,, high class,, i have sat at the food Bank. It is not open,, the benches are comfortable and out of the slight rain the grey day is yielding.. a man gets out of the car and walks to the door.. He makes no comment no hello. just goes and comes back,, the car parked in front of me. then the car sits there, i am still writing, i didn?t stop the Ease of forgetting had me, the muse of creation.. i was not bothered by solitude, or depressed over the moments i get to spend writing, i just keep quietly writing.. the car sits there, there is another care, I don?t know why any one is there,, except me and i was walking home .. 
the ease to forget the middle class despots which come up to you on the street while you write, Their well meaningness slurping from a 76 thousand dollar car. I see the feet get out of the car from the other side,, sticky white legs, blue sandles approaching. I see just over the page i am writing on,, douglas sees this and laughs, I just want to get out this last line on the edge of the page ,, A person s awareness is also the amount of spirit they have.. 
Zompies are unaware and in this case well dressed and free of exposed sores. Her feet get closer in a little dancy slow stuttering like a pigeon approaching a hand with a cracker, in little steps, silently venturing toward me.. I guess wondering on the no acknowledgement, my ease wearing thin..  like its easy to write and have conversation,, like i should break my trian of thought ,so limitedly given, to look up at a forty pound over wiegh classic example of all that wrong with the world.. so  timid,, she can feel it, her mission, declaired in the car over which they were going to have an arguement,, because she told her husband to do it.. the chasum of a side walk,, the fantasy of the new interior and air conditioning to ward off and shared experience the stretets, I think alone,, ?a the fancy car she has something to sell.? .she creeps closer,, two more words I would be done and acknowledge her,, yet now she is bending closer, her loose v top bloose gives the over abundance of caring,, but she is a foot from me now, close enough to hit me. the flabby upper arms shaking gods wraith. I Look up  ?can i help you?? 
 her Slighly blind eyes punch out of the meat fed over antibiotics pale plump skin ?I just wanted to tell you god Loves you? .  my ?can i help you? came first like a good cabby can deliver it.. a little shocked , that i let her get so close, but more irrated because she is that close,, as i write on the last eight of an on inch on the page. 

  Ego is a fine thing to distract
oh where lonely was
a stranger I did see,
dreams and glad eyes 
converstions yet only say
one hunfred miles away, from where he was, 
But mark the not idle
Brother , family father, 
like a confession free, we talked straight 
on a rock
he apoligiezed for
The week he didn?t show 
for our meeting about radioo. 
wooding and writing
only words mark 
universal 
transpacial 
cretivity
and spirits mania. 
song writers and sinners. 

   I didn?t go to therapy and will not go to the other thing, it is not out of step. Morning is a remembrance. 
where free energy learns unity with nature.
I am reading Gabriel Garcia Marquez. ?Love in the time of cholera?, and everything has its passions. though the book is a fitting epitahe for an artist. surviving or not upon the stables of emotion. A colorful abstance from corroded reasoning truth, an ulterior planning to a life of pure feeling for which ultimately all is.  
     There is a metabolism among writers, as they read other?s.   the consciouness of the read becomes project into their lives. it was nice to live with Tolstoy for a while, Conrad, and Nabokov, Mailor, Orwell, to consume Moore, and tolerate Burkowski, and make love to Emily Dickson and Platt, and yet, now is always stronger then all past, and passions come to love with this, metabolism, and yet i feel the avoidance or the misshapened ness,, love and death. 
  Death and the return to energy , where love is forever the energy,, and let me fool myself if kind can equal thoughts, I am light we are light all is light energy equals god,, and in that, let me cry for the stablity of knowledge has no complete rule and as of yet we havent learned to honor the Crying. for only they remind of the importance and the difference for a blindness.   a shared frreedom 
is morning, away from the deafened normalacy, the inflicted and control insensitivty of any day . where people die ?so leave them? it screams, Not one will matter,, for the trillons to follow.. and if you look maddening media dispells allusions and intrige replaces wholeness of the breathing; what was life. 
  a shared freedom . to what effect? is one?s own after emotions as  death is inspiration to life. 

 I have again moved. the town ,now ,is my sitting across the street from the radio station and Electrical Inventions Museum as well as the independant theater in a nice block ranged with restaurants at each side. the set up of an entertainment system. with separate parasitic systems all celebrating what they can offer instead of what they give.  
  The day greys and shined. Two times a summer presents its self. now, since i walked out Two times darkened like to give reminders of waht has been and slowly leaving for th enext comes , once it is whole to a new levl of terror and anger though while a summers joy completes its seasonal joys, the heat start to raze the skin.. I walk out not caring where i go so long as its not planned. 
Chess was our latest conversation strategic in explanation, the philosphic importancy to get the peace right, and know the moves and the constantness of attetions. But our conversation was more about life then the game. the symbolism wasnt lost one him,, youer people often make you remember the tides you have walked. douglas came with literture and compliments. I always keep him off guard with ?gotta a cigerette? or ?you wanta cigerette? if life was that way. He propbly wanted to quit smoking to. 
He alwasy talked about leaving,, next summer thats what i am going to do. Austin, or New orleans, he even had a freind in New York and went there and hung out in artsy bars with his artist friend,, to accept the dream is where we stop and start. to  day i do tomorrow i am the creation of anotehrs opion or clavoiant mediocrity of the glasses they wear while comenting on anothers life, family can really distort you self vision, make you feel insane because you are not accepting the same feelings and realities of action as they,, Worka holics who always complain and say they work cause they have to but really they don?t have the strength to live what is ultimately against the flow. Those who stand up will be cut down.. but you can only stand becuase you have no inner choice. 
  maybe i shouldnt think of oceans and tides. should conside just another artist death to be par for the course his only evil will never know. and i am untrust full of my own inner life never the less anotehrs. 
I have to leave this,, the coldness reached me.. like an actor consumes , in vision,, the water breaking over the head, the sight of the endless uncaring sky, the last second body awareness screaming  bubbles, the images last but a second. 
then away  Then comes, while organizing videos from a feature of his, songs which dont leave the mind for the next six hours.   
its funny . the sky could rain right now. and i might just sit here. the chess set set up trying to tempt the spirit but other wise i have to ask people to play. I feel like i am communigh becuase it is a play of cross over from nature and changes effect.  and Mazes.. 
  The Train blows smaller hoots in the town,  when just down the track to either side of city limits, the three seconds blows become standard low toned warnings. singnals,, ?yo..approaching here? the Ukraine elected a billionary and i blew off therapy. Someone announced a 
manhattan size asteriod is going to hit in march 35th, 2044 ( and intentional typos on the internet post)  
  what from here? I am not going to remember how so many artist have gone by their own hand. Why is now lost to day? 
  I keep loosing the train of thought there for but what i have created. ah death stemmes to all and inspires conversations of life?s physical limits except for an idea of eternity. I know death is a reminder of why to do more with life. His energy shared was supportive. But names i can and have put in place of his before. Singers are high on the list. just beyond young adults, writers not so much. 
Our ego to think we have something to say keeps us surviving.. 
  Though my days of suicidial thoughts lasted years, intellectually eternally , what creating I am to replace Morals and Monolifs. Spiritual Fascism for name and title mean little to plan and purpose of action and the non pulsed . I question  and wanted to feel as close to death and took headacke pills, which turned into a State hospital and six month of free living till they let me leave agaisnt medial advice and i crashed at a different emergency room, coming off anti-psycotic and a cocktrial of depression drugs. Holding onto a typewriter and a bass guitar after sobbing for a half hour in the middle of Harvard square Cambridge. 
First time i used gass and woke up six hours into it..and decided someone was looking out for me..  
  the final time I sat on a fire escape five floors up and questioned the magic of spiritualism and the essence of feeling.

   At the end of the block the road tapers off leaving only the bay and two old brick buildings of the leading employer driven out in the late eighties the old Paper mill and chemical pit,, Destroying employment in the area for the safety of the unemployed industrialized people. suicide to stop suicide . fire to put out a fire.. The bay consumes and takes one out or brings one in .. it is the legend of the little town on the pacific. Where Sailors and lumberjacks met and fought over women and card which turned into a mill town. And that Over active, that turned it into a stable property owning community . the mill must have been good times. moving a transient, into an easily controlled citizen filled with the lumber and shipping rich and the bar owners , criminals and parasites, turned home owners and a middle class,, who still had to deal with the bars and whores,, until someone started to proclaim the future and killed the largest industry here.. 
  and its funny as man is create , he left, who?s songs stuck and popularity was just starting.. festivals and gigs.. an allbum.. all that to build a character, he talk of family regeining n him, as his own tempting took control more than wanted, his squeeking about a why for alcohol in the morning? I am not a alcoholic. you think i am an alcoholic.. his father ,though not from bellingham, is a left over of what a steady middle class untrianed but for the job they do was.. trained to love alcohol.. to live in a bar and celebrate life,, getting things done,, meeting and more,, But the father was a DJ,, with a follwing and celebratey. or that is what i remember , i have often been wrong i didn?t take notes. all i heard was a child living some years, and then moving from father to mother. and at five found out he even had a brother, younger,, instant protecitive ness,, a delirium to a child,, I am responsible,, Take care of your brother.. kane and able?s mom said the same thing.. a clostrophobic subconsious effect we call it by many names, but it is suppose to be love.  understand the  self, from the activities proceeding now. early child hood spicic right,, the emotion and reactions.., but some would say,, the time you were born,, stars and planets have gravitational waves,, so delicate the energy of self.. to see the foil of sanity,, seems less to conform to us, but we to it. like a Law yet is the definition of civility. and civility a question of time, and ill relievance,, as the street singer sing.. and the accused pain under prisons stares a cops eye,, a camera,, placement,, observe,, yet dont,,  observation is an innocense, the define of scietific borders of mans perent history telling us, ?were going to mess up ? because the hidden stable Trillion aries are not that smart,, and  gods dumb..  

    
  even following the past backword. killing presidents , controling the media, the advancement of international society and global control though international opinion and practice more than progression and peace. and there is your guitar, so great, a first album,, but there,, with no one in your corner,, no management no help.. digressions of idea self an dcontorl ,, structure and artistry,, to much to think, to much,, a rope and a dream? I want to there,, new york why not go back,, why do i love my mother so much my brother, why cant i hear the songs, the pain of hiding in my room , no rent , i am my mother,, stop screaming at me,, please stay by me,, shooting up when no one looked.. smoking hope, scaling hiddeness, the necessary obstacle to experience, the gesture is enough, walk tall. 
   Aristots rules to acting? 
  Partical fever??
The take away,, on Npr  may28th with Alan Alda

  Always in jeans , as wont is the part of the town. darker than lighter black more than blue, cowboy boots, a performers shoes. A smile when meeting a  though just behind a cunning for the small town blindness, and politics, The click songs of the area, the talent you think of ,, he wanted to be perfect. perfection irked him,, confidence could only be based on the reception.  pratice harder and harder,, new ,, and need.. nothing is good enough now.. I am coming up,, the no strain , no strain,, strain effects composition,, takes away ease and the projection of a magic spell such called a song.. melody,, eased agsint the confidence of sight beyond the doubt,, my time.. my time ,, 
a tree,, was planted during a new. hyway came on an on ramp .. years of green  tops to bare, thinkening the trunk holding out the first arms well into a thousand children,  around the tree passed civiliztion by speeding blurrs the here and goen of that vien , and rising blocks, all over there, for when the tree was  planted this wasnt as develped as our story sees, .. tree watch with the breathing, CAborn monix for oxergen,, thorugh al the branches,, but you sleep and looseyears,,  many dont know that trees sleep. i gives them something to do. and contraint the astral travel one would hope for in a health consciousness..  the pinning of importance to emotional concerns,, the more stress the harder it is to ?travel?. world peace deticated to the human ablity to astral travel as a code of life..  a human entertainment ground bigger than walts world or the internet.. notice though how the internet wants to be that which tranded human experience,, while relaying human opionion,, He didnt have a computer. 


  douglas needed management.. and confessor. but we are all so poor of thought, drouwning on gmo?s and floride..cigereettes, 

  and so the days come and go the reason wasted? it is to be human and mourn,, striking tides fearsome and innocents for others. his brother must be crazy scarred like a tattoo they say. ,, but again the days go on
  I broke my cure and felt my way into a womens life again, or she into mine, the scalding hot echoes of our quiet sittings.  and yet ,, i felt finally a little freer around her today, the mention of being myself which didn?t bother her, she wasn?t looking for my attention.  occcupied on something her self , we hung out, she was in a different room but i could sing.  and felt the art come through me, she didn?t run away, until later, and maybe she liked it and doesn?t want to seem like its a big thing. or .. maybe she can?t just hang well.. and my wnating to please her is my onw conversaton with myself. then i think if i please myself its all for the better,, lol. so i can come to a certain holding with her, like its better to have a complete conversation, and sharing of time, then overly everything all the time,, like my five years celibate concentrates,,
   it is a book in its self, we are two from a moment .. and i like something about here,, it is an innocents that i think will let me do my thing,, and hold a wholeness for me, though you can never see the teeth before the bite,  or i do all the time,becasue i am a learned paranoid and i sometimes can tell the difference between a fantasy i created and a thought i have seen fullfilled.  Dening happiness and a shared reality., i want to share but i also dont want to get lost in that sharing. ?is she just going to go away, have i learned my passon. so me me me,, I guess that is why this kind of writing,, for there is a difference in the wriing to write without much care of audeince except to know a one is to guess the all within them,, so you are mosacic that i need,,   but i become a left over of ego and pride to write or say i write,, i write like a neverous twitch ,, 
   there is the love hate thing,, the almost good enough, the never any good.. the choices, like life. but i never choice ,, and yet here i lached on like a pit bull screaming i want something from this object in my teeth but then even while tasting the blood, can not remember what it was..  the something i was always afraid of was to show up my brother. I am the writer of the family. something so petty and life concerning ,, but it has taken years to admit that, and it can not be full fling with that in mind,, this isn?t all some ego , ?mine is bigger than yours? contest,, but tasting the wind is not blantant, and under/over it all  we are only what we become with the many years of doing, even if that doing is without your accepted cause. 
yes one is easier than to say i write inorder to unlease a nature philosphy of spirtual quatum-mechanicalism and humor.. or atleast a ?Yo.. look over there,?, then you can return to all the petty and life concerning events again... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
   Friday.. 
  As i breath
 I write, 
as I breath 
the smoke, 
carbon dixide coal powder, car exaust,
 as i breath 
,, in-hail-ing,,

 The sub-standard of ideal, the only seat today is against a wall in a parking lot, sun and hot tar, white lines and underneaths of big pickup trucks,and front grills of the smaller cars slanted descending perspective line into the pristine bay ,, unrecognizable  unless you know its there, from here.   A Parking lot waiting to be a building. 
black topped with drowned worms beneath with golden Banks of Scattered earth forming a  loose conection of different grasses and the once edible?weeds?.  Loose  as in the green is new growth. Sparse. Rebellious,, all the longer grasses are the sickly golden yellow of a chemical burn.. no bother for landscaping , no care for community identity. or a dog tongues .. . Like the buidings sprouting closer and closer to the bay  shoreleine, the bay though is a good one hundred feet down like the whole city was one big retaining wall.. 
   At the flood point of a million of years a great cliff torn from the hill a town grew on, the naure basned,, , then made more , for ships ,, and looging, where only echoes of a once Industrial .  and smaller companies ship loges now,, to sneak them at night on quick trucks,, to avoid activists. 
   Activist are people who care when and how we kill the earth, just like you, we all acitvate conversations, turn on like to be acive Namely Turn on.. 
by that reverse I am turned off.. 
People should mabye call themselves Evolitionist.. 

so they are an active part of all.  
  
How many peope to pull a governmental screw . Partishoned out such once you turn it.. you step back and look at a trillion screws, all with joints and arms and leavers, box like and noisey, created by dali and escher combined.. except ,even they, had to settle on purple for all the chrome parts.. 
 Machine is philosophy of government. Bad philosophy, bad machine,, 
I need to snip for smokes,, fill my lungs with other then, or the fire has always been ,, the smoke as a sign, and a signal. I am addicted and care what happens in the world  just not in me,, the more philosophy is an economic adherence,, truth will forever struggle,, Agreement can not be stated simply. Cares and concerns the global action and reaction the buisness angle the united nations Ruling.. the sate as a Promise to give money to diffeent people then it now funds,,  there where the machine moves. government Philosophy as a conversation on nature, could , in the instant realization , could prepose a government re-definition ,, the word again should be something other than government,,  some thing like a new cooperation.. one which answer the ideas and struggles to effect a global future with a human future. with a reunderstanding of the now.. taken from the mixture of eastern Holistics and  the Quatum theory efforts to find an energy statement of Health..  
 when typing i interjected that last part,, mostlikely off tone and didnt need to be there.. readablity and all.. but what is th ekind of jumbled society we live in,, where i can look there for a foot might be behind the door i am to open,, a movement of mankind to reign supreme in the understanding of spiritualism.. and a global intellectualizm.  
 does that sound even right.. ? 

  movements of proust.. 
   she is there naked, standing , holding nothing but a pepper.  Statues couldn?t repeat her, A tanned gymnes body over all deminished by the parts distacting, there her thieghs sautrated b other lovers? yes, there her breath hot with alcohol. there here ankle, strong and thin supporting the spaish german frame she likes to yell when she drinks, and people must have let her,, and didn nothing, I can see her sleeping in a abanoded room, a televsion in the ronor on milk cartons, drawing on the walls. caryons and spitle.. listening for th enoises of the house, listening for the women.  daddies wife,, to her abuses, litening so as to get them right, and waiting for her to come screaming. 
  she stands there delicate, lke she isnt listening to you. and she is not. the pains in her head stop her, a foul beating from man, she tells it like it is never going a way, and can not i guess, when she has a bleeding in the head,, when its to show up in her sight sometimes flying bits of light. and if you could accually tell her eye color for the ray that is her form you would see sometimes they are blood shot.. one more than the other,, and a dull throb has become her life. the community of high powers i have not consulted.. but i have heard of this and was the lover of other women like J , talking of pains they can not know where comes from.. nothing is ? wrong  physically , and test havent been invented for it.. but each case is different, but all were on pharama drugs. J has no script right now.  Nothing to stop the pain left over in her head from being beaten by a man to an inch of her life.  No home but an aunts couch, her truck a bed of waiting washed cloths, a laundry backets with wheels. the streach from a ball joint tells the last of an important story. Tan dust from the long ride in the night away from new mexico. after released from the hospital. a load of pills to equal the rampant pain , Uncovered by whatever medical insurance is offered, It bleeding they say and send her away, 
  I can not see how they would do that, but limited is my experience,, what brian trauma bleeds and there is no cure? but then i lured her over with viks ,, the first couple of times, pills which give the sensation of painlessness and highten the desire for sex. I knew that much and when she texted me that morning i had made up my mind and was preparing a text to tell her.. she seems to be linked with me, like it is possible wit all.. but frew feel it . it is help full when you are facing lonely ness,, the world of people only a thought away the transendance of body without the despriate foul cost god gives. death or spritualality.. spirituality is without death. in this short time we have of life, it is to lend to the total experience more than the individual pleasures,, and yet.. may can prove that wrong,, like to excist is onlly the material only the shallow and plastic,, 
   I speak of a plastic experience,, and yet i dont, because of me.. she would forget me in an instant i feel. like the conviences of forgetting is more enlightening than change,, or growth. for to forget remarks to the infiite sucess of the moment,, lleft overs and morals are for the aristocrat the streets pines to forget, the loves the dreams, the plan, its all now and if not now ,, then now.. 
  I can not say that at first it was a lust unequalable.. 
  I am to get cuaght up in an attraction , quite human i know,, the extras we avoid gives us no reason to avoid them, so i have invested travel , thought, emotions, into a fantasy before,, she wasnt just a lust because i have never been so contained, you will not convience me that energy congragation dont matter.. if you feel it something is going on.. and so .. live the further you see the further your heat makes hope for the rest of your life. 
  I wish i could have told my just gone friend that.. We only write to see the link between hope and here. 

  Song . dont walk into the river. k.a.ambrose

    dont walk into the the river 
   dont go my friend 
dont be going no where 
body hates to end.

  dont walk not the bay
oh if your gonna walk
be it proud  
accept to the mother we?ve made
alone the connon child.. 
 
( whole verse hummed screamed emoted)

dont walk into the river
dont go my friend
dont be going no where
body hates to end
  
  Gonna walk into the bay
oh feel the water above my head
want to know the answer 
for what you doing walkin instead

Gonna walk into the bay
walkin with my hands
(i dont bow) -1/2  I dont bow with my mouth
you made my own damn love (caring)
a sin a sin somehow.. 
a sin a sin somehow.. 


  I want to have a better life
to this end ,I must fallow out what little plans i can make, secret little plans in the normal of where everything follows.  I like my idea of a magaizine which breaks the mold of literature and the publicized American response. 
 Our thoughts on freedumb and just-us.
have not changed , the human voice, but American media has changed us.. publishers wont break the bounds for a new voice,, and i can not let go of the importance of an economically free view of life. untainted by prejudices of educated impotence. Everyone is apart of the humanities such that the expression in writing should celebrate the individual psychological adaptations we live through.. 
We must train each other, look for the good and plan ways to enlighten ourselves further to a loving life. free to feel peace and hope. 
  Presently I can only hope there is a style which paralles what i prepose, in some forgiene land but i have not seen it. So I create a magazine to change what is Literature and epstilmology, 
We are the oceans depth we need 
only to feel to sea.
religions has turned away from our own responciblity. 
Philosphy refuses to understand and like knowledge its left refuses action in a knowledged based undestnading of metaphysics as energy. 
I have never studied philospyhy or religion from an organized course of study , I have nto had the opprotunity or the inclunation to officallly study with universities 
  my words come from self study and awarenes you can only wiegh if words have found me. 

It is almost like our next step of society can be learned because we all ready know.. it is the practical usage of natural human emotions , for which we are talking.. these same which have been messed with for decades as Faith To.... god, king , country, with nationalism going to an i.m.f banking standard.. 
 I will have to face many demons in my own ambitious work to remark on life. They are mine but as i own them as words, I create a system fo understanding which comes most natual to all men and thought filled creatures. 
  to remember what is important. I must look at all which comes commonly , we use and refuse to see.. I must accept simple answers that come without reserve fro some life that change leaves behind. 
 This personal evolution has brought me to yet another cross road in personal truth and thought that to a stationed truth and you will do what ever you see fit to do. but i must lay to paper what i conceive as a legacy of truth. 
I have been afraid to love life. 
  this is a model i see within my personal treatment call it up bringing and economic environment? or philosophic arguments but i wasn?t allowed to participate in loving,, not my father or mother or brother and so then my many lovers.. 
  I mentally denied what i couldn?t see,, 
i feel this change for i have one to love or admit i love,, a cat.. 
 As only the uneducated or un-brainwashed cretin can, yet possibly to see the need for truth, in its ancient wholeness, and be advanced through experimental self actualization. So then only an unconditional unspoken affair of bliss can represent love. Love as a micro second of time just like explanation of death. for which i share with one i can love and balance my pain against the joy  i can give. 

  Yes she is grey , a light grey ,, a brown grey , a white grey , all joined and layered against the multi shadows of the sun shoned on fur, for she is long haired and the wind changes the shading, adding more of one kind of grey to the next, continually changing , even as she breaths , the faster breaths of a smaller lungs, curled up on the end of the Lazy boy, A tiny nose hidden like a jungle cat to avoid being see,, .. 
  it is she who have given me the strength i need for to observe your actions you must own your actions. But also see what actions have created you until this point of thinking,, I have disseminated from life. in order to view life.. to stop making excuses fro my blindness holding on to it,, the world and religions or economic structures. 
Maybe my love is different but life will always be a fight for our souls. to love is enough to form ourselves around what love we have for ourselves.. we get to see love from giving and reapplying it. there by slowly letting ourselves teach when it is to most important to know. but remember the words are easy only self actualization proves concept.. through such we come back to the beginning, I want to schedule my life better , for i want to start scheduling my self. this is not something i cam use to .. Yes ,, I committed years to work, rising and falling away, that taught me how, but the reason we are here talking is that the day because schedules turned harmful to personal growth, either trough the repetitions, which was less likely to case, to some over baring employer creating hates in me, without a balance in kindness or apology. When one is treated like a slave or an underling , only rebellion is freedom and our sufferance. 
  And i have thrown away economic advantages many times, sometimes out of spite, other times for the safety of non violence,, when my animal and human repulsion created it so.. often being morally correct or even legally correct mattered little. the effect was the same , i had denied subservience and let my spirit free to discover my path to health, it helps that i have always read , and of all the fictions history and stumbles of humanity,, i watch myself closely for the psychological effect from which i  create my experience of life. 

_________________________________
 
One hand is playing poker. never leave home, never ask The color of four shoes, don?t smell your beauty don?t see your looks, silent stable the room
electric burying the ancient five year old whine. Portal un-permanent, yet how long since has it been living in entertainment growth awareness or feel real and not just an avatar on a string. for i am part of the generation of the now. but we are a quiet sort, also for now.. sitting in stable houses against winter. to dome a city, to live underground , to give travel when physical travel cost so ,, We are contained, as stable is our homes. __________________________________


and the day goes so many complex and simple intertwinnings the street gives me money I eat with a concern for sand . A friend in a different state goes homeless with a smile, a friend closer fights a landlord, a friend less then twnty miles away only reminds me but doesnt return my tests , the cheapes form of communication souless it feels talking what will do and what would do. 
  Turning to stone even having the wind remind me, of life lived with pains of peopl in love we can not understand. 
  and i am cold.  if  your hand doesnt feel or is rational there is something wrond,  I invited a women home, she is beautiful but secretive the moments around her, a climax of personal porblems terror by freinds, but she comes for pills and beer.  and it begs questions. a beautiful women stranded. her extent of maliousness, a head acke, needs a beer , a haad acke the blain bleeding , Everything I have trs to settle problems for mine i have already decided. 
foret the sustructure, remember the love, remember to care for self, in balence to hope , for that write and find a debvotional moment .. and write more, but what feels is .. single though fact gets mixed into words. Power? does saying I love you deminish ? did i say it to foster along a loveing relationship.. Did I think it would help , again drowning in problems i can not change, and seperation from ones i can , oh yet what proble effects me right now. living with my head down ,, I can not grow beyond the small brian i have and yet want more, there a partner equal to me, sexually , ? is that true or do i feel fantasy abeyond in my love , a created landscape of people who eventually dont rythem for my voice,, i withhold or get caught up on.. and the freind in another state tells me the nervoiusness of my world , having remained quiet around her, I thnk no one wants to admit how really bad i am at being human, the music i dont sing , because of the nots i cant hit. 
Sex and love is TRansendance, Available to all yet after years hidding in my car, understanding materialism as a vice, soncsumming energy the passed away smile , i coan again love, i have sex and it is .. only in my mind a great thing, another can only feel the lies subversions, the escape , unity has a siners wings, this floy must stay on the wall. jbut touch me, love me, though you will leave or it will be me,, Air to breeth , no rejection no imperfecdtion , alone one is god. I know my love enough it has to say within its specallity and sub conscious referances, intension is not studies, 
  and after i made love to her, after touching her ack and thieghs and moans, after sujections and small kissed surfaces dryed exploring to charisses hearnm more in the right direction, waiting on me, as rock waits the montain stream to weaken it into a rut, so i wiat wanting her wanting consuming love for a sharing, without possesion, as i have been taught befroe, which is a harmoy , longing and  cretes, a pain giving another, i see your sad ness andits not worth looking at you. which is a harmony , but i have to remember loving is letting be free.. 
 oh the innocents of seeing self
the pains of admitting you are wasted
and worm eaten when harmony reaches you. 
 and what do i risk falling in love again, 
the tenderness that cant be replaced
the uphoric splender , a heaven proven
schoras elements vibrasionaled. 
exacy , oh proclaim life
from the motives for. 
 the destablization of governments by bankers, the infestation of media. All go away I am body , she smiles, she attracts, i have motive, but one would think you shild always feel motive. but by myself like is enoguh.. the rest is distratctions and dysharmonious diatrbes about dialogues. Make love to me in the woods, a lean-to and a bay rejoice for what is given , consume , share ,enlighten dream in the firse, slander torture the fear is to love another. 

 My fear alone there can never be a alone. all thoughts represent thorught in gereral. only thinking you are alone will create it, i alone. the differences automatically ring out Alcohol, televsion , family  just over there she loves me from a distance seeing only how with further connections her hurting me., and the suffer for hurting another. 
  it is funny what lesson you can remember.
 right now touching my desire so deeply i will never mate but with one body type or ther passions reigns for me , the movement shattering ceilings she screams performance , intoxicats here is magic, but sorrow comes from what you are able to replicate of her life, but wonder one. Driven to feel almost the last acceptance of humanity. 
 Sunday june 1st. 
  A quiet turn after memorial day. a slow walking comparitive to its busy past of a week, back to normal. the answer of it. the forgetting of else. I guess it is old age which cherished even when waiting th econcept of a women in my life. I have come to the point consuming romance of film and literture. while seeing a womens pure joy of a walk down the steet arm and arm, the hero besides. perfrect grey shorts and light white top, her stue esk form minimalized by the capasity of her ass, so peacefull, years and years ago was mine, the image to shape talker than mine I am brainwashed for my fantasy is the illusion of her , my form  what to me, that would feel. to walk i remember and that is age. 
There my moans, the shape of me in them, I have watched the bubbles of love brake, sorted to conscious and unconscious conclusions, itemization prejudices and tendancies, I am sustainable unsupportive poor. 
  I ahve niether reached for money or had it thrust apon me. the almost was a corporate resturant ,, the almost, A- she was blond and everthing was pink, i was for a moment , a hard core on the street invoved , a band painting aand writing. she never read or maybe she did but never discussed. All like writng with few readers the connection to self , dwarfs, a story so barbie and i,, matel who had ken to barie ratio of twothousand and seventy seven to oce in sales. found a sunday walk in the boston streets.  skatter leaves and sun walking commonwealth ave .. benches  and squirrels leading the way to the common gardens,, the arch the peace for that many people being considered a slow day, 
walking hand in hand or just beside  a link in motion a over here and rest let them pass ,, and over here more, lets sit by the lake , get coffee or ice cream, be out, here we have life to show us to . stopping for friends , outer but an unmistaken unity. 
 Hardly do we have the time to love ourselves without haveing some mental narsisim,, that another leads as caring portays more caring. but all is time judgement, system creates linear responces, and thru an hour changes everything, a doubtfiull thought a selective secret, something you hold in the collum of ? of there perfection is spoiled here are my hatreds?  and for those to be considered one pops the bubble,, at first that was my way before i gave in to love. here was someone i wanted for the rest of my life. as i seculeded to my desk and she loved to clean and cook and watch telesion. 

   we shared a kitten when should have shared a child, everything would have been different I would not have looked into the rawness and poetic interest of self analysis.  Every turning point of man is change. but i havent been reaching for mans achievements and wigh a good conversation highest on my list of social talents. 
  So I watch, where schras move, seemingly pecefull. for its so hard to have passoin and forget it, have it and on and off, like activists artisty , how to care and then dont.. how love doesnt emcompass our whole lives. 
  J.. reminds me of passion and the strength of loving, I guess something had to take me from winter to spring, when a freind dies that always first, knowing what hope is needs more than a lonely room to crying then a love where both take one to the muse. 
     It is later.. the night is on as a morning. I have tried to sleep and couldn?t. Ways of working have changed in the last week. Love in my viens, sorrow in the air,  pain from every friend fighting the systematic.. Want-a be alpha type? --------------
  the feeling of love, a lover. the soul bound confuses me. of one, yet spirits are not bodies and she is aloof from me. I was saddened by a text.. I mis-read. 
in avoidance i must contain. Around lends me to love, seamed of my  romantic firings.  But my mistakes fuels doubt, infectious, from the first.. 

She is a magic statue,
 in beauty and stand,
 spanish blood,, and german hand.  
she has given me water
 after a long draught. 
a physical incantation to touch her,
, preying to the gods for more,
 but knowing she lies. 
 and as soon as
 she knows
 she?ll be gone.  

becasue of her my physicalness is with her. I leave transend, escape, find proof more common law. metaphysics , a knowledge of holistic and energy cures depression and every thing,,because of her physicalness, is with her,,  i am whole.. it is to walk where you do not know; that you find you always knew.. to live for self ,,yet is a question of what life is made up of.. the item of body, is not the ultimate of being. but a commonness in our creativity  to the question of time its self..  A quatum question of who one is. 
   watching the petty line ups, subcosncious interludes,, the turn mirror self admiration i guess , the lie. and reason like a resque,,  All just ?sponcered by? or torn from the natural boundries like the natural boundries are pain and sufferance as children and repetitious leadership, faulty economics and declarative sodomy, Who would to defraud a govenment,, eyes,, wide, 
      She comes into the room and there is no room, a flowering field of puffy clouds and interests of other things. over there, special things. let to share when times and moment collide,,but for now blur like an old zoom lens, i have breathed her hair, i have kissed her cheek, given to the magic , holding dear a retrieval from loneliness, myabe just a moment but not to waste,, an all , for if whe would he would , to love in all phorms is a kindness but to form your love, is devine,, to wait until yo youknow you can return it , an equaled vibaration must excist.. 
  but over there.. 
    Matters of book learning she is smart enough I hear it,, but there is a hidden and land untold, eternally the text machine says hi the random friends worried where she is. 
And yet , Passion reminds me of the beautiful chaos,, which helps to analsis change for a wake up call the adjustments of a psychological moment,, just over the right shoulder is a friend who took his life, and here i feel like never before , again,  for i love the addiction of loving. It is a infestation of the being whole. I have always stood in the shadow of.....watch her move the shadows away,, i think better when i am tired also. one idea is never enough walking plain melodies, the escape to tranquil place. Home.. and cast me to pagan wheels. but lust for her , will alwaysfeellike a possession or something so strong it found its hope.  Enlightenment for normal native, one to remark of the life experience living for hope.. and two with passion as model. i find new inspiration, of what is always there. 

  I have lived for years cast down,, my own creation for not to live. 
  but that is gone and again i feel , the tortured sake of logic..to be right without the power is wrong. bow and die.. or dont and stand the end wishing you had.. there is an opioion i had shared once,, it was  that i believed we could live our dream, a sor of determinism, accepting what we know and working it. I felt bad because i was a Determinist,, and knew i wanted to write, long  i am a year from fifty and there we stand to relieve the pressure buit up in my head from all the years unspeaking.  of silent can keep a child alive, of silence can kill a man, when not listening to the child. the child who learned to not listen to self, to do is to risk,, like the killing of jfk and the risk of talking, I dont find much difference, so silence to self , is painful and eventually one see the personal wants and desires and passions are all we have and are yet that which pass down, our spiritual love insured by the completeion of this trail at excistance, 
   Theapist should just be very beautiful women, Love cures all.. Her wanting me shocked me. after five years without  mutual sex love hope, mine pleaseing hers accepting wanting loving. I touch myself and my ejacualte befroe i sleep every night, I have reasons. Visual creativity and transdence which come after out of body awareness is fullfilled.. 
    Five years all boiled to an intensity which was my fist sight of her.. Just here wonder chicta form, lips of florescent pink, a halter tip with a ripped team jersey over, not that that was anything to do with my appreciation, I felt something maddening, the right place, the right time, i followed the now.. and came out with my guitar to perform for the small town art walk, Luck was i wasn?t alone, or not, but it so happened a friend with the gift of the streets said hello.  Her back to me. three chords i kept playing as i sang to her ass . Lost in the proclaimed area, i talked of her in my thoughts and do not remember what i sang but i felt it, and this time i didn?t hesitate. but stayed cool and waited for her, her looks told, a smile seeing i was waiting to talk to her, waiting longingly, to let me play her a song. 

 Conversation about the car,, a 59 rambler, my friends the cool hippie pensioner electricain, sells art work out of ,, Indian carvings , boxes and other paintings, Her attention i watchid , she looks over , i try to look away fast enough , but not fast ,, a moment of recognition is all i ask, privately . 
Enertialcall. 
  avant guard
fiction prose
literature.. art magazine, is creating Issue 11 (number three in bellingham) but we are without a feature artist.. ( a feature artist get twenty six pieces shown in the pages of the magazine. )

    If you think this would be fun and have some benefit for your long term goals. please submit. 

 Submission guidelines,  please direct us to your work on line  at least 10 peices, do not send pictures files by email ,, we don?t want to have to open them,, Just put your pictures online and sends an email to Enertialcallhereiam@gmail.com  of where we can find them. 
  If you are great then a shoot could be worked out but you would have to pay the photographer 100. ( so don?t go that route if you have a camera.. lol. I do have equipment for small work. 
 Limited use contract must be signed to appear in the publication. 
 Writers submission guidelines,, 9pt font three pages  short fiction (abstract writing styles encouraged)
  
  The Enertialcall Issue 10 can be seen From FACEbook , you can also see Enertialcall media products on youtube, Wordpress, Twitter, Izzue.


973 trillion dollars has passed through the hands of tobacco industry right or wrong or even close is my next drag. 
  what are the corporate overlords thinking !  Who regards this exploit of mine, to be theres to market. some people who i wouldn?t be caught by and yet i breath though by ingesting their vise a cranking tightening thing on my heart and lungs and self awareness. So manly to not care and suffer thorugh until it is lack of breath and tingling hands, until it is a rampant cough, and jeetery effects of quiting.. 
  for i have been trying off and on,, the gum the patches. yet everythim, i get some good hours in ,, the nieghbors smoke comes down the hall , the shared air of apartment living,, and i cant think and am reminded what i made my environment for thrity years, what i dont have right now. or what i was wanting but was trying not to remember, becuawse it is easy to quit for me.. i am not an addictive person.. or fear i am and always have avoided that.. yet,, for this and coffee.. addiction comes like a subconsious twitch, and i know through conversation and enlighing self awareness i can do this,, can leave behind thirty yearss of backward rebellion,, we young children kill ourselves to rebell agsint parents.. or that is the ketch phrase of how i started,, really it was about fighting and the kids at the bus stop left me alone cause i smoked,, alwasy on my loading dock,, always wiwht coffee.. i was never really young.. 
  seventh grade ,, my last new school.. if you fling a cigerette it is assult,, but if you do it right before someone is going to hit you it is a surprise attack,, and a distraction. an opening.. 
   the last fight i was in was at twenty on the streets in cambridge. i was playing hak sak by then religiously , i threw a six foot man ten feet,, and went after the other two.   but i was a scared all the time at thirteen though i didn?t want to admit it, and often got in fights at the bus stop or was chased by the kids at the park who  ganged up to chase me one day,, i had all that prastice runing from my bother they didnt ketch me
   Eventually became more afraid at what the damage to another could cause. not from an empathy point of view but a legal one; my paranoia stretched to jail.   Foot ball was out for me, five three and thin, Baseball was supreme but i didnt think i was good enough for h s baseball. and only played little leage until I threw out my arm as a left feilder  I was always infeild third base my favorite,, catching sometimes.. 
. maybe i should have,, instead i did theater,, and smoked behind the school during rehersals.. of back in the metal shop bathroom during lunch,, never wondered why i never got caught. every day.. for the whole of senior year. but i took off every Friday and Wednesday until i hit 60 absences which would have been to many to graduate,, everyone had learned ,even me, that i was made for the world, not walls, so no one said a thing. At the end of the year i walked up to my mother and had her sign everyone of them,, my bother who normally did it had quit the position a year ago to join the navy,, I gave them to her already filled out,, with the mention that if i didn?t get these signed i would not graduate.. she signed with a hrumpth.   
 We had set up a good relationship , the cops didn?t bring me home  much and i tried not to beg for money.. 
     I am not sure how i started to smoke in the house.. but that was the agurement that broke her love for me i think. Some kids worried about fathers but after step father left, it was all freedom. I guess it is something i have cherished all along, the authortive figure gone,, all other authority constantly questioned, and their angles considered, before i would respond, Boss who didn?t see me as a good employee were usually not good employees themselves.  yes yes your so great, when did you become self sighted, i wonder what went wrong. oh perfect solider.
 wrong , right the confusion of terms to mean anything, light dark , 
simple bi pedal question created to inforce right and wrong left right left behind left alone.  i live the perfect excistance, pining over a women or trying to create glass surfaces with natrues forms and psycodelica
 and wonder if tonight she will come, loving a phone  number an ip helps remember the love daily hourly and suffer more often the amount of ways to get a hold of someone that doesnt want to be gotten a hild of.. speed dail, text email . carrier pigeon, tow cans and some string. linking that which wants only a litener on the other end,, 
  and yet it feels like she is gone and then , a sparkle of helo.. a i feel yo and there is no replacing it. it is to be, we are to be, words from empty bottles which have survived th emighty sea only to break on the reefs come to shore.  which cuts you one the beach  your little toe irrated by sand and sandles. 
   

   
    
 
      
 




 
  


driven three begines 
  

  a man meets his soulmate  and thinks of himself as Proust
  sickly weak and French

Why is existence asked against the flow
we ask self what god should know 
but leaves us destine to guess.
the truth and love  of innocence.

 Two people sit on the edge of a creek. They will sit there forever at this pace. they're hands locked, encrusted by spiders webs and darkened by fallen leaves. the stream shall rise temptingly at their feet and fall again but never  touching them .  the slow speckles of dirt and time ,come to rest on toes when rain tries to  wash them; the run off forms an accepted path, pushing Fir needles off to one side where microbes hold hands and talk of a fuller reality than man's love for man. 
   This  couple forever hardening into single mass.  She is a child  of about sixteen.  her thin bones and delicate dress are allusions to the mask worn to keep knowledge secure.  mankind refuses to see. All pretty with high cheek bones and a cute bulb for a nose. but look closer and marks on her flesh tell storey of a childhood of pasts. left over silent memories. This common child life in america egotistic intellectual and rarely empathic. Where the children armies are commercialized and relied upon for their will's will for rainbow colored unicorns  made in factories far away, relied upon for part of the gross domestic product sold over global shelves.  the common now is the pressure we make on the  children to answer moral question we have put aside and left them. Left them with life and death struggles as video games, panic mode.  answers from body memory before any  proof for a just opinion. 
    She is mankind's  pertinence to nature,  failing with each day closer and closer to the addicts future. Wasting all humanity for a successful life of chemicals and profit-cy while swearing she is a soulmate to the fiftyish man torn from years of sight against himself for which the child can not feel.  the eyes of wisdom will never come to those who close them to watch arguemen facts more and disreason gets invented and then made to law . like mandatory food additives and limited research childs play for a cheaper product. 	
      i wonder if i will be able to just write on this little plastic screen with the portable key board a two finger hunt and peek they used to call it. The slower i type, the more i think, the lonely the thoughts. I want freedom but can not i am the revealed safety nets ..while she is off somewhere and i can only feel as far as the weather.  Darkened, rainy thoughts when all is tainted with tortures of regret and guilt. paranoia streached days, slow passing, waiting, fighting an invisible being  in love with statements. Saddened. what words f the hour left for understanding in thetime idea can seem miss understood for often is that paranoia  cretion long awayfrom reality, but it doesnt matter 
 for though another spoke the continued voice of energy exiistance she had a llittle i wanted to help with but broke the teacher platform the human couldn't remember rolls, here  second of purer love
I like her but I can't see her
A voice in the crowd can make me start and jerk upright but she's not there a and I walk and sit in an alley find a still life and draw the pencil a cry where my tears don't come any more in is disturbing alitte the dryness after twenty years, after many blind hours to still not see. Ii feel what can not break I feel it as over there. Where silent is ..
She was so many crystals in a candle light room. And I a time lapse image philosophy coming from her I would of scripting written. the dotted it's and extra crazy faces drawn. In the side boarder..
 THERE bob was a dog the hope I could see inside her eyes the movement had a hard time realizing breath could not understand retains its body so fast let alone for so long under the same allusion that was all her predecessors our family of 7 are you away from the system status father does the guy who how many times tragic let's look in the mirror effect for sure instilled inspire instigating all other Chemical reasoning store bought self intended
Never cry again do not cry for children enough , we can not cry for our children    

I just wait for you to come home Road clairvoyant from all that was said the heart of a moment the will of likeness. Never to feel enough, in this world of others as once I heard it described a plastic groom with plastic toys and I construct what I need and with you I see my path in light any rumor can not place me and I beyond monuments where tonal rulers bare no barb and cleat the path I could,t see:-) 
And for you we s:-) it. Bella says to answer
You. Are my energy and I wait though falls befell me I can only want all in joy. and so i have seen and must again close my eyes there is nothing there that today can admit my love a waste but what else can an old man do but love like what we have learned is to love without reserve but what today and everyday also is survival,so manytimes to find what only can be self amended . but i sit with my emotions so despritely . i try and write what is left over the shoes we boughtafter waiting in that parting lot stresses smoking weed seeing that you should quit but you are just going to live with connections but those who comply to a norm ofdrugsand human vengeance.
 the summer continues on the spetical of love shadowing each pair of legs ass and breast but not soul, only you contain that for me . so i watch the streets looking for a sight of you but even if you were right in front of me i couldnt get your eye or i would see the longing of the love we knew for a second a heart of love and strength. 
your father has been so worried like always he hids it and pretends he doesnt care but he does and you told me different but i have caught up with knowledge maybe you knew i would getting life stories . heard about what life you have lived all these years,yet can still only guess the excess of money, the lonelyness waiting for interactions a hugs for money,where is the difference you feel'but do i love without it, the pains of thought ruling where love doesnt leave, street torn infected delayed cast off like no one mattered but for each brain that is wasted there goes a part of the hope that is gone and the world lives on hope stocks rise and fall like emotion, for it is that, a creeping beast of understanding and failure roaming joys in a land of price tags, self graffitti. 
  and no i can only write to you, 
in my heart so over there ,where is a memory and path.
i could not walk alone and you will always be with me.
you as i as is.

am i am not going complete
or wait
 i am 
for what
 you only ever cold open in me.
there where i couldn't
 with all my ramblings
 get to
these words only do i care for
you completed me.
and so there we will meet again and again
 tides turned of moments knowledge

   how many hours i remember
 alone 
not love in my veins
 or of my air 
sitting with J--- haveing the battle of instant friends in ameriacan culture making a studio for real for you, my silence, my equalized joy, you create it and they will come.. bella eeds me ..be back soo,,love you  
or he hearing life spelled out the misfits of old encountre.
and i started sitting here every night thiscornor a audience to the leading night life ,portal hol an alley minded bysomeone every day maybe the dealers drive by let off minions , i just sit and write wherei caan not go the innvisible world , shadowy to a television painful foe shamenism un-understood. . 
  or consumed for the fantasy acceptance where life seems more lived as study than as real for there is outy "treatment" or is that some white middle class straight condition, there is what ??i can not answer and watch seeing only the same this is private this is not inviting people for a cause trippingon each which does and not.
  i remember the offers others told me when i was 18 in boston, but you dont need to hear what caousness i could never fer but without callousness so the word doesnt apply and yet has been used. the barrior as strong with a blurry invisiblity. a dome around you with lace and cover.
 and even as i cannot shed a tear i have tried and there is only a slight hope you will read these words. i write them the struggle within me,such to re see all i avoided plague you and you with a welcome  or a next lovers smile ,time is ellision. the choosen celebration ofheartacke,the last child left after a slow house of seven. slow leaking people tot the word home schooled communial of as limit i have heard.. 
but the first week is the hardest and only of my own concern for the world forgets its children and forgotten children never for get. it would be agruements of conscious to speak right and wrong .rumors of my side yours. here i loose my sight . conscious to feel must roam bad good is understanding while we test waters and push trees. what is love what is my lve what is joy where comes time to see the light where is the daily being ?
when a generalworld of characters guard the right to individuality through grouping. joining class  each with simple rules and dogma. 
Silence has been one of those rules. taken plainly and with a slap one expects after every lesson. Its the door i feel opening this enviromental happyess  when i playedmusic for us, well i thought you liked it 
 words said expelled from one in a dream of webs is only to worry who gets aught and no more. the last one bound by threads the hungeryspirders approach, wins. simple . of weaving we wonder how easy am i at letting my points alone when hearing a attention to energy with the pscholoical functions intact. and then she walks away it was all in commuioncation .
   it is for me to see my sexxual nature based in history some complexthing as understanding conscios goes i let myself get drunk at 14  didnt even think it was legal or not, just did not care enough to stop it,, a rich mans house some connection to the theatre group, some advent toa gay bar, pput it changed me, someone wnted me i was a super star to someone the innocents never looking for morelity or world , world harms destroys itself wh would one listen to an outer voice for very long i ondered .so along i went to downtown  hidden bar, i drew on the napkin after asking for a seven and seven the bar tender took me home  a oneroom thing with bad lighting.  but i remember the world for  nothing all became silent no longer could i tell my brother things and let the passion rule me, in a survivalist kind of way for some  my first experiences drinkin i had breakdowns after a fight with my brother and everyone at this rich guys house dteing mother,mom, the women who birhtted me now and tthen unwillingly,, a planned child .
so simple to say then live waits the head at the end the one everyone forgets quickly and remembers last but the observation! there in front of you so many roads not to walk the excesses so labeled and divided up into the older ones stories. that you realize one head is as good as another . 
  i can feel your lonelyness talking about Grace.  its like she is asking me to write .it is part of your path to let someone save you. but you have to stop to read what words are seen through what comes interior as you read.   What words and hopes spread of the most artistic women who needs to  get to it. Few are in your league if only. we can not comment on future for i am fouled my eyes have turned loving and i keep your painting perserved under glass next to the lyrics you gave to me.
  i listen to the world talking not far from me , i havent played out for two weeks  i am longing for the referance but i found you and what i should feel reeleavied  i dont have to love being with youm   but i  taken a gaint leap and now sit on the fense knowing  to ease the advise and struggle but to keepdoing my life maybe you will pass by, but the restraint i would feel restrains me. 
 the floww of word is getting rusted but your time can not be done   just an open door eat love peace and happyness.//
 y ou looking for you opessed knowing it can only get worse or calmer i have rresolved no to let the timed sstate reasoning bother me. i will see for the unlimited nature of time and energy, if only this i think i am proud to know you a fact of living you mentioed which stole my heart but again  llove comess from inside i am that love i would give andb tomorrow is a new day i prey your adventure can help you understand .
 what lights they are rarely tell. 

  its funny you look for path when you are on it and dont want to look,   hearing there voice seeing only what neededs to be said no matter the sayer in fact a target is what one gets but said bto the link  what is said is everywhere. 
 and I wont/cannot forget, 
but the only way to feel is to play for it is the courage i thrive on, the breaking of the glass ceiling of personal transendance a part of all that gives me strength  such like i felt with you for five days. from the trillions we have lived.  but i can not play when i amworried about someone. And yes we do look great together. fuck um guilt at all cost must be avoided. 
  so it is another day. How long until i stop feeling you.  we met for week, and now the second from from day one has started,  your airy pain seem to come to me. as you bounce around.maybe you are still with that same guy, and i am wanting to move on  and absorb my life now. now that i know i must be with a libra if i am to be with someone without you You for whom life was whole with. but that is the normal. and i have thought abut loving another so much and been granted clear easoning so little that i hold on to love evenwhere i have been forgotten it is just me to go on. but i am going to have a good day. even while a weird phone ringing goes off in my head and i think about a storyline the older man and the younger street child for even as we are abandoned we think such that what makes one whole is knowledge that wholeness exicise. for just before i was feeling just the need and thenthe strength because someone accepted me. butits that what we have created no one accepted us. you with a big family all caring only about themselves. me with just one brother but stories of the youngest seem they can not change we feel more maybe because we recieved more love in the begining . my brother must of held his little new brother many times. imagine that by six and i feel you..the perfect world slowly drained away. yet this is a perception we both accknowledge perspetion as the first hurdle maybe, or maybe you are to wrapped into some clever vengance structure i could see if you could let your self see it. 
 ever  though sight is a first chanellege, the slow grow of thinkin which can not be stopped and what you do after allthe times of hearing others is over . them moving there lips and concernng there lives to a physical world of money material and "need"  you think about her? 
death talks to you and i through i feel you have it worse then me..talks through ghosts and i have talked with your family now, or at least two sisters, one in spirit ,for i feel her love for you for a freedom and she wants me to tell your family to gather in order to save you?
 even though you dont need it for you are thinking which is all i can think 
but your father tells me you lie but i say nothing for i feel every word and share with you,. and am trying to balence my life.
  i was am scared knowing you miGHT just be fullfill me depression leading me away from goal and i worry that we were right and after all these years   only one kind of love seems real   the spirit for only there can you love. partnering the physical joins forever the tendanies of sprirt and energies. tearing agrument into chemistry. and life into material verses time. 
 the extra giving is sub conscios the subcnscious is the devide which fuullfills the mosaic. youngest child sindrome is just one ore implanted knowledge or way  to explore after schroakas and prey after meditaion for the steps must be prepared and i dont say this to talk at you,but for the nessacity of reading your mind for as the thoughts grow bigger so the need for peace to evolve. a seperation is ,, 
There is no time  
is the common human state of nature
what is often refred to as faith spirit love and a trillion other words all ending with e for a feeling can not be clamped into one word but be coes 
  tthe creek passsing the sounf od continious water, sitting at the spot taken from the just over there of concrete and engine noise people where facing a pure thought range to taking back the libary book which is costing money, it is bella waiting to love where 
it is the robin landing with a big seed inthin beek prod almost perkched for a moment in the sun,,  it is large trees with fur on the sides words eneding with e have love taste peace create tease meditate one

 we are botH GRINDING on the apple of what is human thought and self recognition.
    so i sit on the street watching for you knowing i will be heartbroken to see you and without you i sit listening the young searchers every where going through the paths of emotions , blame and mystic equvalents seperates and doubt these who mix dreams and encounters wonder on links of intiution  i comment on like the evr father trying to help when i am suffering ad want relieve it, why can joy be a constant or do we reach as close as we can come  while trying always to push ahead.  
 this pad inst working for internet  to slow no matter the connection,  
 listening creates the tireness like a therapist.  and all i really want is to fall asleep. and yet i am only going down to reveial i have slept to much reached for a lazyness achieved it and am sorry i didnt want the normal,,was there a choise, for even now i hear over and over peoplearguing through emotioal self retainsion and the purity of a nonphsycal emphasis.
 the conversation i think i can help but each will go off answering question forever asked and the answers are the life we become and i watch the park hoping to see you but i feel like you are inside somewhere we a comminity of the like minded and i even if i saw you could do little and you might even be talling tales of me  like i am stauking you.  but i am just love sick so good a job youdid to wreck what goodness i was feeling annd what truth i come away with.from all ocassions i kow i will live through now . or live through with a certain i must more about my world protections made of resolutions but first is to love  and unitfy, without you again where i was overcome withthe change for a moment. equalizing that prespective will take some time .  it is easing self off a dream it is giving love back,, where with songwriting for me comes a world caring as art. of there is no getting to a quickk side of joy for along the roadthere will allways be so  many  minor scrakra tones that you revisit i hadnt thought about some lieing out right for a  long time .
  but ?i live close to the bone people are lives i can not forget as i get older i want to know you every part. until i  screamfrom listening and then come back for more  maybe it is a need to fl some superiority the times you have lived and i exscaped but for everytale only the particuals change, and with every tale i hear the commom voice  even an ancient voice.  just how you say something for the udlities tell weather i am recieving bile for hope or more of the same loops a friend calls them, loops like love gone wrong when its all allright and only thought becomes menace . 
 and i must with a new day.

 












one day walking 

  scene one   visions to match domestic beatings,  schooling then military, expanding on a hillside just off the road a boy looking from a high hill at the Susquehanna river with some far off city seen only by its lights. then visions occur of star  trak and close ecounters of the third kind and the x files , carl sagans voice  about millions of other life sustaining planets and the astrololgoal, to fade through and refocus focus the lights way down stream the trees just a quarter mile away from the reaped feild of  corn in front of him  a joint flashing through a fast turn of vsions of a young boy drinking alcohol  alone at parties, bars and streets, hitchhiking and finally sneeking around a book shlf in the libary pulling down  the oriental magic and white magic books  again concentrating the opacity chnaging focus and shadow.small parts of the feild and shots of the rising moon,then to stars and flesh magnified to Leafs magnified .
 to resolv in an older man sitting by a creek. alone .
 
i was trying to think on the idea of the man and the girl , 

girl sits above the same creek, alone , smoking a joint. then she is a baby big family that slowly disappears as she grows, the goodbyes of family members, then creepy incountres with men carring drugs different men different drugs, she is tweleve with a man behind her that passes her a bowl. then naked flesh then morning and stealing from family home ,then days on the streets , she picks up a leaf and the same flash of the leaf vision , she is on the top of a building in la.   father figure starts drinking a mumbly drunk she watches while they talk in bla bla bla. his panic she is on the streets again small town the leaf image gets her looking at the bat of some washinton little town, a cop bring her home , travel father drunk.
she leaves again on the streets men and boys hidding fromthe rain. crying she starts to mumble.  the scene changes around her, the drugs get passed to her , she steals from drugdealer, and fights with male friend who crys her thin  dress is stained and her shoes cause blisters. rubbing her ankles ,calls father who picks her up and again miles and a house which she leaves.  to sit on the creek edge  somewhere we ketch up with the man who comes to the creek many times right where she is sitting. its lke they are drawn to the same place. until she is there and he comes along , her image becomes the young boy as we stare into the creek with over shot of stareing down the river from early man life. they sit together.
 the dream comes back the leaf and repetitive flesh to leaf vision.  there conversation is a dialogue on timeless ness .  'if spirit is the energy, body is the connection between' we can see self out of body to know life better the energy is cure to animal greed.
 visions appear the sight of them in love . but they dont move its all vision which comes back to them same clothing. their hands turning to leafs to the leaf vision again slowly they hold hands .

its morning you are now gone for one week and two days i have only known you for less time then you spent with me and yet it make no difference, all the locks have been changed all the hope is only left alive and yet i must find myself in all this. last night i wet out an played . a large dirty t shirt black man with his front teeth missing tells on the street there are some crazy mother fuckers out there. i wonder if he knows you i wonder if he is for me.. 
 the night yeilds some good comments from pretty girls it reminds me of the self i have seen in you the awe in the eyes the nature of a good song, and yet itis to save me from my longing to see you off into the world,,
visions against man playing music. crying visions of road side hitchhiking, and state hospital cut wrists, the washable walls four point restrains, cab diving the speed in the lincon tunnel which blurrs with tears, and women visions up close sexual and happy smiles . fading as he comes up and sits by the creek.

i know nothing but want all we lived . i will not fail to remember, i can not love is so precios will you thiko me? am i again still living some dream that is false that you forgot as soon as you were out the door . it brings up the point of where do the children go offended by law from someone loving them usedby all others for whatever the animal create for in addiction the kitty and catnip. one is lead. i prey you come back to me but after the week away i fear you will not comeback. i was informed by some guy that their are people who are crazy out here. i wondered if he knew you and was telling me what a smart person should know she is talking about you and you can never know what the streets  will do, should i be worried and i accused and waiiting the streets revenge.or like most stories only knoded over and left to the nxt hit. as i try tyo get up again my wings tired from battling out these words.. i spent the first week torn from my holding away. depressed and sitting any where to see you. so lost wanting the all we rumored. the life of hope in one with smiles and our love our art our hope but ours isnt to call to come home for i am alone. i just text you i guess just to say i will forever in our touch.  your age is a misnomer you are much older than me. 
 and after all the words are read the telling of one love to the unloved is savior. 
 confusing that we answer hope with possesion, i have left a special room for toxic ness comparied with freedom.  the difference is that you might come back.  might. I felt the words we spoke ,whicch seem denied.  You swearing you would never leave and me arguing with myself to not care,  when all i can do is care.  the street of my soul,  a heart against all comers you forced me back to and energy never stops. back through darkened alleys and sleeping under trees,,,back to love as leader for the hope of a vibrational peace through out the world because i remember endless moments of madness.  A million people within sight and no one to care i heard what you were to me ,, i heard me struggling against systems of ingraditude for live and breathing; lost lives. I REMEMBER looking over my shoulder or implanting noise makers at the bottom of a fire escape to sleep . where to not be paranoid is criminally stupid.  But i made friends at the shelter because of that also ,such that when aman jump ahead of me in a three hour food line i called him out he showed with one i will two. one a just out green baray the other an automechanic arguing with his wife. but for days after i watched. down alleys around cenors  and it was all in my thoughts only.  
   mornings at haley house and chess, afternoons at libary and cool marble benches, out of the way referance areas and sparks of thought . watching the world spin other wise like straight out orwell or driessier the what to do while i read edgar allan's complete works and looked up words, but then i stayed alone. a straight man is unwelcomed more often than not as stranger go..  
i try and not see you but not many girls are wearing hoodies,so i see you only cause i feel i see you if it was real the friend you are with look straight at me i guess it was you i am so stupid i want to go and cry but i cant?  nothing about needs this depression and yet i am holding on like you will come ack it s stupid you have taken on so one else why no me. and that is how the last went. and the one before and before. and i just want you to face me and take it all back .
it funny that i cant think of a greater subject to merge this with, eexcept the broad subject of peace  no world concern seems to involve directly or this is the bigestproblemin the world saying we are for a better more loving life and can not come up with one .so much you could care less about fills my thoughts and yet still i want to take care of you. i guess it is because of what your are facing now. a place only seen on the outside and if you were in trouble you would call your ever worried father.  it doesnt seem that way to you but he picks up the phone and his worry is to just keep all the plates spinning. hehas worried about seve of you and lost one he doesnt stop thinking of you and try hard to make sure a world is in place for you to come to..  i think to much about you putting peices together the loses each sister brother going away, the two left to fend for themelves as super warbucks does his thing and i know you are proud of him your welsh background your spiritual awareness even though your training has left body it is to return that you are fighting for meditation completes the next step where body finds balence.
 later?rest and drive clean up smoke site deciding i have to bring a spatulua to clean removing dirt from rocks a wire brush maybe wateer from the creek.  
 
somuch to say and the chiose disturbs me, words twisted into so many circles,i can not see the end ,i guess i never will if the beginning confuses me so much.  But yet where did this start the first hour of creation m stormy little highschool rooms quaking with adolescents where you could have concidered me criminal. yet not for money, as i would steal anything i wanted enough or had free opertunity, i wasnt caught but once but still didnt care i stopped at eighteen. well as far as statues would allow, i will do anything to get the magazine out and media exchange off the ground?  
  but you fall into that idea,, and i dont know if i told you,, i want to create a trust to help children,,, a ru away place.. where if you pass test and are approved you get a place to rase your self ,  with the best of everything  and college. that is my answer to insufishent parenting 
 everyttime i see clean people i think of you.. walking down the street unconcerned happy.  ihave sworn to myself to visit your energy  to see you while i play like maybe you are in the audience. like i remember you,  i have never wanted life as much to take care of us i would do anything. and you will always be whole to me   
   and yet everyday nothing but magic such that i prey for you. and keep our connection in a pair of slip on shoes by the front door i put away when i get company that doesnt know what has crossed beore me the starry eyed stares at painting and the runors of peace you can feel.. or atleast as i would imagine for no one crossed the door yet no one would appreciate these words i only write for you,or everyone but first you. 
 i just thought i saw you again, my heart studdered. no not a clear shot of you face but it was a feeling the hair brushed wached the dress clean new the hat new.. like you would have she talks for a second with grunge kids it might be you, i am lossing it and watch what i think what i weigh as you, a racing heart a barely contolaable body, like passion yeilds if i let it. so happy the step light care free and maybe just excitemnt, maybe u are goinh to viste with daddy for dinner or some such thing,, if it you. and the whole of a quatum way leads to a first truth in all things and i dont go but sit where if you did see me you might comeback. or not
 for what right or hope am i but myown common and tempting self for onclusions,, forever sixteen cause i want the confusion to understand the process . here to there. at any time one can get off and conclusions can drawn but its not over for me.. or as i felt with you not begun, 
 last night i hung out with J---- feeling the recording he gave me money to create we did get out until one   and i went to dinner to celebrate you sat with me and held my arm while i at.  how many books have been written and man left behind . a chill comes tot the air..
  it feels like the battle with faith continued, to lovewithout return, or maybe return, but off the waiting little,, like life being proven by death and yet wasted for the question, so long in persuit that the ground get merely walked on,  i once described the scene as a foot waiting for photoplasm.
  i believe in proof , the stars prove what we dont know . faith proves fantasy and leadings to joy , joy is understanding daily happiness and the saving moment, this is not something u woul have understood, so much has been congradulatory for you a childhood of life but a parent who loved you and celbrated you such that the need for approval you thought was automatc evolve subconsciously. My subconscious learned to fear self , for what was reaching for joy became pain bordering on violence by reference . depending on the stage for first would be the yelling. it could go to life and death. it could the little mind says,, but forgets the words for the hestitation and control of the hand.
  saturday woke loved ,spent the day playing , theguitar seems somuch excess some time the cost of carring organizing spending . the backward ego the doubt and finally acceptance, then some newthought which will claim self to not be good enough, this is the week one after you left . last week i didnt know what was of your next day ,i had come to deal witht the contol i needed and couldnt come to passion so right the pure love ,the direction the strength, i worsip passion and iwas knowing  also. 
 and now it is my safety,   the vibe stays with me 
     i am surround with a feeling at unexplainable though poets try and my own feeling describe energy, but an energy that has meaning as your thought developes but spirit creates us if you were with me..again the creepy stare at me, women and men pretend i dont excist . those conversation of the odd man out black sheep crazy for which metaphysical engineering calls natual,  i am cause i feel thinking is and will always be secondary to nature. an in sharing our commoness came out cries against linear control but chaos is an early answer playin with magic for There is no other name for faiths sanity . many ime i have lived with the sudden division of time i have to go ,the wind called me to los angeles once and north carolina  i tested spiritual hopes on rampant attentions on awareness both personal and unrelated to waves of kingness and torturing hours of doubt but i was much older and more observant than interactive. 
some wwhere i have to think what differance i feel for you.
the love neever leaves me but it is a reminder that if not with us then alone i will continue. for my life you cured me of lonelyness with an interest in my feelings again,, i never thought about someone really understanding though the abstract is street noise some places. i need to love someone for at times often i am alone and the wind with a scent is enough, 
where i am scared alot to speak you said and that was instant family to me and i stopped looking in loves eyes for yours creates the challenge i expected and reward to see you everyday.  
but now i know i am not attracted to anyone for the momments given. i will never forget Magic demands observance, and love  for the unexplaiable to happen. but as i look at women i have cganged. to many broken standards i married you. then and my soul involves yours  but now alone and forever peacefully comfortable. my joy the highth of life is to ride. passion and devotion are all art asks and all i have to give.
 i sit in the shadow of starbucks coffee corporatnes more because you came here twice.  for lattes,   you walked by once last monday and i wanted to force you to recognize me?but you hid as you walked by. so much of life you denied or i dont understand .
     i have no idea where you are now as you read this.  Have i given it to you or am i dead and left as a last will it will take more than me to fullfil.  God i miss you the cost of which drives me in the oppiste direction to balme and self sight of a pain creted throughb other days and lives or the conditions could get to me you fathers visions me telling me of stories you at 2 and tweleve but i can always hear his love or you as we dont talk of you. the other children call he talks to your sister and a joy comes to him. but his conversation will not direct to you. he feels the pain constantly.
 and you know i would have not even been involved if he wouldn't have seen me life a aware traveler he didnt pick me out of a crowd and i needed the money. i would have just gone along  looking for seasons out side of the my last lover as i wasjust before we met but now my love for you will take years to get over. but such is life. to feel love is the magic we give hope and the only hope we can naturally give.. i am not writing free flow so much to feel unknown but even now i have seen this before  i sit where we sat and smoked. i dreamed this everything but in glimpses we find fromcomfortable dreams.  during uncomfortable time and that is why i  remember. 
 i was in jail once and some people attacked me when i got there people claiming space for i guess that is what they do  claim space make this room a claimed area i almost got into a fight  the bigman taking the t area which played the reality show cops.twenty four seven. he was just claiming space and laster when his cousin talk with me they called me coolbreeze because i would tell of my dreams where i was havig fun drems to escape the opression. jail is the greatest place to dream. like being without i dream of you here clearer confusion. and i feel you as a form i can not avoid 

 there is dats when i  walk the sreet tryingbto balence love against reason  and reason against  if reason is involved there is no love. or seems never be whole enough so all the reasons fall to males the plan enacted and goal reached that i chise this path this get done nature but so much i lacked and couldnt yet didnt know the difference, i was all ways suffering calling it inspiration mostly some thing to move hands to rejet some innerness with silently conducts me, subconsious thouggh less so my these word, the movement of un real,this first thought wondering what is next will the hose fall down when i just had to stepback but never did. 
my heart is much bigger now but  little are the words, vial curses flowed from the tongue of a man who though wealthy belittled and called me white trash and a whole night of petty barbs and notices of dislike. all so as to not be bothered with any of the people. you walk away from, i guess, i will never talk to hi  i can see how he thinks normally bi polar, love is only remorse.  and hate a ubity of more all values.  
 but its the closest i have come to republicains in a long time. sneaking in with broken guitars is sick. 
l--- is here after today i dont think you want to meet here i realive you take of yourself in good style. i believe i saw you again today. i was happyto see you happy. evenif it was onlyin a breakfast attiffinies way as in your beauty radiated a beige sunner dress and newlydyed black hair i diuld knowif it was you but she avoided me, like you do when i see you. i dont know why we could still talk but the lower class  
i am glad for the blow accrossed the face another wake up call.
seeing you helpedalso your are clean and it was to bad i meet your father. i have forgetten the quamtum physics of a real relationship you are demon sporen and your father is controling and my friends are controling. so i got it , thanks for the gum balls  micky and now back to our regular schedule program. the break and falling in love was  eventful  you gave me a far flung porpse to life. for a moment i had some one to work for but more i was driven for another more than any thing for my self i wonder how to change that i want that for me but the system of the powerfull being eaten by the meek or how ever that goes is enough i have come to the other side and our drunken friend used me like he takes takes credit for letting you go so he can do what he wants . some how i think he just lies to everything seems like a guilt he is tring to hid , and its all just the ways of mankinds hatred.and me 
  i have been the reason for this no i was just anotheraudience member to an upbringing 
 and you my love face the worst of possible worlds torn between hope and lies. you see the spiritual angle to things but are tring to learn your soul. intermix love withthe sin so that safty is achieved . for you innerly are afraid like me when i was out there young the hiegth of love and the causual plan of gradation i can see your choicesplainly. and only a left over love a painful reminder that someone still has a heart.  and there we are you are off into what you create the creation of tides with spirit at you feet waiting are you for the assise saintish ness too take over after, during before loves truths. when human involves pain and regrret giving what you get. comes around and youll cry someday, as you process all your life.  i  can see the difference.did you know only intent is evil or ignorant.  to love in word only is lieing to self for you must join to self like i have accepted love for you.  i accept what i am and you are on a different plain than me and  can sit on some point of others love and rip them from sanity for there love you seem to need but don't at every level you only need a life love guarded a life learning i would hate to see your heart broken but you will not learn until it is done i am sorry i could stop and remember us when i panic when you were gone  "where is she" remembering your words "i will not do meth" and i don't think you are and smile.  Listening to your father was wrong. He has guilts that make him lie about you or blames in order to blockout what he doesn't want to see.. i tried to be his friend to but ended an employee, money coming out his ears. Small money to him and green only for subservience control and basically conspation.  no wonder knowledge was hidden from the rich during the dark ages like now.  Spirituality doesn't belong in rich peoples hand they will never find peace. but torturers are commonly killed and tortured while they scream "i did my job"   
 and there we are new sheets and an emotionless spirit until one day again to cry.  the treats of sexual encounters driven into an unsafe land flying dragons and the noose for those not listening backing out quiet though some time i write you a text. a word to see if you still be a friend and good conversation .  an maybe i am faced with the joke of a child "nothing matters speak on i can only hear myself and the way it is is an insult from what was created before me."
   and  i remember the world telling me the what and where of common survival. Kind eyed and a precious smile trying to help the innocent, laundry mats and baseball fields sitting on the benches watching games unplayed and clothing undone. Organizing as fast as can be told. sponging up knowledge like the out of control world was asking asking for hope but little can be given. Small conversation to hope on empty streets. listen, thought of, stored; there with all the memories to get back to an achievement to see. but for all the new .  information congregation of how and why the experience left out the change the personal control, while slamming doors and blurry images fry eye flying across the room screams of not good ,wrong and controls inflicted with pain personal survival first.  civilization becomes easy and so these voice were always nicer than home 
 and you wonder  why i met you on the street. 
 funny my and yours  stories told over and over.
ageless,as we proclaim new,  differences created by words inflicted on them. innocents is sometime mandatory.

what this summer is teaching . of me ..i can only feel. to give is enough to learn the feeling of giving. and then self love. what am i to learn .this body that can be cast down demanded remanded claimed  against what is faith of the nonphysical and its effects on knowledge as love leads energy to find only true nature told on every street corner on skid rows.  the only  responcible people to hearts epic challenges to guard spirit. Call them the ones who reacts, empathizes. Covers for?? some blanket denial.  All monks are addicts to what can not claim a need for addictions,  but feel encompassed,enlightened by,  even though.    and they are the ones we confusedly disavow as a straw to the camels back. 

      when do we become,
 feel and succeed 
for all only.
a peace through creation, 
yet a harm in desertion.
barren the breast of exchange 
if not for another 
 evil is classifed by intent
  

Passion moves me yet as temporary as your here nd gone  i seem waiting of self to release,for each time satisfaction love peace comfort i have short step myself, I felt complete but such complexities.  the sun rose and i could feel a full love answering questions i could not fathom a second before, inspiration and delicate self return to a soft romance of empty streets again and want to privately disappear; the abused child's narvana. 
 Invisibility. in solo, .  the nice little old lady, the pretentious construction worker, the slanderous children we accept our judgements like  store bought environs.  Lies like money and global awareness and lo-calorie.   Hell even the word "fresh"" demanded a court hearing. how long to argue the unexplained. 
but i drift, thinking of you even as i tell L-- i don't want her to know inside i will always love you. and yet closer can i feel my truth is going to come out with my hope somewhere in the endless ness i am waiting for.   To love like that alone is the goal of life. So many have it, and deny it to others. Politically call and them names and promote hatred violence while sinking in their teeth to fossil fuels and stagance. everyone feds until its gone then we take from the poor Africa goes nuts to join with the cash..   Urkaine gets hot to clear up it's debt. and we only have our minds and the system of nature.   to battle the oppression of linear apocalypse.  your commonsense seems in place, i ad thought you were stranded in the park after the crowd and beyond hope then i see you in a great dress and knew you were alright i was so happy.. but still the dream of peace sticks with me and i want more of that and what happens i am human. and i battle within my own identifications.  there, a poor man i associate with. i understand not because he is a symbol but he is my brother and i will tell all i know stand up for him because he can not be separated from me and for that i am wrong some people never ask of the reality and will accept the lie the screaming blame before the systematic truth.. such that almost every answer has been turned into a debate and the humanity stubbles over what can be said in media. and we stubble over what we say to our selves. hand in hand the techonological brainwashing. as we stop our awareness  and continue on our day. you know when i thought you were out on the street in a meth high ,more because i hung out with your father mostly to collect the reward money.  No at last for at first i was just interested what kind of people are these.  I wondered this broken mess called family, with your he is leaving me no place to hid because your ways are entirely sexual and a seduction of metaphysics  which you know enough to fool an old lonely man,  enough to drag his own exuberant sex into a field of addictions such that I need to research self. 
 the driven mind reaching a road crossing as the race backwards goes this past sight for which became my sexual base, form the homosexual free styler to the disgarded first lover all my love has followed suit. the picture always mis-understood lovers, never denying a small portion of love when one can have the whole thing once you have enough for environment. but there is the poitical question after. to bad love actually means exclusion of lovers casting them back into the blackened pit of denial. or for me i always thought that it me i said and it has been the eternal depression i can not get away from yet must see to get beyond..
but even now i have become the harborer of a friend that would have been fine in a little house towed behind her truck but now sleeps on my coach because she helped me but for all here friends she has no one because she never considered her self and sat around complaining and watching television and i didn't say a word when she was letting me come over. Didn't say that she liked and needed to stay in a perserve, a sheltered from my problems because every time i told her she got upset it was to much.. i never told her  that i was alone around her and yet she went and traveled only to find all her friends mislayed that all this talk was distant and no one helps no one. So she is back and my world does feel a newness. but from her it is the same old panic i knew would come to my door. which was going to push me away from the adventure of learning to the agony of the sickness, how people refuse to understand just to get their own way.  
     but you aren't connected to me.  you haven't even said fuck off.  you just disappeared i wonder how many times you can do that before you come to me again or will you. There is still just so much to think about the love i felt for you is not easily disturbed, because i felt peace and only want a repeat but with a life attached but you know it will not be with me, and i you because finally i will hold to being me my days of camophlage are over. but i want the strength like it is a super power and i am greedy for it. 
 you know i think it was your word alone which took me by surprise it is an off vision when some one seduces you   but maybe you thought i was a player and yet maybes streach the length of invention so i can move and reverse plot i invent mostly what conclusion i discuss because maybe you meant every word and right now you can't see me cause we can never change what we feel.
  there is that? as has been over-said but?.i know  the open mike at the highest stage in town i can hear from here a flat voice moans, and there we would develop talent. No conversation no control no achievement.. pained hour listening to foul music randomly called so from the beats and disjoined note,, a room egotistic and served as caring, and i have to keep playing i can not get caught up in my depression for every situation is the many side what do we call all of them i am not sure .
 watching keys come into place and i get feeling claustrophobic. and i will tell you my love and hate in the same breath, The cost of the streets i felt when i thought you were out here, i still see the lights different and just a week before i was invested i said i didn't see them the junkies i called them. and then you were listed their and all i could do was stare at them look for patterns and then try to understand you didn't lie and your will and vanity  won out but still i watch now i am invested? but now its only a weakening inner fear from a different before youness that created us my passion awoken just before which became what i couldn't have  the drugs to thick the story to wide the ending took her away where the violence followed us and we felt for a second,   and then like garlic on the lips  such denies all others. her poisons won out and she couldn't return the pain needed to be answered . she is cauptured contained by a world that provided such agony as she swallows  she is there now   a Phara slave since 97 dosed into a need then dropped into alcohol.  there had always been so much of life i haven't seen well guided my way almost sheltered books and self formed pressure of life my life words where education was is private the teaching of self applied philosophy, test personal montras and causes for oddities to a happen listening some combination of mystic a produced from focus.  there is some madness down the street and i want to go to it attracted like a moth singular independantalast moment the interest fulfilled and given back so closited my soul from knowledge i am to revert anti peace for anti civility. and the streets are referring to themselves as zompies our heads into these boxes which decade us from blood. i sit on the street  in front of a bank and knock over stone pebble statues.
 and again. same street next day earlier. all day the words come to me "i know" which holds me to you . ever since i have felt you every time is need to today i cried when you said it. then the thought came to me we decided to meet this way you said but i cried because i remembered i was the women before. 
 and then i got an image again  told you i have been structural thinking out a movie based on us . to tell the story of soul mates who meet in different times, but we are not so blantent and we tour through there lives.  it would take our stories and mix them . but the vision was the beginning and the end a starry couple hold each other in a star universe. beginning and end the different only known at the end the different of me as the women and you the man.  everyone will figure it out at the end . but will i ever write it i don't know its funny but i really have only started stories never finished one yet the inspiration isn't there. your not here. 
  you should have seen last night i thought and at the same time could only hope, you had wrtten me online a post sent out only my dream repeated back what words i would want from you. she talked of coming back but she also talked of love and missing her love i put myself into the reciever and wrote back .yes please come home i said. but here we are sitting on the street long before you would be up. where ever you are.  and again if i saw you would acknowledge  me and so tats the summer i am aleady making appointments for the next month the winterwill  come and if your story ever in volves me again i will be  just as in love ,inspirered , and scared of you leaving and taking my heart with you. like now .. 
 funy as i have spent the whole summer involved possed unsure of myself for being so involved . but when i am confident my passio is on me  i feel so good.
 only after do i and crash funny how that works, but i feel smalest when some one dumps me bringing up all the love i have lost. i know why  i have nofuture as all is a progress of a past only timelessness saves me  tomorrow i could see the importance of a sucess you never know.  but what is the key passion seems only another's input.  that has always been the case. and i want and am trying to change that every day i am going to have a great day. but then i remember everything is fine for now in my world a cat an apartment music and yet shadow of two love affairs have created the rest of the summer i wish i could remember the love.
 july31   a text from your father and i dont have to watch the streets for yoy. you are found in jail in oragan professional welfare land fasist land also as it seems to me , but you arent to be there long ? and my heart is the same  . more and more i think you dont remember me. like as soon as you were out the door you were done . and all that memory is only mine the wors sso spoken the talent to forget youth, event all just fade together like eveeryone i had in my taxi, a ride ad nothing more you have loved others and with each you forgot me or use me in symbolic peice lie this one but i guess there is little else to do with me  and  and yet i will always hear pure love i know . out side of my attraction inside my philosophy and i will usy myself until your biirtthday . if your father gets out of jail you will loose him and you will be off again. but until then you will get to hang with him and some attention because he loves you and hates himself. or thats what is plays like you should have seen him walking up to anyone to spread money laying a path to find you . funny that if onnly hewould see the same lessonof none drinking. i tried untill he forced me tothe bar and i` listened his making fun of me we are rock stars. he said  then we were eating dinner with l-- and he say a women with meth wounds and he made a big deal over the girl and her sister the sister in a pink bikini and he kept saying how much the girl like me  and all i could think of was how to make it seem like i was interested but couldnt score cause i was shy, he was getting drunk so it was easy but i cant be will anyone again until i am convienced you are gone from me cause i still talk to you and again we find each other.  if you have forgotten me i guess i understand  but i don't live in a world of distraction. or i try and analyse sistuations to much maybe     
its funny an old man in everyones book but my own.  but here i am sitting talkin to you who is off in oregan . i have not thought about you hating me, much. i never consider the idea that i was to take you home and let you sleep on the coach. and all that didnt really happen. or that you were a victum of me. i figured you had seen enough of men to really feel what you said i was just to stoned to figure it out i guess it was a perfect world i cared about your life and felt the unity of ours. for a moment i felt whole and that is why i write you. ifigure at this point that i was wrong about you doing methi guess i want to easy my conscious. so much of what i know about others i get from looks and from actions . i still have the craypaz piture you made and the lyric. i keep them under glass, you deserve a chance to use your artistic sense. maybe art school or such some instiute maybe i will go with you, i guess i just want to see you again see you cast down your eyes or look up and smile but i will know from your first expression. but one  only give the love one knows, and for you that means fuck everyone for what you want like in the momment you loved me. a little spirituallity a little seduction you got your way and left. for a week almost i couldnt move. and just had the locks changed wheni saw a perturbed man come down frommy floor.some look of violence in his eyes i didntthink you set me up to have my apartment riped off, or did i . iguess i did along with the hundred or so vertics i cme up with about you as i put the streets together with my paranoia. there is a world lesson about sppirituality in all this the mans learning about his naviete or is it a question of my morals.   
.  i am not sure which i still feel you have the choise level to understand who is infront of you and feel proud that yousaw me but at the same time i am left to words which have drawn me into a hole i am not sure what is at the end of , in my heart still i want to come to you i look around and no one would stop me and you are closer to me really than anyone and you might not remember me, but i am stuck in love with a ghost so i hold bella closer and try and survive knowing myself,  which has sufered what loveless ness my family put me through. the absence of which created all this and at first i thought was a liffe we shared but i was wrong on some levels because i saw your family who come to your resue, no matter whatno one comes to hug me or clls or visits. my lonelyness creates memore than my art. thatwont happen to you

and i am thinking what can come of you when you are not around .what thought abd futures you take on when i dont know and maybe just want toprotectmy self while projecting what would be common   but i dont find you common intelligent and sweet even your beauty hasnt become you yet in what will be your womenlyness. so for now you are just a penny stock start up, the referance have some how worked into my consciosness some how i think of national debt and the point of an expanding market and it is not you who inspires economics and i pull it from the brezze of fifty years of earth ,uemployment exchage labor for drunken houseing and giutars and basses video camera and crayon paper you can find canvases of inside ceral boxes but exchange all the same the lineaar a spirit can not handle some of the freeist people are on the streets with enough and little enough to smile on an hourly basis  you at sixteen is different than me at fifty. many more still sweet the smal and crete hills and forgin bdyness to pipe backthe small market share on untraded stocks these are the private fianance of wars and rebellions store the coke here on take the pills pver the counter as sticky fingers reinvest ,gloves optional on sundays.
  and some how i feel you tonight extra thinking about you after  maybe your free and all ready escape maybe you have told him about light and reaching for the spiritual whole but maybe you spelled in wrong for a moment maybe .. 
  like investing in polysilicone for solar panels only to have the price dictated by flat screen tvs.  
 but the purity i have about me right now is you escaping from jail a sleep you come to me and my thought clear and i feel whole, 
 you would meet every down and out person man women . i did while i hid to long ago living at the pine street inn with five hundred others we file in naked for showers and are given night clothes  each story different or i already told you.. once i left the navy i have walked the streets and drove the steets at night as the pretentios people  pose in loving beds streach wde in ideaology. this when that attacts you as me as you. ,  i can hearyou  see through your eyes so like and i have criminalized you at time because of what i dont knowtrust is hard thing taken from years of watching stories and seeing repetive motions with so many different faces, even mine changing as some one learns me. all depending how they meet me. the one time in a million that i bought weed to sell it and you walk up.. you who were a confusion right from the start the lies flying for fun but eventually ibelieved,, or just saw a unrecognized spirit talking frm the burden of  a young body as a suddle turn of your head and you were max roach and the off beat was your  home turf and iplayed theguitar for a second  then you tossed your head again and you became a bored young lady so unseen as you curled agin into the cornor of the couch. a mad kitten kiss off  and  i felt so close to your like i saw you wanting to escape but i didnt listen or reallyjump to know i was to just be having a good time and i was to be waiting out a taxi.  , and listening to the drone of the seven childrened father you his fial one he is talking constant waiting neither for responce in fact not even askingh for dialogue conversation so secondary to the impotance of normally not being heard seven or eight mind wwho never listen which pains the man that everyonr listens to. the saleman controling a million dollars to create seven million his constant unheard emotional dialogue  un attended,, i listen for the truth, it is whaat you do with people listen for the truth which hardly ever is whole in the white world but can be found in the "without>
 our stories are honest or ven honetly hidden as people hidd themselves from themselves. and can only remember what good things they think of the reaal doesnt come the guilts dont come . and if they do hold out your hand  and remember even the devil lies for a responce, trust does nt come easy and i remember now what has been bothering me..    i was holding back truths. but even as we say them they become fiction and fantasyand tales some one can point at and malign. i feel the pain com into y arms from sitting. i feel thestress leave me when u come to me. like now  i stand and streach the water must get to the whole body and my blood vesels are cloging at the littleends so legs or hands fall asleepwhle i suitwriting but i stand  and strech alittle more . you are my soulmate but you might not ever see me again. and to talk freely exposing every smalness of soul i can remember fast enough is all i ever asked happyness is that smallness i am happy fora moment
 these pages are called driven and the road is to see the white lines and yellow the red and greenness we are happy when we accept self directional opinion and live it. each day small joys nessacary to life.  as achievement ,  some people have loving nes shoved at them. eah pore od the being isolated and taken tally of  until there is nothing only to weigh against and such come again to return the wheel and seek out what they have missed the rich need drugs to give them the uffering consciosness that will eventually be self savior. have i looked deep enoughhave i pained the hill and the round thing. or was that the wings of wax which choose to fly to the sun. still the satisifed spirit is an achievemnt against all other failures.
a follower a friend a daughter a love

Instil my heart sent to see:-) 
A cheat a hope a kindness a belief
A soul I  trust sent to me
But still a laugh in the wind 
full mooned night tranquility.

materialst come in all sizes. demanding of consciosness to understand. not accepting the spirituality as a reality of going with the flow making new friends having new ideas.  you can not be homeless and cloistered in a new land.  you make friends and develop connection.  but my worries are disregarded by everyone else.  i love you and i must love me so you are lending me strength even though  i ave already heard the casting of age seperation. yet spirit cares not for the hysteria of morals from spinster. who thought you live as a nice person and nice things will happen. when reality is just it takes you longer to see the evil. in yourself as well as others.  communications helpultimately and i wouldnt be in this sistuation with l--- if i had demnded my space over our relations. i saw crazy and never really talked about it will her. i still think she thinks i will change my mind. but i will be sad if i get back home and she has left so on the edge she is i walkedout because i felt th whole morning so far has been about her living homeless for a second isaw how different it all is through another,s eyes. listening to the commplaint of people and everything out side of the actual matter i handled my homelessnessas a life cchange a demand of nature to balence truth so that i didnt feel so ill used like lovers have created of me, so willing to help and not demand i got nothing for self to balence who i had to be and here we are again my love for you gives to me a personal clarity, even if you never come back i have felt strengthen by loving another enough t see my life as important.  i know i should have been able to see that for myself but it hasnt been that way a crisis childhood panic stricken all the time  such that only forgetting everyone served to sustain me so alone i have spent me like and each reminder of other is a bother only self discovery leads to self fullfilment. so many people are not into a constant state of personal wareness that words are useless then will only live the unawareness and guard it as personality, when again all is  repetition.. 
loops. 
  it is a calling to observe the train wrec people makeof life, i love the chaos and take no offence at any of the human mistake or just all out manipulation,,  offnse demand reaction and yet reaction conscios or not happen so then we are a bunch of reactions to enviroment, gather reactions to gether then become character. 
  all summer iworried about different women, j-- c-- AND NOW L--- each doing whatever they can to get away from me, but i from L-- seems the end of a six year friendship tht also shouldnt of happened. after we stopped having sex when i realized how abusive and cold she really was just out side of all the exteriotr hi how are you was is basically a really  unfun person to be around , i always treat on glass around her the cleanlyness i appreciated but the clamor of a moral code stopped me . it s all fine until you say something, its my fault for needing her. and trying to see what she saw just like eeveryone i he ever known. all case studies when i could think of nothing else to write or is that cruel?.  its me these pages arte for and i am glad to be rid of another person who only gives somuch and looks at you and tells you you are wrong so much that you feel bad all the time around her. stealing good times by delaying critism or just knodding because the excuses dont have any weight against my caring.  as in you can not refuse advise from some one for seven years and then have them still offering it. and when shit goes to bricks alot of life comes to the surface, i didn't come to the moment of timecorrectly, in fact theere shouldn't of come a moment but i have troubble with friends,  alway feeling survival ediquett ?
an overburdened need for love and appreciation.
 words are
 just that
 words
 yet words 
never heard
kill=\================================





 often have felt sadness in my own sucess. love opens thing turns them to understanding 
an then look around .  How have you so enjoyed wear others fear unrest
simple insanity as a cure-all. metaphysical personal responce, eastern thought and pratice, yet when i try  and insuremy happyness, to continue on a roadof love and peace and happinesss i am beseiged on all sides by the am i am without some glorified paaranoia really sectioning off life events in to time and adding a general dis belief of materialism for a general faith based belief in energy and quatumness.
for which the eplaination of which has lefft many to saddly look at me and forgetme as quickly and yet. it is a life beyond but through is demand.
and i have been thrown back to the fishes.. or not but i feel again the presents of love for standing up formyself, and yet was t the same time very scared imagininng violence in a decieved mind train to it.. tornfrom childhood where pretend mattered i wass to human pain loong before it had a name before o could talk,  no one tells me but mother will retute it mostlikely,,but i feel it sometimes with a bravdo against street cornors and kid gangs hemingway isms and who can take a punch. the imbred violence which effects the soul to feel for to die fighting means there no pain you deny humanity your wn and others the maleism effecting  i sit and watch the world flow the absence  asking its own mirth esculations terminal. and tranquill i watch the streets ansking again, the young of summer street kids foul me innocense lambs tell them secrets and leve agan. 
  
there is a natural conclusion formed of nature when conscios try to under stand the burden of man is blindness understand 
for if i look and nderstand eergy and floating astral imagdry and comprehensions of water. what is next and a cowerd on is illeducated confidence.. a dobut of wisdom for the forced knowledge of nessacity. abracted from our alaarm

  i bwill not be sad i am happy for what to whom hello  as month haveyet to be achieved , i write you wha we would have talked during that time just not to loose the tide. flowing quatumly again equal innocense . ilu


i dont have time for suttlties or mirth what hour we get limited and voices get channelled, while i smell the chemical on the plant mulch i sit on?mushroom grow in mulch the world is preparing for landscape food every where.   
and my ass hurts from cement and marble
 and what element of right now another set of yes looking deeply towrds mine. a drunk dance 
bored with her peer
i fall in love with eyes, excpt with you  for you nature has a revevger, falling in line all that needs to be, what asks interest rest never, quietly waiting wiith loud horns and dysrthemic sautterig like it been me 
 so often we have blindness devine 
for our sighht 
we can not bare the thought  of.
   there is no need to wait
i felt with you and the next day i escaped and made it true.
   but knowledge is a force all turned inside and out escapades against the grain to understand whats not right, what doesn't fit, how roads shouldn't be to create a will for a one sight givem to find joy.
 yesterday i did the impossible i was real with someone who really can handle reality and has been hidding behind a vacuem of hippydom and often i have held my tongue and it only is real when it has to be
   ve never met an evil person
 ive never met a real evil person 
 i have seen evil action with self rightous motives 
 or jealous people who confuse the weak minded, or women who coulddnt love bwccause they never trust themselves  only a god can be evil
i have seen evil as off shoot of vengance against evil, like killing in war with some devotion to cause , but anyone alone says there was reasons . stupid people are possesed to do anger and there by repeat what is considered evil, but its simple reaction over any higher reasoning  and i have seen crazy people people who hid or disavow who they are and will do anything to cover up thetruth they can not accknowledge, you might call them evil, but they are normal. the hidden inside is a statement of hat a high concios can see, like taking money from the poor to give money to oppressive governments, then its called world government  and sides which are again reasoned and proclaimed with laws and dictated until a mass population can not tell the difference even while laws can be evil, like liscense for house painters. but i have still never met an evil person, 
  and only ignoance  can be defined as pure evil in all of us. evil is not hearing your self. but then trails come  even when you are trying to be real.  L----- traveled upthe westcooast hyway visiting friend looking for a new world something that replaces what has been for all is left  behind  but what is left behind sits in her soul un attended for all the thoughts linger and have never been expelled she hasnt created but protected guarding with good intentions and half her heart. she keeps beast locked in rooms and when shit gets funky she lets them out. and sit in a moaning crying fronteer which creates her . 
 yesterday while she goes from crying to anger i told her everything that she has become to me all the time i was silent all the facts of her petended reality the chess she doesnt play the guitar she doesnt play, the hope for truth she doesnt live and has no idea how because whenever she challenges her self the spirit keep looking at the body or what i can say without going into the reality because i will never really knowwhat to do for her as she eliminates all conclusions. she still suffers just from not living herself so she doesnt understaand enough to change and find happyness she still puts it in others peoples hands. you did this to me. but even then refuses anyone to be nice to her. she doesnt want help she want people to care without any real love in return she will not think of you. because she guards her reality. and now that she has created this pain of homelessness this despondanse she walks to all her friends ust to say do you like me now. and one last time trys to hid by helping . playing big sister as an eternal guilt of a left over past. she avoided her love so often. that it crashes against her sort of like many who use chemicals alcohol pharam any thing except she doesnt  she has her cry and is done .
 i called and talked to her for a second . our arguement wasnt i just had a hard time telling her not to smoke or how toonly smoke half a cigerette, the painful discovery of my inablity to communicate. it is sunday. three weeks have passed since ihave seen you and i am not sure  ever will not sure what would happen if i did see you? but i know i have broken a sckra level the pain of the past is gone only new freedoms excist and you started that , never so precious did i see life weighed against my love yet it is that ever day and we forget. i will never again i hope .  and two more subjects come to mind for me to personally review sexual abuse and addictions.. ad i guess its self help books and thought, maybe i dont need theextrastudy but then again i have to know that be fore just moviing on and even as i dont know there must be something there. this is what is done walking through all that creates you,,
      there are tendancies to approach problems right off as soon as you see them, i have not really done that concerning lovers  mostly i have just loved who ever loved me. but a month before you i reached out seeing a set of eyes looking into mine from a distance, she was a fantasy. a walking living 44d breats laden surgically enhanced women yet she has been crippled for a couple of years with an addiction to prescribed vikindins, she was in a fight with her boyfriend and she was playing free while he sat in jail. i guess she does this every now and again.  

I was playing music when she first saw me. 

 if you dont come back and i have to eventually let another come into some stage of my acquaintance i will ,forever more, screen them better, but that gets hard matching passion with precausion and a belief in path,intiution and spirit. Lessons from everyone or reminders of lesson you haven't cosumed. she reminded me of so many.  
     I had been avoiding falling in love for the last few years hang out with l---- good artist intellictual and good friend.  but she had left and i was lonely like now. love only takes a momment to feel but it is AN INSTANT MOMENT FREE OF CONSTRAINS, SO I STAYED CONSTRAIN WHICH IS THE LOVE OF OTHERS I NEED ONLY ONE EVER BUT IT SEEMS I MUST HAVE ONE OR THE WORLD DOESN'T SEEM WORTh THE CHALLENGE, AND VIBRATIONAL HEALTH IS a sEArCH THROUGH EXPERIMENT. 
     Never getting close to people automatically EXCEPT WHEN I FIND THAT` instant. Considering my goals are not sexy.  i want to write and writing is maybe easy i guess and too simple, . but a projected earning potential of infinite and what ever i can gather with a day job . so i know i am not sexy and forgot any noblier influence, we can nver prove ourselves as artist alone , and without a celebration of being known and questioned.  
Questions you can not answer with the steps understood,, so you try and recall something short to explain,,,  
 i guess i also forgot that passion leaps for love first only looking after, but i hate watching the light go out of their once kindly eyes. somesmall distractor it has always been and i can now see it was a learnning and i was passing on my a deformity and didnt know it..  
  
 i wonder where all my sexual exploits have become me.  each was only an event, i refused to see the depth of like i wasnt woorthy while at the same time picking them apart for weakness i could never tell them. Playing house because love in the raw is instant narvana. annd i give ,what i thought was my all, but that also included all my pain wrapped up to present against the absolutes of normalacy, parents and sibling love those i have been cast out of the little bird syndrome which never changed because i never equaled there independence . or achieved economic scheduling. i have always found it more important to breath correctly then attend the great parade, 


  it funny but with any great feeling comes the after time ,intergrtion ..  i wish to hold your hand so bad. would that be cheating?  Drive to oregan and just might yet, but the slow changes are already placed so well, It just been very hot, and i am loquacos.  Even to stand out side is making my ankles itch and knowledge completes the skins crawl.   A substacial  build up of radiation after the early years outside, construction working and street singing so for years i avoid direct sun and sleep in the hottest part of the day and come out only as the sun goes down the now quiet after work enviroment of the downtown streets.  
 writing thinking feeling where in the past it was the smallhours i got to do anything like that, cant write at work thinkingwas always mnimal and not of the right kind and feeling well feeling leaves as soon as i goto work. i deny what i feel the tiredness the loss of love the pain in my arms,legs feet i dont feel, until i rest again, then all comes back and i have achieved a day. but the hours away gave me what oppisite i live now all is feeling and i spend time seeing where the pain coesfrom and how to see itin a different love. 
  yesterday you had court it makes me wonder if he got you there or weather you escaped. you escape so well. i know i could have found you. but i wasn'tsure you wouldnt just tell people stories i couldn't know how the world would attack me becuase i am out in the streets alot and known by sight for many just over there undefined and most would have good things to say if anything. and really i didnt want to changethat. a cowardisise maybe but freedom is the first rite of loving another.
  makes you think about the levels of self love, for which i am to remember better for loving another , freedom from apst came as soon as i felt the power for you freedom from all the i cant and no even caring about thinking weather i could but instant action toward that end. 
 it gives again to the theme driven  i started these journals to document a mans self adjustment to live a life i felt driven to , the symbol driven becomes an old understanding of travel,, and path, the wheels againt the road and the blurr of what is there for a moment and it can noot be seen as well as the goal of reaching some where path truely consumed instead of dreamed the poets mid life crisis.  knowing for so many years the watery knowledge of perminate flow and chane. and i had completed the research driving cab and tara. and there is referance also. celeini s travels in detroit writing the most comprehensive study of american life , or the poveery homlessness of orwell down and out in paris and london, such that i have no problem with being understood for the first symbol. 
  but then goal,, well goal was only to produce art of the now. a reaction  to mondren life? a reaction of mondren mans consciousness.. for realy only the artist can have the corage to suffer what could be changed. but no he demands to play breakwater for a new ancientness, a wwhat i am now thinking is a quatum age of mankind flowing through personality like a ease of understanding inirely revolving around energy understanding and feelings toward understanding,, philsoophy? so i have picked up another philosophy book, and made it through two ages while shitting.  
 but still feel bad i owe tyhe libary money, and th plastic seat came with the apartment. thin white easy to wipeclean  the steak from last night exits slow and in a soft at irratent, so waiting is readng from specialist
  i find specialist funny, the sophis discussion  a bought out, placicated igorant harboring of the most common truths . they only fullfill the mosaic for we have never been ready for the pratiseof words as montas and steps to human consciousness ,, knowledge is doing and knowledge in rooms  are not great doers but great thinkers who have controled the spiritual of them selves most times. fostering a system bowing down because ystem would over run them even now, i write you more than to an other reader. information and art is to be personall shared more than bought and sold as commodity.

my brain goes to a stage i have been nervios on   and i thnk of th event before i play it, so many sound alike that i feel rewarded in my obtrusiveness.and i hear myself telling everyone that i dont care if they listen i am speaking to the subconscios b that  hears all like we consume world and personal event like we read each other more than listen to the words that go along, but i am not here to give a plesant   virtue of mondrenism locally grown folk appgeation, but a quatum idea and a real life out side of the bounds of the stage and metaphoric symbolismstoward personal love , even thoughthat is helpful and uphori. 
 not i just want some hope for all to perinate the contorls of society the muse must be released for true chane to come .  subconsioucnes is only connected to temporal body,   and to get that accrossed has become life for me with a simplisty seen throuigh mass. the plant laced innocents. rules, slow conscious awareness. 


  i have said it all before so many times it is a bar conversation, and the hight of any party bt how get it out beyond  is why i love you. as we sat on these same rocks and you said you would follow me, and i hear it, and though of that, it scared me. again, everything about us scared me,, how i love you how i believe you are my soul mate as these words are irrelevat as i feel each word seems to be directly to you iover the waves micro ,i can feel , it has set me free to love myself i feel u and weigh all against that love when women come near now a safty net of love, a willingness to know i have to love and that our connectio drives me to see still closer my love, and into the void we go for all space surrounds us, the telling of two that exist in stars,,  i am cold the summer has a blessing of washington this land of alaskain air creating thawing clouds  such that to look up at times is a tarot reading and sublime direction. and i only remember. i know   and pure love leads. 

the day  notwarm moves me ,its not a not warm of new england but that is just enough to chill the shaed areas like a new england draft from a californian almost mexicain summer. flames of all kinds have been most of it , well really, five days in total so far above ninities, its enough  the refreshing straight alaskian breeze give rest and the rain laden commerace 
to come. falls firstfingers into august,I stare at the painting i will get back to and around at the projects.  
  waiting because i dont want to stay in it is the duck in me the racoon maybe i want out escape.sit on the side walk and write careing for location is the amount of friendlyness i have to expundge, wait for r---- to play chess , his houses front yard. and so attentions are even more limited. but he doesnt show and i sit and draw until the day turns stormy and i retreat inside . inside is bland the chairs arent that comfortable and l--- says she is coming, but all i can hearis the owners children and the parental ways to avoid  and thats a drag.
other patron have their heads in computers. they didnt even look upwhen i came in or sat down or when i drop a knitting needle. the world out to an internet sea. L-- show and i just wanted to leave she gets her coffee but by the time she gets outside with it she is crying again.  sad tearrs over half and half  the people were agassted at her ordering so much creamer she likes almost half half and half a lite tan. we walk to the truck and the meter has fifty minutes, she almost starts cyingh more as she drives and i am getting depressed now. it funny how even love gets washed away with other people lives . i really want to be free of all the reminders of half lives. i dont want it around me but there you become included drug back into the world you are trying to leave but i can not forget all she has done for me and yet i never thought she was being real with herself and always looked for the easy answeers and the blame answers even going for a walk and commenting on a loud truck. she is homeless now and came back to bellingham when i told her not to. no jobs no hope just streets and drugs evil home bodied people and street survivalist, the port and the college the main industries, but i get depressed because i dont want to deal and am tired of the unself aware taking up my time they think little of it,  and as soon as i got in the truck i was looking into the mirror to remember i had other thing i want to do.  and i was bored the same comments asking for justice  and blaming the stuck up host. 
 ut here we are another night a slight chill is in the air and i promise dto show upfor a singer i didnt like , playing at another snooty club. you should have heard her voice it wasnt bad she just hadno expression and what she called poetry didnt even pretend tomatter it was like her personality guarding any real expression any reality. i didnt talk to her once we went inside even though i guess it would have promoted my own efforts but i dont really have any i just have to do what i do and be me. but seeing me talking to someone more known in the limited circles of bellinham might have changed things alittle, but one can seethosewho will be tomorrows suicides when she finds out what the real world asks. 
  i said hello to her it is my fault.. vapid is all i can remember as a descrption of her writing. i did a poem first and she said it was cool if only i could understand the words her is going to have a hard time.

its funny what ignorance tthinks. sorted concerns of pleasures and satified egos with so little thought. but the welcome of ignorance is worse, let her be dumb the cunning say better to intergrate her into the machine, better to spell word and philospies thrugh her lips instead of the uncontorled truth for a dumb underfed over phamaed person is safe satified obediant. a perfect materialist with a mouth that radiates sex lips that speak stories for some late night memoryand cheap porn ial ideas . another control another market.  she eventually have her breats d ne and get snging lessons find out itsall \to weird and marry a marketer..  or an investment trader. 
and when i allusion faltersthe pain and rejectionwill be swallowd by something unspeakasle or common but some thing that will cover denial with denial.
  this si the coldest i have been all summer abd i forgot a jacket. tonight again i trytodiscrbe feeling my soul mate it was just a feelingever so brief but atill it last not in a perfect form now it is more a desire for personal achievementlove i need to feel and was left behind in the burdens of child abuse and the excesses of child young adult survial. love was missing as soon as i questioned my first moral, faith was really the first i questioned and really the first time i looked at thouse with faith how they acted. in the bible study outh groupwith the rich mans son i went stealing and kept the money, the richboy got caught and i never went to sunday school again and i was just escaping from home to the church accrossed the street. bthe same rich man owned sweet shops and the spanish speaking people would walk the two miles from the sewing place on the same street as my school.  i guess that was the first time i noticed to difference between what is done and what is shown, proper and prompt they always seemed tobe, nice lite blue suit the end of the sevenities.
  church was done for me then it was boyscouts and therei found  threatening people gained you power like i had the biggestkid back me up as i told kids to vote for me or else? and i won with unaimous vote. 
 but it was after being chased by a gang one day that i realized people hate the new the different and that whte people conregated around their hated i never saw any of those kids again as i remember. they were from thepoor side of town down where people didnt own houses butrented iguess  ended byhanging out with the middle class going to junior achievement and watching my mother sell all my projected sales of the normen rockwells we had framed. another moralbroken or learned. if you can get someone else to do t let it get done. 
  all these i could talk about no one to listen no oneto hear, at night y bed would shake from a ghost in the house, so i started to feel spiritual all he time and started to see how that realiztion wasnt worked out right with all the fuming about problems in life some people the first line in saul bellow herzog is  

  i am insane and i dont care

 missed the nontimed nature missed that if there is one earth there are many. . people were still quiet about believing in ghosts and bio energy wasnt even a topic so far we have traveled , or was it just one more child confused by the denial. so i stared to use the informatio which also going against it, proving for myself the difference between intuitional excstance and system. bbut the hidden had become to much of [y life mother only argued for her own right of control amd brother his need to distace himself from me. i had become a strange child singing in the hallways and gleing chairs together all inschool suspension such that my step fatherdidnt find out because i told them he will really hurt me so they never told onme either., i can see the link to metaphycis through the highth of life youoened in me but i can not make such a lofty translation with my step fathr, except to remark on a fahious dictator who was also stupid to go with it.  the insult i can not recall like i have forgotten wheeni know i have not.. it funnny because this is one of the event you have created this looking for everytiume i hurt myself with idle comments which have worked themselves into an everyday consciousness i ketch myself looking through those eyeslike they are just portable glasses and inner ly i am trying to resolve my egos torment with humility. and creation.one could be all ego in entertainment i find only sincereity matters to me.. the rest is something i have to learn. like to smile on stage,  but these negatives float out of me and i sound  foolish to myselfand yet call it humility. i dont know what i am doing and i should just say that   
the first line of saul bellowherzog is i am insane and i dont care? 
 but you are ar away dealig with the lastset of wals you will face  the set you will see through and beyond maybe i live in a fantasy world for yu escaping to a creation but this summer has pushed me to give to an energy and the time of a fuller life is coming for everyone , maybe you wont cme back to recognize me  but fr the burning eyes said with an outer world rememberance  i know and pure love 
  what could should will be but i feel you and watch . she moher earth is done with these foul membrainious beings crawling around with metal digging sticks 
these fools have never controled enough to understand themselves and a need for natural alignment and when they thought of it it was to late the gears they had started found blame and leadership and worship befoe inner peace and reason arms and war craft valued more than interests of humanity such that the most intelligent and wealthy hid there involvment and oly look down at peice from old money climbs. and then are guilt and denial hidddden in boxes and we all are just parasites to the rich give us meaning and faterlyy importance to your bottom line . we will not organize ourselves out side of your order we will not create large worker owned companies, killing the mid manager cost over runs, eliminating investors for a personal investment. clohting factories in down town with night time art parties,  bella is running  around the house and now has stopped and ever so slightly she lays closeeough to jst barely touch she guards my dreams and i felt her in my lifebefore she was there also.i had a premonition
  BUT IF IDLE WORD INSPIRE REVENGE ON THE IDLE SPEAKER I AM VICTUM. seductions of cost and maze are cruel so again to dya i ahve to remenmber the spirit what would you have after, and the pure ity i felt, hope and creation and  there again i am  the base is self to give or confuse,  and moment arethe stabity of the soul and again i reach to grasp air, driving myself to another plain     
or have i no need and here i am sitting writing like i am sixteen again still about love and limitlessness  i wish i couls see with eyes other than my own and then test each word for prefection but i can not there has become a tone  limited to the work i leave behind .  
 but when inspiration runs dry i aam only to know secessive joys s i look and can not do else as the winter comes but feel,, the sun the movement the hights ive seen. all looking to claim spirit  but knowing its been a passion out of lonelyness.  but there you go criminal seduction and i was only half there letting an adventure happen again where i was watching and listening to what was not said and i saw you much older than me, and heard you dream like me and i will bleed insanity and be done with it. but the other side comes , the image of the man and child coming to some point of realization. this is who ive  been waiting for , and all you do has merit alone you forget you are a good person with crimes that insult natural laws. alone i feel though and am the spirit has beeen fulfilled yet i am still only a step closer for i have tried to pleasure myself into love, there where we are happy   . where i can realize happyness . yes i want the dream i want to keep working 


  
she   chapter one 




tweleve is the suburban age wher tv turns into parent controls and escaping with the older kids the biggest joy  they like drugs and pot dealing created capitol. parents siblings all have thrie drugs of choice captivating them contining the legacy  and she is the little princess  wealth has its mistakes as time foreverything get drained  to time for money and alarge family and people get forgotten they are phone calls hopefully not at night and tweets where they are constant tweets years of tweets sometime from the next room a million miles off , from grafts and production schedules, but still life goes on like the telling of wealth canachieve a 1940 s vineer over alcohol pills and other vices concontortions, wealth often a fable inspire by credit, is tenious and ever demanding as she told it at tweleve it began more from smoking pot before school then all the time,, then going out in nice cars and fullfilling the camophlge eye shadow and looking older study the celebrity guides be the look a fancy day in los anglese alone on streets which survive you and walk away she goes to for fun  anything to be noticed and talked about so daring a child throwing her self into a pool and calling everyone else a coward after dog padeling panting like crazy and nearly no making the side . and no one jumps in and everythng become second to that,, hands off let themlearn while she tells of the attentions that were missing. and everything was the higherarcy of god and religion until that tweleve year then freedom stolen . in every form, with any boy any man fun and showers in strange places,  lies and the art of seduction what do they like maybe i will guess shute and laddersromance and porn shoot,s attention, but not from him. Mother turned cold quickly after some disagreement  different house norules many weeks gone and father calls thepolice, attention, i am freedom and start meth but meth is an addictive mind jelling object oh it doesnt help to be to smart but the marks the vanity inner creulity trading fun for a sparkle and you are wanted everywhere for a moment . or picked out for the continious cash and all the junkies can get you stuff and people hid in soiled clothing and the holyest kind has no teeth. mercy is poverty and a passionate drive. 
 i wanted to call today or hope to hear weather you are free or not . if not i wanted to write you give you something to read.take your mind off things. but i didn't I will tomorrow early so that the message back is short.     direct withotu time to get caught up in the lies  the drunken lonelyness , the scrificed childhood and years and years of buiness buy low sell highbut always on the edge sell high for as long as you can nerves of steal to get in before the tech changes.or get bought out when the old moneysees market, until then answer every email spell correctly, remember figures, borrow for the flux, dive in keeping options open, wait. answer daughter's need for cash.
 be alive , drink becomes a fact of the day stress and subities psycosis child after child. seeing what in the darkness , store bought delusions, produced cool a cd and sales.
pllay for women wiTH short skirts memoriing their names after five dates , never be controled again,  change but into what? drunk again itsis repetitive fight me, money out the pocket just wanted to see it my martial arts work, and did i tell you about the gun in the car.
 one more this one aa character of cartoons and you knod more often no one knows what to do when you close off when you go into the corner and moan like the world is against her. little crystal darling clear bags of twinkly stuff forgotten days weeks hi on sugar mountain. there a man they a boy there each story forgotten forthe fun which include devios retelling eachtime of the late guy taken for parts disturuted among the newly invaded community but never around long enough to have a second telling , disappearing weekly, sometimes nightly the world ready for you the poor escapest and the in attentive father. as you fail to mention you are one of the most adventurios girls on earth. and have no bounds you wont cross. father hates every man u introduce him to testing them while knowing they will like him for his money while consuming your oppisites opinions and trying to be fast enough as she mumbles in one cornor and him in the other like tapes played where few listen  
   him  chapter two 

  he couldnt imagine a girl like that wanting him but he remembers when he knew, now the front knows the economic back and for five years he hasnt even tried and keeps a friend now after a failed love with her. the chemistry didnt work be we often make love cause we can not understand the attaction our spirits attract  and sex is only one side of loving his freind had twenty sides of love but very fast the first died. he spnd movie time with her and slept in his car, no women understands truely you living in your car. so he forgot all the time to create passion in another is to just say hello..

so he said hello. the five foot three structure had looked over at candy and he could see it because he was staring she didnt let on a quick glance and wing man conversation he watched her feet get closer he watch her legs move to her ass, memorizing fr later.he direct conversation said she would listen to a song but she liked the player not the song. she wanted him and it was plain number memorized then searching for a pen writting down, he calls two days later she text can i come over he misses text sees it and a week later aftyer promising all week to come she comes, but only after he says he will get alcohol for her headacke oh and do you like vikes? 
her story much like his if you eliminate real conditions becuse you can never see them exactly blurry reasonings and medical excuses , but the violence and child abuse the same  and she talks to an intelligent man sexy and musical.  a problem solver and after one night he feels like sacrifing everything as he wieghs beign the passive one again but passion has moved him to far there was no break between passion and problems no nice time relaxed,, first the vikes work she gets happy they watch a movie she dresses for bed in the bathroom, the fan must be left on the movie must play  they make love four male climaxes. her back rubbed sitting on her thieghs. energy movemnts healing love toes rubbed legs and neck hardener and harded he touches her his groin to her ass. until together they forget individual size and shape and mix together she feeling  a momment with lesser loves going away a new world and tomorrow she will jog he has to take her there before the sun comes up. a promise . and passion replaces common sence addicted his caals and he can not remember himself for a momment one therapy session missed jealousy toward the conseller his name on some of her paperwork.   
  he wants to be possesed and longs to forget himself scarficeing to be appreciated. her wettness screaming her legs pushing against his back as she moans out commandments. he listen and answers with massaging hands and still fuller heart escaping into her satifaction?  each time areplacement of the lovers she has known  her surprise shows on her face, she has found a lover like her frantic and passionate responsive and controling in the truth passive in the extras. intellligent and great looking, 
 he could only remember he was for a moment cherished again passion ran through him water to a drought.    again he sees the word move accrossed his mind and hope returns in the blinding love inspiration and highs of now humanscan live.  but he can sleep with her and wonders what he has become involved in the back of her truck with homeless stuff the ex she says the one that threatened her the one who went away i'll nvere go back to him . he stays in the living room thenoise of tv and fan keep him up theparanoia of not knowing who is in his bed eats him and the reasons he didn't want to see come at him over and over untilthe dawn him watching the cat watch him.


 i cant sit still after L-- recieves a call from cosmo she doesn't answer and returns the no message phone call from a different phone and cosmo  didn't call back. but the message said cosmo, and taking his nickname is enough to get him thinking a million thoughts which undues the cool of the last couple of days.  the moon at half to full next week , magic around moments. 
  L--wasnt happy when he told her about the truth that a street kid had entered his life and that he had found his soul mate. her scrowl was as long as a five time married women could. the idea of a metapysical love of soulmates disturbs her for reaching was not what she looked for .. He knows that and has always kept his loves innerly away from her, 

        L-- lies all the time and pretends its the truth so she is not far off from any story and always sees only her side no mystics involved. the scrowl is all judgement.  He doesnt want  L-- talking to her but what is the use and questioning how this all happens is useless a million peice and only trust involved.
    she used the nickname maybe she remembers.  maybe she is coming home maybe she is not,   She didnt call him where ever she is.  Drunken daddy bores at nine thirty she might be getting ready to run again.  All the treatments don't help a wounded heart that is swearing death to weary eyes and no one listens . 
                      He listened and defended her rights to think that way.  she swore him soulmate and that they had decided long ago in spiritual form to met in the next age with one older and one younger to balence out the many loves they've lived together,, the mutual meeting in the physical over the millions of years mankind has been possessing bodies. 
      Just one thing they forgot, he's usually been the women and now the suttlies wears him down and she is adventurous as guys are in girl bodies  while the women thinks more and reacts emotioanlly first feels emotional and looks to help others in that like.   and sex carries overeach time we learn coscious ,this time, this filter, and countless times they,ve exchanged but the weird thing is they never really remember much until they met. then the flow is un mistakable and the tides of all else align, they dance on the head of a pin seeing the other completes what was and always shall be,, nature;  then finds balence,, with the fullfillment and sparks fly in rumored windows and shadows pass awareness   with an undoubted occurance the romance is such that smiles cant hold it and everyone around either gets it or leaves, accepts it or gets passed over, well maybe not that, no suit of holy armor creates them but a sight long given away is the shared happyness of a single moment, spread times length,and he  feel back on track and blessed.  
 but then the morning. l---and him tell the stories of youths mine starting at 14 she starts earlier' We recall the people who wanted only our sex and denied much else about us.  and after five ears i get to see what i could have first expected       the hidden tales from childhood from when we ventured into a safer place, the streets, where freedom allowed one to think beyond the classified structure of parental units. the streets were calm and the ever present directions from stop and go clarity and decsion ruled, simple not looking in the violent eyes of a lesser intelligence scream coating each slap with abstract philosophies of a rule from choas as he nevere got the laws right , the authority changing, diversive and at times petty.  he felt the wrath. from opinion and i am helpful in my violence.   it is to be punished that spreads love and you will maybe leave except you are to young.  you have reached clairty as soon as you realize death, so the streets are yours each person you meet has simple agendas, an apple for a passion. a night of drinking for a place to forget and secretive away what lurks in common man, and tuesday is high school and the mountain take you to the sky, the sky shows stars and there is a million earths. and there is sciense that follows and discovers nature and nature can be felt if all the subconscious influences of a time without control, without mental control are realized as the seperated universe they are inplanted with time but spirit that makes up the sun for which all evolves around , the gravitational pull creating planets  like dirt in a Prussians fur , irritents that slowly come to be zits, then boils, then small comets then bigger comments, then moons, then and finally planets, expansion stop when the covering starts holding together plants and trees or fused peices of elements starting out mixing together.  
  but all from space debry collecting around light gravity. or matter to a non physical and spiritual vibrational energy as health. time is not historic what is without time is historic what naturally excist for consciousnss is mental enviroment. He sees this way 
     the commonsense of spirituality becomes a descsion of the elements involved.  

95 percent water energy flows through water. Gravity  waves come from planets marking astrology. nuetrons and elements smaller  Music is waves which effect vibrations which cause emotional response scrokars telling each markeyting plan and trillions to the people as useless paper, elements being what they are.


  the world seemedconfused and yet alert to there confusion slightly the technongy of the quatum age was only starting to get out . fstered in movies and told from the rearveiw mirror what the future hold until we couldnt tell the different all words with little to show for true a world as a joint resorse the only answer, the emotioal vibrations the only source, but calm peace for all is the prep school motto latin to all else.  
learn or die the endless ways of the sky
reveal in shouted hidden glances
star to stone.

	AND EVERY COFFE place has its own feel taste and comment but not looking is easier than some glimpse of store owner and staff esculations of natures dominieering society. the little things.  but at the same time it is a talk and the negative talks behind me .  to be allowed to sit and talk. the listening is giving me the shake. I get it. move on.  the coffee is enough.  irratants should never have time  to turn into planets.
																																										so i move each street is a travel through time. Stemming for change a sign reads   vet,homeless, the man is clean like a new release, like the drunk is just starting to come after a vacation for a liver and three meals a day  the fine dark indain skin against a bright white polo shirt against the right aid and just before the smoke shop, i could do nothing but give him carmel and that was from you.. 
 to ketch up,  i want to call you i want so much to happen in such a small amount of time the earth to open and accept it plant based consciuos the world to open up to one world one goal to survive applied advannced means through a global ecomomic realty. but buisness sell the old as new mass productionn rules and innovation becommes marketing , whwereis the line fr progress.  my own hours go quick. i gota high whenthe message read its self as hi you reached cosmo.suck a small thing but it tellsme you are still thinking of me and i you but i am alittle lonlyer becuase you excist some where witthout me i found out lea has given back the keys at the other house.  and asked  nothing until i said i want the weekend to myself . and then it was panic she astrying to forceherself toreally be homeless. i have been watching and i can not stop her fromtrying to disappear. fade into the either she is as depressed but hid well for years acting her love and i have to watch it  breakdown, though it is not mine in my world i am in love with you clean the huse and remember. i spend hours recalling and telling myself she is livng forus cause once we come together others wont matter much.we met under a full moon its brother arrivves.
imet your brotherof cours t visit Fork  and tryed to introduce our topic it didnt go far he was i-----was tired. am tied i mean the relivance of these writing is the further push  i have always wanted you in my life it was the ony peice missing . reason and more because no matter the age of mankind he will still need to hear over and over again you can point to me iffor no reason then i want a Quatum future.   i will be devoted to you 
as sorted are my talents i will this to you andall my work . takenfrom this computer which i will have until i die ,, alll the works i tryed to but down were a colletion of emotions torn from pages of the iratic and humble . the traps like , or  vacation from races a block away as i sit in the parking lot with my new carryeverywhere rug.  A man child argues with himself at the other end ot the parking lot  and the space bwteen us give a constant mumbling noise of a demon.  he usually star around this time of the month. and sit there unti something happens. then he disappears ,hospitalof such and then hes back sameclothinbg smelling from up wind. i dont know his name but red colored swaet pants are are to find and i always want to ask from where they came from but was scared hebwould misunderstand that i was paying a complement and yell at me. 
 i want to call and since you called lea i have the number you didnt call her back so i figured you might of wanted me to call. L--hates me a little but she is messing up mentally, 
 lol messing up? L-- gets irritated at traffic noise and car alarms, the way the butter is left out and the rumor of an immorality. televised i think of it, wacthing rightious storys of a forgettfull reality, nothing to offensive, tuning out its called the binge watching accepted big brother or there so many shows you can watch bigbrother of one of the lesser entertainment sources. which always have the upright people working and the unkepted people unemployed.   even realityshowss are edited and what cant be explained with a sound bite is lost.  the answers are left to be self concluded. 
  
    I didnt know you before and now i still only know the angle of your older presnece, one doesnt think beyond the motions of time and your smoke spot the fine creek and the peaceful shade gets people now like i never saw . i sit at the bottom and write only looking up, every so often.  a crowd will draw popo. but still i sit and listen the sour conversations the slang urban challenge have taught me to let everything be as it is. so you listen until you realilize they're to many and open drinking a round up offense and i may get cuaght in it. so i have to move with a warning to the party people drunks and hillbilly want to bes in clean apartments and welfare checks like him
  
 it is another day and with you here the day moves to you. and pain is taking you to get over addiction, or is it growing pains as you say. but i weigh most of your physical words and only stiil can talk to you here,   How so worldly a cause infest, the addictional life, the choise each as important as the last yet guidence scared its self. philosophic intuitive tendancies. hmmm 
   the weed is kicking in some change there it is ..outy?


,,  your being howw waking with the shakes and mumbling has become you body dieing for water straining the composure which leads to the day. my humanity hurts for you and no matter what i can only try,  but the flame burns where it touches and fires dry the water, i have a life devoted to no guilt and all i feel is that absence, there where mortage lendedgo and lay offs and closures go high prices taking what needs to be for sucess? nno it is the elementof guilt which rules. 
but thenit is day you have pain and further into each in you are longer and longer on the outside of me .you have wasted my lve wih uncaring treatened me with guilt for i am in this body this time and the absess is starting to heal but on after it has been lanced. only after you cme back and your disrespect shows through all the time you  walked me about cleaning after you for it is  a differnt person i fce you are running from everyone else
and really he is at wills end, yesterday you wanted and he livedd your need to go sommewhere . there is nothing but lies to hold you up and i am screaming atyour lies and will never try again after this the moments waited the time by god was used .to expose another l--- finally came clean the years of running over her face in streams, she couldnt face her the commonality, the conscious repetive process i don't wantto be alone. and he waits out the vertic.
 he thinks onher, the processes of the mind become fouled with misdirection in a drug enviroment and useage . the neutrioe donot reach maturity in time for other adaptations to take place and only witha retraining do they become whole that retaining is peace for which we get little of. but somuch needs to be realized only abstaince will lead mntalhealth, he is seeing how the young get lost in the high mind and for get systems and deny systems even when yu could be king you will leave it behind for the simple escape. the neutron of the brain which are in a constant state of developement create the wrong rewards systems and personal evolution goes blind and follows what ever coarse you train yourself to understand problems become problems with extras.  funny i never thought of that such that his pathways become fostered around a misinturperted    such that love is the only plan which always creates something and the last stop of a mind screaming for change but getting little. s theere we aredriven to understand our invincible barriors our reaal love no one is safe from their foibles.  such that a mind on the natural weed or such  for all create thesame and one over another is really how best adapted the society is around you for which take which talent highen will suit. each must lend to some  deeper nature at the same time. for the more complex the reality the more weights and balences change.   a true cocktail has not been yet disclosed, SO MAN WAISTS TIME UNDERSTANDING THE CORRECT ADDICTIONS FOR THE SELFF, AND EVERY ACTION CREATES CHEMICALS.
SO FROMBIRTH YOUR CREATE PATHWAYS of neutrinos, and a watery based bio electrilcal quatum alignment. suffer that to say each section of society comes with its replcative philosophies, 
  there where you lay
 Physically 
you cAll me, 
a wind in the dust 
particals 
thaT MUST UNDERSTAND
 ONE BEFORE THE ALL
to CONFUSE YOU,
 THERE WHERE HoPE IS IDEA
 AND TRUST HAS MANY MIDDLE NAMEs.
  
IN MY SICKNESS
 WHO WILL LEAVE ME 
DISGARD MY TRAP 
AND FLAIL AHEAD
 INTO MY LIFE,  
asking 
silence.
to get peace 
screaming in padded rooms the office deviders do not fool me less material replaces cost
with phophets.
the only light is the candle 
percing
poverty is pueity
enlighten and die 
idea marches on.
he is sick after the morning smoke, fading often to keep .. what he can not remember. a way of walking and interest to the gods maybe his ways gyptcy without cultural historic rememberance. only son of dead linage stop inhistory as you make transient,  as you cast children tot he streets and get pushed from trees.   nature provides all . and a good seatfor astral travel? 

   the best place for astral travel where you are.

for once in his lifehe has come  remember a soulmate, as he perceives different thinking about eternal love , it is almost to much that spiritual knowledge is greater than intllectual being though both seem alighned in a engineering metaphysics easily test witth a smile ,, this registers this, this small thing , gives you a smile ,,,,  for me it is children and pet who automatically respond and i automatically dont think and raissse jaw and eyes into that communication of personal feeling or a metaphycisal hello.  questioning is easy, but a smile is research into path.
   my morous brother would automatically answer what is killing makes you smile, i would say you have a long way to go , the personal is litering yur mind media is littering your mind and you dont feel yet to even know what life is about.. to kill never will make a health person smile , we try and explain with righteousness  where once were kings and then the kings didnt want to be known and we invented economics and shared the chance to be rich.
 but now we feel responcilbe where once we blamed but the reality didnt change slaves 99 perent leaders 1.  i hear the black skinny rat looking squirrel behind me in the bush, i know he isnt hppy or sad but dealing, and he is not confused with conscious. but searching the food or warmth the sex or play, simply. 
   
  the seceond day after your pphysical presence leeft me. i have a sore throat and after therapy i slept almost all the way till now. hearing your traumas increasebut i am wrong you wuld have left the hospital as soon as i was gone you just wanted to get away as much as i wanted you gone so much sufffffering i couldnt think of the answer for trying everything but what revealed a thoughtm sleep and nyquil. i forgot  
but i can no remember that you dont not plan each lie is orgistrated its story known such that i am a fool to think you wore that dress and would be homeless living no you have a place to go. you have your life somewhere , silent plannes people to stay with homes to teach or loves to give an leave? each asking of you fora moment, 
  i forget self so easy, this is all i need t rememeber and have through so much but then i sit and want only others to achknowledge me.  an artist has to have self sight and that is the basic right and it is funny but every time some one does see me i deny them the ablity to proper judgemen and mistrust them if they are close, for there is then jealoucy and there is then some responciblity, i like the streets where they throw money simple straight forward. maybe sell a cd or get them to the magazine but to close and they see i have given my words but i have a hard time surviving . the truth scares them and casts me as a real loser no system do i care to follow accept self passion and love, i love to word to write, maybe it is a chaepsence of belonging in the world that so often just passes, 
i have created this lifelong goal as a daily sucess and a proclaiming of self but blindly i only listen to those who like it,, but truth is no one really comments the mark of fear or just normal uncaring. 
  l--- left with angry goodbye, her past finally came home and she couldnt handle it and when there was someone to help she ran. but i wasnt aware what question was bothering her, was it homelessness and her unacceptable responce? or was it just the need for change that gets tested when we are apart of the world aroud us. as our denied visions are ours tto deny and be conscious of it.  An intruding subconsciosness from the world walking up to you, she would have been alright had i not told her i loved her, as a friend . but sh was depressing me casting my life into hers but i told her not to. i made it clear i was not going to choise her side and was tired of not facing the world because she was scared of it. things happen in love but if you don't look for the lesson asubconsciousness feels rewarded by the denial and forgets personal growth, she left with only a word beware. 
  i hadnt thought how deep sexual abuse had been in my life, and still i am worried about it.  its been a subject i cant see the influences of, 
     but now i glimpse it i can not let it go.
 how did it effect me, i know my sexual life has been needy and passioate i always reached for understanding anothers need but each time i couldnt feel equal to them, yet suffered  for years after each until i forgot or found another then i started all over again.. now i can feel that i am reaching for a fuller life and yet the sexual has again aligned me only the passion and not complete happiness. but then i found some one who talked at me everything i wanted to hear and for a moment i could feel a soulmate or the devine timelessness of real love. i know pure love.. and i can not forget and think about my true love everyday. we risk all for love and gain all. tommorrow i will call the therapist and schedule more appointment i will go without weed  but must keep these pages,, the final road of a question are the deepest.  there were ubconscios unfolds lies the sexual abuse and i must learn the statistic how did it effect my life. i can see how the learning of love making also meant no conection and that only family love can be real but family love was sufferance, so there is nolove anywhere maybe i learned to be with people who wanted me, but people who didnt respect me?  buti am guessing for commonsence isn't giving me anything.
childrenare no prepared for commitmentnor can they see life long devotion it is all now and gone. i love you but cant see you.  
 and there goes the summer tonight it is not raining but it has started. winter come with  grey skys and rain all day today such that i turned on the heat and slept. tomorrow is anotherday and driven to hope starts again all driven through love and the change that enforces it.
 so i am less depressed . your father called that you have taken the first step.  know you will get your necklace some day. for now you will  get a chance to sleep and regain your focus , but you may never see me again but yet i will know its for the best if it was all a farse, i have come to feel a devine love and i am changed the driven comes now to me exposing more than i thought possible.i can feel you happyness though you might not right now it is late on the 13th or early on the 14th. suposed ly you are in portland ore. the first whole day in the rest home, and i am nownot worried about you again butmore worried how i effected you i hope you heard my advice the secret to life is focus, right after the pure energy of spiritual love. which leads all else. but here i go to try and understand myself against the passion ii have come to live as a different connection than i expected. for i can not watch porn any more but i am not sure what to do next i guess here is little to do watch as the story plays out watch as i compose new songs or follow through with the next discovery but i will be alone in it.  and for now i will lend my energy to you feeling your life not that i can do much,but maybe give you better dreams. or maybe you hate me because you think i am a good person but i am only good energy which trys to be a good person. when women seduce me i usuallylet them but its such a challenge toregain myself aftyer love given should never be causually forgotten . robin williams is dead i really thought he was important he left the same day we went to the hospital the night of the elipse. it took allday but i realized you had somewhere to go and didnt spend the night sleeping in the streets, like i thought and sure enough eight hours later your father said he took you to portland.			
i have been sick since you left but realize i can not keep upwith you i dont believe your father he is trying to make me feel better about caring. but the lies have turned me cold and you have played with the poor boy enough. lieing is the first seperator from personal truth, if you lie you never really know what you said when so that all gets jumbled. you just bail, i listened to you fater for fourty minutess tell me a long winded tale all the invention good for a willy loman type. even a cute little final line about you being happy as a girl at church camp.. there is where he made his mistake, bu whatever i am done playing with a snake like me. though personally i dont feel myc henese likeness,, i am shrewd when dealling with money iguess, and clever whenneeding a problem fixed.but with you lieing about him yourself and everything there is no facts to love but a young girl who refuses to go home, i imagine you getting on a plane under armed guard until you get back to your mothers who iron hand and the fasist laws of california will control you, but with a million passiblities even one being you are right here walking the streets with your weekly money. happy that the pain has past growing pain you said, i guess you only wanted to know me for the music and poetry you didnt care to hear and couldnt decussthats ok icant either  and find many that do have limited subjects . i have a fever i think and i am depressed, i hate to love alone strecthing my life out to be treated like a rag mythroat hurts and i am geting  washington late summer chills. tomorrow morning i am going to the clinic, where i am also going to ask for an std test.  L--- returned a text but she has failed me all the conversation bout helping people and she could help you. there was apause wheni told you father i had promised to write youand no contact tyurned from a week to three. people who lie rarely have friend or at least until they get caught your father is a king of lies no wonder he drinks away emotions . i should never gotten involved and know you will be back for your necklace. it funny but all the years i have live i not had many run ins with hard drugs not many but a few i always felt sad for them and wonderedhow it didnt happen to me crack almost got me but i am to driven to put aside my art for anything easpecially the money involved where i would rather have a new insturment  or dinner and a movie with a lover. back when i had money, but was a paranoid, barely ever going out on a limb for life accept women and then only in the love i really didnt understand such that it was always finalwhen they left ,only two tried to rekindle the fire and i was replused after the pain of there leaving  had haunted me for month depression enjoys its self and will use any trigger, wheni was homeless i didnt feel depressed but had accumed a cowardly approach slunk into every day of ptsd, and worries real worries not pretend the parking ladies towing tara dinner a shower some peace under shade tree in parks, all programed and accepted while i live on197 a month, the world out side was really forgien. people with jobs and family the ones who refused to to see me refused to give me a job and made me feel my depression. and really you have given me depression, you and your father so intense that i feel on the border land of suicide or a hospital stay.  and if it wasnt for bella i might have already gone. how did i get here  the summer has been a total wreck i thought maybe i could find love this summer but who would love me. people use me because i am beastial passionate and dont care for myself enough. 
 but that si what i need to see, i mean i keep saying i must love myself like i love others with all the passion and attactedment.   but wheni start to think of what i should do i get lost in the first steps nothing makes sence and we have to admit thing we can not remember how to approach it is easier to love other like dogs and children and cats, i have been wanting to voluteer at the animal hospitalbut havent gone, i thought maybe that would give me experience to get an animal job but then paranoia what if bella gets sick i can handle making her sick so i dont go. and then the writing makig the magazine gets mepublished but in that i am the publisher and my cowardise shows through again arrogance and ego. no matter how good or bad stays away from real critizsm. because my layers of bravado is shallow and i would fold into crying instead of answering. but these are the facts  

  there is so much to write'   about in this world passages and passsages of stories. people and the paths while its shocking that so many  just write about moments and have no time for the timeless story, the ashier is just that skinny kid behind the countre, while each has such personal insite and moments of genius looking at the all of there lives, evern an ignorant person walks through such trails maybe the differnce to people is wheather they look to create themselve or just studder along and repeat all that is needed, i test you you pass but the test has flaws and the one who answers perfect has not come to conclusion but assumed anther is right and pass accordingly. One thing every generation knows is that all have been wrong if society is this..
 we do not go farther then this. to find all society call ancient the faith energy that united us orginally when intelligece ruled  and we found respect for it. now intelligence hids with all the rest, or stands out in a crowd with a target on there back,  
  i think tonight will be the last time i smoke marijuana with any kind of consistancy. tonight we live on the edge watching the hobbit for the second time today and remember when i first readthe book,,  the whole story a tale of destiny and the eventual energy of god for which are never mention .gnadalf could stop the rain, 
 i remember some of my first thoughts of energy and a spiritualism of facts, the eternal being the soul spirit energy self, our alien bodies our light. reading these pages  the hobbit in my tenth grade mind after the orginal years and conversation of the spirits truth my brother would never acknowledge. after all these years i have come to consider the spirit a physcial unit a scientific unit as a grouping of neuttrinos for which smile with vibarations.
 and in that eastern thought proves me just redundant i know. but its funny how the collection of pretheorized thought come to a point of phiilisophy or metaphysics, or theology.  the human thoughts of gods are religion.  but when catholics and jewish people speak , god cretaed man as a self image. how common sencical that man is made of god whihc they agree but not to see the energy but accept the flickle character and domionate over lord,, and in that, i feel create ill respociblity. its god fault, so then society went  there is no god ,in order that we become responcible againt our overpopulation that needed organization , of course so much between those staement, but feel like gallo when i talk about spirit being a scientic conclusion, and the motive for a quatum rebirth to consciousness ,, everything changes forgives and find ultimate health.   pscholologically and physically,, when the new age, quatum age includes a new look at the freedom of persuit.
  but not for  tonight tomoorrow is another day and as i had made sure i didnt drink and write, i now, must give up smoking marijuan and writing? so maybe i will jus write you..
 already so much has come to question us, your father tells me to forget you, my friend think i lust after your body, people only comment on your life from there glasses if i could change there glasses i would , but i can not , my friend would never believe in her own self enough even as all the gifts were given her she spent  them somewhere else always swaering her indepedants and threaten suicide if she doesnt get her way. i told you of her L--- but i didnt think she would refuse to help your spirit but i came to find out she hadnt faced herself and whenyou entered the apartment and saw that i loved you she could face herself and left but blamed me and cast doubts at me to reason away. then i had a whole new look at why i knew her. i thought she liked me but no she was just wanted me around a good looking trophy to show off to her lesbain friends.  which she would never acknowledge just like she showed very little real love to her cat who i knew i was going to save some day. 
 at the beginning of the summer i had been facing a depression cause of her i knew she would try and continue the luckless farce of our aquaintance which i had pulled away from ever since i got the apartment lasty march, people who deny you in public and say they love you in private are fools and not to be trusted she had proven her loyality she has inone she is a survivalist that is cruel and loveless. she blames and regrets. i refuse tbregret blife but will always live and accept i have a moral code in a spirits comprehension and a lover who preposes love is not abused.  
august 18th  one week you have been gone now. one week and i am still sick a little. the wear  and tear of the summer mentally has been almost devastating. but the strep helped regain some composure ever since you left i havent been smoke marijuana. its funny how it tires me out and i guess i like the feelin of being tired but when i get nervous and paranoid and then have extra presure and traumas to deal with i lost it. i never should have left that day at the hospital. i was sick and scared like i have never been i almost always can feel my waythrough life and couldnt deal . i didnt know where the lies stopped and the rose colored glasses stared. it wasnt juust you before you came over L--- was crashing on the coach for a couple of days crying and treating me like i didn't take care of bella well. 
  basically she didnt want to see me in love with life without her or some such thing but i could feel her jealousecy and mad referances to the pains of her life ,i had tryed to help before she left in june. she didnt want help, and then she didnt want to leave either she had told her other friends she wasnt coming back and so it was my house or homeless in a jeep without a bed , she and i five years ago we a couple for a moment i never questioned why she wanted me around i was homeless living in my car and when for all those years to her apartment for dinneronly sleeping on her couch for ten days out of five years when the wheather was below zero or once when i had the flu. i had quit the romanic part ofthe relationshp after the third time sleeping with her , she is a lesbain and lives n a denial of it , it was the mechanical way she made love and the fact of our size. it didnt fit. we didnt fit i felt small and she was domineering .  i could only tell her the size thing and thatwas how we started the five years, i now think she just want to keep her cover. using me to be seen . i was and am still mad that she could beso shallow but she proved herself when she left that night,though you were in so much pain you really could not notice. i thought she would help you to see what life you could have. i dont mind lesbains as long as they are up front, i dont like to feel manipulate but could only see that night. like she expected me to kick you out but i never will and she could see through herself. 

i just thought i saw you noon walking how crazy is that or am i . swo much of my life has been possesions and depression over women, this is the final time i hope the highth is whenn a soulmate reminds me of a devine connection one i feel when they are gone, or are you gone ? has the lie been made and the freedom given you, you have found a man who is taking good care of you where you dont have to fight for your life the mind goes so many places when you don't know or trust. i could forget you if i knew well not really i would atleast be happy for you. i write you more to pass on information and to show you how much you inspire me i guess, but i have done this before and forgotten myself all during the process . as i write this the world passes . each conversation has little importance  people talk about the media of society there frineds and other fanatsies of reality with such pretention of self importance , its funny how bored we all are it is almost a savior to hve a mental illness letting one understand wisdoms that create an understanding of reality by a preposed oppiste ,like thanking sufferace for joy, even as the insanity doesnt help normalacy which is insane.  sanity truely seems only to be a complete spirituality and the invested time in love.  i feel eventually the sciense of spirituality should and can lead society it will come for only spiritualit can lead and only through understand love can we find a spiritual philosphy. as and entertainer i look to use this to create hope for others  these smallness contained in my love for you help me try and work through my own next steps. because you connected me to feel it more intense then ever.it was some calling to mysanity some challenge and guilt pushing me to move closer to my social theory of a Quatum age one which your aged intelligence could use.  it will take time but someday the choise to make a stand is going to be yours. on all my computers will be my will i want it all to go to you right now.  i loveyou so, and i will never love another equally. is that wrong to say for the possiblity must be that nothing will workout  and i am stuck in never to know you. 
  i ahve walked down to the harbour, looking at the sea the gulls bouncing off buildings over food somewhere out there screaching  after some food source fighting over the last garbage donut bread slice  and they watch us , we waste they dont we are a food source three light poles span thr harbors edge five birds watch wait. i like the look of oldships i should call them boats for they are a boat is a vessile that can be carryed on a ship if i remember correctly there is five ships and ten boats in the water and one old looking tug boat, will i ever be involved again in like would i dround in the water if i was to jump in. the island on the other side of the bay look huge . there are two if you look to see the different  a formation of one on the other side of the first yet extending the bad such that you have to look closes and detect the protudance of tree tops much darker than the more distant mountain side behind.  today i smoke and automatically fel alone, dependant, isolated mistrustfull of myself, the higher body tempeture,  i use the flilay knife that has never seen a fish by my hand ,cut my tie dye shirt. i hate collars and weird pains come to my arms and i feel frustrated in mental persuits  so i do nothing but push keys i can not hear the over veiw.  i texted five people today to say hello, only one texted back , i am more afraid i am going slowly insane for feeling a pure love, even as i smile, i could never believe in my emotions enough be fore and  it kept me safe from them and my ambition.
and now iam open to the insanity i can justfy against a system of the insane, i am feeling .suffering ,feeling and rejoicing on a thought of love while waiting for its facts to fill me as one love opens the all. battery is low the type written words fill tothe last looking for a spiritual message from the last instant as tommorrow i ill read what the darkened screanyeilds  stops slows of the paragraph above
and so there we are you out in the world when i thought you were sick you had strep, you escaped what ever gutt world you stepped into to be some where else i think yu father just didnt want me to worry maybe i am the only one to have his number so he told me lies and everyone goes back to the truth. but a soul mate i guess you are . and i am a lonely old man to you. 
 i saw you today it was funny the way you have you face painted i didnt recognize you but then the arm around the nervous boyfriend.. the faster walking up the street the ducking into an alley.but still i go and talk to your fathher who repeated you are off in rehab, he wants me to forget you. i cant wont never will i would rather love you than start another love without knowing where you are because i would put anyone aside for you. i can not love anyone before you. so its back to me being alone but here we are the lonely man on the street cornor thinking about a quatum life without anyoe to share life with but there is the driven part of me still looking for what i dont understand . love 
self caring self appreciation career?

 no i dont think i am looking for career i just want to get better as a writer loving you has lead me to the devine my soulmate is the closest i can come to a whole self. at peace with love i proceed ,i know now you are around and your father is going to send you away i dont know  to co after rehab then i will never see you again but some how i want to be wrong. and our connection must have closure before i can let love go. but i have to keep with the drive what is creating my inablities? some break up inside me, cause with all this time to think i still only get powerful aboutlife when i am in love with another. self achievement means so little to me that i an satified with nothing, tere is so much life to breath words to write colors and shapes to draw, senses to be amazed at all that is missed at work. but  guess i cant know everything action again is the only cure to direction. and so writing has gotten me here. 
  the depression of the last few months seems to me draining away but has left me withthoughts of child abuse sexual child ause n thought of abuse but has every romance been about it? mine was from men who used me when i was little i didnt think of it it was my way of getting stoned and as the years passed  gave men up i wasnt homosexual  and i could get get my own drugs and alcohol. but i heard that boys without fathers wanted the coseness to love a male love and friendshp, that is what was used and i guess that is theabuse i was never forced or really didnt care i was so drunk by thetime aything happened. it was like being in a dream. but thereis that ever since is this person gay would ring through my thoughts or with women i would make love to almost every women i met such that every relationship i ever had became sexual at one point of another , is that it i am more sensitive than many in love bt also more seductive with every women i meet and i dont mean to be. and rarely have i been able to have a full relatinship like i dont respect a life long love because of it love lost some thing for me maybe and in that maybe i have lost the most important people because i could communcate with them because who did i ever commuicate with when first i learned love? it wasnt until these last years that i really understood to talk to someone and feel honest. Personal honesty is so hard yet this is what i am commoing to regard as important i needed to feel my honesty when i started this journey, and to go ahead with the next level i need this .you have come to me as two different people, each was contain in you like me as a child , lieing to everyone , secre'ting my life i want honesty?!!! maybe that is what god energy is showing me. apart from addictions  because i am feeling the point of addictions alittle weed as apposed to every day has helped the absence more that the constance..
  a tired night has past coffee to late .couldnt sleep weird dreams i can not remember. but at three in the morning the blantant lesson of honest hit me from all the lies the LL?s have been telling , well two of the LL?s. this fact comes to find me doing puppy ears. how honest i have i been to me.
i am taking a lesson. i have often sai this to others but again i say a discover emotionally is first intellectual then you try using this until it becomes your common sight. 
  i need slf honesty, i can see how i lost it , denial for the idealhas become the frst self. i couldnt ever follow my own love enough mostly beause i couldnt make up my mind on any of the guiding voice of love from with, i had to re-learn happyness, which started with a devoting to survival. honesty is one of the keys to making life but dishonesty is some time just not listening to honest. 
its not intensional but it is being unaware of personal truth. do i love you spiritually, but am i being honest about a life together, there i pause our ages would curtail what we couldd do to gether , just the energy you have conpared to me. i am looking to do things take are easier for me. writing art thing i want for my life because i have worked for so many years ,i dont want to move that much you want to travel, you want and have the time for experimentaion i have lived most of itand my days are a result of the adventures i have aalready done. and my peace ad enlightenment i have earned you still have questions which only experience can answer. and maybe i an save you from some but i can not fullfilllthe answers or lesson you innerly must self acheive and really i can not save you, i am alone in the world ,you have a huge family of hard working people good role models and sucessful people, even as you also feel the falloutof what sucess is in america, for anyone that gets anywhere must loose something along the way. we can not be all and neither i. you are not my fantasy or even a perfect replica of my dreams. i only wanted to help and in that faultered for being human. yes i am seducable alone all the time wanting more from life, thinking myself a lover but only your eyes showed my lover old spirit caught between a sheltered childhood and and aged spirit. to much marijuana and depression, flattery and flirtation, then a real struggle between alcoholism and personal welfare. i was scared for you and got caught in the game between you and your father. which has nothing to do with me. 
 His work, your standard of freedom, playing with the poor and artistic. but a game of chance a game whcih relies on people treating you nice but people arent nice once you push them or lie to them. and it all comes round eventually. it is the veiw of my love you have given me my love my fear my illness, i have let many women use me believinging somewhere in siide i am unloveable.such that they have come back only to find me gone. i couldn't love them again mostly be cause they had broken the trust i felt for them once. you are here in bellingham ,i know it , you wont come and say hello and stop running from me, just because you would have to admit something tht you know me i guess, that your freedom leaves many in your wake wondering how you could use them. so blantant and we let you. i didnt want you but let you in , i was wrong and i apoligize for it. but now its all me. trying to feel out my honesty. L-- was my friend you scared off but there was the side that was you in her i didnt know she lost respect for me but it was bound to happen so no harm or foul but th lies must stop. i must see it and stop giving away my freedom for the heartacke i onstantly feel. i am alone now. some stragglers are still coming into my life people like you with less, people i listen to but am not really involved with i guess that is the walls i must ceate to have people jump over, if they dont jump they dont suceed. like all strangers must i will no longer invite people to my world i will put them off tell them to buy the magazine if they want a peice of me buy my album and work to get better guitar lesson or writing courses, acting lesson or such i should and never will put myself out for people i am done 

AND THEN THE MOMENT COMES A SPLITBsecnd later your heart in mine around a whole ,i dance on some sanity thaat lets hope become . standing staraight        then vibrations a moment conveind in the soul to know joy. there iis a step of sanity and yet all is living to feel a moment. 
 you answer dedicated to that which smallness are created in pure love , i know  nothing but the sun and  a million years i would wait, but maybe withoutb the knowling if we hadnt the steegth portrays  the abcessentsod waiting. 
and even if never, i am learning the cowards voice that i have always felt against a physical traiing in childhood violence tthe man said end up like a dog who's been beat to much. and scares and scared wounds, a slap of the character, my cowardise ie never felt before multipe physically timed greeds, comment and proofs the man who cab driven eyeshave lorded of the alcoholics at four in the morning. and just want to get home in one peice.  
 
 to sit and rememeber the death conversations around me, 
 a cr--- speaks 
  "they register my account and it breaks the computer system" 
  the energy to day is myown finally yet i am to later, winters voice although a whispere humms agaisnt my sumerized skin irradiated and describtionns are easier that the light i feel off you off memory the told innocents of spirit timelessness quauttum tides and a shared future, 
 i must write as long as i can tonight, yesterday i felt you walking with the same person as before, and i am not waiting for you to pass while yet consider it as sub consciousness to see you is enough for a while through i have oly myself to gain this casting i could not know alone without someone to move me.  so i sit for a moment noticing me , noticing against sa chilled wind  i one finger tap tap my back to the street knowing i have to go down a back alley and let you have the street if i see you. though i never do. i feel. 
 but i am putting word to invisiblity to rumors and extras of midnight plots , but shines enough to warm me without you around . with you as a known to me, as i can finally see. but i have been knowing this to be coming to, the words driven imply driven to . passion and actions of joy. you my final therapit awakwn against tides conprehension i have to seee multiples at once. you i must understand tthe mosaic of discovery trying to document the action emotioally, intellectueally . and research is screaming at me to shore up the ideas ..
  but singing is going to be hard , i am feeeling pain in my throat i delayed comeing down to the resturant that gives you a free meal for an hours playing delayed because my thraot isnt one hudred percent and i know strep is going to minutely change it , one final night in 301 tomorrow 504
   the floor as a whole is five or so apartments. each with characters nd a general kind ness buying internet from one , exchanging helloes in ukrainian with another little song heard in the hall a pass gone age of a polio ed person grey hiared bent a cane or two a straw hat, i know people well enough i was accepted and they found another apartment for me in the limited entery housing structure. no different to the fifth floor but a closed off hall no wind no breeze and to that i will cheer up brighter light? art on the walls  
  
  its been days since i have with words did muse. 
  
      a move me physically the stuff amassed to give away less than i should have.   A year of bpredom producign a table with beer stains a stckyness i couldnt stanf , the televsion old and thick heavy as weights  but you can noot use therm as free weights.  every commertian my wants and pleasure obviousness to a world calling myheart  on a string maye, i am clouded maybe i have finally lobved through despration to love, . 
  and so with cleaning supplies i hhave just left the wide space cleared of the toxic materialism which supportsa it,  but i only ,mmoved two floors and as i lifted elvavatored, and arranged i remembered,  years moving and constructing. appeazing thoghts with a stoned presence the dumbed down and yet supervisory, my boss told me , and everyone asked me after he left, supervisory..i would take home the truck and the complaint were more dont be leaving the truck oin front of the bar, i told you,  lifting repeative title to a roof or paintimg some smallness  one would need to fly to without ladders,  but never un stoned, marijuana my spoken voice to the toxics i had to face  dont beleive the self said enough years and you might develope a huge ego feeling all the lackings , the doubtand ins ecurityes enough to reason a step is to find joy with being. a longer road than most weighed gains t the common proletraian birth beat violence3 to ward children the back hand the the whimper more common,, the weakness defiled what would be standard survival. and yet each day we find hope in our selves is a good day.  there was all sorts and there the lonely, escape against what is needed and no acrossed the hall and invisble the tell of sell, walk away you didn't say but did. and now what, the long night takes me ,  a face  i will not remember answers drunken lonelyness of a womens pleeding bleeting bleeding and i can only think of a million places you could be if you werent you, sleeping peacefully wiiththe guy from legos a computer bible buisness gods words digitally, or i am so far off , and only fantasy answers the fcts from fiction wondering when i will find out souls so oft distracted by butterflys ages can not be counted and i remEMber you are here and i am happy with sanities replication. True sanity is socitial. 
  there is a movement of living the last of the form.and then the tides move mebackword the common skzoidaphrenics telling storey from years ago, telling of horific tales scary you for looking. or addictions and drunkenness bottles on street cornors, well no i lie.
  for the small city cleans and adorns its walkways with recycling cans and early sunday mornings to get ver the college night before

., and feeling on top is not being.  the fanatasy of movement limited years , i can hear movement within, but little to identify like a turmbulebt stream. Consciosness verse anti awareness and the plastic whole that is starting to break.  

it is not me 
to sella brate, 
not me
 to analasis self. Not me changing like a plant let to burrow through cement 
one creives, a water hole.  
   bracing the angle of physical violence controled and belt trapped tauntings for subservience . to be come aware  is a dream seeing the difference like a never before offered and what we tell of change is a small percent of the amount we do, but i have found practise comes steady after thought. it is ideas whichchange use thugh after feeling the pain is less over here follow ike a squirrel at play. furious  . we deal in constant evolution but hardlyrecognize it. yet we change  society is going to be behind but this far is getting ludicrise such we can no longer wait for the advent of some great determner, but must of self feel the energy as motive for all other purpose seems reliant on the first why society , why thought but that with sucessive generation we can see closer to a nature we will never loose,  
 but who is to hear
 the first world market still sella brating . less and less 
 equal orwellian standards 1984 and books talk of bio energy and metaphysics becomes a energy system of common man and a preceptof philosphy, saving self could be the only answer a self that looks joy and passion to the admited deam nature, it has been years since i would stand for my work, it will be more yet until the self is granted equality with economics but i ore more penny make.  last night i walked into another fallen angle the strreets are coming home with me and yet nothing happened just for the cosmos peace you are doing this to me i owe i guesss and it is to much and  want only loves youknow pure i know pure love with only the possibe alone under made up star formations 
 and yet if is only my cowardise i reememer fear the fault of self to predestine and cast guilt to its ways of understanding equality of sprit is heard as a ploy 
  of people who look for lies,  ad the last joint goes out again slowly still smodering, and begins and ends the pasive problems casting what could be into a murky layer ofabstracts and etamorphisis,honest to ask and wait i have told you wwherei can to decide i was a spirit as having more importance then just body,  it was on a hill over looking the susquahana river , stareing at stars feeling planet sppin and dialoguerealizing time is to question.  fourteen years ubder german discipline ever at its low bor level created a constant awareness . it is a sub conscios tendancy as well as the explained after thoughtsfor which i work on, comparng projected judgement to lived trruth with each . though i tend to believe what is said alot, i have a super power i can tell when some is goin to hit me. it   
  fourteen years off that daily struggle  tendancies emerge, tide you have stopped adn let for me to sort i can never deny spritualism, timelessness  is energy excistance. ,  there everything changed though i was to seeghosts as proof and dreams, mediaation ,, and then joy small toys and always quitting jobs to save my heart. going homeless and free, sell a brate that. the road welome the traeler but i am saving that for you. i havent traveled as much as gone from place to place always with idea always foiled before i loved . 
 love right now is a step f tide,  inever looked for love each day, joy was enogh joy with toys and dfancen and dogs well any animal  and children bring a smile . first wass that, i remember. the street porches were always avaiable and i playe dmusic in the mornings for peopple getting coffee.  until i could get mine  then cigerettes and then off to a tree shade and shadow  secret silent , soltude. away. it was that year i first notice i liked organge super balls.. i would bounce it going down the street, reflexs are also good for such prtices, and it would t times lead me places find small holes in the orifice , sewers and basement apartments. . but then ,when not bouncing i would like the magical qurter see if i culd move the ball from the right to the left knuckle slowly so as not to have to follow a chotic  path which you never can tell with a super ball.  but idenifiable joy was the thought 
 a planned frontal assault .
  it was at nintyeen  when timelessness meant no death  and suicide a farse  for the fantasy of spirit.39 when i picked up the super ball.

Smallnesses between the two have created mmuch of my disregard for system, if timeless ness is the truth of faith, then the now is really al that is and faith to be nderstood this gods law that rules the spiritualism of the past and the tendancies of civil structure, then we can forget mush that happens . i will admit alot of the thought drove me away from organized knowledge for it is fallicacys and heart acke. , i could feel that one daay i would have to approach these physical personal devations the physical body learnings  or subconcios, but that day often became a visiting hour, i would get little informational minutes thought i would implemnt like i am traine to survival in the subconsciosness but the subconsciuos sees survival as a simple thing i was surviving to breath not get ahead of an alien system. this has made me and i want to think more of myself but only these words will survive me if someone looks for it. it has taken years to look at the subconscios influences, to look at those years i remade through timelessness it was a safty i dont think i could have handled then, wanting to stay out of system grasp for my violent responce is all i have felt to find step father and have my vengance for the secret pains i was to endure from childhood until 14. i still can not make all the difference known , for over the years there has only been levels to life with no narvana any where, each ideaology comes with its own pains and cross sections the student can find his passion the buisness man his love, system creates people the proletarian is a chacter and each emphasis creats markets and controls which please us and we stop looking and accept our lot. nad call it happyness for the pleasures which join day to day, no pain no sufferance no thought.. but we train a world to think and the further and further they get away from sufferance the further and further ,it seems we develope erth killing techonolgy, and loose empathy for people our children, our poor, our aged and disabled. am i wrong have we always left the lower classes to fend for themselves. communism said they we for the poor but power took the cash, killed a lot of  "desenter" 
  its funny how old i feel the day hot ,muggy is the word though, evey now and again small breeze from the ocean  or from rain somewhere . i wish i knew where you are just to talk with , but maybe i am so alone and untrusting i am left to willing be fooled into love that will never excist. but i have no one any more you chased away my only friend but with her leaving i realized she wasnt really true to her own words. and now she is gone. so much of this summer has been painful i lost 20 pound. i forgot my music suffer strep had to move. and still only the moments of passion and pure love stand out for me and yet in the end here i am alone and wondering what is next. 
 i thought about my addictions cigerettes and weed, weed makes me depressed but helps me to sleepand helpsme remember love as a feeling. until i am able to know true love . 
 i dont know true love as family. yes i still love them but it is alone that i love, no to talk , not to know, to hold or to grow with, family is lost to me,  and I refuse to hate though it would be justified. so much is set up because of that. like on system of subconscious training leads to the next reaction.   all my loves seem to become despirit stuggles to love at all. and almost always i stop loving myself when that happens . so here is the next, i love mysel like love has been trained on me n the first fourteen years,  what do i get for self love from those years years of violent traumas daily, hateful tortures for sibling , for there was only on and disregard from mother. i disregard my love for self and torture , i feel, myself with maybe higher  aspiration than my talents or the inablility to follow my understanding of personal growth through the love and acceptance i want. 
 this has been my love and instead of finding my love more and more, i retreat in weakness and victumization, this summer at least i tried to experiance my love first hand , i satifie myself with romance of a sexual objective, this is the body type and femine style i want.  an importnt step to acknowledge what i want though the schroka belongs to the lowest most common point with little regard for my whole life , i was trying to get her to understand,  but the journey wasnt whole and it failed. 



part two


   Love and romance follow the heart to such a degree we have to be mindful we are not leading our selves down shallow paths, only the higth of love will due. only the full breath of life is worth living. but the full breath of the subconscios can get in the way the baggageas it is refered to are charaacter defects we must work to get over. the real model of our love can be found in how we were loved, it took years to discover you didnt yell at people you love but also that you have to communicate what you want and not let others control you. which people  are apt to do.  few are strong enough to have real love  but love then becomes a blame game of what should be because you never said what it should be your self. it easier to love that which you dont control but free will must align on all schorkaras. you have to see what you don't want to and be strong enough to choise your lifestyles enviroment. 
  i believe lessons come from nature such that if you need growth to fullfill you personal love you will see it if you stay aware. most stop looking they say they are happy and are done with it, i can ot make that statement though in part i am gettingg to appreciate the happyness i do have beyond the "dear friends" i shed along the way. older friends understand because they have heard my ideaology a million times , newer friend havent made the connections or are not really respectful of my beliefs such that is against there code or ego, or brainwashing or addictions which seperate others from the self (ie not my friend any more.)
 i will always be driven to write what i can of life to pass on the human reaction and training my little mind can idenify. i believe i will see you again but i dont know how that will happen now.  i have moved to the fifth floor. maybe the phone is the same maybe you still have my number. and i have to just wait , i am still cleaning out the last apartmentand the fear of loosing the security deposit is my lastest guilt. but just as a panic attack i sit back after and look yes there are organzatioons to help and ye i shouldnt worry it is a lesson to apply all around. though since feeling my love for you i have felt lonely and after the fall of L i ow know i wil have to cure myself of the despondance in my life and people who just dont regard me because of their own ego i guess.  so here we are tonight again i look to the streets for a delicate structure of living and love. i sit on a wall and write it is nice out the summer is waning a chill comes slowly ini am not smoking in the house and trying to quit out side. 
 if i am believe the rumor your father tells you are off in a care fascility, getting four hots and a cot working on your self enough to get your self out. then he says you are off to colorado. i dont now weather to believe him. i thought i saw you happy on the arm of a guy short haired and plain looking, i would feel you alright there also. and youare alright i hope no matter where you are. 
  and that love in general is the important part but i will not go on until i can see my own either come to fullness or i move on and for get the words that have become  a motto. i know pure love.yesterday and today i played simple chords on guitar just for the movemnt of it, just for the feeling the joy of words and chords the expeimntation and the high . but i haveto be fully involved and right now i feel alittle plastic more because when i feel lonely i feel unworthy and untalented. things i am working on. these feelings come from the past and strength has to be my cure, but i want to buckle get a job forget all for some other love because our dream is my dream  i dreamed we would do the things we wanted creating an artitic loving life, it is my life maybe but i felt you apart of me like naturee and all the waiting was real. like my soul mate would feel to imagine its true is to give it us time to come together again hopefully i will get a sing soon. but i know i will use the feeling to ward off other entanglements. lonelyness can make us do some funny thigs , walking the streets looking for amazing connections in the wrong women who just want a place any place the homeless running away people  homelessness for me has never been much about panic through survival needed warmth i planned and bought tara no matterconditions i will be dry and warm the winters of 2011 and 12 were so hard i thought i woud go insane but the spring of both years made be feel natures joy like i never really did. struggle can do that life seperated into the traumas will move you mind to celebrate the simple things like sitting here and writing  this new tablet, and an apartment to share with you if you ever come you didnt want an apartment like me, and i feel you will have us go away into tara and travel and play music everywhere i have thought of that also. all i have to do is be,, that is enough our togetherness is a constant or not at all.. i am alive in every angle and al rely on me being me. i will get back to it with a new fever if only to play for youwho i feel as my muse my love and my equality.    
Bailieramzartinetbaylie bailor booker at swillery bar

it funny wheni am talking in a bar or nywhere i alwaays mention boston like the city has something to do with me, it insecure of me. funny what one can see other time even on stage i have humbled myself , the pose is of humility but it sound afterwards like a weakness, i am insecure i always sound different than most in the local stlyle, i am older than most and my lyrics are not built for the majority in ssome i am prefectly aligned but still you get to be in a rowd and seperate. 
 iwant to write L-- yes apart of me wants to write her, the paartthat holds on to even one i meet. even as those who hurt me must go she has hurt me and i kept her around because she helped me so much i thoght duringbthe homeless in bellingham time she ahve me respect as any artist for a little while but she also go in my way and i isolated and didnt live for a while with the precious moments of life left to me fade. i wasnt me enough and every day feels like i just got her .  but i thought she was like me and working on herself n the path of art as a path of self understanding for what else if to be from the entertainment but hope for the future. this hope must come from some where and with the stock market hitting all time highs we are giving money to the beast who refuses to think of he commonman.   it is the work of the artist to understand humanity as self.
even though mondren reasoning seems only to be crippled by reason as law.  the artist ust reach into some concept of natural law to move ahead and believe enough to suffer the material losses this creates. a self doesnt like to get caught up in any thing that isn't art. but her respect was like her music a statement without substance . i am a musician and three chords and two songs and thats it no more such that when we met i was already to know how she thought, a lie is a preception of truth one can not tell the truth without understanding what is real. she didnt understand reality but accepted herself as a musician. 				the 	first lie . 				thenit was i am an artist she went to art school and can draw well much better than me but againshe never commited art on a daily event she couldnt understand the muse saves our life giving perspective no everyday around her was television and talk but it wasnt until sheleft that day that i understood she ws just using me. to appear straight when she was a lesbain that follows suit when she never recived her mothers attentions.  case book they say. i had my time of homosexuality but it was a passing phase and i just liked that they liked me and gave me free booze i got over it in the aids days  and peopel were dieing sometimes i get so lonely that that is an option but then i see a girl and that option is more me.
 i dont know how i let you into my story so easily accept that i accept and felt suuch the tide of love from you that oof that i am changing it is a hard movemnt alot i dont really want to do anythng the sky could crash and i would say "there look the sky has crashed " and gofind the last quiet spot available.  there is acool breeze atthe creeks edge i sit and be the quiet of a streams white noise reminding the body of watter graves lden with physical matters age race time dialogue  culture and evenone arguing reasonably.  calmy the passing creek was once up the banks more some how the diverted water is has left only this to trickle where it once was  ? once was, 
  we have come to the final month less than really i touhc your necklace for strength against what i see of the streets and of myself,  guilt of motive i really didnt see " just call me Barbie" and when we first touched hands annd it wasnt away you ran from it wasto and what is now. a pause i look at myself from the love you opened in me and then strength to play gets worn down.  A duck with blue wings drags the waters surface cleaning her feet, as she flys doown the creek.  
 and i see the difference slight of the happy hippy character i have become and the artist i am . We strecth  ourselves so thin thinking all is better than one but i have mostly written all summer.  and the fortune i have notfelt in need of the fame the clostrophobic being for which loves strength is needed,, i liketo poverty, i smokeless and dont trust money to let you lov so why have it, and to stand and play creeates all this excessive apptreiation which fades after the song isfinished iwas just another begger of worse another egotist for which without me areeverywhere and stream into the concept of who i am long before the words are heard so even hearing the difference isnt enough to quell a shadow, the light of soul must be remembered in art and the shadow is rememberedd more often.. i kno i have only to be and keep being against the truamas guilt and excessive consciosness gives, spreading idea like the seed awareness will never let go . we can only give what we are .
i keep wanting to write the story but all i see is a past to flow to the telling of tthe moments that created our consiousnesses, 
 years of flailed visions the violently abuse who finds peace through timelessness as an explaination for stars and stars are energy and self is light and self is a star and our hearts are a creation of energies vibaration washing against the constance of awareness and prespective changes all things ,  a room a creek a pond a life, and the rooms turn with  a bigger slp the man walking to his trcuk carrying things the boy stealing out the back as the manputs thing in, always just the shadow never a face like we have wiped it off made it agreesion and misunderstanding . i cant draw hands well and i forget what more creation i could doin and out the clouds go and i am at home with you, slatterhouse five and our bubble has watercolores which shield out in the musuem of natural people,  
 yes the difference the happy hippy when are we stable, when is tide accepted and the fostering of the next allowed in self and world,, 
 it was with you hand outsid walkinging the long night over ounly our love light a parking lot with its light turned off the small consideration of store owners to let you glimpse the stars if only to remind a why, a heart, we fill the spetral and slowly get confused for completeness is the unexpected action the fear for most as death breeds awareness so love could not do less, and vibration new and lived marks the moment chane a relvant to see, 
   and driven never knew where to..
  just drive wasnt ever said to me all the years behind the wheel, in the most accident prone city in the country. as lastest staticical discharge. . a washing  where head isb under water cleaning you hair and baking i the thoughts you didnt have the , where justbefore the page turned 
 and t eaasier to live on a hill. questions of eyes and what you did by local customes  i banished myself by being me , somehow the drinking moment after a five year sobriety, mad and unwilling to ease back you strength all used of the kindness .
the is areason i am alone around bellingham i was used by the leading scene kings. large estate and stage used to a point. icreated an apartmentfrom an out house and the got drunk at a part at 2am i stared drinking and by 232 iwas drunk and not just any drunk but a drunk where the money for the work,, i videoed abirhtday party the mayor was there and i interviewed people , all day three bands  it was then that i was getting the enertial call to full media capiblities  
 first you need the equipment, 
 but since you have the equiment you can do a be and c now the chances for money increase three fold such,,, you do projects    a movie about horaculture and the rain forrest of washinto state,  any way ? it will be back love you
lyrics 
tell me no more good byes.
   oh baby i need to hear your dreams"

so i went and did a new thing . there is so many sparkles happening the brain exploding old concept all falling away with a singular thought preposed by another one i guess i needed to fell comfortable to acknowledge what did i get out of thepain  what good became of it? wh all that i am. and she knew a doctorate and i have found the rest a spin of of tthe love we have started,  and insane as knowlegde like how a plant is planned for its growth up the sliding wall, i felt well. goodhopeful just for living a day, tomoorrow is another,  it is the quiet time for the streets of small town , after farmers market and before the night crawls. i am determined to recognize the sober street scene  i will never buy cigerettes again before cat food but i did today, last time  and then the story her life is fast paced a jumpinto the deep end bay two year old rising and screaming for the edge, finds it and looksat everyone staunch faces of worry and wonder eight staring faces family vacation. schooling home sitting the nun at the front the mother from last seen   preincess" screamed, coloring on the wall. big house.  pull away. but always pricess bible catholic abundance republicain dominance, slandar the hippy homeless televsion death ray, walking away at the mall, fading into crowd at carvavals,  sme thing to do find princess, adventures with smile and knod old man hands, to the customer service countre, gods plan of spirit do we deside. keep finding her,??? as she starts telling the nine faces, dog included, of nontime state and a metaphysical faith. but god belongs in dominance as man,  not god as energy timelessness ghosts and dreams intiution and conscious, they listen and forget,  they dont listen a family of trasmitteres. magic and faith biblicallt old school before the age which comes as agreemntand the mute question. after religion is done. layered over his mouth saying the same words in drunken bars with dim light and the sight of the most beautiful women listeners,  he shows a magazine  
 slit layered she gets in trouble and is sent away, the first time she left through the climb down bay window, she is twleve. 
 scene ,
 broad window on a hill facing a city , a poetic veiw guitar prastice nothing in the room awomen enters five seven hs love can be seen, 
 older now she sits with the older kids allways has weed, i gota covered and loads the bowl, but she is quiet listenng,, and smiles alot and knods but she has forgotten the conversatioon, alley girl discoveries? bright sun and tan trees palms and ever brown on shabby grounds . 
 "i am suppose to ask her father" a man on a coach a football game penstate and pitt, i love annaand want to spend my life with her, but i am scared and can not handle family respociblity to another but the spirit, but caant say it inter chaged wit the huse paino and him praticing the anna and him making pizza, 
  christmas comes and accrossed the street from the house is another house  the camera walks through  fast as all this is broken between fast and slow over layedf with her story at times at time sharing the same words in and out  through the audio.
 music chotically matching 
noises of crowds and lonlynesses, 
 street light focus of both sometime the empty star and a light post come to vision.   
  his voice seeing the slow maarch  "plant consciuos a slow march fo progessiveness a slowwwwww march . but yet ever present who garded the knowledge in the dark ages, where , comes eastern nature if not from an all 
  over lay of eastern symbols ,  " bio engineering self nature vibrational loveing
 vision again she is saying the same words to the dog, the walling away of the faceless.  and so the day went your voice scattered off me with each pretty face a mentioning of loveing the momment i am in,  enough. and i loved my day but thenas i am going home i feel the  lightness , the door to the buillding  aand i reach for my keys and loo they are not there,,,, the first space i went where i started this dialogue of today soback again to the begining the creek a couple of cement slabs a seat staring at the trees  root that progres is slowly removing, and yet what love, for not inthe placei sat but the trees as just light leaves,  a thin tree held my keys for me all day communing with nature and home to feed kittey.:
  i was free to day to spend the need here money there and mr. LL? we spoke to nother house needed no mentio of you and i know he will feed you about me his unsteady controls whenthe knowledge is known . for a time this summer i wasnt myself depressed and strung out over the interest love changes of us but to remember while always cover regret and to remember make descisions easier, what more natural force i will never know in emotional development, 
 buta moment is all health takes when you are willing not that a completeness is real yet happynesses yet to feel. but  someday is closer i want so much and still only feel part of it , you being around would fullfill me like a natural key you are to me and you hear this. and lke love once feli guess it is mute to reconsider. 
 classes walk the streets blatantly, the dress, the walk, the coversations,  the joy, the hatred, the fuming emotions, the negative acceptance, the age the sex, the mating, all life styles broken down itemized with conscios we will do no less yet prejudicesrule aquaintances because there are fear and judgement. each seesonly each or some preteorized complexity as each sees its own world reflection, youare clean you are evil. your gayity  marks my sufferance. do i force your eye or do you look naturally invested in what you see or passively diconnect from sight, no today we say when addictions sponcerbeggering but not any day from some the tourest a neighborly in action snobbery or the normal hand  holding ego strapping acept me and all my dogma oe be foul. like believe in christ or die by the sword of the christian.  i liked our first conversation. a clear strem of letting go and understanding i like now when i feel these moments to talk to you only a soulmates conditioing only a loves vibration .
  ENERTenertialcall issue eleven
  one does n.t think of society they cant see cant feel  the society we have removed from and left behind or just plainly step over . the society of the streets but there is the  society that needed  the truth more than more of the same needs language and comprehensive leadership to acknowledge the fruitlessness and tedium of the antiquated everyday we try to live. the streets with realeyes doesnt see the numbers you argue or the reasoning one exchanes to ease a sense of sufferance which daily creates normalacy. the streets need quatum theory, need the statemnt of 95 percent water and the simplistic holitic responces offered by a quautumagem for reason has become bloated with dogmatic corporate legal lawlessness. who argue global warming after 14 scientic assemblies inform us of it.   Bloated with anti commonsense  to protect a risinng and falling gmp which is  different than domestic national production, this all means so much on a pained night of not getting any cant find any or found it and the world escapes itself with high bedroom eyes and candle wax. with alcohol smoothies and meth bowls sex as the main corse for the rich who pay for everything so as to claim the all of american ideals. no one thinks about how they got there under the spell of violences and control, them with have rights over them without. and the big man lays evil glances petty and cruelover the party of peole confined to themselves ego escapes. trashy needs and sudden pain from withdrawal. but the addict has been told they are addicts our blind eyes dont see the addictions to things being normal. addictions to gas and cheap food even while we pay the prices to store front instead of conscios fronts. we dont create nonprofit buisnsses and a stable average income: a maxium wage insteadof a minimum.  no,  morals have turned to "more all s" and even feelings become arguable, that is where we live and the streets understand  and yet a wave comes without us and agreements can be heard. bouncing off abandoned houses with graffitti walls , eastern thought still ranged between the crazies and new age naturalsims like cheap bar talk we wake in the morning o tired to recal as the jones of the next day stars. all over again and we are fooled by time that says we learned something in the shamantic way, some of the streets hear like a great idea will always be an maddenly they limited ones cure themselves only to face what really drove them to forget and want to forget. and then the limited ones becom more limited a system of stable drunks the world looks , of pin heads with way to much money making the ignorance of a wealth system seem that much more wearisome . thatmuch why bother , it is almost always the artist who try to see some muse to help the audience thatattractes them that spirit that needs to feel or die and cant take just one with blinders 
this is why we create this magazine for the limits we need to save one limited intellect. you. save with agreement and in that support through a whole leadership of good art. we are the abstractions, we create WE NEED TO FEEL alright with the world before the world feels on the street alright withits self.   Maybe part of desk mess

at home i hate the love, for even as i know it i am alone forced into a little hole asked to be invisible for what i refuse it the modren struggle of all teenagers to save te world while only love can. and yet parents do care for love they have broken what was prefect failure hidden from deformities  buy a church a grouping. mother took care of domestics father ever olding back feelings ,yuth of the two creating a path without comment, perfectly unexplainable. a soap bubble in the shape of  the prefect house, home schooling and god. like the ise of the stock market with bad housing loans credit everywhere,until you cant know what is solid. then love what once was becomes an image others talk about god made jesus for, mohamid, buddha. but forgot faith love cherity as soon as shit hit the fan and money failed loves security. 

 today different ? thearpy and after feeling the schroka open i can not let it pass, a movement to see what is the glasses so arranged to change is a world of difference the emotional arrangement i accept from loving you. then last week anew doctorate sociologist presented me with a statemnt what do you love that came out of your trauma, and i am proud of me. i love myself , a self ccreated of the clay of the heart and heartlessness survival takes no guilt layer intercourse with the stranger sides , no marriage which wrecks me finacially emotional , no children i couldnt afford , and no ultimate statements.  
or yet that is the watch of good dialogue; no ultimates . they represent prejudges , i need to remember i love myself , i can not love you without.
but i dont seem to have the words for, a world made of organge.  Orange people orange floors orange light posts orange dogs, doesn't cover it but i love orange yet you can see it, and maybe dont want to the excess of anything leads to anoyance. . a new love for me stands to regard self for what i can live, what my talents are such as the reason anyone is attracted to me,,, the music , the writing .  my own happyness should have some thing to say but joy has been a remberance we suffer,  for knowledge and it is meaningless except in the passion we love with. it is the millionth karmatic exchange of ancient "whats always been" the need of energy the living. 
    For the last month while tettering between hope and rage, i ran around scared of my shadow and absorbed in you. and me. standing on edge together, a pure love and what does that mean.     my heart never laboring for what seems insane is becomes a peace i call on through the day, one that smiles at me filling my high with a cool we shallover come breeze. like i have discovered a devine connection faith communicates through like microowaves  like sprit and quatum thought will no matter come true in own very excistances. but still i am alone yet watchthe hours and days pass differently . the tellings of brain to look only with its prespective, these synaptic neurons that learn life and connect all thoughs , the body training of the mind like a tai chi we follow what we feel we know but knowledgechanges and people change to document this was always the hope but a sad motion i have made each little step would have to be seento present it properly, when most of it dumb luck and remembering love in a past tense , i learned with each love a closer connection to personal love. admitting a fear of love a htred even as each falseness cast its experience forward. ntil i remembered aagin timelessness such that a physically limited love lost footing  and then i saw a purer love and suffered for that next, for when does love for another leave?  such that some self surviving must become the rule and the vibration of love become the most important analysis of faith. so i told you of the latest therapy session what dobyou get from the trauma. looking at that question i accept myself and know the purer self. yet then i keep lookinh and wonder oon the creation of another false being some reversal in my thoughts create because of my ambition and outesider stance. it is a right sided thing to accept a greater self, one created of trail and experience, and the seen strength of idea and implmentation. 
  i felt you today, I wish i knew where you were and could write you besides here.  to partispate in your life through i fear you have left this town even as i thought i saw you last night it is funny to feel so inspired to love and a devine soul, buy a small couple of word from anothers lips  softly spoken. 

  and it one of the last dayshot enough to sit quietly listening to the creek, hidding in the shade on rocks they call for trepassing on, the creek owned to its edge but we sat here. on a warmer day during the first days i enjoyed.  day two after cleaned the rocks of the other trepasser,s waste. 
 and now almost two months after we had met here, there is the partings of others for not all can concieve a world better than when you got here. Parties happen here and people sleep here shit here, say they love you here. in the shade, on these rocks. you picked blackberries here i wasnt sure if it was out of hunger or to complete the cycle of grow and consumption taking seed to its next home far off around a waste station.  or maybe right back by the edge of a creek hidding from view the tp you carrydeep in your backpack for you travel in less than likely channels and hopes in your jouneyto make all men see love feel pure love so you can forget what chains you bind with in the blame so we kill or try to kill ourselves the scene are out of a movie with stinky vision, and there are others in your vision no seen by all others who are tortured by there love for you tortured by the devine insult you cast them to see of themselves of a life you leave behind like last nights dishes, but the fantsy comes toward another and reading dialogue and opion your retroactive brain assumes the need to again find what is missing for you must have and subconsiously trained the will of living, and i saw my first pair of breasts at 14 a week after my step father left and brother was gone and i was alone  so off to the pool hall (video games for a quarter place) and older kids drunken later older kids, i helped her off the lawn and back into the house being shy and trying to look away. she was tall and her yellow shirt pulled high up, she fell over trying to taking it off and layed on the lawn beside the gnome for a couple  minutes until i tried to help. i just got sick off the vodka lemonade my brother made and put in the refrigator for me to take and fill a tuperwear juice container with.
      you hit the streets earier if streets they can be called, did you go from friend to friend in an elaborate circle of mine and none, out side of the grouping, free game to plundar, for what ever guilt and greed could be used. i wasn't that bright and i was always alone . no friends just old men wanting to touch me. a joint and some fear i could never understand. and never have written of.  a culture outside of time like forgotten with gay rights and romans, mormens, and classic literture like war and peace the fifteen year old entery into society; the suitors barons , notbles of all sorts buisness men,,,, wanting the taste of spring a new wife or a next wife a first wife one the last for they were feeble and "sure to die soon".   a geisha's  first love auction.  and the sin was the seduction.  Tempting lonely men as you see easily your loves. but with most so much pain follows you, an every now and again does it touch you back?  when you leave all that brought you the hours of other pains and silence return but like stareing hard, feeling your foot when your hand hurts the wash has a differnt name a different cure and your back gets marked and you just change dresses. an there,  another set of eyes the spirit needy you mary magdoine,. you maybe will tell me someday but i feel a story if only to fill my thoughts between experience women grow faster spiritually and physically. the weight of the world in puberty.  the first streams send shock and a death reminder for many the first such incountry.  people start concious thinking.  
  my first knowledge of a period was from sixth grade and my deskmate behind me was this large breasted red headed girl. her hair straight and just below the ears. She would wear revealing sweaters and told me of the comma she was having sort of like a secret that was just between us , i only saw her in home room and art. so it was safe with me. besides i don't discuss punctuation with a lot with people.  
     i had no other friend and it was another school in another town and the last was filled with bigger kids that pushed me around so i wasnt about people much. I got my own solo in choirs and the teacher read my book report to the class. Sixth grade was cool at school but we moved in the second half of the year. mother got advancement.
  and i tried to referr the punctuation comment keeping my innocents until she showed me her hand .
a couple of days have gone by i am preparing the magazine for production i will grab my work last and write what i need to after i gather what other work i can fine . some sections are easy like i have some old notes on old movies i reviewed, well more like i tell the plots of  with a modern eye.  like the references to the imf in StageCoach.  At this stage i dont know what else will be in it.  i am worried i can only think of personal change as the savior of the world.  and it such a long process i wonder if people who havent stared can get the importance,  
 and i wonder if our relations have helped or hurt i dont know what could hurt you further than what misunderstandings and out right lies have done to you before me. 
 i can remmeber little of myself some times i always want or felt love would come like a shck of real air while i am in a constant stale room, i guess that is the spiritual side that wants to feel the attraction and give to make it perfect. but a game sometime when i shouldnt be, a game in how far my lonelyness and despirt passion take control and all is love if only we could remember but yetso dont love reason, i am one , i distrust it for so foul has it been used. legal bindings and religions the tellings of books which organized metaphysics vibrations and gave the world mass spread reading and fear . 
  i wrote a hook over the years ,, at most fear Atmosphere. today i experimented with it,  Friday i played, a guitar and a stool. Limited money.  audience recieving the songs standing above me , it was like i couldn't hid it fast enough to keep only three dollars in the case. the greater than me posture, a prayer bowl, like the energy comes in a circle. from that . i watch the eyes after. some times turning to a softness you see only in lovers, only some times and a tendar place you have taken them to . and some times they are just bored. and dead stares litter me for moments as i forget with the next "play  you an orginal tune  if you like it give me money."
and on we go today i remembered "the man with a gun. "

met a man, yesterday
he told me how his life had change 
on the end of a gun

sisterbrotherlover child
off to war
7000 died,
where has daddy
why has sister gone away 
missing make the mind 

chorus

spend and sweat for fourty years
my head my love my living tears
 and a man come up to me 
said things will never change  
just sign and thhe dotted line

and here they comes with there guns and there tanks and thing
 i banicade the door. 
its not mine any more.
swindled and destroy
 homeless and annoyed 
i am glad we bought  the winnabago. 

.  
  and who am i the last sane man standing .   is spiritual the only way a life finds health. refering to sciense i can not understand like microwaves and electric devises, we as a people choose part more than the whole. dialetic emotions i feel therefore i am in that i have found chane a constant  here a moment understood like the fall of spring to early loves, yet awake a voice of memoryturn where need takes learning..  just innocents  giving over infinite stars forms  , would i to believe?  i believe in cosmic waves 
in the form of graviatioal pulls off distant planets. i felt a ghost growing protecting me, asking only understanding what mechanics naturally are. i must feed bella. 

the purse a cross flower colored wih a three in eleborate brass worked double perpendicular lines 
right angle 
die a grams
a game of  to late.

i heard your voice stressed again
 to the point how much time
 awaits what i don't know.
a sudden understanding of reality i am no one so happy to hear your voice a motive i didnt know before strong i need to be the hope of solace with you,, or my dream of you, 
 quiet writting  moveig around the apartment in wet cold winter out side, of innocents working art projects and what? 
  i canot see playing tendss to predict responce i will play and writ and ask you to hang when you want to ump up and down i will always be writing down what words i can get to , you didnt make the choice i did , to feel the spirit or at least try and face the reason i dont then things changed when thrown to the fires and live pure to energy what is a devine spirituality. ?
i felt 9and i do try and xplain it, like a vibrational ave then i read about boen s and particle hysics and there is no stopping what will be seen as the greatest explosion of consciosness and awareness in both personal and global culture. 
  and the man 
in a can
 must watch
 from the jar

She found intellect alarming and admiring , A number of words she couldn't rightly place and she was puddy in your arms. a love of what she doesnt know, yet she always reached for better. 
Her own she already knew people contain themselves and stopped. 
  In that the sparks of question never lead them forward from faith  to a natural sence of peace , to the vibrations of that peace being the fact of energythe focus of the energy symbol god.
  and pre theory becomes direction of inner ness we can teach without  works  as practice can only do. you learn to fish buy fishing. , . 
  and she wasnt for sale but highered dementions reaching infinite the learning one consumed but never can fully realize until you become love.then each moment reveals what other moments lack the investment of smiles. but then she would get up in the middle of the night or just  stay wake mumbling by the window, so much to talk about silently conversating with the dead. and they waited for the morning wondering what you said for real last night. did they do something wrong is everything always wrong and tide alone stir us each with its own albatroses. after they found grounds to lock her us she wouldnt take the meds, evil little devises dished out by cheap indian doctor wh dont care for the language yet have such sympathy for you, but if you listen you are wrong for what tales loves innocents combined to create pains un fthomable and problems so complex on can not do anything but look with tainted courage knowing some where in there is the most delicate you know. 
  form becomes us all
 divided into our camps
some forms think,  the more common forms (or so is the suggestion of beauty) or grossly unhealth forms Proust dostovesky.
   Well really they all think but eternal ruts psychological paths are different depending..forms form forms of morals for the temptations. street signs to say what block you are on, but lsut and greed and possesion are on every street cornor the angles played and known fought over and elivated against reasons wih no gude but survival. 
forms just accept, but the sale of beauty of form is econimic preversion,  and a classiication silent and in control. cause the relivance is a power and super powers are most important in a world of forms until neutrinos .

 the controls never offered. no lusts after me, the cruel hearts less force of impending devine purity. spirit is formless.  Forms get caught in love accordingly.  Some forms learn what possesion is, the tide of others desire open doors and smiling faces the hightsof parties andthe lonelyness of she is gone. walk

. Form  constantly in forming themselve against it, telling self of pure love with glasses lustfully despairing. form hurts so many silently, or loudly  one for the Hellen of Troy, the other the hound of Baskerville, The first cherished then blackened and marred, sold to little girls and created on the warrior class of black shirts the swarms of sex industrials chemically masturbating a true loves feeling. a enddlessness of projected form all is fantsy fits one size,, and plastic card board cut outs of people get blamed in the end it is not the forms fault for how the form is subjected to irrelivance and discarded for the subliminal suggestions, the possessionn of others some forget self for the form provides and the spirit withers, 
for a normal form isn't cherished except in youth isn't taught to forget pain with what ever chemicals that drive away self response and belittle personal power until forgets or walks away.  but a form becomes communal without self awakening the power must come out. 
 watch what words come form understanding 
  there sectioned off to what can and cant be said whole industries depriving whole nature you are this. formed.  unseen.  for the form is whole formless. is form quautum understand simplistic a spirits formless  energy but there we stop as forms pass through what forms is understood to be a solid. environment kills people listening to themselves such that forms stlyize and dis-reason is an accepted culture, i ill never consider what is unformed system and geometric. as the element changes so does the premise cave drawing . forms learn what forms are .and tell against raving madness the crimes inflicted, starting with the young , where form is another possession and silence again the mantra how many effected incest and sexual abuse where love has become a spiritual understanding for the cruelty of misunderstanding or the form learns   askingetting adult understandings madness. 

lesson section on bio mechanics.

this should be started in the partical collider physic lab or the place where they break air, since 1954, and lately stephan hawwkins sai some thing bout them and so off to wiki pedia a non profit, to see, these partical physis are changing the definiton of matter i think we are quatumly coming to understand  pure health cause of these now common understandings , 
i am 95 percent water with brain neons and other energies formigng a one in pre theoretic understandings of faith as a vibration energy and path of self curing.


this layman says they are ideniffing  the energy called god and it is the matter of self and the uncontroled process of partical self proving we are energy. As such we are starting to find a new lexoncons of self understanding.  Simply put; if god is energy than heaven is now and we can differeciate between body knowledge and learning  spiritual self understanding for the betterment of the self and society. A dialogue that asks of time to be understod as infinite while the bodies conscios is finite.  A large leap?  i ,for one, I dont think so and elements of our society already know what i am referring to but, need to see someone else say it.  

 In such realiztions, wars are in there final age before globalizm, ormaybe we are telling the good news about the globaliztion because its just not a govening body yet, but we can get the pre theory first, we can look to seperate from body to understand and cure traumas. ,while improving our ives with mediation taught in high schools.  we will learn to recreate ourselves with the premise of energy equaling god that energy which moves brains through neorons an water,  that bio energy register by the cetti instute the purpose of idenifing particals of matter? What is the reasoning of metapsyics in a quatum age.
global knowledge is the acceptance and respect for,  time tried knowledge.
of all sorces such that we teach energy awareness in school for primary education we are the product of hightened simplcity and micro second understanding. such that poverty, after absorbing ll the early traumas of a society gone dead , the alcoholism and socitail degtradation of addictive substances , the agravated need for lust as respendant against a more common world depression than just poverty, ill nurished children , we start the massive evoltion of planet envormentally, we agree onchoise of healthydirecion thepeople wil yet lead we need reason to balence our suffering.
  
Here is the first steps you are 95 perent water.  All thought is perspective and tai chi help circulation, and your quatum age begins..  distractions excist but with a societal progesses comes economic growth changing systems and advancing buildings, all from a idenitifed unity with what has always been the action of faith. this is why we make the EnertialCall and why i see courage against all the corporate media. light comes only from dark. 
 you see invested people want to slow growth the one percent has no will to grow and is only for fullfilling status quo.. so before they invent a new model they have t sell you each advancement because then the new buyer feels he's getting just enough to feel superior than the old buyer who is grumpling over what he got in the cheaper less advanced model so ,,inorder to keep the flow going, the old stock out,  there has t be time t do this, or some clean ides were squashed because of more millatary and old global prastices/. the oil industry as a way to pay off the molems which hasnt learned seperation of church and state because of dictorial educations structures.  
  
 i can not help but think of you a daily love is over coming my fears. maybe it is talking of the magazine but i knowww through a wall we drove a wall made of subconscios tendancies and prespective added layers to a sheer surface slick and cunning created to defend  a silence the room full of smile no one can see the plywood walls and abstract shapes and stories a squared off bit of anything is a piture and explains go of art and coin but give me a subway floor and rush hour on a rainy day or better yetsnow for the snow melts and with thesalt makes whitish grey accents like clouds passing the greatest vision is one created by chance and unintentions and recreated in the mind. ther is a face there a whole story an only you to  capture it.
  i went last night to the open mike this time at the honeymoon , what smiles are all around fade when i took the fifteen minutes and spewed two chord rock . they all try so hard to fullfill a sound and i say fuck it. dont write it down and t can be repeated but i got distacted. and the whole improvisation felt forced. 
 tuesday and today is thursday ,i left your necklaces and cross with your father. i didnt want to. as time passes i want to feel the lov i could feel with you. iam left to wearing that jacket you showed up in the one to huge for you, but its very warm yet it eminds me of some crime i can not recall and i take it off fast after i get back from smoking a cigerette. ut it reminds me of a pure love cause  it is your like the necklacees i would hold and concentrate on i feel ou through object. i have only my thoughts of that time and the rocks and stream and holding your hand. i wish you would come back but further and further goes time. your silence and little laugh gives me my hope hearing your voice you are older now, your voice is ageless turned from the childhood no one seems to allow ou basically because love and understanding must help you see your path but you only get what you make. and instead of me being the whole of purity you pushed a lonely man to remember complete timeless love and there i saw you and felt my spiritual equal. i could only be happy you asked weather i was drinking and heard your release when i said no. maybe yet you will come to me a perfect apartment a perfect plan. for the rest of my days to feel you by me would be love forever , but it is one of those days when i feel everything tired the weed is ketching up with me. and then the other side of love which i try to hid but i know the depression comes out.  so lonely so dispelled from all the happyness projected around me which turnsoff as son as i dont care but there is only so much pretention one can take. all the smiles and comments even clapping for an act. pretty many are and about love shallow statements or you just can hear the words. the sound system without compression, or the desprite househusband getting his night out talks in your ear but say only enough to distupt the singing in your consumption. 
  good bad better best accepting the world as it is so that you move a part of it. people wanting sainthood withut accepting the sinner such that pretention follows denial and retention of lies. i can only woder again ad again when timeless understanding will come. is it to wait for the most desprite moments do we offer cure to natural apcolips. the light useless as its blown out. weather by addictios or stupidity or power or just weather global warming, when does art really come to see the time its in? and survive. reality a crippling observation people hid in a common avoidance. such that love become a given away object and not a whole ness you rest your head knowing. like i can with you. i would for every soul,but that would take leadership, to create community, like the enertialcall. 
 i havent wanted to sit in the apartment and go for hours on my new programs, to sunny out. 
 you were released yesterday i bet right now you are sitting in the sun feeling your freedom. the mental hospital behid somewhere no one will ask you about? i hope you remember the smallnesses as you compare life with life again. we consume living differently jsut feeling the sun after not. and there the moment spread slowly back into the subconscious anger. it might take little to fade but there it is. the pure slowly again becomes the inner prespective,  controled by enviroments subconscious influence. the kind we take drugs against but it a naturally acceptance of the time we learn until we apply a full love timeless faith. 
  Like a prisoner just released. you have need and love answers with sun and cigerettes, poverty and the faces smiling to see you. i dont know the reality of your release but father couldn't sign the commitment papers. Couldn't like he drinks the insanity away and would really rather replace your name with his own you can tell by level of drunkenness and the forced will to be the sober and guiding force of anothers life.  but he is the eternal street kid making a husle from dime bags to digatal buisness equipment living a twenty four seven experience. the plates on little thin sticks.    and the despriation to keep them spinning running from one to the other and three days and he would be broker than me and all those written off plates come crashing down. he doesnt look well and moves slowly change plan on how he feels killing himself because he has taken away your childhood and knows it . it is to see life that scares us now. and in that nothing gets done no one wants to change and know one gets to without need and facing what is. 
  the father the daughter and the holey spirit


dream is made from deviding all the intricates. sorting them out in the senses. how can sight change adding this chemical adding that one. oh look wait a different world. right there here of  me but its just a drug the world denies so much that even addction are never opens spken like the addictions to peace lead to blindness of culture. like the fall of a great society is the unwillingness too change it and complacency sets in. such that when new the addictions seem to open schrokas and enlighten butsoon the over use blands all. and we can no longer devide, one has become a constant an envorment and we accept to foster our own dream. the intricates become our resistanceto change. 
  the father-plays pac man eating dots, the orders coming in the angles on each email. the roads untaken, the market rising and falling against it self.
9/11/2014
with the introduction of a large internet middle man from the camen islands and then through china, , american buiess and internet shipping change stiffling the chinese busness and further reducing american civil liberties, will change, through the manipultion of shipping and documetation security. in other words  chinese products like copywrite infringing cds, sunglasses, movies  you name it. will be available , street vendors in your neighbor hood  and walmart avaible to door step.  so the internets will need greater security. and rights are going to get more trampled. 
 while dollars drop and teeth need fixing and cars need buying and health fails against perversion and subconsious equaling the modern tide of insultive personal change. and dialogues get lost more than work but who cares what works flows ike water to level and one dialogue type is all that is needed. done no need to go further yes the conversation gets started and you are a man on a stge forever keeping with thebeat us uselessness in getting head of it untill
 you sink into a groove and stay there . or accept you are speaking enough to let in the silence. 

 a little west coast to east coast rant..

 you got the sun and the land still, though slowly the leg of california comes to grip you all. the last three states un standing . no one winters in belling ham, washington but that is another story, the land makes you see nature. you see it and dividing human nature,  only after the moss on the trees and birds bright song, after the grooves around your front porch lake wears off do you remember and hid from naked ness. cold and out of doors alone or with a group of naked people all reaching for leaves to cover themselves. in new york you are cloathed with other people.
   clothed by the human nature, you carefully adjust before you go out to the sun, and beach and tide. 
  on the ast coast you tell some one you will steal that if they dont lock it away. and the reminder isn't that you are a thief but that theft excists.
and forever do you look out and your enviroment is the people you are.
 each side long glance, enterence and exit, being and not, of the far away millions surrounding you is you, for every interest an answer. every idea an ancient  stone worn smooth for the before your timeness walk and slavery,  facing the just us system and higher arch-y  of the stone in the libary wall. 
 buildings where shacks 100 years ago here, i have been in one of the oldest homes and it looks like Dorchester imported from the east coast. 

september 13th.

 the last of the money goes away slowly like a playdo staueleaving coins to pick up cunt  wondering between laundry and coffee at the coffee house where i might feel somethinga passing image a beautiful women maybe who will remind me of you. but all is mostly stories like the never ending sorting of gods. and i can only take conversations about bunnies and pets eyes and am the criminal i hate with a smile just over there behind my sadness . joy is thinkingand joys can consol me but not you i cant teach ayone to appreciate the small little organge ball bouncingor it choastic throries of life. no it is a failure to forget why and only offer "whith what"
the why makes us agrue for so many priorities shiver off into rooms we wait to be able to fully access. 
 and namely i am sad i guess evern the stones miss us and society has taken over on all front from trash around spills of beer cansand toilet paper , ppiles of oldd jeans and t shirts as the wardrobe is what you carry a done else. lottery tickets and ripped cigerette  pack the cardborad lie face up near a coffee lid, pick it up and t comes back remance of lost jokes of lifes hussel and hidden. here is where shooters come and alcoholics here tyhese simple stone ear the stories and pleadings , this quiet spot in tyhe shade of 2014 with the small creek where salmon were spawning  where bears laught before the big world came . the creek a gathering of life now if just the reality of teenagers and the all ready t far gone , and lovelys on a first datereciting philosophies which change the world for them, all else a reason why ,,,,
   one love to see the granted prfection of life one for whom it all made innocent sence some path other than , and some motive of survival. those who do not beleive it is because of belief not reasoning. a belief which flaunders are control and blame around structure which disarm raw emotions distract from natural flow and connection. yet though denial will one day want peace. apeace only timeless nature provides we change fromall around us. making us alone if we let it ,i guess, though it is harder to withotu another involved i miss you. the winter comes and maybe that is gettign to me to want the love devine i feel with you on my mind a lonely ness greater than not feeling a soul mate because i wonder how your day it going your week yourr month. knowling i could help some howand together we would fill in the peices i always knew would come with love though i wasnt looking.   and backward i felt you 
more you than me but then you only stayed enough to still feel the awe and not reality for love is seperate from those whom system begat as in i have registered in stead of kept fighting i needed to escape just to words the preformance isgetting old for m and i just want to yell after so many years of saying what i could i felt more than i feel. 
 only passion make me acceptane maybe also and i never feel itexcept from those who never get the pictiure, at all. then i am fineexcept i dont like the smell or the fear, so i am seperate in panic of future i can limited ly see the hard repetive of survival and knowledge. street scenes and flagrant sucessful people , like to talk to your father is like being in another world as he throw coins everywhere. a pawned dog to ketch treats pay off the security  depoisit get kitten food, have a coffeethen look at how much more is the need brakes for Tara, distobution cost for a better magazine and there is love involved and i stop. as soon as you are financing your own joy the money stops  or money only really wants to be invited to the party not the revolution.. 
  where money comes need must be questioned!
  as such less and less do i smoke  cigereetes or and the weed. 
 that isnt correct for yes i am ess and less smoking  right now working the smoke less way of quiting.  no matter how much you do there is always more,

 and saturday i smoke the last of the smoke wondering why i have always since first i felt it, the focus was enough to keep thought ? tobreak thought ? was the reasoning ? right now i havent been . loving you keeps me with wholeness . reminds me you will stil be there  and you have jus sobered for a long while and yet sound just the same when we talked the voices running crazy over me as i say so limited what i want. a room with ears and creation can not be so marred with silence. 
 agai the moon retrograde, but i sence something happening with you.
Beginnner lessons to spirituality we could teach and a club car with walls is all i ever wanted all the inteest could ask for and rv with paintings on the side and mobility a magaine and a cat media realted projects video with sun and standing room. a quautum media channel. 24 seven programing how to of beginner spirituality exsercizes, and quatum entertaining show( like five minute video art and extended art films no words all visions great music a sound track , the prefect party guest  i wasnt needed in the streets today hot and 
 making me weird the empending need , cigerettes and weed, need which drives me and i do crazy things yea less walk here and sell some weed need fullfilled but what there is a path here, hmmmm shouldnt walk shouldnt get involved,, shouldnt?. drunkness i hate. she has lied so much already. hmmmm lieing as a reaction to need? i should get out of here the voiceddraund by beauy and an unknown. kids story her eyes look so old , where is that coming from? i forgot, getting stoneder thought morph sub consciosnesscome to the surface a now. and the relivance is a matter of pride for some . i as one to keep honesty alive, as i give away my  bass so another can play but they dont have an amp and i am scared alittle.    
.
  in fact it was a miss step i cant do that i wouldnt have a bass. L---- gives away to get i only collect what i want and or need but then i should start to remember what i really want based agianst what i have . 
   Peoples shitty little western smiles bother me ,, the "oh that is cute" or the gawking of tourest of " i just love Bellingham for the street musicians" and then with that comment move along no money for the musician. 
  and of course i ama outside the open mike . tonight no big crowd. longer sets. maybe i dont know why i come sometimes. then i listen to the hostess and to fall into her voice is enough to remember. it is the live music i like also. though my role almost seems evil. as i listen to the happy sadness, and see the preformers so ingesting themselves with little regard for each other. and i don't know if it is holywood with people so proud of themselves. hillybilly words on suburban street accset, but i listen to the strength of the writting and wonder on the balence between entertainment styles? some acts are cover tunes looking to hid, ?? looking cool?? the western style seems so outside. or is it me because every time i take the stage i want to be different. bending to the stage. create for the moment , and must think about the rest of the act, how will this be taken how will people react.
 the set is over fifteen minutes where i stopped wondering what to play and went punk at theb last song, though i should have?. the excess is its own the quatum mentioed i feel you and there is a one for me  a one . i have never felt and maybe it is just i love to hear a voice say what i do but to release,and a crowd which no one says nothing  yet the hostess seems happy to have me there. i will sell the magazine there. though i teased a bar owner to night with the concept. but a place i wouldnt put the release party but there you go. i wanted to say hello to him a friend on face book drunkenly he tell e about his meth days, but there go, i wish i knew where you were are will be, one letter to you. for all the love about you i cant get close a set of rocks are forever for i will never feel that cause i know pure love because of you the diligence of live was proven and nomatter when i see you again i will feel at home . until then i will work and wegh all love against that feeling and slowly that feeling spreadswhere i start increasing the time i spend in love with living not sitting waiting , even  the terapist change if this is not meant i can see nothing closer but ? they are pushing you around i could hear in a voice.  ad to get time to think hurts the deraiment of isolations tripping over conscios and someone elses fantasys, where love echoes lonelyness and hating doesnt help i thought you choise me but i missed so much my fear panic kissing , 
what am i and it s like you are created not as name and personality but age and desires where did those empassioned eyes come from the silent seduction when i needed to feel entwined with spirit perfection fo faith trust.
  and i am not alone when i think of you . though into a casting mirror i stand more than know as fact comes to be rated of material but without that spirits align are aligned to the power of our all . little me i wish we could speak and sun the days and warm ourselves to know a heart under a shady tree will you yet love. and think of me or of a dream we will live and 
 i have almost disabled the keyboard. the thin plug in bent when i pushed it in on the right side without concern the weight of the computer enough to bend  it. i discover at the food bank sitting in a lin etwo hours long , people andlanguages children yelling jimmy . partners laugh because what else to do, they are busy figuring out the world. this is just another line , so few do they really see, food bank, shopping,  drivers liscense , no one takes their children into federal places do they, unemployment linnes, dshs line . line rush hour slowly mving toe to cheek. smiles at me the miss guided youth until i look up and a man stares back the same rules and regulations of a yesteryear because the interest can not be left behind ,  The  bank is filled well the line is with families and the retired , i can count languages and i can hear diagnosises , ramdom and hillybilly , the stae hospital insint and maybe why i walked the streets to, why this place to that, playng on the streets to have voice but voiceless what other roads i guess they are paths when you look behind,, when future feels like wading ,the deepth changing but always silky and soft in my stream wading but a water sign always prefers its own . 
  i found two stones last night,  about two inches sized one moreoval than the other, but it was dark icoulnty see them but for some listening       I GET LUCKY ON ONE SIDE A FAMILY  GRANDMOTHER MIINDING TWO,  little ones,  three or so, and baby, peruvian, chile, not sure, so cute and inquizitive as i drop my lighter and slowly place it on my toe using the other foot i look up and seethe three year old watch like entertainment i look back down concentatin for the lighter fell off and slowly after serval trys i get it to balenc then i walk a couple of steps as the line moves forward, i stop and look up she is still following my progress,something just for her cause no one else is watching. her wide eyes as i kick the lighter up to my waiting hand. 

red on white. 

  then a coffee session end words and people and places passio and lackings new people lonely males to males, i get no marketing done sitting in the sun, have you heard of the enertialcall. and what is can and does change.  your energy? in me, what life loves the living for once to move on but now i cant remmeber why i felt anydifferent a plautue, but it is cold here , so i must move but i have been waiting to write and traffic noise of friends gathered and they are  or one is mine so i keep one ear to the conversation and less than an ear to reading the last enertialcall, 
  there is a guilt i am not a better writer, even as it is more case in point that an almost carpenter and constant writer who hasnt spent his life in literary halls minding each word for the consumption of all, the attention most to the wide audience, and not to the self that reads, there is a difference with one you use the general ways with the other you create for them that get the joke. but still i wish i would have spent some more time figuring out the nature of supression, the guide of great elborate pensiveity we have come to accept as good writing, great is left on a shef for the Paris review yet the comments could be everywhere, a change to the human to human is happening even while the entrenched versions still rule systems . 
      god as energy instead of god as a being.   the later doesn't  rule out what could yet be proven to be true, as a pretheorized science allows for expansion, but we take the blame for the time and mind as a race and accept the individual realiance, to teach love without relgion love god energy as the vibration levels in bio engineering or a natural system of energy in water. my guilt lies in how to say this and can not.  it is like the walls are up for any recognition which eliminates the controlling motive of history, for all history stars over in the quatum age.  
  this term is not mine but i support what i feel it is, t is the buildup of sciense and the common mans access to information. it is the chidren in over abundance in the eigthies that are starting to figure out their power. i mean how many scientic anoclaves do you have to have to know there is global warming, each time the report comes out create by enviromental specialist, new caster groan for the attention whole government dont give it arranging obtuse convensions and disrthmic news days major stories displacing ,by contrivance, the importance. 
    
 writting you gives me more hope that i am writing words which you may read  so the words are written with the same energy we inspired but in the past was afraid of.  never feltadevine love a pue love which joined me to spiritualism because no one has been real spiritual around me and i can not accept the heaven sin for now is the importance, and we have out lived god the father for his bankers hat and foul laugh annoys us that stand with me. given many names, of late the open percent after investment is a catagory such that blame is all.

  and i gets busy on my little cornor first cops accross the street, i figued after the bike people who partied last night down by our meeting rocks, they are a day latebut keep moving the car to stay close.  then poorer than clean back packs show attached to children with adult eyes approach the locked back door of the apartment complex. in either case i can smoke and wait to remance the stone breath deep and pound keys  tomorrow night  may go and play. i did on sunday right after the main act C and the Em at first appgiated then ell really i dont remember as the last band recieved the well neededcongards the house with twenty fans and the leader going on solo tourin. i forgot the matter of stage and drifted like i was playn for you or for us telling rambling never stoping word a women on the raod a voice in the wind blantant to ospomsis which entertainment becomes i was friday night football while the wife and husband make love or argue over tuperware distinctive but a distanct abstract, i liked being the wallpaperthe greatest feeling is to enjoy yourself so i hadfun without all my fighting to sound good,, and i took the in justice in hand from the soul onward banks and the corporate cominantion of a metaphysical  humanity. 
 and just had fun never remember what i said and pepering it with hooks the "another day older another day wise. " and there is no such thing aas time so know time is wasted.."  ending with"10000 psyitophrenics on los agles." idont know if anyone really heard m i tried to speak clearly.  
 
   i feel you tonight through. most because i was about to write the oppoiste. and couldnt.  i guess a beautifull women smiled at me , and this is the first time writing its funny but when i think about love , i feel so many little changes ,  the call of hope and a reason for understandig what is fanasy as far as our culture  or what is real nature to a spirit as the trabsebdancce of understanding takes place , even how i comment on my night asks for loves hope, for there is no other bt i couldnt accept it before. 
  i went and played another open mike tonight, no sound person to much bass and tinty on the voice , but everyone sounded that bad and i must remember to get involved next time there. 
 but the second pratise with lead guitarist is over
i am recording , i wish you were here.
the next practise , it makes me wonder if i am really listening, the trip to camino island the lead turned drummer and no one is listening. or i am listening and the process naturally dictates lother to do the same ============================


adamjprice@icloud 

    

and there goes the day of love creates love, such that of change becomes a constant, slow movement almost just appreciating what is , what you are and respect for where you are going .aloof to it even, for the paln on a rock down a hill or a birds flight or a butterfly air wave creates day, finialy like water through a mountain. with time devides to reveal and make known what just is, but condemed for so long its abused action. 
  but lissten 
  and two women arrive the coffee shop lounnge chairs cotton bindngs soft as i sit, one tries to arrange books, her skinnaitive, the blue three quater polester looks cheap as thrift store throw away fasion is not her montra, 
  the back pack steached it is strong like a million times she has packed it full, then lifted, a lesser bag would rip,  watching her the  other stand slightly back her friend , herprotection from years of caring but she looks like she isworking security a stance spread legged shoulder wdth, a millatary crew cut bare stubbed atop of the stout strength of a short fram,  you guess the cliches a bull dike if i can us that term. a black cheap knock off ofa flight jacket street cloths, security wear uniform withot insignia, and we know her daughter has told the long story of meth and she still looks for her nightly walking the down town three blocks like a pt pull, the mother tearsa of police sqad everyone knows she walks and will be the first to call popo  she has street cred and a nark they call her out right and some time most times not, a closed mouth right from wrong solominty. the bok laddy swears she is going to get them in, and pulls out others puttting them to the sidee , " i could control myself, and said thats one hellof a load"
hard women, cop lady lookinng on like at a preseason football. keeping that same distance you would a mental paient, and reading the sistuation s all wrong, fantasies become us,  and 
" i have always liked books when i was a child i would be reading so much my other would threaten to take them away and make me earn them and i was like no way shhaking her head and putting in the same ones she took out now late now fitting , is teterious a dictionalry word yet, "yea my roomates call me a book horder " she addresses to me. " i got a book from 1820's"
then her voice lowers, as she prepares for the lift and jerk  the heavy wait to an already bent five foot high frame.  she stops addressing me,but talks to her confidant a softer deeper tone only loud enough that is one can almost make out for more natural ears,but min hear.  "then one time she took them all and burnt them. a pause a look to her friend "of course,  she was high."   
Up go the books ,
 the legs proudly hold
 we have nothing to do
 but collect our souls.       

i walk feed kitten then again out , the alturnitive libary on railroad ave the min drag of little town well fr me as up and down i walk the length three california blocks and back; some time. for the whole circle is down  east holly. the street with more professional touring musicians. the alturnitive is what it sats from the rest of the scenes, books line sheleves and the young intellituals show up with the look of a first gig when the audience gets to know each other and turn into a croud,, cheese heads pass the smile toward the door way but not our woorld i guess, big bald smiling easy going like just got off work. " the misunderstanding of those children" "good music"  rings out at someone staanding near the door. the  better than you wring just be hind the made up superiority. throughly devidedeach sucessive motion of technological personal ego.  and to veiw anything is like torture, to think a crim and moralistical unsupportable. besides the world is flat and god made usto stupid to see beyond our specialization. the stupid flock to education and specialization is the zombie, .lol smart is text book linear and economic ruin for smart has been priced mortagaged co-opted by people who dont realize we need answers for hard problems and a person shouldnt have to commit debt to do it. or maybe that is just debt is sin talking, and where does intelligence begin , maybe only with proper breething really, where is matter more what you can do to expand the application of intelligence such as schooling yes but there is the trap. without the proper placings of legality right isnt right . 
 i am stupid or atleast every time i think fool proof thoughts i find reasons through them so they are not fool proof, andd i am the fool for want ing spiritual freedom.  but ideaology creates so many sides to right and wrong setting up rite of passage , and the more i look the more its the stupid and "bend overs" who survive and boy are they pissed when i talk to retires, so much they didnt do,. so much they did just to have some slick talker  or corporate "policy" strip them of their safety economic safty as the cause is personal safety, driving  globalty marketing.  "save your ass" 
 it funny siting at the coffee house i see so much confusion and pain, so much incompleteness and a cherished voice to remain stupid painfully to remain stupid. maybe that is me . it is funny when you get on the button if you were here i would feel better.  Is all thought depression, is depression a thought, and then i have to look at myself with all my questions. 
    Stupid to spend life realizing life? a million voices spread to the mass without being heard such that we have to keep talking artist are not politicians and the artist gets less respect than an old ancient oddity. what good is a heart in this system when with love we cure problems and even the problems are less understood than a basketball players dating schedule.    
 still at the coffe house listen conversation about color of clothing and band , the mention of plato by the only college student among a group of twenty somethings trying to remain high school students. while the present day patroit is asked to protect a corporate globalism. those same kids with weak expression and limited global attention, and to watch them in front of me,  are unaware personally tails of death in a war zone.

 it is later and as the days pass i realize i am going to have male friend over for my birthday and no one else .old friend but each has the specialization of being themselves and are not what i would have hpoed, there are walls  between what we know of ourselves i write you but if you never read this i know there is a plain level of love i felt with you and i know it is a part of me to be truely happy and in lve with llife though i am still backwardly involve withmy own,  
  A new relationship and i remember i am not good at communication when its inter personal  i dont feel my feelings matter so when approaching real emotions i get fired up  and  only with you did i feel able to say what i needed to because their was life threateing fear i know but to break that surface made you  special to me. 
    so much water to a night our night.  its funny how water forgets and spend all its time bouncing from ice to steam to gather again turn to piss and then evaporates again in a continual moving. What is the word for water when it evaporates?like bit would be the same as in the clouds? or would those crystals have different names  
  a libra in love becomes air  with passionate heat changing them until they come to some new form but with the loss of love a solid the coldnesss devolpes them into the form hardest to flow of the crystal. 

  another daycloser and closer i come to my promise to you, last night i looked up Wenachee a small town with a big college and a river and many bridges still seemingly two hours from seattle. not much to bring me there but i feel drawn to it like the moth maybe only to sit on the street and write not knowning weather i will see you or weather you will accept seeing me, a stage of your past? will you just past by a giggle to who ever you are with, most likely a male he will look back as you tell him to look forward. will i just sit and feel bad, but your smile will fill me even though like a frienndd seeing your happy or atleast the joy of freedoom in ignorance. 
 i ddont know 
 it is saturday and i try and deside to go and play the farmers market. a system of spots forperformer theyy are, by rules only allowed half an hour  but yet i think many have paid someone to stand and say  they are next while they sit there for hours so in side is a rigging to the kind and good     
farmers market the sly dance of the common like processed food instead of farm produce.  andd payments to set up and who gets the spots coffee makers and food seller un connected to farmers. 
  yes later 7pm
   right after i went to the market there was a space i have been cultivating over the years five to be exact then one day these women show up their stand is two huge tables where they sell thing they have bought over the years but their attitude sucks. i didnt mind really i couldnt do anything if i did but i played all day and didnt make much and they didnt tip me out anything. i stopped playing there i dont want to promote them. today i went late and some one i knew was there but on i didnt know them really i thought they would be nice and since i was in the way of them i wanted to help so as i am setting up i asked every one one weather i could play and secondly asked if they would turn off the music,,  everyone agreed       (pimslur michel thomas)
but then i tried to get some stock out of my face and the guy who i though i knew well enough yelled at me. i just wanted to help. i was wrong for asking to play there, my bag, but he didnt have to yell and i started to shake , i lookat it as my problem i was stoned and placed myself in the way of commericiallity.    the one table with the two women stole my area with the commerical then i tried to deal and the second guy turned into a territorial shit head now this cat hangs at the coffee house i have been frequenting he is queer and uses it .  but he doent know me really his yelling asks for some acction like a whispering in his ear some personal injury comment lol.. i wont. stupid people should be avoided. but i listened to this same man complain about people attacking him for being gay but yelling at me for trying to help him isnt included in his dialogue so he is just a shitty gay guy, and i was stupid. but i recovered and played enough for tabacco for a couple of days.  but it really twists me when people like that these retail people who dont tip and take my spot. lol
 i am wrong but musicians ,no matter how good , get pushed around. retail puts out money but the musician work harder. 
  I thought i saw you again to day the same sunglasses on since    you left aug 11 , you looked straight at me sour faced it was a white suv. your father admited he was gay today. i was wondering how long that would take then he tells me he will be naked if i ever come over, i  dont think we will be talking much any more .   i want  to go to wenachee for your birthday just sit on the streets if i can not find your address,  those i know some things?  your sister raises pit bulls or that is the story.
 the hardest thing is the pain of seeing your rejection or even horror at seeing me . this is the pain i must face maybe doubt is the fear i need to face, i know you would lie to get what you want and no one cres aboout me as i read the world you have lived your father comes to throw up his "i am a geninus" thing  to day i said i doubted my genius thing he got a little weird and told me he is 200 thousand in debt and could be homeeless next week. but i knew he was gay after the first ttime he accused me of homophobia. there has been so much i have learned this year and slowly i am changng accordingly, today he told me you are free a weight lifted. i didnt know for sure, and only truth is repetitive a lie always changes and  little hints come with studders and stars. i will wait for you i feel. i compare the conversations withyou to everyone i weigh the feels for you with any romance i meet . and i  am foul, and disloyal out of fear. 
(chris chandler oak land) 
 i canfeel it. likeing myself is where we start again and a again then the personal modeling understanding  like remembering the feling and inplanting the action to feel the feeling again,, i like bouncing a super ball so i bounce a super ball the choas gives me a laugh, the color orange also, then slowly it be came children and dogs. now i always like these thing but never rembered enough to look outside of myself enough to see for real the blindness of the sub conscious in terms i really dont understand or havent studied er say, and i use them loosely but to notice is my goal. each little step amounts to another day of self understanding. the aligning of a quatum consciousness.
   quantom conscious, 
  
  i am outsie stting on a folding hiking chair three stics and a canvas top. the tablet for typewriter the bar wall , the front dooraside . the other side is my guitar, i sold a cd, but listening to the lyrics, the calm sweetness is entrancing songs of a common joy. and everyone smiles and there is the day wine and roses for my grave, but the closer i come to true feeling the more i notice feelings and suddenly i am making comments on people and littering , i want to stop but am having a moment an its meaningless except to me as i let myself feel alittle more and love all the greater for it. 
 i know the trade off  and i am streaching baby legs, touching the borders of wht love i really want from life slowly , prespectives learned before i was able to learn have lead me to a point , but i definately trained myself not to care, first thhat man is the stupidest creature for the imposed limits morals?facts? feelings" 
    and there is always something wrong of the way i go about things ' straight forward doesnt work.  i nervously walk into a poetry reading and tell the room about the enertialcall i don't ask.or really i form the statement as a question , and inform them iwill be out side.  i wonder about it, i dont like the white breed moralitythat floats round people and navels or the process if releaving guilt ovr have or the subjection of cruelity  to my sexuality. one in a thousand you wish for the flawed person uneducated and direct flowers and bunnies loss there heads  


bailey martinet
she is booking a show at the swillery, 

 but i was just told to move 
the righteousness evident
what makes for peace
pensive aggressors.
and release on stranger
or the outer class 
 or bold men
 the white lady greed success 
for all those femnist years. 
and eye just-us 
a criminal kind 
  who forget 
the arrogance and walk on.
the invisiblity torn
 unseen for blantentness 
denied like a suicide
 answer never wanted
becuase your are the problem
who dis obey.
the character of a poet so made. 
but character goes with audenc socal groping  when poetry is stoping and staring
 when good s alone mention clear and of it time , but cloud the vision with right and wrong, education proper mentality and  what is contemporary and fasionable awashes morality on the accused.
  and a good poet cant stand reading the enviroment tarnishes waves, for the shallow follow want acceptance for ignorance for weak stanzas against the history of  denial and prostration.  as they accept themselves in butterwinds and ello masses. whie the heats up and war on five different fronts follows contagios deseas and childrens laundry and how to clean diapers, the set for a cleaning and relgions are being blamed just before the definiton of energy leads to gobal peace through positive natural takeovers through democratic change becomes the reality of democracy and millionaries are excluded from politcs and choise is determined by state election and ingiuity and quatum answers aare accepted for a new understanding to life love and libery in one person one vote democracies,if we have that long. it is hard to sing at the apocolipse,yet
 it is my birthday and i love being alive right now for maybe the first time becuase i feel hte change in me the reaching out without motive accept the magazine and further love being myself searching out ways to lfeel. even getting surprise how i letmyself feel before dening the negative anmoving on, that moment of recognition alarms me and eases the next step of my day as i live in lala land ,in the retirement of thearpy,, where love has come understand and i hope by living. 
 i felt a devine attactment and by model we can feel our way.    
Dear mother, this is the second time I have started this on my favorite thing in the world my new tablet,lol and thank you. I really wanted one and it was on sale. And so far I haven't dropped it or given it a bath or anything.  It allows me to write out side on a non obtrusive computer. Which transfers to other computers and this makes three lol one is huge.  on is the laptop I got when taxi driving,which is pretty without but works great but she doesn't like to be a portable as before,lol and I have had her about seven years . but she is my home internet computer .this one is battery and I am writing going up the stairs. And yea it is taking forever to walk up the five floors to my apartment. I miss telling u about my life. I really only talk to Lea and Bella and a therapist,lol
I have been playing out at open mikes and the weekly farmers market right now. To get people to like the magazine on Facebook . I am making an issue right now. And have so far talk to two bar owners about release parties for the mag..
Otherwise Bella my cat is  , and my apartment is great and I should have it for a long while  its on the fifth floor and has a view of the mountains after a little residential area, I will put pictures or a video on facebook. Also I fell in love this summer. I can not say I will ever get to see her again but the feeling gave me such insight I have been changing and feeling like reaching for my love everyday.
 Tara my Toyota wagon is fine
The other day the battery the cheapest one available last year,blue a core. Found the best battery repair shop down the street and got a new batery
 this is one of he last night before i go to print, a terrible karaoke goes on to my right and accrosses the streeta ocuple sit quietly with a sign asking for weed for the unemployed down the strret is another couple , no sign traffic passing the bicks are for travelers peple whp tyravel for what ever while a house some where provides what black market demands and you can 	=
 
  then its your birthday five days after mine , i have been ld where you are but i dont believe it.  only a call from you would give me my present
so i will carry my phone on which i have saved minutes but what love cab survive btween us is a devine union. the man lieing to youabout me if you ask and lying' to me of you but we know he lies but you did you lie , and was i taken by what fullfills me insteadof what is real. there is only  fantasies to live life in such taht here i am still wanting you to read this , maybe i have replaced fantasy and now only understand what fullfills a dreambut each dream is  subconscious and some time i dont remember reality and reinvent reality to fit, butt you did wake me up, and for a greater part of a month i worried over you . alone. and saying i wouldnot try and find passion because nothing seperates me from that of us. I have been collecting other peoples work for the magazine but you inspire me to step up for quatum nature if only by the words you sid to me of it. when you told me of the love in energy. of the hope of energy of he faith for which we use to replace it, but tthen i stop myself wondering if i have left the sanity which really hears was i so desirious to not listen and the case of personal over ride, the youngest child wanting to teach the eldars.  only thinking about an invisible girl gives me sight of the sanity i havepossesing me. because to love is enough and i can only love what is like me maybe i am always lying to myself either in sucess or failure, i noticed over the phone your father showing me what fialure sounded like as he told me how in debt he was and i uess why he dodesnt have time for who he even concsiders a new friend , ib like listening to him tell stories of your family. i felt closer at first, but everytme i meet him hethrough money at me, but when he had a hotel room and said i could sleep over, in drunken slandar of me, i couldnt deny it any more he was just another homosexual trying to mess with me. and i guess i responded in kind never telling the truth, not even trying, sitting listening knoding my head, nothing to say to the onesided dialogue, allthe time waiting to ask what your address is to say i want to write you. i said it once and didnt push it ,  
  but after allthis time and i last saw you on the 11 of august, i have felt this meaning out of our lessons, for me to feel love again was huge. i had no worries for a second to montra was complete she said she loved me , someoen beautiful loves me, the path ways opened to me loving me accepting my life because someoen else loved it felt it understood it, all the dreams one could hope for with the energy to partispate and even the mutualsecurity to come ahead with me . for a moment we have peace then you left and i couldnt lock my door i remember i was going to meet you at the open mike tat night as i sat at home and complained to your father sixty dollars he gave me then a hundred and the recording session then sixty again the last time i saw him when he said i could stay  over, the other day he just said i am gay and that ended that, torrow i will try the old number and see what happens .    
   i didnt figure him . to be like that thoughagain i didnt look and kept my blinders on to hear of you,  i wante dto tell him take i would take care of you thati would let you stay with me and we might be happy with that in our beief in timelessness and the principles of a common fate thhat we were soulmates and that i have fallen in love with my feeling for once in my life. but didnt the model sits in my thoughts while i try to live more in love because love leads and survival isnt demanding of me right now  a place to live  warmth showerr a cat,th first time i wasnt you bouncing from house to house from van to car to porch, mostly because ungay men are not welcomed not at my age the youth wore off long ago, suc that when the street shit from your father cast me back,  i knew the party was over and the undrunk snake would have his day we are both born in the year of the snake.  so anole my birthday had a brief visit from old friends aand a letter with money from my mother i guess she forgot whyshe was mad. but the letter went on to tell about double knee replacements  i will never see any money, all gone for hospitals people trying to save themselve from pain becuase no one mines them that didn't mind.  but i feelwhat she didnt, and would never' ask.  Hard i have also lived mother sending me money was birthday reget. it is the one day she will always feel me.  
   and i feel me tomorrow i hope everyone loves you as muchas i do, or why be there.  i hope they all, whoever can come to you an give you the day youdeserve for being you. they are not as bright as they say or they woud know how we feel is what we live, money doesnt buy enough to replace a broken heart..
  but then i go somewhere in this i have to again come to me the newe inspiration i felt this summer over you has become a battle over myself , you see it is interesting to me how love the vibrational focus creates such pathways to see your self through,.
 and i saw myself through you.  what was joy became fear , fear overmuch more than you would know fear of again loving and realizing howmuch i wasnt positive about my own love, the love that brigings out how insecure i am, and the endless fanatsy of love yet being fullfilled when all around tell me that love is gone, yet  to feel love at all leads, and  i try and grab on to all the feeling and importances of every day in it now, 
  the remnder of another feeling the same about energy and society even if i am putting words in your mouth,it was the feeling of that moment forever ringing in my thoughts happy birthday. it is funny how life works, forces seperaate,even mydreams of us. 
last night even hearing your voice gave me a smile so intoxicating I could only know from the three way call every moment communication sEEing the empty bus station, feeling the long road ahead, yes i am here still reaching you the only way possible.  my silence said , through a laughter i couldnt stop. while all i want in the world is taken way ,her will? to the next sister, bossy unconversational quiet withh all the pains shared and denied for some as we live what heart they given up as maskeradeere life moves on but withotu it lessons , to learn you must feel even as feeling is for another sufferance un accepted of life,  the fall of the romans to for get feeling and intuition for cold reason, the fall of the materialist who throws  away what is to learn from . 
  my father died before i was born i feel my mother crying? i realizd death before birth? but the feeling lost  in such encountres are jewels cast to a desotesee that you walk martyre for joy ful eyes to heavens light constantly, your light laugh so tonal like the instustment creatd from a branch of an enlightened tree to always be left to a wish to rejoin, the mighty solid. energy crated and relieved ,stress from are yet others cnfusion for in love we cherish, me for you is a conversation ,is an inspired of all for all, the extremes anser instead to the placid remains . we are brother and sister father and mother, we are a candle which refuses what cicvil winds condone somehow the covering of self reasoning the fight of energy nature vs god the church stae and inforced personal repression . the fit or die. concern not built in. the lawand state verses nature just-ness not written for who would say the right to breath needs legal regard. yet techonological self body tools are not taught and tyhe role of paic upper structualism breath for the chest are not commo knowledge, or that you cure the world by curing your self.  
  itis for you i will  createthis magazine  foryou and clcoe it is for all the pain  i was allowed to suffer it is the welcome of love. 
 there is no other way to live life but how we live it, 

monday 9/29/14

 i didnt listen to the news or understand. or understand anything new . the savoior i seek is a grinder for a pound of whole beans.  the redemption from my povertyis what little joys i can take or steal or find in the black liquid that eases my spirit, and lets me think wakes me up so i can feel the day start inside me where i hold my love for the cosmos and feel apart of life i have been driven away from by the brainwashing of a american commericiaism the taxation of guilt and greed to match debt and interest.  but this is the waking of homelessness a coffee at the coffee house the reception of my name spoken for places remember the street wake-rs who buy one coffe for three refills and internet usage.  even the day agrees in the pending gray of rain sometime soon, a grey i welcomed for it meant icould sleep and read when the sun bakes a soul inside the car as the summer has been. the rain comes as rest, long achieved after the perfect sun and summer created sleep hours from 10pm to elen pm which dont account for the hour unable to sleep the ptsd of the right curb or the chance encountres of drunken children or the rememberance of them pounding on the car and running away. a chance encounter which fullfills all the panic and paranoia of sleeping on the streets even in the comfort cheatin of the car. the warrior nature arises and sleep comes on a battle feild. in spurts of the american dream.  
 i am fa from that an apartment i have nd suffer only from whole beans so i come to coffee travel out my door and down the streetpassing the bus stop where someone  asks me for a light for a snipe and i thak another who is picking up trashwhile pushing around a trash barrel ful of water for the many plants the litttle city maintances in the ever present presentation of a tourest town. all to present the effect of not needing to think for a moment to forget really the wars econimcally which proceed mankind in the global democracy and equality shadowing life.  get all you can while forget all you are such that nature bows to ecomonic personal and enviromentally.. 
 and so what nice plants all yellow and purple line the streets ,what peace comfors our minds and spending habits , no apoclypseare we saving for  no decrease in the stock market or globally affecting nuclear fushimadisaster can we recall for the cleaness of that second hand pair of marvelous boot in the window we must have ,  we dont recall the level of radiation allowed in food, or the build up which alloows the spread of cancer, or that our children will over pay there tuition and go poor while working and desitute when unemployed , for those present watered and presentational flowers are every where. the artist can not forget and the happy artist can not remember. 
while you float into my dream of life, your softness your wisedom esculating me to love all, alone i was unremember myenrgy as body ges slow mnded with joy awakes with love lives again, everyday its passions more remembered because it takes but a moment the frog prince king. or so it feels remembering our legacy is the strength of our love, and the hmanities are love ulimate reminder , the sun comes our of a rain layer sky as i write. a smile and commoness to an energyfor i am the first day of fall as birth has gestation. even as we must protect we must give withotu cause or motive. 
  but most is that you might be strengthened. youmight live out what word of metaphysical responce to faiths focus up ccan through loves reality as natures common sence, i see smell feel taste hear and love which is faith intuition astral travel holistic medation ghosts  and the quatum physic mind the evolution of human pre theorized thought or just an acceptance of eastern thought. 
  the sun stayed out this tme as i sit,watching thecrowd pass struggling to carry a baby, or the air of pretentions covering strangers , in the milli second , smiling at me with a wonder, "oh look someone is writing" the fresh grinlike a circus ride the i love rebellingham song playin in the tourest mind , to the pretentious, "they didnt look at me and i sat to be near them "  i am a great musician or writer or artist see me. who only talk to people of their ilk or conversate with the less than great an air of you don't know to every movement and slanting, the art school student or the local drunken scene kings and queens of art.   

 i dont have any money and i dont have my pen , i havent signed up. 

 ravours bliss , soft,

six poets in the first again the cute and simple but the second had a scare of money and poets, 
   andall elsefalls into memory i did the otherside of a peacanwhcih no one got cause it basicaaly said we are not really living suspended aganst harm  we hid ansd pretend we are talking  toeach other through electric line and 1 and zeros, but for get our touch and there by our humanity. leaving feeelings to be understood by therapist who really just blame us for feeling at all. t our fault we are wrong against the culkture of our time a land where only the greed and cunning get by the morality lost in books and evidence against us. but wait morality isnt law it breaks none and often is streached beyond the animalizm that creates it, immoral to do this but yet it done all the time silently with a wink (and innocents leads us to the rebellion feeling in a heart new ready to face the truth which others have faced a trillion times over, we forget that depending on education and upbringing. isolated as often the publiclcally educated are, we feel only ourselves , young and streamlined , beautiful ineyes which will see the first torments of sexual morality. taken into closets of weird beasts allowed to excist be cause we are in a jungle personal liberties are struted around, silent and controlling factors.  Young eyes first consume. That "beyond- them" like a super power feeding off the energy of the old who crawl to get near them, and ecomonmies larger than the national debt support it , condon it, media thrives off the referance and is silent through the all even as they pronounce the terror that is the only disagreement, un adult crys children before a cognitive age, a mind grows with the pains and deaths it has realized a sixteen year old living on the streets as a run away since 12 knows, is a different creature than the preposed image sitcoms and movies sterotype, yet, in that create high thiegh dresses and flesh fit clothing, tells stories of power and submission and rightious violence, creates heros who suffer for some just cause yet you your self can not for justice takes you out of the rut built for you preplanned prents possibliites weighed in the first years subconscious such that the moral sexuallyhas already been reached to understood and answered, taught through model. yet the 
silent wolrd excists aroud you, a battle between corrective responces for we are not physical base lines except in energy and spirit , where all the trainings of sex and difference fade away, created in gods image it is said when god is an energy. bio energy the innocence rewarded with nature. 
 complete in fresh loves pure and unintentional. maybe adrift without focus but there the pugatory,   
  then there is other kinds of morality , children learn and silent it becomes after, hidden again as major plots. violence a childs consumtion, so many tale start there such thatjust walking to the coffee house the taes is another man screaming on the side walk brand new jeans,  just released prison or intuitue if there is such a thing any more thin clothing hanging off his i am still strong body, screaming his pride against a loneliness  doubt and the street said addiction like a norm of the screamer , Muddleing along we laugh at the sreaming leaving the throat of another write this poem, scream this met-a-four.  he flailed around arms. cursing someone , i watched him go to the nextperson in his path, Can you tell me where Opprotunity consel is? hs commanding voices cowering the streets before him college aged slendar male . the first one is avoided his head knodded , and simplly didnt know, the second tryed to reply, and et his voice was asking for authority, so of course here, the glass wall breaks and a first person dialogue seems required, I know where the Consul is, I say in a voice to match his i guess because i only use it on my cat ti gets attenction and tells of warning with its strength, he hears me where he says , two streets down take a right whats the name of the street of the street cornwall i say while he says it on cornhole, his voice stressed his action telling of violence as protection the street following his every move. the coffee people calling the police, but i was in it , there in front of me looking for a weakness he came to close for a second and my hand was up a curved motion intended to go forward all my ears coming to focus for less than a seocnd of motion, about to deflect what didnt come , i took two steps back and he started to leave ten feet twenty feet away he looks toward some that had stood up to helpme which wasnt needed, and he yelled at him,  "i am strong enough" every thing without words wanting a connection some where a connection he wasnt going to get from me,  and he didnt address me for the next minutes turning instead to the first target. i had defeated his approach because i stood where he tested me. i past which meanti needed no lead up.  and my heart is dull and waiting but there so many years of dealing with myself he didnt really want a fight with so many wtnesses, and i didnt exploit the weakness further but said "no one wants any trouble standing right where i was, one more choise of victum, everyone remained passive conserning him treating himlike a child, i should hhave forgtten by now,but to them that dont know me it said i was a real man,  i wonder why i write this i proved only that i hate yelling. if i cans stop it i will. 
 all day i watched the rest of my conversation turn toward violence or tai chi that lead to quatum theory yet no one tried to understand the aggressive, not ready for what they thought as aggressve, like a dopg protectinng its master eases off when precious isnt  at risk such with the subconscious and the external understanding of digity and self esteem for that person . i have no ideas of the body interchange with the other person after, our child throwing down his bike to retrieve his jacket, no good exit for you, yelling the while half looking like a pigeon despritly wanting the crumb but madly looking up at the person with the crumbs weighinng speed and size causious, grabs the cloat as a side gesture his act still on the animal wont be decieved i am a man it says to much like i start too think hes gay. just the right size to be someones cold bitch but thank the stars i recall from something that had comercialls,, then off he went.  forehead forward bike aside , two blocks down to take te right. 

 everyting to floow i bum a coffee hopeing i saved him from jail and me from not getting a coffee only special people get on the front , but
 binside i looked around the cashier still on the phone to the police, and noone looking at me, no one met my eyes. like it didn't happen and i wondered why people are dying in forgein lands but people wont stand and talk to someone who is only getting worse off for there denial.        
  and the best money for a young male prostutue is in washington. women marry gay men who are so devoted to work that they are never home, funny that,  silence breeds secrets, until morality is something you get caught for.  the secrets used against you. morality yet is agreement and fouled by misconception , i will not kill.  
   What is mortality besides a word. i ahve to look at that what is morality.

  october 1 the money cames in.  i have drank enough coffe talkin on the street yesterday.  then i pause yesterday my neck , after the violent person then, the discussion coming up all day. 
I  became all pained in my neck but what is the ways of pain. i left the sistuation and moved on the life is the pain the hope is seeing it. moveing on accepting new facts and approaching what you can control..
  but love opens doors unopened knowledge come streaming in  self rightiousness ? or the flow of feelings the past stores subconsciousness like cursing is anger, i wak angry talk angry, or so it has been drawn to my  notice. i got frustrated by someone that was talking about music with a statement of math and then the hurtz involved in the perfect note but ddidnt care about knowing the circle of fifths. it is silly to get excited around a point but this same person listened to my gift of the greek mode.  and said itwas good but then told me i was being to agressive. i get tried of training musicians when there are so many books  and it isself that needs to change to understand , but to apply the change to self  i looked for the rest of the day at myown anger the frustration of system and the years of abusive controling commonly faced in my generation and that i faced and t```he deepth gets wild i have never been at peace. first it was a step father then a brother then a system
 when you send a man to war you tell him to be crazy for it is insane to kill and yet when he comes home this same sanity becomes questioned  by love ones that need kindness and hope from you. they need you to come back to sweetness and yet the systemmake coldness an important part of the consumer (to compete for a lesser price) and the retailer to get the profit they can.  no bar set for how much,  just a demand for how little, economics  has a pycoogical influence  and is an emotional dialogue. in that  the killer instinct come out and is nessacary, americans have lied and died over that. my street persona is a real self i am mad alot but there is not one listening so my body talks of wwhile the sprit chooses to consciously forget yet miscommunications tae place in body memoery these same path ways of brain sinapss often mentioned. but like we mention neutrinos and god as making up all things, we as a person need to.accknowledge the is and isnt of conscious awareness,  or is it the is and growth tyo a better world of perceptional wareness, changing day to day with you. it makes me angry that naturre gives perfection and man kind messes it up. 
 the apartment complex  feela like a conscious mind . bits and peices of other peoples lives you consume in maganfing glass short bits you leave  pertry dish size of lives you see, take is a strong word. do we take advertising as a prsonal affront is there more there nthen proposed 
and would i wrrite for no one without the attentions to a known force of energy consciosness and the culture of changing mass emotionalism.  i guess i would. 
oct 7th the first week. of october and the air is still warm and the day grey in the morning, sunny though out the rest of the day. summy and warm like a death sentence and it feels odd. just as my inner ssystem get ready for the cold ieven had my wintes here sickness last week in the rain and chill. but such is the wonder of right and wrong to global warming we lie to ourselves as a race now. 
 but the day becomes whole and i imagine my problems as the only way to save the world. so yesterday someone reminded me that i am considered to be violent but then i think about how i stand and how i get excited. it is a fallout of laboring  of child abuse of walking city streets un cared about unprotected like most children but i survived the excess has given me a passion to keep living in love with life a childs innocents maybe to enjoy looking on the words the pictures the imple art that i live,  but here we aain come to the  next hurdle, when people get offended by my seeming aggression it is their weakness. is a short answer. but i try with necklaces and long hair to stem that nice clothing and shoes. all the planned look asthe west coast perposes to me while these thugs all wear t shirt the clean for rich dirty on poor and its almost like thepoor celebrate the fcct with the right dirt almost like a special shirt is used to go out side. . i am  so alone out here i can people watch enough to fill the void because the people start haveing the same story, addiction welfareor some illness including handicappig age , the rest are students or the local crowd of young  drunks. all with half wy dreams and tortures in this small town normalization and everytime i can handle the world i talk of going back to boston. but inever will i was always the outsider while all the other kids seemed rich or local and i was neither 
  Out here and falling in love was a momment. but i went no where this summer, and the love turned out to be insane like i am accused i missed her ever since . i might have felt like people do yousay they love jesus,  a devine love i might never feel again or even there i stop for love comes  fewer and fewer time as time goes. as i age. but i smile more at children and dogs and i still find the nature of a common man a cure for all the problems . just i alone follow the spirit as a learning ground tthe real intelletual adventure i can only hope through entertaining and creating more entertainment. people on the street even pass me as i castthem off with a silent grin or a i am not going to benice thing again the ways that have kept people away who would include me when i wanted to be whole to my dreams , even though this is the dream of the construction worker to go west and write. eah nail and board coughing fit from plaster the tired hours left to pen and scrbbles i cant read now even if i had thenotebooks which get wet and forgotten the spottchy blackenedsmellingpages filled with blue ink. found stuff into the back of the car when the cancer has eaten away the bottom of the chaste and every thing is wet rom the splash of the street. i have never been able to feel the story most important than the one of life. but i still havent accept the linear even as now that becomes more the fullfillment of the dream. every thing at a stand still the economics of poverty gives me a freedom ive never felt no bills a house a cat for free. no money so the little escapes of coffee and cigeettes and weed , is my all. women see the condition and without fail run away better to see some thing else to give your soul somewhere else. than live what i call retirement. but i stuggle with just not caring , there is a nature cure of self it comes from living love through joys and attentions. the stupid rule the streets , the ganged up. the players of eco-nomics social relgions,  I am an out cast from everyone not insane enough for one or another grouping i wonder how educational systems would take me. or i them, for as we learn love we react more trusting ourselves where i never would before and everyday i am too much for people, and what i am seems my problem, i lie i have been drinking alittle a wine again sundaynight , a beautifl women who smiles at me but who is at least twenty years younger than me. but i dont think many know my age or wait i have it online and anyone can see.  i am going to but up the videos i made this summer tonight  it is endless the amount of words i spew at the earth just to be a wall hanging and work more the fame is pushy.  


part three
it is morning october 1 it has been about three months since i have felt love,august 11 was the last time i saw you. i got to hear your voice,over the phone. still so dispondant left on to a three day ride on a bus you all alone me that way forever what is to come i have no idea love rots me, turning colors to know how long i have sat in the frigerator of my cold heart it is not a new place such that i have made ice schulptures of the rest of the love that are already there mother brother ,myfirst second thrid all itemized by memory, sorted by the learning of what love becomes when i am to blame in most cases. myself sit beside you.  Holding your hand which you can not feel.  living my frozen excistance since fourteen maybe for the moments out side in warmth in love have only been shocks to a system use to being alone cold unlove , like you eyes who shared mine or mine that are yours gazing at the mis approperate excistances around us. it is time and caring lost to most, as light understands civility.
we see from the light made  the core of being the only hope left, and yet for our intelligence we are martyeed. cast out useen. but with the approach to enviroment so the spirit waits for the day no other hope excists.  we are the guards and why i still write you. 
   but the coffeehouse is to loud and i look aroundfor more than just me and only see life lived on shorter lines which promote the common economic, no one takes a stand. and so i go to therapy to know what further confusion i suffer from understanding myself in civility.   a quatum voice must stay discovered. 
 its weird to love you, alone i wake and can not start anythingwith another it has been to see you to feel you and be left, cold to another for the devine i feel still. or maybe i am just nuts loving always some one alone knowing you could contact me and don't.  which i guess now makes me stupid alone and insane, you will come back to me all the time though our time was short you were the only one who understood whyy i have lived waiting and why i saw you so force to be alone and i turned you out saying we had to spend two months alone i am forgotten and crying seems my only release without you. i am alone without you and you are gone for me.  and i suffer. but that is art, the difference of what the world is to the dream we see of it.
but i am without weed and sadness is through out me i wait to cry over something and i dont know when I will break down but maybe i wont. mybe i will spend the day no looking around not seeing the crimes or lonelyness maybe i won't look around to hear the pain in peoples voices. 
  but it is to easy to forget what is my own pain and what is another ,its like i feel others pain and only regard myself when tragic is the tale until the i have no pain like i dont see what pains me for pain means something is wrong and the lowst stories have become my pillow i rest on, I am not there i say as i watch the streets littered with homelessness, old and young but the young ones get me the most they havent made the choise or given away choise yet, they are suffering youth, leftovers from subconscious implanted nature and the documentated slanting of history mediated like a top ten authors listboth pulling from polotics and referance you say it enough time it becomes true. the brain turns off i guess, or maybeyo fight harder to forget it, the one who called you stupid before you had achaance to be dumb. 
   that sounds like me.  the emphasis of a man to try that much harder but in that forgetts and leaves love somewhere were it is only a fantasy because he seems unable to love life. Walking streets looking for his "better than"  to lord over? Nothing against our frustrated soul who need t feel superior than someone though he walks without the knowledge of what is creating his temporary peace, the sucessful clean people he can still see as they look at him in the superior analysis, the world of the milli second the understandng of body world and an actor ablility   
  the sight is always the first step after the words, but beware for soon you can know a truer love than what you have grown to and then comes more emotions which is the final step to a platoue on a esclator. i fell in love, as model, long ago but  again and again i only felt the moment which blinded me oa i accumulated crime i couldnt explain most because a low self eteem halted my growth and it is hard to argue for the importance of a full conversation with responciblity when you felt little for your own short comings and would forget another to still cure your ambitious life. so i forgot the need for love like it forgot to love me , and what is yet more it loved me for body and inocent but would read my work or acknowledge me, so i didnt acknowledge me and thought think i am worth less than even truth could . . , 
 i never see true evil, only addictions, and stupidity the ungrown and the tranquill acceptance of an immoral world.  the world never stops to remember but silently lives. 
  
oh and then things change and you have left and come back by the rumors of your father. its nothing to you maybe you have never contacted me and the fool falls where other disregard time means nothing to some. and i get lost in it. it pounds away at my thoughts what vision and emotions i feel, felt or just know without the emphasis. of one love but here we are . i can only tell my friend "i am in love" a shadow appears as there leading picture snapped to freeze moments left to ponder alone your smile , the ageles creation of time, your hair and eyes doing a value other would over look as you silence your own feelings.  or that is just me thinking of your life taking a break from caring about my own? for the connection no leaves me cold to all else what love isun celebrated is what life has become a set of words left to argue over. as you teell you to the crowd of people telling themselves.  all voices into windd some listen to and understand like a therapist exclaiming the meaning while they listen ranging themselves against forwarded emotions the freudian couch and different then communication i would have a speeker and listener cry together acknowledge the pain and be done ,  but there is no end when there is illusions to begin words spoken are speaches of sharespere understood by graduates the placations of kings, and street rable for television. how many learned cunning from macbeth.  broke down communication for the  first time in the 1600's where we, who wrote, had to hid remarks such that the levels became symbolic because you couldn't be plain the powers would flail you? king whatever is a fool. would get you killed and the power of words confined as well as defined what courage it took to speak and still does. 
    and i am different because you are back here, so close but i cant see you, intuition only gave me access to knowing you are here again or maybe not for the lies i can not imagine. but have to to keep open what i know and what is proven. 
 				`i have to remember sanity through the love i felt, and one don't equal the other.  so bent i am from a life of loving, so sent away commonized, seperated from a vision mediated you care for you whocares forr family, it was then that love became question for me, weakness it caused after so many years of trying the slammed doors the cbroken haces which walked into frowning voices against the timelessstaeof faith and actual humanity, we are born and to smile and find human light all else is a lessor creation of man kind over god. god as energy as a partical of everything faith as the following of love , so defined my own thoughts moved back and forth from the ones who were to first hear these word, but listening is challenged by over baring perceptions allusion and sub conscious communication being heard instead, body language and stlye of dress.  but they only argue back what they know. 
  to be a good listener you have only to read. the voices telling sparkles and scene conclusions and prostration bowing so much in the name of the real to be such to fit in and be included in perpectives which range from slavish to real evil.  Them that cunningly reach more to change the world, sudtly sub conscious. through back doors and so through the mind later. the forfront a wash of cunning and cleverhidden comment, like the killing of major peace preaching world leaders. learn the lessons of history my young son, learn and be nottrapped by them. silent is the supreme, for human ego can not stop totalityas nature is inert with. 
 always i think of you as maybe the only one who can hear , the slow turning of the quatum age , the age of bio energy and water recognition . of manitory solar panels and off grid backup systems on every home , and sci fi isa word without a philosophy, or there again is the unspoken for which fifty years waiting the hundrenth monky is to long and i write to you as the representation of a thought i can not get out to know other.  there where love inspiresme is where i am  always for i suffer the lovelessness for personal health and what ever writng i can get out , the pais against the pains some sometimes.

 another time another day,  spending creating with others work , listening to the stories as the create swiss cheese of point for for each of theirs i see my own. scratches in the sand water marks where should be rivers carved deep the body whole. or maybe i pick annd am doubting my critic enough in and out, right  and wrong pretenius and ill gamed you have stared into ourself to far and the question always is when to stop absorb and listen to the face and hand , in  remembering you closer my head again feels you presence is a highten awareness how love reflect. 
 and to remember the all inspires that is enough but my dears you are a joy to wach and listen to, the elements i have used as building blocks but so calloused over i can not hear for the blaring discoformty of nature, even as i am told this is human nature i say no this is animal and someday a realized voice will come to conform to. evolution the adaptation to pure natural law.  
   uch that each day and edit is worth it. as clearer and clearer our logic becomes accordingly. and moscic is being.      
  oct, 11th? 
 tonight i wear your shirt cosmos cafe ,a remberance that turns me as i effect to love the invisible; the divine.  Maybe it is easier that loving you physically .the miss step of what life we would have withfamily wieghing in with society wieghing in for you come with complexities i would be looked at with slight sight i never had except that you would be fine no matter what. that i have considered, but you by report have been in town for acouple of days and still no word or letter or hope accept i felt your closeness and played this weekend found ou a guitar which i am going to give you sometimesomeday if you dont already have one by then it came to me as a trade from a twenty dollar guitar , a clasical a wide neck and nylon strings a starter guitar for any one but a friend wanted one and was willing to trade the guitar and a pair of dress shoes size 11 i found , done deal. the guitar is your when next i get to see you, while bi hold backmy joy  from being  in your company. i will hand you the guitar and your father will get you a better one. if your show interest.  
  i say there is a safty for me in loving you , as in i cannot love anyone else the same. i will not feel so close. and your spirit is always with me . i love you without you and as i love you i feel the model to love myself. so there iclaim my safty in loving you maybe because you have not said to stop. a someday life is not a now so i can not wait for a spirit to come to me. can not become excess to myself, no i dont want tocry cause you are somewhere without me and i can not know i want only to divine you sitting quiet beside me urging me on becuase someone has got to put together the peices . but here we are oct 14th you havent called and  i know you have forgotten like the used soda bottle left on the side walk. 
 but what eboli has come to america 17 days it test in seventeen days to know and the plot seems to spread it, boston creates the scare texas fullfills it how many people from each area are get it from the vacine how much can we trust. one would remark on the techonolgical advancmnts that saved the first patients three months ago and one has died already,where is the drug, the news says many things but not how to save yourself, funny thing is there is no saving yourself, you cant breeth the aiir of touch the person, double wrapped gloves and still it gos onaccrossed all the miles and flights each pre documented case walks, how long until stuwardess get it, pilots baggage handlles cashiers will sweat be absorded by money, nd why is this major flip out seeming to come right before an election what stops you from going to the poles touching the machinery? why doees the living on line thingy seem more and more healthy even as less and less physical activity seems the fallout and we dont even want to mention computer screens cause cancer.
scott 360-220-8991 wetshopmade.com  enertialcall web list 
 and then we go talking to people . and i have to pee time gets wasted i talk and talk nothing really to say i am watching women shrt tall well formed or not just the female form has curves that is enough for me , and i can not remember what i was talking about the last two days of rain nature prepares for it needed coldness. humans be damned. 
   but is funny how nuts i am the dream of having someone with me harvey from the movieand i could make you a twelve foot high rabbit and you would be the same still smilling at all i do and holding my arm , i am not clinical yet it doesn't matter only not remembering the infinite makes the world small and unconquerable.
 Twenty ideas for the cheap seats (low start up cost buisnesses,)
  
 remember sevety five percent of buisness is keeping the doors open, innovation and awareness of how many service you  can offer. 
and customer service.  a smile and a real caring go a long way.  

1) Web Presence Monitors - (these are people that maintance other peoples web presence.) further ideas , door to door sell of said service, for small buisnesses, include in some free web programing training. and include a link to a mall for services from your friends and family (commission work)
 2) doctorpoop this is a poop clean up service which can be doen in a commission
 
 trying to write these  ideas bore me some where

   is the suumer store i keep trying to tell like i teel anything alone the private thoughts disturb me i there controler laughingat some fearingg others like the experimental jam i am trying to move along. choosing people but even they are backward and i have explain sound like i am a musician when i am less than that and want the performace more than some beauty thequestion of good music the kind that makes you thik of radio or sphenies . is not my aim, i want thediscordant and tonal ecapes of sound  with the reading of newspaer as lyricks i want the escapes to be of self rebellion and the prostarion of system to spirit.  the break the rules tocreate complete freedom and an allowed private understanding. 
but the magzine is getting undone and the projects melting together is only after, 
 and i get no work done small thing createing my dze other people lack of intent working againsy my get it done , i need not shedules from ghost and yet everything is waiting  while some trivalness is topic and slowly grinds at your throat, even though it is to the loudest praise when you do anything,, often un earn and a little destablizing,as you wonder about honesty and the smile and praise nature so my urban bearing consumes as insult almost.but in a system which holds back real love for media or consistance the later takes years. and each chord becomes a shaky ness  when alone . and it is only the need for truth to periate sub coscious learning the inspiration for other that drives me. 
 and yet ego , wants needs passionate inspiration but this becomes  emotional as iget frustrated to explain, and so do not. there is ego unwarrented by events such as the event of study or the event of writing evey day.  but thru this is must keep trying . the subconscious in fluence that pushes one to keep going . 
    for this understanding of ego i can see two sides.  the one that is effected to down play self and effectivly deny self, violent trauma and what they are calling prenatal chemical defectiveness or some such set ofwords, takes the subconscious to a hard place of a perminate awareneess of negativity,, and violence and ones inablity to face it, even though said problems, inablities are far in the past. the body we come to tran over againt but body memory, comes often without your sight of it, it also effects what people see of you,  some try to overcome this with a security of self , they fullfill all the events but rarely get over that orginal insecurity to make much of the actual work. 
 fear and an disrobing effect of not being worth contain further progress in life. you become infatuated with the character much like ajob where it matters not ,intrisically,  how you feel. More the matter is the action of quality of action.  But feelings, not being considered escape from subconscious paths and reveal ,through actions, ones emotional connection to the event. One has life by feeling connected to events.  disconnection from world history and phcological history has becomme a daily event, the path is known by connection, such that what is important to your happyness is important to mine for you are my enviroment , you are the water i swimmin. live in. drink and smoke and walk doown  the street in. . but these word are just more as the market creates a philosophy and streams it everywhere you material connection disbalence quatum idea, or natureal focus on truth,, the enrgy focus is hat prey has done, it is what faith is love each with bio electric truths , these expanded way of concentration  focus the energy of self to understand a path of being,  we do create ur worlds and poverty and the poverty class ,have been told they are lazy but who else can live for the knowledge of naturalism, and not realize it is 99 to one , which is the exact ratio of evil people i have met in my ramblings and customer service type people interviewing, 
 the streets are for me the balenced line of spirit and the effects of man, but you can not listen to me, i think what we call mental illness is mankinds mental evolution showing its adaptative stages , for a quatum leap  nt the show , is a slow process to sunderstand  and is different for each through the benefits are the same, love aligns personal goals and world decisiveness. it has no regard for plots, and is a vibrational pulse of energy, the bed time rhthems were read to us for a reason, god is a energy symbol, just a bump in the road until we have the technical ablity to feel it, and the slow growth of mankind is the point, but slimple ,  one , god create in his image ,
  energy can only create energy god is energy such that male and feminie are deviding words untill further lessons are inderstood first is energy, responciblity, and understanding materialism as subconsciuos philosophy.

  i am out in the world , a small corporatecoffee house, with low cost housing ,the ketch term for Agenda 21. housing over retail under.  a grey day with on and off sunlight drive the fall to its feeling of more rain and not . and all i can think about are the fleas on my cat. the little bugs with bublus backsides and a propencity for swimming and clinging as each part of the Long hair cat are mine to search and destroy in the battle stared last niight and only today did i go medcal for i didnt know but felt some thing long ago and doubted such when it i started getting bite it was two weeks ago, to wait for to bite me is like our system waiting for the enviroment to shut down a major city , or remove an ice cap, shit, i mean blcken a sea or cause gas release into water supplies, it is behind the flow and i havent been paying attention.  starting the magazine and all my other event , excuses somuch i have to just clean up before the winter and get the video going, the new software , 
 but still there is the inspiration for which ihave been miss spelling, sort of like i havent been seeing much hope from the outer world after a summer of such mental illusion.  Falling in love out of guilt twice, only after the second did i see some fantasy of truth or some break through of the power of love and the difference i was living. so again to the magazine and playing. 
  and there to again feel confused and  disengenious , but to use professionalism and sheer repetion to get over, but i feel i am helping and out of three open mikes i feel alright playing depending on the crowd. but i always feel self consciuos the violently abuse dchild comes out and a certain fear to be heard which becomes this subconsciousness that others take as other take as unprofessionality so they are shocked when its a good night and i am dicounted when i just forget to hid the confusion i feel being in front of people with  improvisation. 
 they sky is darkening at quarter past three  a morning dark closing the fall day peoples face show a question how long before it is to rain heavy  tonight  and each moment a temtping of fate . do i end up in the rain or save myself from it, i saved myself and missed the next sun shne. but then i go on i notice the lack of any reality concerning my improvisation session. no definite plan out of anyone . but i have another step to go. the thursady night jam i will have to go to, 
  the fleas are starting to die, she is going crazyeven to the point of running out of the apartment. she didnt but she never does that.  so i am feeling bad for that i keep going through and taking off fles for as long as she lets me but i want to take her fur off just shave her down a bald long hair, but i wont yet let the drugs do there thing but i messed up with the application and alot spilled on to her fur. human error for the bottle said to get it on the skin so if we are still worried about get tapeworms from flea shit or fleas stomachs there you go, just like the nurses in the eboli case, we can not help but sloch things trip or pull off our glove with an ungloved hand. 
 i am so lonely but answering such is hard, you say walk out the door and out side my door apartments lie, outside people and egos ,calmed eyed intelligence is hard to come by water signs i need arond me not taususes and scorpios  but all i see is conformity and then i look again and its religion , or education. then i look and i walk while looking my home town haunts me, never did i feel welcome to places here that didn't take some thing from me.  and never was i loved for me , then i look again and L-- loved me but didn't in the long run. she  was a child like me accept the thoughts of another life of the last life haunted her more than her muse of art. but its neither we both had a hard timeknowing love the path ways have to be open to experience and change but from a moralistic veiw a set standard we achieve only the planes on which that lands us. she couldnt handle further production and time was standing still.  television and practical hiding toliet paper and mor socks, the binding voice of the spiritual infinite a lost converstion for to ask is to change the now waisted, or devoted to such a degree else is lost, else is the possiblity thatnormal is wrong or personal normal is wrong , and we want someone to love our stupidity which has formed into a hard shell of civilization.  I am this way and survive that gives me righteousness.i canfeed and house myself , but that game became the norm, that world markets saw the stablity and devotion to that and so created investments in mortage banking, whcih distablized millions , there is no protection for the humanities not as long as there is acceptance of what the humanites face, looking for stablity in a continiously growing organism of the mind the energy will not wait and less and less are we sane to it , the energy of self out weighing the doubt of change when in change energy is constant and what is reveals what ou are for the effect of enviroment can distact for exteriors are always feeling energy celebrating energy, without accknowledgement maybe the silent schrokas, advertising and religions but at the core it is all energy expended for.

  the for also gives pause as we search we are condemned to feeling and  my head bobs us for every womensass and most who would affect me. energy which moves me to more than just my artistic shape acceptane not looking for connection why change the nature and you only effect few and those come to you mostly just to leave a career of wealth is humanism, even if determination is only a part of the amasses fortunes, so normal i just look , and i am aware of my sights not to lust i will say over and over though  on a hard night i will take what ever spirit i want and lay with them as almost a gift i give when i know i will never lay with them  after spiritual i touch them investing vision to my list of spiritual super powers lear early as sights of breed or die hit me, forever witha rural address or a foundry job of the pre spread of urbanism, the small towns spreading their legs to tourests and the early daysof the new suburbia,  where we would roll cars and pull pratical jokes on girl friends but could last forever the world around us over populated enugh we didntsee the future didnt look all was and others took care of that we said,, but its an artistic right of silence the first on the phone K-- telling me shower story that i heard dreams and saw reaction , no one was home and the lights were all on the phone on the wall as phone then asked , the kitchen table my foot stool from the window pains edge, and she was teasing me cause we would go to the movies and i would demand she pay, i couldnt invite her cause i didnt have any money and always was happy at home after 14 except when anyone was around sometimes mother and me fought and the last two years of my brother created the final step in our limited conversation since, he knows i know he is a coward.and he tried to treat me like athority and we talk of the violence we were raised in. the out of controlnessour reality was such and sch we got use to . leading to the need for these words and echoing of a commoness of all, i see you in pain and we are equals. you love me or not for my crying, or not is 99 percent, and maybe that is right depending apon what one cries over , to play strong is not to be strong and quickly that is seen in emergency. or caring about the world. . there is a stop line of trust and intelligence, 
 do i crave power esteem trust and other words of a studied voice< text book attributes of the character man? doyou ask  why i lead people on job sites and was scorned by leaders in other instances, but the ones icommitted myself to got done and done right, this needing power is only as a respect for who i am , but these jobs were heavy lifting and hard drinking these jobs made you alive while breething the best air possible and strengthing with every lift turn and hammered screw, after work i would write a long joint nd the mind could play in infinite mediums and all with a sellective voice which pretended i didnt need more , those days i dreamed these and yet here i dream of them, my arms screaming to be used the atrophy setting in such that i have begun to beg for  strenious labor, and the days of a completely healthy being, within the stables of nature,  
    now i am one of the last bastions of the hard bodied worker, thinking of the lumberjacks, and the sliors, whos line created this civiland against the indians who owned it, but i cango there  right now,  i liked leading real men not shallow weak musician want to be's artist in training i am to old to lead them for there dont feel at one with actions and neither did L-- and she might say neithe  r do i but that would just be our childish exchange to deminish the other, keep safe and admit nothing , the silence so nessacary to realize in order that a quatum chnage can happen. 									
 i am drawn to what and where we go standing , so venture down the street and a place is seen where people try and balence and it is called alturnitive libary and i venture in to make coffee and create a living room . but there is no traffic to inspire me so i will only stay if the animal finds it self to purr over and i hope bella is getting some rest the long nights of fles aunting her i know the pain of relying on him, to vacuem as he sits with coffee and sun. of what do you agree with weight against the floow but there is devotion of time and hope of being.
  and still i sit?. 

 the next focus so the adventure of the past the great fles debate , therrible small things infesting small cornors and cavities of micro consciousness ,  the extreme of whch start to forget all else , but the floor has been done the vacueming and laundry over nd ver again, sights of a sad kitty hard to read as one moment i out see the  slleping the darkness the pain i am causing her e warning un known what i failed of we  sort from there no escape but to clean and hope . micor then i escape to again the cofffee house thing we get to know of community , there a tale there atail each with minor small condition where will focus go, you have evaded sanity allone when had an appointment, calling is useless avoiding watching the pain , micro , what mother and family have done this is just common more common then feeling the reasons,  enjoying the collection a moment of stoping time to celebrate record and love for a sonic second or longer , but that fantasize and no one is to base love on fantasy yet musicians  for fantasy is totureed with un reality , when narvana seems to easy so we make rules and adherances to  sepeculate on. and drag forth what we want to forget of the smallness character is created around . to much and chemistry gets involved and whole communities are formed around who we hate , funny money always sticks together, 
  at first the fleas were easy to find such numbers every pass of the comb revealed more and more  and them with the even smaller next generation the adults die in the nature occasion first, so large then can not run fast enough for the comb and try to jump but they are fat and ladden with bllod , so easy to digesses the addiction got them , and you can crush them between two finngers  making little splotches and the window sill, 
 and then at the open mike i wonder then today as these who i would think to celebrate excistance with are to talk of music without the muse part , 
beat consumming or the what ARE WE TO PLAYNESS , what do we know together for a structure,  aand the fat of the land i pick at the intuitional responce of a fantssy so outside of what do we know together , as in not being literal, as definition  becuase to easy is the sharing revolving around structure and tone , three chord two chords a rythem. inherent. 
but we throw of the beat with thought. what is right and wrong sets art into flow, and it becomes claasified fat fleas. 
 we comb the world for it this is rock this is esablished , but organic or forced do we then argue if we celebrate the bforced are we just celebating man over god, as each set of psychology revolve arond certain beats and tonal structure  called styles when each is only a limited set of appreciation or ascetics.  tRUE REACTION SHOULD HAVE NO SET APPRECIATION    

















Driven Four   begins

# driven four now #
driven four
 What is this how? 

We see the days streached into practise for the whole 
Nothing is  full add adding to the tablet misfirings create this. Head losing point each second out of the fusion of sight and technology, how many pages lost to glitches and electronic burps.  to keep all the lies aligned, eye spiders web of untrue thruths, agrued and agreed close doors and narrow halls.  its a  battle to think of them but the winter is  sneaking in to my legs as I type while they get numb, more and more against the steel garden chairs, where i am not to get comfortable built in. 
 Often, and after I place.e my hand morel and more weak but "dont think of the world" is not me 
One man claiming  energy will not be missed for even true genius  off one time , can not match the suppression of thought in all time such leaving will not be hard but for the loves I missed that I love right now .
    faith is a bio electric system ,unnaturally strengthing with focused attention as love we understand. Energy ancient and known by peace but I wonder why the largest problem is over population and still outlaw suicide?  some just want  go, not wait for cancer or insanity to claim us, we don't want the last savings go to medical phophets.  Pills for more understandings,  but wages would have to rise because you need to lull people into have children to prove they are better than.  
And around the board goes but don't think of that specialive and don't want for cloudy realness shun anyone who speaks with facts so .. Some other generation before now we think in tomorrow , we speak to a day we will never see and must not think, yes and no
Thank you and please do
Often remembering this which plagues is only a movie left with silent death everyone but the star, and the opposite of normalacy pleases and everything goes right.  I don't even take credit for political symbolism the challenged truth  when only agreement matters.
Personal estrangement is not new. But enstrange from personality maybe, in that adaptation is first a mental activity.  Sometimes I think  mental illness is a step of that adaptation. We did all this on the tablet different tool different inspirations a sore finger maybe or wrist,  bjiut what else tells e work to be alive. These time we evict time in . 
But I can not deny the effects on the tree
Wrinkled branches leave's. And trunk, 
 Make petty the exchange: 
Who values to watch,  
What little we have got 
so mobile as the wind

And it could be the,issresdimg of my nature which moves me my lobe on s hillside which ask of what is left claiming more then being for there is the place of other  to descide. I can not such that often others. Say if I had your talent. And I have trouble being enough like I Invision, such we write wh drive would for I have processed from here to there. Understood self some  yet realize what more is to come.
  For I have come to a peace , I guess I am not to say that my housing paid my sanity better as one lives in difference tto housing the cure of shelter and the fear oof loss behind me, but not through the graces of my own deeds but from a lack of deed, as real deeds have not played the way for today's riches and may be for know ones even as I have a will and plan  to copy write some day these words and others.
I Adam still filled with a feel of coldness for myself the animal is harder to come to ends with, I am old now and constantly wish for love, had not my fill but have lived on edge of commitment all my life, even the art wasn't a commitment until I was committing to a love which suited me. Before we would have ,oh such as time was in our past, a man without family was estranged , maybe ye,t that exscist and I don't know, I seem blind a lot lately a steady insured blindness, walking street I should be droving past, taunting my life with what is done by others in the silence while on paper it all looks so pretty
Housing by state program from the homeless, housing for the poverty stricken but I don't feel that, I feel the arrogance against me,long haired,and the symbolism? Or me with ideas and move fast, be real, don't lie morals all lied about  so no one beleives another saying it. So i  suffer the out of work  thing and can remember my  love for education.  know one is all I say now, live, b,e create. mentally i am reinventing a wheel. 
Y die first looking for the whole then the prices fit better And such were my thoughts, the 16 year old on a hillside. Star logic replaced reality for the trial of spirit. to defined faith defined energy,each just different names and a repetition of the stars. Each atom,cell,neutrino a color system if not a private spirit holding together unified.
and so the age of light began ,for me.  though you wouldn't call it accepted, though every day talk of theology revolves around it. the interest for me was started with ghost the plqace where i turned the cornor of acceptance of self as spirit. i stopped regarding education as important or even emotions which is the education i put aside for many years.  Society wasn't up to the thoughts produced by a sciense of spiritualism,   and i wasnt up to being able to understand the trauma i went through. so baby with bath water, for emotions for many years,  i guess for i walked the earth wandering through others reaction  while i tried to find a spiritual life,  my first page of  god is energy.  Soul has matter .soul spirit is universal and the ablity to communicate with aliens must be in that , i was caught in the wind early on.  i hadnt learned to mediatate  or even accept prepose my  conclusions.  i started off with timelessness, which understood trauma simply . Education, automatically  didnt know everything and i started to live privately, silently secritively ,  i felt i couldnt tell anyone that i not only believed in ghost but understood ghost as preposing an understanding of spiritual sciencea metaphysical which later becoem a quatum physical understanding , i was 16 and there was the first days of mariuana and diamental understanding of focus. One has to learn focus on drugs and but then you have to learn to focus over again when your off them...  i could imagine feelings butI hid from them drank them away , sodemized them away, the silent world of streets started for me.. and  i had much to learn quickly , what was life if these people, these cave dwellers, still either didnt beleive in spirituality, or believed in a responcible god. and only cared about the ugly, only collected stories of drunkenness and queer sex acts. and team sport violence.. what is the real.. as was said in a movie. 

another day, i use as a moment of difference.
 for a new day 
you wish to see
 light like never before 
but aged bones are shocked 
at a referance 
which says life is new always
your loves havent been deep enough
your joy a figment
of ego  balence forever by subconscios need and knowledge 
balence.
 but yett,
i will love today, 
seems a change 
seems a state
meant as searching 
deems real work
philosophy and psychologically, 
but won i would give to meta
quantum and whole
 spaced between secoonds. 
or  spread with a caring remark. 
of this day i will reach platues and plains 
steps and steller action. of  this day.
  we can forever reach into avoid
 of now
 its refreshing  curses of art.
 now a terminal creature as next is yet
can you memorize a dawnn?
you say you can
but how long can you hold on.
  and each fades or secures loves song.
ever new the act of moment. 
 
  driven, a word because of the title ,i must use in each entery a common referance to the adaptation and natural evolution of thought  as flow, which consume barriors and equalize cooncept.  for  you half choose attentions , the referance to adaptation of mental awareness themoving vechile, of state wheather politicalor intellectual , no matter as they are the same, looks foor the ungraded sand  and realizes what is in order to see the what is. such that from here to therebis marked by the common reasons  and acumulated ideas , oh yes all of other for whichii one penny make 
 without knowing them such iliteracy has created and helped, what voice is yourown is the means and joys of meta health' wealth and wlfare. 
 micro exposes the reality different then some preposed macro, mentally turning  ant in moutainn,. and mutual into multilateral agreement. 
 i am un able to concentrate so ideas do not consume me but instead i am confused by emotion and in that the nature comes it the squirrels animation automation search for joys and then love, but first happyness as each seems a stable to spiralize a day. 
 you can write in the winters of Washing-ton..(or is that a chinese man from the  railroad camps that hated my isish bood)     the famed beared ness of the first president weighing into. each step. the military hero of the american revollution such that patroit and man who chops down trees whent hand inn hand with the image, founding father grey breared and hemp farming.  
frail emotions you learn 
the subconscious knows and never takes less 
than what is represented. 
  aother day under the eve of a bank accrossed the street from a bar watching traffic still thinking of love gone but nnot for the soul holds what phophets it. and i have love beyond me beyond what has been for i have nevver felt as alone , 
  preceptions make the whole yes butt idont feel able to we withh others alot right now, i dont feel liked. i dont hear joy from people around me, but also i know i was never indoctorated into the flow no long distantt loves seem fullfilling but i still feel you. maybe the dvinie inspiratio is enough for in that i have never released . always on the edge of being or so aware that most people show evil smiles or cunning looks which spark my sences, maybe a tone of voice as we battle our animals. but i just look and see auras maybe . but i listen to the characteristic which sponcer trouble or ego with a personifacation of violence,  which i have often felt but even from those who never got the chance to prove it,  but that is not all i have ran from i generally run from the rich, for they more than any can lead people into cunning layed traps .
  my life mst scare some also, but protecting your spirit comes with its falisies mine and other , such that i judge what i see not  on good or bad but from the point of arguement and agreement. even as my judgement only keeps me alone while other . allow friend to be what ever stupidity they are as a form of love they are survivers in imprefect world but also seeing themselves is a specialization we care not for . and one i have specialized in the look is not enough to turn me, for even the best dressed are often no more than the material around them and a now soul of hidden desceat but . 
 i ty to remember what drives me awayfrom pople maybe the years of silence. hen all i wanted was another day to create, i veiw the after life as creation so guess what life is . but a writer must be happy for what they get and many artist scare me also, living on an emotional edge, or a high of popularity taken from a courage to show up. 
 i have ego tisically assigned my life to writing . but even in that feel insecure and coldly aware of my own short comings. what clarity of vsion would gve this to me a stle of lif perfects fitting with my own anti social nature but i am not anti social i just see the portrait of people who i meet, and when i like they they are usually not that strong and other take fromthem for they only give themselves.. wonded like me , my fear is physical as well as emotional. i would rather be alone, than with the slovenly or would rather be alone than be with parttime people who steal ideas and your weed without adherance to loyality or even the things you talk about , people who wont even remember spiritualisms. and so many people are effected with amterialism it is a definition of a social order , i caan see but your clothing  you are non material" so you are like me in that i will talk to you you are safe so as i try to see what is wrong with me i have alot to accept about myself and accept about exterior. for as many people i feel i must turn away from is the tendancy of people to turn away from me.  for that i have of recently learning the new stles of this area , which all areas are different this with the long nights and the rainy days seems an area where everyone has trouble having friends ,  accept drug friend  addictionh /ave always turned people to gether  but in my poverty even my addiction i tendd to be alone with ,  not having enough to share, and even sharing just means you need friends . and you will be left by the side for even that i can not seem to eenjoy mush right now, to see the cat with flea to feel them i am again caught in the foulness of personal parasites . and shy awayb from people coming over because of it. 
 MOST MIGHT NOT AMIT THIS. BUT THE INNOCENSE OF TRYINH TO LIVE WIH LICE OR SKABIES OR AND SPREADABLE PARASITES, ENERGIES IN THE FORM OF BUGGS , FLEAS ARE A DIFFERENCE IN FACT MUCH EASIER YOU CA UNDER THE THREE X SCALE GLASSES, BUT THET ARE THERE, BELL AND I SIT EVERY HOUR I CAN CREATE WITHOUT GOING OVER TO THE OTHER SIDE 
  where evrything has little white eggs or the first stage larve of a little black dot  and they are everywhere going over to the panic looking to answer the war ,, for it a war each of theses fles are assulting the sanity of me and bell testing us with litttle bites, little iritants like call for more troops over sryia, or not counting half the population when talking about performace numbers to unemplyment, or the trillions spent for election in democractic corporate hidden the money in plain side power ruling over powers to understand. i dont go there , even as i feel one on my inner theigh biting , but they say  fleas dont survive off people.  

and now my time with me, 
 not that it is few many hours looking the path of self recalled but for once today i see a little further it is compaison i am looking at the peace i have is more important what one can seek in the slow path of self love  the driven voice to wealths understanding . 
 i saw a friend who lived around me on the outer side. he would never treat me as a real  friend and walked away from her pain. and for this i am proud though again selfish, that was the word i was looking for the other day the only real comment i heard concerning me ever. i guess i shoould remember that, like maybe that is a key . but there are times when i am just the oppiosite  when i am charming to a fault the carefully created image of the artist is one time where all the customer service joyvlity shows except for the brownish teeth annd crooked smile my dental never catching up to what changes i feel emotionally. then there is when i am in love and then there is much i will forgive to be among the chemical vibration of my givingnes that i will set asid what difference i feel what smallpoints of contenon that will eventually need to be raised but i rarely ever mention in my inablities to argue wellsuch that i must pratice speaking up formyself in relationship no matter what they are. today i stood up for myself by not falling into the trap of a womens need who isnt my love. but with my sex could be in a new york minute or so she would let me think, my lonelyness makes me celebrate my life for a second as i keep to my growth and not stop. when i could have covered over the tragic giving i would have had to do to equal te pain from this womens life, but it was a women  and my passions love to forget self . i went home and listen to my cat ask for her food early and smelled the eggs i made in the morning i celebrated by cleaning the toilet with a paint brush and created the idea of toliet pictures and a flush scene. i cleaned the bathroom to gutteral purrs from a well fed cat.
    i guess i should tell some of the story that goes along in the mondren tragidyof american life and the women who didnt learn enough the first time, repeating the control orientated romance of her past and moving across country  was again controled outof herlife. she came back today, her voice never stopping rom hello and no how are you to go along, i felt so meaningless for all the self work i have been trying to do ,  and did i almost fall, as she told people i was going to  take her home and make dinner which i almost did, almost as far as flsh completes an action for a thought  and mates as soon as he meets, the inner dialogue going to the best place perspectives can see into the future. but i was saved by her conversation whicch didnt stop and didnt conclude around a point but like my writting flondared over all points at once her whole trip accrossed america a run on sentence. which she has timed in a circular breathing way such that she doesnt suffacate between what he did and what the world did, what the world should do and the hospital she just got out of. that saved me and i stopped meeting eyes and to thhe friends around 
it wasn the alturnitive libary where all homeless  inteeligent people children by my accounting mosly the core homeless see the kids and know to let them live some pretend land alittle longer and never go in for long, real homeles people dont go where you cant smoke. and women are rarely core homeless transients are not really homeless the hobo isnt really homeless by my defition, and many of the core homeless are warriors for a free world and proof that system can be controled, them who take the leftovers like core monks, 
 she is the homeless mental emotional chemicalism, for i have known her for five years, i know she is feeling unsafe no matter where she is and there is systems for thtshe isnt core homeless, and she has a plan being a professional who can not cry to a boy friend white knight ill cry at church then hospital, or some such order, and i let her. betterto not help and mainlybecause she would depress me, first for wanting to have sex,second for my sanuary being violated with problems i am not the cause of  and its stress related, she could see it . as i broke in with "And how are you kenny?" and rambled out the steam of all i am proud of  in my own battle with ptsd and crunick homeless  depressions i filled two minutes telling of playing out at open mikes and how i spend the last three years since i have seen her writing and telling her i am trying to stay peaceful and can not deal.  I had kept telling her to calm down but i didnt hug her, only now did i realize that sometimes people need a hug but i dont want to fearing i would expose my sexuality for i am crazy and when a women wants me it is a turn on and when a women touches me it is a turn on  so stop. and in this huggy world of west coast ness where the hugs nonstop even if the connections are not , i can throw all i have out the window with one touch of a lustfilled craazy women. 
  knowing this i say Today i celebrated my peace it is to bad it takes such to move me that ways but remembeing is becoming more and more common as i look for personal fufillment more and more, the ideal of love a gracing my sin. for i am alive to the changes in me. drive is a state of adaptation but still selfishness is on what i am now working, 
    i know why it was said that i am selfish,  i can be so aimated that people get to think i am that way all the time.  when my privateness really is musical or ceative contembulative and quiet thats the facts of abuse living happy . dont be seen wait for answers hope all the time. the facts of this body this history personal but common, such that the remark can be heard and spoken by many. it can be a symbol for economics and a referrance to the reasons loves rise and fall around us. i want to say "and the way we weigh justice" but its not or not that you can write down, it is the silent knod and forgiving glance of carng but causious people. it is the way a cop reacts before an actual legal question arises, the way he looks away or forgets what he saw, the time without record,s suttle  communications the seen of civility and common knowledge, hours of street time , the mass of the madnesss 

then i walk to the streets and write.  and maybe it is a hidding again ,
 for one part is all ways alive to beening seen and wise is the sight no the usage, women look  and smile whie boyfrind look down , but i never see them again, and i am performace art and cities shopuld pay people to write on the strrets it gives a sence of classto the world around them a hope where the streets are reserved for transient hellos  and addictive encriptions.  it is getting cold  the back a fickl thing  
 and i just cant smoke at home. 

 and then another day the love we build the anger against ourselves warps our minds the unknown or the un admited steals innocents and destines live to confusionas we our caught in specialiization , such that the collective seems only an artistic matterism mannorism ,and a bit of performance  art we know must matter somehow but rarely is once again aadmitted,  collective for ....is the key the economic only you collect me to do. the work crew laborers at the bottom end f a money machine we study specialized buisness practises while a world watches heat exchanges and carboncredits, oil developement from water reserves, ,while the ressure needed to keep tatonic plates in place  creates fault lines  on the east coast america, and the self is told to document and destroy normal for evolving pscycology. what' was was , such tht we warp our selves to feel our peace inside a stry invented to create invention instead of responce, 
 but little man on the strret cornor should know different on which to write his merry script.  for even there is application of technology the person becomes an energy to me , aa universe of smallness atom with inter acting nucleases and i know enough sciense to make me dangerious, 
 yet enough danger to make me scientific. 
   for as i look, i am waiting on the edge of living well what seems an eddge if you watch the flims of see the ageless past of repressed sights of normal the statictics are meaningless and the lives stopped interacting with social justice we are not all in the family, and what family we have had disolves into stresses  more in a moment becomes less as the greaterthe cost of normal the greater the rick of hope . i need to see happyness but the more turns into what is not used and i can only start with myself. 
 revolution proceedes accordingly these writting are about that change full on and with little regard for the individual , here where i sit is all for me a warm sun annd a slight case of the summer forever blues, where i discover a new rip in my favorite winter jacket and a need to remember today i go for food at the food bank standing in ine because i have left behind working for it.  the area has only so many jobs and i am no ones son here  i hav a misguided resume and a demeanor which scares these bow or die people. but that is not enough for as i sit the years pass and i should have spiders on my elbows and webs between my legs, for all the  as i sit trying to pull peices together to form love in life, 
  but that is what the revolution calls for to fight against the absolutes  for which the common place seems so naturally inclined the white winter nuclear death which seems to have created the first step of mankinds denial which pushes back all time time interest in seeing what is leaving arguements to all else. 
 and i am going more insane t realize love  more disjointed with reality for i am shaking up what is reality which changes with prespective, or does it, all while reality argues over the color of blue and and the sign of the cross , give your life to god and not god s life to people . what vibrational energies i use to hold me sane .  and i am not going to pretend sanity any longer for if perspective aswe are taught leads thn we are allowed to change and there is the only montrawhat and how do we handle the change? 
 and first is  to acknowledge what life is the simple what do i think. what do i feel. and how do i find peace,
  there is many ways to be specialization prove we can live i a land of simple rules, do good in all the forms of systems learn then and spread them,, but many cannot handle a system that says it works but loos like a train wreck if you scan enviromental consciousness  or leadership with only self marketing potential. as in governments are ore concerned with internationalism or regionalisms then a world intellectual stage yetone sigle man must look at truth, from the smallest almost most inconclusive angle. 
 ================================-i am the world revolution. =

this morning i am up and waiting to take my  first hit of weed. it is to vacation my day and it depresses me but rarely can i accknowledge that for the elivation gets me through so many days usually i wonder what day would be without . i feel the tiredness and blame it on age  or the doubt and confusion of my actions such that i dont want to partisicpate  either cause i get bored so easiely or like too speak out about everything. it doesnt take me long to do something oppisite to the general tremors of this washinton northern commoness though i can not remember must about the delicate social graces i face around here and tend to blamemyself more than take arms against the real. so much is peeling through me right now, i think of love and remember a past sorted into women who have seen the real me and left me.  because of delicate conversations i didnt have with them.  but that is all past. long past  waiting for each women whogives me and eye though the shape and handsomeness only leads some image more than the character can support. and i would say in this land of futures, for a women looks to see security as i am happy watching sea glls pick up paper coffee cups, while i still with every breath , wonder why. 
 to be truthfull  the word "why" is how we got here this sitting on the street happily.
 from the smallest age . wondering why. simple i guess this child of violence and mirth, comedy was large in the houses and apartments and trailer parks ,  a take anywhere set of functionings, the speed , in guess , the speed of judgement helps ,  quick to rule and take measure, the sppon of hand enough for courts and penality, reason .  the large creature so increadible with logical convictions of importance the belch at the dinner table the miss spoken .  (((( WHY IDEA, AIRST NOVEL. )








pollyn art
Ten things the repulician lead congress will do 
from a mouse
 1.  Agree...
 on tax changes,  to finish the Bush years of defrauding the government, with the final privatistion of federal "stuff" bye bye Mail men,, (this one has to be radicalized for the Mail system is a national pride for freedom of communication wihout electric)  While also opening the doors to a universal earth based economy with international trade laws. 
 "one has to rememeber that trade is the latest word for peace like love for energy." 
 2.	 .. the obama care will be repealed in lue of a globol systeme with single payer, as outcried by Eboli, bird flu and mers. this sytem will be based against all people in all nations getting coverage , with the global  ecomny. created by the global taxation You will know about it  when you get your tattoo, and sonic weapondry comes into use. which stopps all agressors,  without blood transferal..
  "no offence without a good defence in the name of god,,, you know  lol "
 3. `	  Enact legistion to fund Global education system removing all debt from new students , and eliminating all shadow costs of low interest  student loans, 
 " it is like taxing for water, to take away the liberty of a mind to grow. " 
 4.	 make federal new construction guidlines,,  solar panels and secondary energy sources for all new builds, ( which spures a construction boom with the refitting of all houses by such and such a date)  The tax breaks are so great that corporations  refit whole neighborhoods;  solar shingles and mini-wind turbines , and/or geo thermal As well as Bike driven Like the prison in Spain where one voluteers to bike for a shift.. the bikes are twenty four seven and provide all the power for the jail. ??, a sorce of energy ,, the human hamster wheel.  
 5.	 Find Bush responcible for sabotaging our national debt system include along with Haliburton (who ran to du buy) and god i mean  Cheneny. Big News " Republicans clean up their own mess"  the measure is push through League of govenors, (or whatever)  to change the constution to repeal citizens unty as a constuctional amendment.  Calusion against the american people will not be un-punished.  NOR entitlemental prejudice against a standing president, (and i have no idea what that means, but it sounds good)    the first time a presidental pardon was withdrawn.   Hailburton is listed on the evil corporation list  which is started for all evil corporations.  monsantos is listed repacing enron and bp is listed for consideration. The list is a Govermental Take Over order for an offending "evil" corporation  (as in enviromentally evil or government subversion evil or market fixing evil )
 6.	  Trade saction will be levied on china through the united nations for humaniarian offences , and excusioary trade pratices. but in reaction china and the ussr accept a unified communial accord and open a market of the new world. tea leaves. 
 7.	 Political aliances will be investigated to form new rules to the 95 percent control of all media, noticing electorial fraud by corporate media, sighting aagain lack of impacialality.
 8.	  the cogreess shall enact a 100 percent voting system granting with the same bill federal voting holiday, inorder to promote a truthfully representation of the people census organization will be given a new mandate  and its budget will be mildly incrreased,
 9.	  new guidelis for federal housing piss tests for heavy drugs labeled as herion and meth,coke and no precribed pharmasutials  health care insurance , pays for it. nasa will be refuded with private corpoarte tax system for all privatespace missions.but welfare will be lowered and a forced labor system inacted where citzens on welfare will get mandortory city jobs  cleaning e streets  get benefs,  
another day
 when i felt love and divine love this summer though without stablity , i was trying to feel how that made me different , how inspired i was which didnt depend on the women, she was the ultimate part of the feeling but it felt like i would and do still love her through my sorrow for not having her around was up to her because she ran away eight days in total i felt the joys of someone so involved in my life that i wanted to support and personally change for her , the love for family the wnt of family increased the love for all .  and we didnt quarrel, she just left thhe first time a month laster she came back with my keys , keys for the house and the car so many thought i attributed to her that werent true but lingered on my sorted mind my mind which felt more criminal than anything she could come up with, i changed locks andd used my spare to drive Tara. but i never lost that feeling of love and only time seems to deminish the effects  i came to under stand that the drugs she is addicted to take away memories and without remembering what is life, who are you when the first plot infront of you can change your day. she was to go with e to an open mike that evening for which i spent "guarding my locked apartment. i didnt know her well enough to tust her with the keys ,  keys which didnt work after the following tuesday. but i still felt love for her . 
 it is part of my diformity that i love the imagined. part of how i developed loving a ghost of a father who died before i was born and a mother that seemed just as ghostly as work kept her from any thing i was doing, i guess early on i experienced the lonsome love and have repeated the effecct many times, each time i loved a women i never could seem to be a great lover one who achieves for self love and security, no . for most of my life i have taken their , the women who have left me a sign of my need to change, but that all would be fine if i did and gained back their mercy toward my lonelyness. a step in he path of relizing love is to equalize self love against love of another the latter comes most easily to care is the highest love . a rule i folowed but could see myself as important . no matter what i personally did i could neer see self importance in all this and so i was never worthy of another because i  didnt know self love, 
 there are many reasons why , as a violently abused child i distanced myself from abuse and the feelings of trauma for many years instead looking to be a better spirit to search out religions and to swear on the love of all before the love of self, but not feeling self love at all i couldnt feel how to change my life my direction my everyday  to further my goals so i forgot goals and operated on the sufferance of system , quiting jobs or comiting the most meanial labors where everyday i felt like i was wasting my life and just became more depressed, and there by hesitant of change until over and over i would forget personal survival for some other feeling hoping for someone to change my life toward peace, 
 peace through another is not sane when you can not talk out problems can not even idenify problems i was a bit of clay for women to cntrol butthey didnt know how in controlthey were mostly some did or ,as i am not them, i an not say, i remember two times , where  women wanted me again but i couldnt i had become scared of my love for them  and when the sign was given  i was shocked and horrified for the love i felt ,  i always remeber those moments , with one it was our hands meeting in the fur of her dog,  and the other it was just after her shower for whcih i lived just out side the bathroom door , she was done and ina tshrit she came to me with a silent knock at my bedroom door, both had left me months before and did so with many lover between but i couldnt remember the peace i felt for the pain i felt and did nothing where only an open heart and some conversation might have left me married, both i loved so much, different lives infest every choise in life,  all summed up with the love given to choises ,  a lov you must see for self everyday and run as i do ,and most, from pain, startts with personal choises, and communication , i still can not to know fully this the later stages of my life,  so much time just be cause i was never taught self importance, or jus never got it, maybe the ego wasnt strong enough the fighter didnt care for i felt mostly throughout life the importance of knowing something that it seemed the world didnt .    
  the world didnt ... shows the foulnssof my training , for vilence in early time taught me i didnt know anything  so all my knowledged i held on to like a treasure , when most of my knowledge away ill found , the devises of homosexuality on the young, the escapest lands of alcohol and again immorality which i was victum to or participatant explorer of, whithout me  repeating the feeling of out of bodyness left over from the abuse and distance emotional  truths. it is hard to love when you dont see it, can not accknowledge it.  and over and over my love was intirely sufferance, these same sufferances created by the system on the earth against th earth and uncured,, the ones we blame on god s of our religions falsely, for it is the subconscious we can root out  and then  we must face. it i the words behing the words, the attained meaning more than the trut meaning. 
  in a human it seems harder to find , the system promotes the finding through demanded observation and adaptation, but the human psychology is more interesting and it has allways been for me to emotionally survive, but i feed on a clear day and a set of loving eyes. the colors of paints on an empty canvas, the innocents and creativity of all applied artistry. but have eaten it, and breathed in in responce to all i could of didntfeel safe enough to eat. sufferance balence elation.  some time feel or my ego feels the right to say i am seeing a now, and for all the thens it fullfills, but a now is at the same time the confusion of what you dont now and feeling your way is not rigid, and extras get into the mix like equatios that are out of plot because they atre other peoples , and your intuition rarely feels it own misgotten purposes, i neeed to feel whole where i dont 
but questioing self draws up ,after time to be animalistic, and you are what ever you need to be in change to a lving life, i once said a surviving life , then a happy life, now i want love everyday, 
 i am happy f it is just thirty minutes typing by the sea in the uterious of my car, the staging area of my now , where my self is in every bolt and lived interaction , my home and lover, who saved me and let me feel the next need personal moment. i survived in youth as a surviver, not as an achiever, my achievements were smallnesses, i left the forty hour world, early read and took jobs which were on call and in cash, i lived earily underground the streaming streets of comerance the immagrate working harder aside me, but the writting was my only need , and after th labors, minimal advancement of another month behind walls for calmness i would have books and music to sustainme. i felt and feel less effected by the  common subconsciousness  joining , my ego again but inteelectualism have saved me and hurt me, emotionally i might have been better to love someone but i couldnt. 
 i am driven until death to try. <\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\=----------------------------////////>

listen wht iis here
  ankin, a helplessness, sitting with to college kids i smiille so usesless amm i there,
  november 25th ? or so .last night an open mike  the cool ofa low lite room candles and a real panio waiting . the acts like normal repicans of yeesteryear or flaming protrudings of art,s rsing voice , and i played near last.  but why do i play ? 
 there is reason i would not claim but remain part of the equaltion a side effect or an attribute of the act, an inner childs need to be seen , the psychologicaly effecting ground the lost child find his daddy in a crowd of merciless strangesr, why to play like that can be answere without the movements of cd production of website hits, where all we get are numbers to replace the look of an audience  of one hearing your song siting of standing with intent eyes , and of course over the millions of time i have played ,ive seen all reaction but the bored figiting doesnt stay with the artist unless it is a constant for music is almost the last unpercise science where we still remark on the struggle for a personal best and love to watch the rise,   but it seems we celebrate the basics the animal like our love making and awareness is a passion . so even when others dont understand the art for sanity an artist stands on a future reward as true evolution socitially is fickle.such taht most bands have touched a community that springs up for them. learned people inidea clicks or disapproportionally abused victums of a subset like kinds of music promotes.  you need to find your crowd. 
 but still there is a difference the single musican songwrite  developes diffeenly than the band , one is a schroka levels difference from the other the solo performer faces more stress inhe limited medium of human and gitar. facing he philosphic and well as the stresses without even mentioing the music or what is named good or bad. muusic has basics for which hold good and bad in check even while taste dictates.
 a crowd of peers is the open mikes  proposed grounds for clarity on the matter, 
 you look carefully and listen carefully,  for the egos are worn outerly, 
 egoseems to be the stifling emotion, who says what a character you look like, when talking. when handling your propotion and booking and website besides creating music, and all the mulibles of people wanting to be special dulls the sences of what youyou ae or mkes you quest of personally effecting human development for world chnage as my own pscology would take me,i want to effect the now and want to tell through my change personal change, 
 but often we forget for the development of all else that is music and why some of the best players i haveknown are not working, the mixture between music and spiritualism and sanity is very thin and quality is often on martrys backs , 
 i hated ginsberg once siting that the voices of the maryrs are not the martres own and he lived life being able to excape while in the dens of pills and herion, a traitor of which often boston precented the kind where the rich would be caught living hidden  Stealing the ideas of dieing men and true hearted people.
i hated therm my prejudice from poverty that was my own  and often have seen them like pigeons hark on garabe bags of donut whole  the rich to the famed. the rich to the chemicals that money promotes aand feed to the spiritualized m\
  and another day older, 
  there is two women sleeping in my bed. and no i am not apart of them, and niether would they have me as far as i can tell. but i am back ward sometimes.  but i like the company, though i didnt plan on them mutip



other. 
another day
 oh hat has become of the life ive lead casting among the trills and poerty i hve not care about enough fostering my thoughts to be better thanthe norm but thenorm i se is only left toprespectives to measure and against what sight. this ek different thanh last yet jut by name , i sa a girl ithsad eyes and tried to help but howw uch was helping her and howw muc was my longing for romance?  what transpires as a covered up force of nature. i was truthful with her saying i am lonely and you can stay as long as you might, a eek went by and all was sadate but then i started to really care , well i cared from the begining there was somethig i didnt know i felt herit as intuitional and then we playedd music and she hasaperfect ear and can understand tone, what a bad ass i thought, she as someone to play music with and i told her boyfriend but who wasnt her boyfriend as their mixed up relationship reuires her to find a housewhile he remaind homeless, i didnt care about him though i tried to care, atfirst he argued  with me his intellect so painedhe is to find dfinite collums forright and wrong good and bad, i didntfind him nice so i tried to forget his involvement, but then he showed up at myplace and i decided to be nice to hm he took a shower and did some laundry, but then the hours dragged on and they ere having conversations in thehall enough that i thoughtt of my neighbors, he left at four and cme back at five no using thebell i usually sleep at 10 pm and they had kept me up, iwas out of weed cigerettes and all thechemicali hav used for years, i ot md and stared to cry and i punched myself beteen the tie he left and came back. so hen he cae back i lost it iwas getting calm enough to go to bed, she had lied whenshe came she wasnt tryig to stay away from him but erely want to use a man for a placeto stay while keeping him in food frm my house and the off chance of using my house to get hi off the streets, but at the open mikes she danced arund me and held my arm while we spoke secret wwords about the preformers,  she even let some one stayover  with asking me. a cocky lttle girl who could only see her un imaginitive self.  that night i was even more no one in m house, as i left wwith two women it made comments fly,  society dictated from it simple minds such foulness there is no hope in having apure relationship. and at five i kicked then both out and told her to take heer stuff, even giing him a pairof pants which he wanted to put on in the living room. tsting th waters for homosexual attactionsor he just want to show he was up to it. unfortunately for him i am not and can see the tendancy an told her the first week i think he is gay, butshe said that was just an act. 
  it is life cruel and disjointed when people are stuck in survival they are not prepared for, she ad a job and i felt bad forher every time he and she kept late lke not sleeping hours hours he didnt seem to care for her pains as long as they didnt effect him using of her guilt, when she has betteer h takes i like she is his mother i never saw themcomfortable with each other even when dancing , for one night we went  to shoot pool and used the juke box, the beats nough to inspire, ias shooting pool with a secondcouple they playingme aturntively.  such thatdancing around the table was makingme happy , they danced also wwell she tryed with him but that turned into a lesson on ome martial art , a such insecurity, lack of beat she is a musican he is a brain or o the would tell you a minute away from completeing college  such that the questions of ife seem so important to anser now, but we add to the story. each of their familys are rich, maybe well knwn, nd all this pain of homeless nss is agai runing away, home famiy life surrounding them proecting them, collge with no debt the prefect life, or the one perecent alpha track.  but all toxics of the modrn plastic now, at 3yr she as on atavn, and him something other a product of farma, this is wwhat society ooks like, ho to avoid the seeing 
 religion and pills pharmaciats and psychartric, 
  for him wee know little except for her to say "he is just like me"   in that regard, there should b a drug survivers society for al the childern i have seen go off the deep end, as they try to find themselves in a world of understood fantasy, religion in  denial of, science, apathic human naturee cast off for fast pills. pills which drive the buisness interest more more driven lik a horse for the smallpercnt wwho collect from forgien shores , as  investment country becomes look at any oil rich nation, and see what insanity is the culture compaired wwith the wealth which own it, the one percent have to buy armies to stay on the mother they have collected on, even while private property is now the leading cause of eniromental problems.  I sell you a bit of sea and you litter it and it spread toxicness , kill fish, and nothing is private.  Money cannot create a fish,
  such that with all the learning a mind could take , these two became involved , his rebellion, and her first love. sriking out into the rebellion for he says he is wanted in texas. Such the secret.  She gave his id to the police one night when they were fighting as they tend to do from her story.  romeo and juliet without the suicide.  or Romeo and Julieet live. 

Jan 6th late into early seventh, and I don't why I am awake the day ran with shadows of affection there my heart involved and not for alone alone and innocent holding onto my realizations.there is no such thing as time and my love is who ever I love no matter how unreal seems the judgement of others, but family there is where we come to either with new people or not, Cosmo is locked up again this time her sister called. Reported she was stealing mail maybe she was maybe she wasnt
Maybe it was to get her away from another guy, maybe it was something different, maybe her sister just couldn't see an option the pin will stick, but what ifshe didn't do it ..something doesn't sound right,I just talked to her five days ago she said she had a new guy And then today she igetting married. Bouncing over getting out of jail, a crossed the USA to marry oh I. Stood again in front of father and bite my lip she created some perfect miracle I will try not to fall to again my need to fall in love
 jan31st 215
  it i night , the peace of bellingham's down town has a turned away addict screaming. horse screaming yelling i should callit but still horse ponding fists to a world of normal frustration an addict out for his tea. there is a small crowd watching him  a red hoody and faded denium jacket pacing in front of the twenty four hour store the croed is amused, i hate yelling,buthave to go into the store , you can feel the frustration though only in global referance,  there is threats hanging in the air people look on ith the boredom of abused children but this iis not daddy, anger doesnt effect them afterwords without violence there is only useless stupidity in yelling, so these people have laughng eyes like one gets to know. it is allmost a reminicence toher the family sound tract without connection.  i have only a dollar hirty five coffee cost exactly that unadorn with wifi or seating, the paper cupand plastic lid. such a small town to have such large roblems another  of the long line of natural distraction, what seeming freeddom it is the drug that resemble out of body nature like spirituality the quick way plastic unconvincing the street cornertaking the body with other whines,  my own adjustment convince me , still smoking weed cigerettes, distracting , still craving hours of entertainment,  going no where ? seeing only want can be contaned bby video no eextra smells or smiles no chnce encounters to prove humanity, replacemmnts to real. and freedom is what you can afford and the courage to face what brainwashing has replace of consciousness for the proft of fear, little roms ith bluish lights.  
 another night , this the super bowl m personal odity of age for i tm as old as the great foobal show 49 and y thought on magic ring with sports and teams i ish for things to happen almost praying, the movement of so lttle as a good thought  the wavs going far out ike the same beconing of the  2004 lay offs  atchng the full moon and three games down
 exa police have been advertised  to be on the street, i see them bubble and lights  just driving  nothing to do  sober sadate the streets ,cfalmed the tomorrow awakened in them  so twelethmand out there were denied to enter the arrena left in homes a world away,. 
    abd then it is over and the regular of excistance happens , new heaads pass bumming papers , no super bowl unless filled with some thingb no excerise but running from police, some dream of a better life comes after the pain of progress against the life you had, soree torn the yars of blame the years after what should have been the endless fantasy right and wrong , kids run these streets kids tenty nine to sixteen the youngest escapees some time defiet and alert for traps but  talk to so few. of maybe it is them to me,  for i can nly rmember myself in meeting others and i am representation of my age there parents age the clasified old person,  hen i play guitar the awe hile passing and often i see sile and hey he good  i remeber what i could see young i couldnt see anything fear gripped my heart and eery day was a paranoid play that ties to understand self comparied to subconscious drive to a will to be self, blind excet how offended i felt.
  peope we not to just say hello to, i couldnt much  not since early aged when i needed nothing as soon as i realized need i saw dependace if another provided it  that was my early days walking the world only to feel the country isolation yet i lived i the city, so every where waas trouble and i as always afraid.
  but all in alll i still know some of the kids i dont play them the infinite self for me is morally inclined , the freedom only as good as the lack of guit felt, such that pots and plan i left behind loong ago, so i dont say hello for a reason, i am not running a game like how peple meet each other in order to? you end up that way anyway maybe with out intention .   in my early years i always thought everyone had it easier than me. but rarely was that the case my paranoia turned most toard healthy judgement, but still i wasnt at ase with me until i answered my on need for experience in the long road to self awareness, the same that i see among my ssters and brothers ho face there streets early.  but having no children i reach out to kids i like their energy like they provide me with inspiration though most do not read or reallly listen to the tunes. tonight one said hello through the old you have a cigerette, she is young with glasses of a reader yet her voice and attitude say she is alrady a very young intellectual.  she even remrks n her own literary triumph  one of those great analogues of poetry which everyone gets published in just so they can sell you a very expensive book, i dont tell her thoughand just enjoy for a moment her company though i feel i am trying to talk at her ,i am uptight like i am trying to run a game , but i am so lonely  that i am sort of needig someone to feel excited about someone to loove and am beyond looking for theperfect mate i just want a new friend and if i can help with nore than conversation then all the better, but i feel the hesitation to try to see her again  een as i give her my number. i picked out a page of the magazine to read she thoughtfull commented on it wit a smile we were on the same intellectual path as inso many people an understand quaumtum ideas but rarely apply them to there lives,  i ask her if wshe wants to hang out with me soe time ad she doesnt baulk, just beore she said she loves smoking weed and i am wrong to her that and want to get her stoned like an alcoholic wants someone to drink with we ike to share our habits , our addiction, and i ould have offered if it had been warm out we could have gone to the bay and taked mtaphsics but maybe i am just trying to remain in my street world where we dont think of anothers life and just call everything alright which doesnt ostrosize others, 
 i felt weird telling her the same old thing everyone says even if they are telig half truths i am a musician  artist i dont ant to tell her that its like saayingi want to besmeone to you even if a real persuit you are only one out of a million that say the words, yet i think she say the difference 
  something about her as different in that when she saw the magaizine she wanted to know where is the inspirtion, i say the inspiration is the time you are in,  an then afteer tking about writing i say a to write is to act more than soe plan save for knowleddge to prepose writing by this time i have known her for ten minutes,
  and all i see is the budding intellegence only after she  leaves i said you have to go and she said yes she did, and she was gone , i guess we give and give and hope some ideas hit hume 
 it ws ten minutes we tlkd of homelessnnss she is in a shelter i told her of living in the car,  she gave a moments pause to knowinh of norman mailer, it as enough for me to love her as an individual a spirita human afriemd , 
     i need the inspiration   without someone to love , in my permiat isolation i can see, life sucks , but i love children and pets i love those who will let  me and every animal even the ones who would eat me but then again i have hated few and the ones i did i did with a shoolboys hate disjoint as a abuse child love himself. guarded and reentlessly =tring to stay safe. ben franklin said  always to include "in my opini;=====on."  i can not represent the all of childhood generalization called violen-=-t child abuse, 
  =---
  2/3/15

 the day  rpoceed this moring i walked to tour the ymca. tonight the norrmal sitting at star bucks international coffee place here you always feel alone sitt with my pipe wwatching for cops  for all f the ten second they would katch me  then a second hit and i am ready t be effected, tonight astreet preformer plays until addictions are fullfilled then he will leaave hard night for the streets tueday there is more going on on monday than today even thte resturant workers are in there sunday on tuesday the new week to come with crowds and costantly oveer and over , much like my world schduled if posible  the coffee house at six to  write nothing in large type.  everytime i hand out a flyer i think of the postive space of the stage , twentyminutes  i have flyers but the set can not be arranged  to many songs, to little time , andone i can not expand  the venu iis a high stage  as apposed to an elevated audience, so standign that it seeems only a thead to heaven andoften i have forgotten i was on a stage playing there more like being in  dream . the essance of drunken babbing i thought so incricate and beautiful in sckizophrenics, i heard in the state hospital and streets in cambridge, folloing around harry who .alked talkin to himself from trash can to trash can empting out the contece to gather the newspapers i never got to closebut lowly i learned to piece th ations  to gether  after h cllected he would spread them out abd rip out articles say spreading them out on a ement tble  and ripped out squaress, never getting closer than say tenty feet away u ant get cloer for fear of being notice , tis closeness i attemtpeed as droned out by the city trafic   for we are in harvard square nd harry  is a graduate,,  any years  peiced together my obseration as i later was a cab driver once who took him home once , he went back to a mansion turn s out  he is old money who went madlessons you learn or dont material is a farce. 
 the bumbling i loved , disjointted conversatins with a single ledge you can not see, but to try, the first rue of the invented animal. ourage coriousness. invention which made a bigger brain  suchthat we all dumb down now or cant complete a days work. but here a man runns free joining thought settling the rainbow by living in it.  
 and all who touch keys are the same strickking letters unto some batch of thinking, so lost to others unless they see the ledge  
    i have sidetrackedagain  i have also moved the sitting lasted only as long as the coffee and then off to a wall outside an open mike .  isay hello selling the gig without a guitar, icant afford to go inside ..
    feb 4th
 therapy
      I lie because i dont know truth . to know is to feel, to reason balances ? but to reason through feelings , though happyyness is ? to feel the mechanics of health , and isolation of mental as oposed to physical one is the other, more and more comes home, so why not me , to see energy as the neo technological understanding creating your enviroment for total peace through equal self understanding, i feel therefore i am. 
   direction in sugestion,  ike a love creating me, i would urn tricks in the street for, purely physicaly and the model for my reaction. trained as i have been to love in the distance i have choisen to love like energy of loving without the truth ultimate romance every day but without De sade with only the proustian but seeing loe of self as the rehashed balence,  it apersonal thing this giving to idea-l worship and dieties being non physical, such that health is a reasoning conversation held back by greed?     
 It is funny yesterday listen, an artist whos name i can not remember famous for writing children books and erotica.  told of the responciblity of artist, and finally one hears someone get out and admit representation of time.  I cheered . never have i seen heard the mantilripped off the exposed  nerve so exppressed even as my world is attuned to it. ii can only remember a truth aknowleging what is in front of time. with simplicity as childrens books and exortica, , our reason for the future and our action tthrough natural loves the action to the discovery of a childs life,  plagued as it is the time getting obnoxious what bills are pased  while the stall goes healthcare and the homeland, i cant breath.
  but hile goss Ass-ide or is that aside, and urkrane for hich these times are called lack of passifity create tthe debt the call in check gass prices and the next day the king dies next day a 911 colborator finger princes, and the next king.
 i still have 197 and a depression problem, tice a month therapy  with a hrd on for my therapist. i sit in the cold downtown of smallville, early wednesday night college enviroment.  cold ,rainy the mostiure drys your skin and night coes at five after the soulsitis and grows until eight nine  and falls lthe ay back to 430pm then here iswnter rain is the blessing. but cold rain is psycotc,  into bones arresting you spine  cement perminates you..
  i sat dn after a short walk after a song for a teenage crowd, who i didnt ask money from  wiegh the location by the alteritive libary which is thebest youth hostal there is, and was surprised when they said they liked it, i havent been platying to voice is sore ,a little.  just enough to give pause.   
   


Driven 5 begins 


 So again , slowly. to write on the tablet, finger finding pointers, two, create where whole hands are used normally.
  the main news the speed slower cause of technology or my fault for using it.
  or is it just because i learned sixty words a minute training from military, i know because the yin yang , balance the wealth with poverty, all is the inert. a nothing.  possession passes with each squirrels breath, and stains on the wall align to forms and faces, great dramas and ludocis cartoons in empty alley ways, unintended but there it is. some silent unallaused creation or only a creation of understanding awareness?

the less i see the easier i am to be lead, the more i see that doesn't change the more i feel being. 
   trauma is seperated into place and time then disguarded into place and time. the infinite self is happy. 
 i am kiddingbut i feel i am a toaist
and never knw it.
 ormaybe christ took the blame cause he thought it might build kindness as a nothing, took the blame cause people were screaming for a jesus. and exalted him who became what we all are in human  nature to phophet and survive, a smile is the first anti-oxident  to profit from prespective. 
 truth requires no church.    and yet sanity wants truth,  feels it ,needs it , and sub consciosly creates it. a tower of one side houses.
 but it is saturday and slowly like the typing summer days are coming the jumpof tendegree tellit, again i ssit atch street life go by , alittle reporting  hen the same faces occupy the cornor of the corporate coffee house takes over the sqquare, nd me folowing suit for a 54 cent refill any time after the first. i like nines and to many people think i ant to talk down the street, i will not come here again some day either, a forcast of rain toease the plus forcast of draught.   i have told you in the past of my journy i think each time there is a new lesson so again i mention it when i feel the driven adaptation is changing me , for this is the road of my path myway myhope like a day free of accidents when you drive all day long driven coming from the hours sitting in a taxi for hich inspired me to  change, oraleast follow , foor changeisonly documentation of a feeling, th growth part is living the idea, 
 a firt rule seemedto reign, dont worry. maybe that comes with ways of seeing , i have noreal attachment to things such that when think of changee i am not looking to keep, and all remais where last itwas before i alk away. this dream for that freedom to dream more, to see the clouds different to consumee a moment different . because the last moved you on, or the future lead you  . but the will felt not a chance so departed, 
  i as scared of poverty, so i didnt commit it, didnt care , thouught i could be happy with small art, and mounds of writing all after work working, i needed to live art, i needed what i couldnt feel as hope. the pressures of my loyal love being a dression daily a phone call a hint of reality, and i lived in the car while orking could ,didnt ant to place roots or have a money pit of rental bliss to balence the intake of my hours, blood for blood was enough, so instead free became montra and greed became replacement, saving withan arched back and little giggles as the bills grew slowly thicker. my preyers became hous of remembering what else i would be doin for the bisness was spase yet every time i would get into an essay  the call would come in, and i forgot the tone for rarely do i straight forward my remarks leading the complex to simplicity, i would egotistically fool my self, and intellgence commands to stupidity, until breath ketches up. duelialityies i cnnever get to , always something more like prespective are creted aand then we descide with heart r mind some time the heart foos us into doing what we feel and the outer word is different, like when love hss been involvedwith me seperating wht is known inside to what love realymight represent , like love is avibrational reaction to life. 
 but that is fter lving and lse suchthat you havenever lost yu cn no know my definition,  i find this fact important. as we are all orphans in our natural state, alone faced with the barriors of civil grace, it is mmore natural for e to talkof alone as the moment of death, but i am afraid i have not chereished my living enough,, the driven ill continue,,
  but we hve balencesome parts better, i dont feel alone with bills ripping at my throat, i dont give up hours to fullfillment of a warrior class approach to capitalism, or havent yet excpt my writing as work,enough to try and get paid for it , the highth of our balence and yet the again is the sinn of money,  for i would go and distancemyself from reality, cover with clothes and fancy store bought bi- lingual eminaltions off the purchased ear, i can feel then the pain of short wages and strong dreams lives of where ever produced, then i would have schedules which wouldnt letme see te sun accept through awindow, or answer a phone , arrive at a time clean myself to attend which is more than to stand in pj,s nd deside as i do it withoutfretters. povrty has given me freedom to feel, and so iccomplete the process with conversation, with emotions and tendanies i try to understand thoughmost time i am inventing  the difference . a thought turning into, and inteelectual prespective to an emotioal restudy and release or retain of the wood grain.  
  i have been off this computer for a little i dont remember why but it has ben sitting in a cornor whiule i took out the pen again, the pen which ran out of ink carritrages. 

april12th.
  i sit at anothr open ike  am not sure why i am here a placeto be the just starting the over started but havent figured out you have to have a band or the like me have spent any years creating while,, the day job over flowing life where all is show up repeat 
we forgot things like self importance, like repeating colors or expecting change, emprisoned in destiny. like me expect i  couldnt, and every day felt wrong  but only enough to eigh aainsst me . i am not eough me against the dont eigh me downness . aftr work pushing more keys to words, taken off the edge of a roof or while a circular saw passes my fingers. 
 we are here.with the children and the herion addicts that give to the music ore than others, looking to enter the music people i can never be.
   but ach case seems different ,hee a notbe proformer astes out hisvoice and repeats any words written,  ihhave atched  him like so many a mile wide smile and a domiating personality you wait to brn out of stea, but how each disturbs me. so pretty in a world falling ideaologies. ad e hear so little to respond , soft . nice. i be long. happy,   
  but its stil me alne a crod over there why am i hear, everyone to themselves, Important groupings my concert, ours . a proff to distant rooms and patiently staring cats. prof of dreas and voice lesson or  not, drink layered being whiskey to an all e state .
 my fingers are cramping to cold 
 inside listen  words come off Von. a twenty year old Morrom runaway. coocky, i loved it but told himso. i watch from utside of peoples  lives in an entertainers life i is show to sho, on the streets at winters version open mikes, you watch, as he slowly works through improvisation  you can see the trying so times stumbles then slow joining words , ive knon him for half year now. i call him on shit . i tell him what i think, as well as say shit just because iam jealous, the rich are animals taking the best and pretend the rest, i am scared of loving them. so easy to change venues to alk away. 
  his perormane a light voicea strong voice, with sentences forming and secrets. he looks. at you like you should create the words yet its him on stage so slowly his voice is coming. a perfect peter frampton or some french child king' five nothing . his words offensive sometimes on the treet, i have to walk away chuckling under my breeth,, as they say i play the same streets and can afford the repetutation. so under my breath since i know he is learn his voice through sufferings release.
  his world of the morroms the college and the repression a ell fed child clothed and turned hyprocritic.  
    and the days have gone i it again outside on a wall?
 and i sit thinking who looks a the world around , the sky flitting in and out of cloud, the world at my feet i sit  watch the ashington people start fleeing the wind grabs my flyers , i sit whith them and magazines, with coffe and you,  i try to cloud busrt which i lerned from a movie, which you can do while driving, and no it is yet speciccally dis allowwed , the sun comes out again buti felt a rain drop. 

and so it taks days for me aagain to take to the streets again now sunday the streets are not there normal or are , the sun nt bright the limits of the night so on the streets lonely now . seperate community. helping themselves to the abstract of peace sunday . the mourns have taken rest in unity proper and perfumed now slowly create back drop more than the night clever addiction.  like any thing is more clever than unity to separate natures of god . 
 i stare at the time again, schedued a jam for two 110 now, but i had too get out and find some ease beforelettting go in to an abract dream most can not understand or so is my opinion. as if understanding could help. which is cant it only confuses moree, and we live  to feel the infinite mor than understand how much we are portal.  i say thing because i can becausesome where inside we aree changing to undderstand what the fire burns, and what age demands , straight feeling, here we survive by the oppisite.  only connecting wih immediate focus, while straining our natural humanities, you wish and need to see the homeless to know why to work. the oppistes always proving normalcy until the oppisite becomes all you see, trouble on every front and trust is all that is left d that is all the empires cloths and when the king is naked ? when power structure so disembowl within, and occupied by forgein ars for corporate expenditures, america the land of investors. lobbies for what concern. not any amrican nationalism but all about back door regulations, investor can be from any nation, norwiegions can owe your florida home, speciallt where housing is limited in europe, and its ore fun to raie house rent here you dont hve to be apart of tjhe communit5y you are destablizing. but hat is the use no one can hear the great news of now,it is after effects someone planned out long ago, it just took longer to get the plan going, i mightfigure this for beginning of the species problem , eventuay they are going to ant change and yet onl peace ceates stagnance,, the free market insures dis tranquility. 
or really, i can not see how close this comes toward me,  i cannot see how the minor eiws of my average person have be comecolder and colder , yu are not in my sub grouping of people worth my wink. classified into likes of religion or activism, whie off omens pages coe their breast when they are not playinng cards or posting kitty pictures. . i sit home now, the day a medical one, with the limited touch as blessing.. A surface affair, for which the placemnt makes rare the mention so as ot to be mentioned is the common mediccal sitcomes or televised theater, 
 days have passed, sunday being the most plannd and most active i played a gig, but solo until the end ere i reached for a jam and was agan confused by alcohol and hat i want to call ego or doubting musician ship. i wanted a jam whre e all listened and got together but some how the space wasn,t convered well enough for me  . so my worlds felt forced , but i kept trying and no one ever says anything but you were great aftrwords no reason to waste the alchol, it as/is to be fun i am less than inspired by the players , but they were less than inspired by my approach but they also tried,  i can not but wonder on my voice listening to T--- before me his words given a special slant that i heard most of it, but my t didnt seem as well mixed. it is a funny think to play music no one is ever really nice, no one tells you anything you must believe like peter is in the room but yur sight is clouded. so i never know whether i am fullfilling mylife by the playng or graspng at the straw that keeps something special to my life, so nessacary that dream to keep m getting up looking around. i sit waiting for someone to guide me, is that a left ver of reactinto fatherlessness embeded in an ego to survive for which gets applied to every thing .     there is such a thought as to have to wait to approach if one ever does, 
 i have never waited to believe in writing the habit has been enough. writing promotes more writing, good bad. who knows. alone against thecomplete insanity of system, money education, populrity, the common levels of thought like every corner of conscious is assaulted by some branded ignorance,  top ten best selling properties, the fuck film of a book, of words, then actions after, a world un-looking, trying slowly to replace nature. 
  oh tell me i am not a squirrel, let me have more than finding a  hole in a tall tree.  why be human,, what possble note worthyness to fine forward thinking when we are fed squirrel meat, simple this and that.  News which feels so hole-ly to as provide a truck of logic, which is left unsaid, if you see that far and deviding us is ht we see and how, culture confined and controled, massculture was never before cellebrated, it was the cmmon beastia the squirrel meat. put in nice breasts and a great smile and it million referances of wealth , the relyiance on wealth to drive story, or fight for wealth,  if gogol,s deadsouls is the only book ever read,
      but how is a fool to see he is not? hat are the standards, who preposs right and wrong accepted and not? or is itt answering our question to create cnversation, but who stops to hear, answrs lay in front of your feets and in safty you do not accept them.  we banish them and extoll  morality, family, and ?culture? which the first would say fundations , the first writers of importance the factual community paraded in front of cameras and written about as speecialist whihc the one referrance the reasoning has a large pocket, the guy who is always holding.
  i have a learning problem or maybe it is a hope problem i of the all, massive and unknown, while news knowledge "be-littles" me.
  i stand osomerespectablity is can no feel but hhvelived beyond feeling like who i am is a distance i want to travel, but travel becomes more constant than arrival, when th station is empty of a single sparkle
and only dust marks the suns passing. maturity ony, watching consciousness value self, 
   I stood in front of a mike.
each beat of the drums a start 
 a go . a four part sentence, a scream, 
 and i have no plan of thought . 
words come so easy,
 taunting conscious, 
considered of awareness 
and program.
 personal mental hygenine
what i admit and what i can not.
 the waiting eyes right wrong overlays 
cab driving i see wants andopioions plastered on pretty want to be faces 
 right and wrong seperation
 motives for tollorance.
or even agressions,
  i walk into my vices so as to not consider you, so why would i stop with words, why would i achieve with voice, driving y good bad to  commn level when yu sing for self to feel a schrokra which ahas become cuture of the special. 
  do i just want special or is it enough , my cmmon voice against the wwhole nothing of  a room, my friends are all disabled some how, but they sho up a scitophrenic, a fixin computers geek, and a physically disabled neighbor of mine, my four muses, confuson , sufferance, clairty, and kindness, for what others leave behind is more often than not, real gold as people go. i am the fourth muse. 
 i  speaking developesmore  say where resluion answers some long off invenion of he last word

 consumed by distance and devotion 
intricates seem easy
 the standard os
 pain and birth.
 sufferance and seduction
 more distance iniing an image 
the organge street
 the complex condition 
 what we can and can not take and hold 
 the innocense. 
averting  our eyes . 
 for moments 
colorfull graphiti on aluinum trash cans, making a mental note where that is for the perchace of needing a few dolars some one else might get to first. wll stains , a once roof gutter,remarks of passage, civil and gone leaving shadows and illusionist symbols. Art of time in street dust, a fine , ,laid out, feminine form.  Arms out streached from second floor to touch the sky never ending  
 moments  away , stoppping against a cities pull around you, the earth turns against winds cloud falsify, 
  you have alkedd into a room 
cool eyed self spoken garbed in the here and now
   you have decidedd what i have to say 
 and what you will hear
 i can not change that,
 i can not but to be. 
 allowance the question.
 when even intelligence wants t hid 
 poverty and pure knowledge
if verses you allow 
 science of self to weight and not.

i stand on the alusion
 of madness 
as a complete
 achievement
 Define finite
or de-vine the infinite.
a man said 
tune in tune out
he recomended the fluid
 meant to  see
  commonality
tune in tune out
can be
a culture of economy
limiting until
we find
 all  got
natures tranquil
faith's action
teaching ourselves to see.
a slow growth unity.
 i made up my mind
 before i came 
what i was
 going to hear.
  

 april 17th y little citty asing for peace from a street cornor, the same one they have accupied for ,,, well as mny years as i am old' all thrugh the cold and heat as sumer passes into ears people come and go .b people have died in their ranks and fullfillment of number ges steadier and stedier harder to come by. 
 peace and justice in a world of arfre (which is never fair). i wonder how th picture have changed the banners. as vietnam turned to 	civil rights and civil rights turned to female rights then to iraq then afagistan. and noww the sign drag one accrossed the world , equal pay and civil rights are still not resolved, displaced by ivil rights and anti corporate rightts such that once the gates open all kinds, of prejudices flo easily out.
 but it is an hour and the occupy isnt even remembered, lik it never happened.  ile et dily th protest rnt getting news,  number of property damage and people arrested. 
 i walk over to eat, the masses sometimes dont show for food enough, its vegatrarian . and so huge pots thefood not bombs carries home what is left or takes it to the "mission" . i didnt go over before being shy of the blue eyed serving college girl, a perfect square face, large eyes, i have seen her before and it is trouble to love at first sight, quietly knowing never as an answer one to any times.  i look in the pot before she sees me, handling food stuff during serving, there is vegan stew, and the rest i leave for her to tell me.. i sneak looks at thereal her a set of dress telling what price tags she hids, a peace full smile.  waitig innocense she ill never leve behind wilingly, fight for the right even while we stand in the solotude of our exposure. 
  she must be a piesc or close the attraction strong enough it is not her exactly her body doesnt ask her dress wouldnt inspire accept as it is her.
   i alwaysfind siularities with attractions,  or aybe it is an eyee fr good blood creative and refreshing, attraction i cn not explain,  maybe it is a truth you must love someonebut i am only afraid of love , i do not feaar death as much as living in a sour love. the coldness to giving is the first hell, of my Dante-ism . where you try to make someone hppy for the rest of our life and the recipitant disregards the attempt. 
another would be for liers.
    having my plate and limiting my intrigue to meet her, i sit on the sidewalk to eat all givin if only to 	 of the plate looking for one more glimpse.  an od mns love causius and sient.  a knon love cn me refuted denied, questioned. if only by culture and the ever present media willingness to devide, old from young . freedom from slavery. colors (race) and wealth levels, sane and insane. spirit and blood are not enough to bind us, we need to use the dialogue.    
  my problem seems to be i can not remember who i am some times as all is now, the action need ask you to forget it seems of little importance to an understanding of now and yet we are what we have done. all i have done seems only gossip, because i cannot gather it together to mean anything, yes u have writtin yet into that concentration is only the edge of creativity. the last sentence is as good as the first and only a second is a perception.
     confidence and forward direction are hard to remember. An yes, i have heard about the chemicals in food, water. heard about the application of media. the fear and terror evn the constant conspricy against peace but one asks the inner wealth to transend even while like utility bills and the free market on american housing causes the dysfunction we accept because we were given no choice. yet i must remember me. and can not. I write what i can but i avoid story in and even journalisticness for the sultlity of th now.

  it is early morning and the second cigerette burns, caterpillers formed whitish puffys on branchs of small bushes. and people pass on th way to the bus r just bother me as i sit in the open with a focus on plastic which copies the words as i pound the keyboard.  few stop  and i must concntrt on the plastic because it leaves out  "E's" and "A's"  for which creates more bother later. 
  it is again a street, a sside alk just beyond an open mike. in one ear is Dylan, a difference ,  not. but to complain, involves, ego, whys and inclination,  all opinion it creates love to grin and give your turn soon enough,when it is only the edge of a stage that grinds you the uplift, who is really grand enough? a stage motion, and something changes  i have come to be myself. 
with guitar and interests to enliven and nothing to say.
 except a solid is still porous   
  ednesday i had no appointment when i thought i did and pressed snooze a million ties  ony to stand to the cats demand feed and stare at the caledar.  no appointment. and i seep into ysterday. 
  there are so many stories in a big city little cities there are so many stories they fallow me around because i listen  there has always been a apart of me that wanted to be hardso here anther is like granting a dream yet, the ore you listen the mre you feel useless,  what pains you can not change. for the smallisrealist and safty of self besides the hippy dream has become meaning less. what was seen in the outh of tlevision as a restoration of paganss yet, so mind alturing the cheicals net worth mental freedoms have become the norm. but such freedomis at the same time transported into  covered doom of the addicted drug world,  popessions and materialism which are of such to be important tools, become material of the materialisticness. and subject to confication by the addicted. these are part of thoughts which move me to my fears as i let a person into my house, all the achievements od poverty and idea, have come in being givn much to make the enertialcall and subsaquent ideas media yet created videos and more but for now as passions are onnly to write look dormet against the plot of first meetings. and a new intellectual friend comes into my home for a shower. 
 we  mention shower passes, free showers at the ymca, and there iss where wwe tart listening to another person complain of the free services, that is where bells start. i get stone with this person who immediate life is confused by homelessness but it isnt be cause of needing a place, he is again someone who is either lieing his truth.  like so many,only is a run away leaving behind property which will get in the way of service and his consciosness off real homelessness . he thinks and believes he is all knowing and that he is worthy of being a teacher.   but i a a listener lik a cab driver or any good service personal is. but taxi drivers particulatry. the life and death issue the cab driver faces prvate and one on one as often taxi is.  such that istening tells how much a client wants to tlk and warns not talking gets more money in tips, life and death proceedes with causionand personal security. 

 book idea cab driving the green years.   i hear him protesting against the free showers and the shelters, he sleeps wherehe can and likes to represent by sleeping infront of buisnesses, it is activism. so i et him takee a shower. but when the train becomes to much i kick him outi became tired of waiting politely, droning on about lands and the correct thing , about loss, and need. then he says when i went to law school but left. when he shows you a video his daughter made, who looks well feed and hs his old guitar a million lives ago as measure on the street terms where a day is a life time.  when you dont' have a shedule . i did.  coffee and computer. much like him i would find a coffee house with free refills and hopefully good coffee and sit, the computer on i would stay current with freinds news on community websites, then off to chess or poker, if i didnt rite a few posts myselfor start a new group. hen my site was up i would work on that for a little some timeseven learned a new html term or worked on portuguese,but mostly i played chess. 
 with thatdescription you miht think my days awash ith uselesness, except i wouldd find a peace i controlled and  in it a simpliccity.  i would that unti i ran out of refills  or just got bored and  then i ould to a park to read and or sleep in the shade, whenfive or so came it was to dinner at a friends house bullshit abut things, from world events to art. the art side i was always learning from her,  then at eight to a shower for free and at nineto sleep, day simple. the nights became my settling with human nature for finding a parking sleeping spot was always the problemand the complete boundings of nature for you dontwant to spent the gas to go far but you dont realy want people knowning you are sleeping inyour car, so with curtains and good choises you hid for the night, but no matter for sleek you are traffic wakes you, people traffic with long boring conersations ou can hear quietly as they approach until they are on you and then away, inane conversations drunken or just a ruel composiste of any convesation taken out of context, but you wakeup and listen like the chance of mankind is to pick up the undirected. some smallness of direcct some thought un seen, i listened to everything, my ears icked up people reading the one of many stickers on the side of the caralways some angle i didnt intend coming as comment, reading is so mental and words so different to levels of us.  but i asawakened , some times i wouldn't get back to sleep and pulled out a book and headlight to wait out the hours it would take me to masturbate and fall asleep. before again some car would pass or people, always with more nerve holding me awake and  quickly alert but composed in an agitated frenzy waiting action, it was never as bad as my paranoia would led me through. i remember what utopia is to have a car and not. 
 not was before, not as city streets and bank mchines summer winter loosing all y stuff once even in an all night coffee shop, or sleepng with a sleeping bag in the small town of northhampton mass, on porches and fire escapes a different one every night, playing music during the dayand writing when i didnt have a computer. scrawlling script on lined paper unintelligable that was jessica summer i was love sick and nothing mattered.  her summer another ien away as will some, the pain of manly love like warriors with helen of troy. the battle field of self apprecition iixed into another will, and how to be a good lover, yet when to know self against self image,  crazy? leading depression, confusion. Unable to guide the dream as goal, no mechanics which fit, ihve only e to be a better world and in such a world as i manufest, i cry over the dead, steer myself too giving for i subconsciously steer myself  to pain sufferance devotion, yet holding on to sanity, no i ill not show i am crazy, i can only write about it,, and endless summers the poet t pen , the lover to loss, who tries , with no war available,  to fight through self emasulation, and fails . the love is bred, a whole missing loaf,while growing to be scolded for a lie, we made love we are intertwined, we are alone we? what do you have a mouse in your pocket, and so many timess i have thought for unity alone, wanting only unity but feeling yself unable, how many of us just wait for the complete insanity of thought and feeling , for  one or the other seem tto rule but jointly they see equality less and less. sepertion for the beast for ths planning for  food is to easy to buy so our gragarious being on looks for a united intellect, where once i fullfilled my pack idenity as genes rate importane to the cave people stage,  many  to hunt, few to lead most to serve, yet the pompous thrusts of nominial leaders, leaders supported on naviete or sheer ablility to follow orders, for real eaders hid in factories of leeaders, youth and pomp, create the direction of the hunting party, but when that puppet leads, it is no longer just killing to support your claim taking out the leader for puppets die to easy, no now the leaders hid ever since kings questioned gods, and the manipulation of mankind is materialism over a balenced fullfillment of need and love is no different, hat is system is system and all the reasons just fall to the leaders subconsioc precondotioning , mental osomosis, breath deep fishes, there can be none but what the soil says, but to see the saying feels out the real voice.     it as such a summer , jessicas summer, she was finishing school and made of intellectualisms matching mine happy to create and every day was a motivation to be a better person ,realize natures wholesomeness contained in the blanket of life,
    and no i had stared going homeess yearsand years before,  love usually had nothing but a back nagging constance, lack and lacking , but there was so much around me i could never see,  complete groupings of great people iam talking to, but i denyed loving my step father, because he was everything wrong withthe orld ,ignorant , fat ugly stupid dictotorial, preachy, self centered ,,, mother seemed less centered on him than getting to work on time,  and brother and i would see the cancer breathing, in our faces, ignorance and distain. 
      I guess we picked up from mother, function over form, germanic but forgetful of real styles . we survived to not get hit, never show what you really think. Hid; emotions. Desire.  Hid love so it can not get crushed by the weight of ever after. each slap a change oflife a lesson learned, until being invisible became survival until a oe day that only streached into infinity for when will you ever be truely free or truely loved. i wish i would hve thought moreabout personl control, i played everything safe scared it i went off i would be in  jail cell, i would be punished which rang true all the violence i had been subject to, this violence which chaned reaction, and sub consciously left me loveless, 
 but only as sideeffect for nature can only be , and what is humanly systematic saves as it grows over that which is sysmatically understood, emotin cure if only tohave time to feel them, a base line of consentration , and breathng,  the human system of mind and body interaction cretes a self distance which ivesa thrid demmentinal ablity to comprehend what the learning of the temporal has emotionally become. this one step starteand intellectual uderstanding which leads to emotional growth, I feel the focus and breathing leads to infinite self , energy self, astral self, and create a feeling of a perminate truth, comforting the lonely soul. 
  for at first it is hard to remember reality,   babies ,who you're amazing, their royal gaze wondering weather to call the axeman  or not,, or just laugh at the funny image that will leave again like they were never here. animal response in  a lover's first glance, the petted dog onthe street free loving holing togethe a word ofextravagant systems ovr the importance of feel ,the iportance of happyness, such that direct has been conceeded without law to insure a future, or even a common experience, laws which cncentrate on concentraion law which change fod supplies, and dictate the goalof mankind tmeet thechage of being live instead of hiding behind material wall greed and false control,    				
 it iss funny but evertime i come to the keys i ant to rite about the consciousness , this is the driven , the reasonn one leeaves what they know to see what they can yet look to understand . oh i have sen with my own eyes people turn their lives into grandious ego, story  lines with the hero and fantasy, i can not approve as anyone woud listen to me, my approval worth that much, but yet still there is a living which has too direct a living but suttliies should point not to a doctrine of life but a tone an over view more, 
 the process of sight worth more than the fables and tales one uses to justify,  nd maybe it is just rebellion against all writing , so simple to portrey the criminally insane as it is to tell loves tale,  ech relying on former symbolisms, of a once wa mentaal ignorance which didnt look to close a humanism which afforded room for the beastial and self gratifaction, our age must see more.  We can not rely on others to hold up the cause of sanity and philosophy. we must resolve and move on to feel the time  we are in, though alone that creates what we can say and still be heard. time is always behind its own contemporaries. 
 to see is enough to ake you seem insane for a pure nature has never left, but claims a blindness to go on in a unhealthy system.  
 and one persons road in reaity is the whole of story needed . but fear seems the educationalvoice. or it my ignorance telling of the system from colleges and univerisiess high schools and pre schol which lern human systems  , deviding lines specialialzations, mine to me your to you, what we share isnt aske for in america when i as trained. such to be missing out on the wealth from seeing our lessons personally as a cherished wisdom of answering.

  i should go back for i know i have left  behind much, writing to be a better riter allso suggests writing for grade and for throw away, the writing for publication gets iintense in a stage fright kind of way for some , no i started that way, a sixteen yr old wondering why i want to create a habit of typing  which was and still is pen and ink occasionally, always silent for i have tried twice to be published, and the other side of a peacan was acceped into a street paper once , but of late "the muse" didnt want the peace. i didnt even use my name as i talked of the avatars of life the last poets for the next is warriors. and why is reasoning so asy to se and never seems to be used,  innerly the challenge is for use, here inside the ritten work of our time , here where the many can not be denied and ideas flo between us evenwithout saying hello, i tell you sometime as you pass by , like we gro and learn with all e see, such bthat to beis enough and so on and so on, creating the enviorment of change the soil as seeds are born.
   time seems to b speeding up for e , a good spial above y head like i have found some small step agan ,, it is Jams joyces Ulyesses and any number of movies, but jj first leading this time i feel more than ever the time of just getting out rampantly and unincombered  
 speding bicilye in rain
caught on spirals flying up the spine wet and cold endless and ocer touht , like vision is not the matter it is the zoom lens  hen i meant to say the oppiste, hich can only be described as breathing,
  breathing thought thught and comunication saelf and wordly news and aprieveaed  symbols, the cave drawning have purpose, weall creat to rememeber ego self importance, lke a bath tube ring culture is it is the profunidity layer like this might be, in a garbage dump, some stray piks up and turns on, stray manwomen child the left over of a me. but one is never on s nery is all, we are the expression f the infinte or e dont excist, in either case , consideration of the infinite bring peace and health, it remiinds of priorities , breath focus and health for all ,rawfood and smaller housing, lol? on hueristic training and free college through interent, a global eductinal system  , yet what ver as i ketch up a alarm dont the street brings me back,   

Sitting on the here and gone sun in the   parking lot behind the apartment complex i enhabit  five floors two hundred feet long two seperate buildings all with wood beams files a pigeon, making a nest every stich is down from the third floor up again, down and up over and oover, warmth shade dry perfect beams,  a mate  a life i looked up to a aarm to see her the pigeon gray and special shimmery purple hints  the white belly, up and back, 
the sticks each day we change while remembering the maintance crew miht find us, might solve these hous of work with a grimious for executive never breath the air and rule forgetting their children, blackening theseas, covering up selling the air sky and now aquafier, but more selling us that we should constantly appalaud free market when control is happening.  the self subconsious sold my siin my debt my guilt to givea better life my guilt, my debt my guilt.
 my?.
  did i tell you underlying all this is other guilts, bt none e can speak of and there is matter i cn not tell you that i as a person have seen love form sex, male female malee, i love to be appeazed and still do but fewer and fwer offer, this is a sorted affair of being a chid and the transendance of body bee came just par and corse for the whole,  i reached into a spiritual formless ness to observe, what prejudices start a mental process, for if you never try you never know but allthings are the same if appreciated enough. but sexuality hich for me became amarker,though little talked about and so never understood by exterior story tellers,i found if people are not taken for who they are they ho can one accept who they are, such that forms and specilization complete consciousness more than self awareness or one can be happy with knowing what sandwich they ant and leave all else to the before mentioned forms , subconcious trining and moral prejudices accepted as la of family and class, 
  we profit  in our age the breaking up of class even while news is slanting to more divisions the last civil rights issue they want you to be lieve so you dont think it is a civil right to have a clean earth, breeable air that mass production must change a global system of land conservvation should begin.   like we can only see behind the curtain if we can can the light coming up from the floor. 

   another day 4/27/15

string days together through the writing process looks for some constant. i m the only constant . and deeper e go, for some ho ithink there is no end to what can be invented and written. or the invention is no more than opening up to the key board and then to you,  
 i want to be truthful. i ant to say i saw women all day ho i want yet couldnt really want even if they were madly in love with me. the first was a neighbor in the aartmentt omplex and to the incentive of truth o were the others ll have boyfriends and i a so lonely that even a conversation is enough to inspire my lust, to giive or get something for a beautiful women is a high.  balzac and his "droll tales"  to an apartmen copex filled with young mothers and boyfriends , or jus womn in general. the first tooday was while i was writing and she being the correct higth, for  i have a passion for short women and fine mounds, i cold tell you why butthe mystic would be lost , but size is fullfilling size and exactic size , the right pole is always bigger in a smaller hole, i preferr exacy to adiquacy, and so watching the thirty year old wash herself in warmth and sunlight wasenough her body a models stucture except she is only four nine. but after two years here i have never gotten beyond talking to her about the cat, and her moods are crazy, one day i ill say helo to a cold look other times she has given me presents around christmas, and herboyfriend  has always been aconstant and shee might do heavy drugsbut i dont know not like balzac could ever imagine such that now a flippant romance could lead to sex as a forever virus or worse, like reachig for an automatic love when the soil leads only to the traumas of people onpeople . so i have not gone further then looking and today  as she was basking i waved hello  i was fifty feet from her both sitting with cigerettes and she was laughing a hard laugh i never hrd from her,another mood and i smiled at her but the hole time i thought she was on the phone., when nxt i looked er she was sun bathing with a shirt on. tight tempting and the laughter was so free and lustful i thought i heard how she would sound when being pleasured, and i loved the referance  yet knowing i could never fit for real iher world, or so the limited conversations have lent me. today i felt her, 
 but its been a day of neighbors and breast i would love to lve for a moment the die cast can not alass be stopped,  so i feel safe having my inner love affairs without getting my  feet dirt in waters i know not. my conscious is frail hen sex hints at love i would rather love from a far.
 nd no i will not be a civil human if tht means i dont talk of the left overs of my seeeein her, a technical ability ever since television and before, and steach my pasions to enact them later at night when it is spiritual as eery creative endeavor is  but i couldnt ith the three or five i who;s spirits i touch hen i replace them ith temporal idea, for just after, i remember what i could postulate of their wholeness for each would be a travesty. and few grant writing an action. each of these women have men , one, each lover in the crowd i see,  yet age casts me, and personal class culture drives me, to places i would have to explain. i cannot give up control,

  its funny to hear me say that, for the balence rings out  , perfection of concept yet, al is riight for everyone , ihave denied love because i have never fully learned to love and hold my concepts in high regard,  i m learning i am driven, and most are not. 
  i feel poverty as a wealth as an insure scholarly excistance the ability to write and investigate feeling, feeling   
  April next 15
  but with the freedocomes the cost, food is short pleaure of a constant nature are lost, my addiction to cigerettes, to coffee become on the block for for how much i use these things and how outside conscious i will go for them. out side of a controled self, for money is only on way to get fund you can borrow but the poverty you get use to procludes returning the funds if you are reaching larger than your next check. such that small things build up. and then get bigger 
 my shoes became useless , the end of the heels on one side sheered off my way of walking caues this to happen, sinsister to my condition but what malise a heel. 
laughter?
notice the inter jection of laughter.  commenting on me breaking a line , story and communication, a purer communiction, the invention of text communication and blog, all these forms should not we recognized we are hear writing, an aside every now and again inside war and peace, tolstoy talking about arguing with his kids. the rain getting in at the chort house, f his for a friends child ho will soon be of age, and leaving that there
 lol

 leaves with a chnage f self importance and a real sign that all ideas re so useless the advent of medicrity as th star is only that hich is new. 
  no jury of opioin and revei  do we feel , no waiting for the right and journalistic integity to stop the pen or the mind, noing accept the lost file that not all our spew can not make a couple for people smile. 

 i am getting cold our side in grey and slight rains

    and so we smoke and move, here the public market here here a week ago i met and avantar of common graces driven to understand ? or confuse? himself ith the dialogue of latin inside words, a name of the study should go here ,,?? epsitolmology??   carpentery class didnt cover,  but joyces used as a verb of brainwashing. and so we proceed.
  i am writing and smoking in front of the veg gmo free market, my nervess are hightened for somene to come tell me i m breakin the rules,  and i am stil cold the inter jacket isnt closed i close it ,,, the seats are metal , for quick turn over, and weather resistance, and i ave just borrowed money from the book seller for a book on leonard pelfier the two movies are bought with trade and i get a coffee.  i forgot to tell th lady that our meeting of bellingham vendars has changed,  it makes me wonder hen i have left my beaard grow the looks from passing young women for it only on young women i stare well a look lasting 2 seconds deems a stare and often a retort silently is the avoiding gaze, instances of love encluding all we see. again the blindess but also the anti social determined structre of a normal wesst coast interaction, guarding love  .

 or is coast a matter, 
 the older get over it, but then i want to say to somene who knods, hello come have a seat.  we will pretend there isn't a parking lot.  and instead see a wall of people. 
 Nature most winning verdic; Privateacy.
      and as such we expect it , the urban consciousness here is denied, even the music seems to wish for an age which is gone.  but it is also what i have time for , endless, to turn hills
  the ants pace
 a hole in the black
 top into community. 
    all extireior sutle cover
 burnt with innocense
whil mondern tteaches death fear panic 
 through tv, moviess,video game and finally life. 
innocense is pure nature
 in a world of fasist choises. 
weburn off our loves 
deny parts of self to eat the charded remains into winters envyand slace of breath gone again to innocents. 
may first may day , friday
   so it is to get out among and let in the positive,  as presppectives weigh aainst brain space thoughts, weight lets weight fight for room . so letting day happen abssorbing the goo planning with the bad , . maybe right no i couldnt tell you the ba as most happening i except like a good squirrel, lettingg to obvious not weigh me downand yea  mayb i have come to a land of being where true thought distracts everything to its level, where once slavery and childhood ran to gether into trauma,  trauma which absorbed the mini and exploded it, yelling over the color organge . destroying love intimacy  creating secrets  survivaland disfunction, but it hass given the mind much to see in order to help ? closer and more in body, the teaching of an average day fr me is starting to here its self. 
 i havee decided to infest a new Free Jam,  but not as the front person performance artist , who needs a band but a bass player who sings back up an a percusionist playing congas and bongos a professional player  brought. he sat out for the middle players. just a little do i hear to fullfill a sound.  one more part and its all full and inside mine i reach utalittle because i am unconfident,but have consumed enough marijuana to get me through, bbut i use the power consume my innocense. reaching out side of the chord and thr a passing tone and there sliping in a rift from a different key, they are going to fast for me to feel fully but its beat and i come back to the sng  g g g aa a c cc round structure repeat,  accepting the tonal flow 
  so aay is set of month for art a gatherng and most didnt know hat day it is. a i am reactive , i set up way before j-- set up so i played  j-- art opening at starbucks  would that only be the fabled corporategaint ,,  is art opening at a orporately cntroledd drilled and enslaing coffee house at the main intercesstion of town.  so i set up down the reet, just because i  needed the money and usually on a good dy i can make twenty bucks,  the diffrence between the joans and not,   their is a path of images , the dreaded symbolisms in inprovisation i should use and did use and have been using, to night i sang merry had a little lamb and a song called shutes and ladder, the second i as working on paths than go over paths  singing to he peope in the video store accross the street, but the patience of an automatic invention i felt the little bit of symbolism and rode them, so much said so lille heard, 
  and my little town scenery hassn't heard of may day except for the animal parade?.. a horse  by a different name. and its the first of its kind .  i play the sidewalk; busking its called,  one wonders where the term came from  "bushin",.   and while i am at it "may day" further research which would create a difference here i will not .  
  it funny but for all the blogs in the "sphear". should i also get in the mix i gues it would help the courage of my daily life is daily the goal when these ritings are for a book. 
  the neww week tastes like cow shit. i guess you know it real. and i spend more time loosing my lighter than worring about the global order.  but then you feel hat is your life also, maybe in direct analsis at time here focus is created the reason hy i like the little towns where my enviroment isnt causingg me to  move , not here private property and any alley way will due. but i can not stop my big city thinking, like thought can be seperated, for where thought is seperate only is (allusion) illusion regarded,  and ften i write without an explainaion  allusion is referance to the obvious, whihch is a set of symbols and prejudices commonly held by the blind to fill in fcts for sights instead of seeing and they canot be spoken accept ith the riting , like some one knows the pulse is in the flow or pretends righteousness with augused reasoning pulled from spocered sources. . 
  
 right and wrong a question of duelality having little regard for the true system. the man pushed.     
..is pushed, reason limited to size of event often holds little for what actually is happening.
 our land again turning to little economic fudalisms, lord master ideas fundamentalist faction. pshed , so yesterday happened msic to one or two people,, haveing hard  a time concentrating when more, for a second looking up counting feet seeing line lovely calves, and with blonf hair and a tight white mid thiegh dress i look away. the song is going long iam singing in front of peple what song is it, almost missed a lyric, close your eyes get through blending intonation with composition. a quiet end, 
 finally look up to what i missed.  they dont clap i said somethng whicch changed there minds about me expecting  a cover tune maybe didnt listen when i said an orginal tune if you like it give me money. so much to dull the expression but not. each moment is left to the next. 
   the air , sitting 
fitting in the sun,  
 and so like a good
 annouance, a friend drive up. his classic 49 dodge marking what the 13 year old turned sixty would say.  i am showing in a store my art of a million years. i sell weed constancly with the care of old time survival. the marker the doer, the fixer, but only good enough to need further fixing every fuck me for druggs has "sobbered up" in his bed.  every "i am to nutz for reality women" has entered his lifelessness, so torn from  caring left miniscule an appreciation to all , is his lot. desprite yousay endless learned the street focus. good enough, the art muse rings in hours doing. 
     Watching the small town burn by. so man storie you come up with tales, each sighting masses in the mind. 

may 5 th a meeting suposed which no one showed at, good maybe they came up with a better venu for thrusday check facebook, but what am i doing? i had to get out look for positive things to do,     people to talk to. so i link myself ith a problm of the permit structure for micro vendors, link in that i have shown up to meetings . i am not really a marketeer, or a vendar of products, i have paintingsfor sale while i busk but that is it. i am never going to achieve anything so why bother with this , what is achieveent  and how do you focast the futurelike that except thedays are growing short for any kind of real motion. i will be fifty soon but evenore important i still can not see much for me a worker i have always been sore and tired most of the time and really pissed at the system which created me, the hard pressed never free time for vactions or much recreation. life has always been on the high side of worker's poverty,  a trailer park before the age of apartments, the struggle as the only lesson i learned from parents, off to work, off to school, early days of after school at the neighbors, tuna sandwiches and playing with dolls that got me in trouble got me beat. made meturn inside. 
     Now i am trying to deal with people, look at them nd not as units to recieve mney from like as i kiss ass while playing, my customer service , using the same cheerful disposition imbred in me. embred by beatigs over spilled milk and smll personal choices against a iolent step father, secret chioces, hich have to be secret for discovery is pain,
   am i still here breething with the last resort of art, writing is when you have no other way to be heard. picking away on keys , pushing through your obvious sub conscious reaction  which create a man who could only grow in silence, for fear of someone saying no 
 and i can see the peices but the whole is a problem the universe of one is all the characters invented to get through, becuase i want to be reactive. and whoe but i am a coward to be justice, which says a man gives attitude in the middle of the day maybe he deserves attitude back. for our world is constant in its abuse of power lobbies, middle management brown nosing , corporate overlords of education, and enviromental impact studies. big brother physical abuse, and i see no difference between the creationist and corporate policy both plead fantacy and while both create the brainashing, the holy wars techiqual eequivalant on one side to the greed orientated economics of wealth as the only standard of a good life, on the other.  
  later oh the day fell hard after that cryin and torn memories. tears over what wasnt no matter how hard i tried i couldn't give myself over to love. or iweighed to much on my world sightof kenny, the writting kenny the man who would spend all his money for rent on a guitar  and then tell the landlord to pay him to leave, the kenny who would rather have freedom then a restraining lover, and the only real love i ever found was to young, and when she wanted back i had come to fear that love. because of the pain our break up had on me.  i worry about bella the same way sometimes the worst becomes my thoughts and i an scared of nature life death having ,missing. we forcefeed our selves lies to hold a second jealously, nothing to go wrong in this investment land. the world feeding of our sense of first world, when we have to sink to rise. we must loose housing shelter to save money, for the monkey on the back is the standard to life, planned out for those without famiy, without connections which save them from the mind altering working world where thinking is 1984 danagerious.  and i think to much about things a second holds as real and waiting to be real to real and of your thoughts and not mine, real and never meantioned in "good" company. or i start to wonderr when the anti depression pill started and wonder further if the over chemicalized  began at equal time periods , chemicals which complete the depression for even the un genetically depressed, though which stream in from the video games and top ten movies of each sucessive age, setting up aged symbolisms such that one generation doesnt understand the next and further we all go to wards depression ,  and the free market deflates the middle class,  "who told them they were supposed to have an equal market place with chinese, whos schooling medical and housing is free. or so it seems . because i am gussing. 
may7th  Therapy day

   so its simple get up, go to therapy, use the bike after taking a bus. simple right except one has to get up on time and as i started to think of therapy i couldnt get to sleep so i was up till 3 playing chess, and it took everyhing to remember to set the alarm which when it did go off i tested myself to remember why, why to go. testing the alarm to see if the snooze button rang twice or three times until i turned it off. waking is unwanted another dy, another to admit so depressin i have had ll my life andnever seems to be able to change,. but with the affore mention chemical food additives i again know i m a whole world of fat people, though i dont take the drugs i am just as concerned with what i eat and just as depressed. i once took the pills in fact a couple of time i have taken the drugs, i gained twenty pounds once,  i felt like a cop; huge.  so that has been out of the question.  but i lways anted to be like others able to use what specialness my heart feel. why cat you just get over it? a normal life i would have trid for each of my lovers over th years but i knew, i felt direction less an all my life i hve been facing this, this disruption of "normalacy" father died of suicide grandmother on fathers side also, i never really exspected less.  it is funny that i have gotten this far, but they didnt come to realize the pain they were living was a large part alcohol though i just assued because i have felt better only with ut drinking and everyday i drink now i have a need to recover. lat night i had one beer while watching baseball that was enough i cryed at therapy. so simple is as it does and i got on the bus at 25 after and was at the building five minutes early.  
    A cheap building out by the airport such that few buses ev/en go there.  As this town is set up make allowence for the poverty traffic more than a stated goal of transport, the bus does go to the airport but leaves off, a mile from the gate.  if you choise to walk, which on a good day could be a fine walk as the state trouper have a station out there and the grassy areas are all well kept, but someones brother of someone important enough to be recognized as a possible election cycle donor, ownes the largest cab company and only the rabal walk any where (for all the talk about green sustainablity)  words which sound great but rarely saves a tree;  the building is cheap with a metal roof missing fixtures in side and pictures which remind of poverty.  a large sansalvian women takeing sticksto market all high and tied to her back adorns the waiting room  along with addiction paraphnaia,  
may 8th 
 As i make a setence of the last paragraph, i forget the pointof the last entery??may8th later  
  the phone rng and the worl aid to help a girl, talkproceeds for as many hours as i am gone, bad this  help me with that. test the waters wiill you fuck me?? no ok. off she goes jobs done conversation concrte and containing to much ymbolism , the roote, the room , i wishes and mre ht can not be's disablity as a professional option, one dy i ill quit drink,     until i take her to a spot by trees and the sound of water and still what is alive is ever looking, for self jutication. 
  the weed she offers is twice the priceof mine nd i can tastethe chemicals, one hit, and   " i am in my office" sitting with tablet and  world of no sounds made by a scraching ant to be sane voice, want to nt drink want to stop riding guuys from the casino help me. you who have risen to a shelter should love the ruined feel for the still ruined but i dont  add a drug and i feel nothing because of hat blindness i hld?  alone only my sepertion from class, right and wrong good better best systems, accepting the shallows i live. listen to your pains kills me as i share what wrlds personaly i have seen and transend. as a process of iloophy, but i cant aswer the reasonless, approaching self by suroundings, 
  May 8th
   again later now I sit by the bay a bridge a quiet pot car passing the only constant to seagulls i have already the need to be in the shade as summer is starting its march to fall though its only spring calendar wise the sun is hittig seventy and the night 54, it is time to hid.  what color we turn to redden and then burn i will know soon enough. no need to rush the fashion it ill come and i will show my dark side. 
 i had thought i would go play tonight collecting coins from the street,coins that one never can tell if they come from appreciation or pitty, the change is always light playing originals. but here we sit wanting to smoke and more over again escape. the bounf of city the bounds of apartment, the heartless ness of the day the hope of the next escape everything to feel a moment of focus and concentration in excessive words to cover what laws i live by , a set of more-all's takenfrom being 14 and maybe never achieved beyond. but kept t the ruling control of a freedom i will never be able to truely tell, a world such is only known to those who have felt the prison of other peoples judgements and systematic economics, its funny really that i associate everything to the year i learned freedom thefirst days of a violent step father 's over throw, his back a over side dirty t shirt into a dirty white step van, each load as he carried stuff out, him alone is how i remember it, the first tie in my life where my brother and i didnt help did jump to , to get done what ever plan the commanding king would ask , off with his head our french revolution  for which i paid for wishes preyers inner screamings sincewatching the news talk of divorse and single determination. 
watching his back moved me , going to the truck , to the work vechile for which my brother and i had rode in to deliever stuff or fix furnaces in  mobile homes like ours, but different  different by the ay they smelled, and the fixing sually was a constat cheking or finding a mouse home dislodging it  loking at the  small bits of paper and hair for which had made their winter bed,  we would try to stay inert in the back of the van without seats, the sharp cornors and grease stains to void.  the truck was quiet time and every wron ness could again become a center of conversation, always told what you were doingg never asked what you are doing no checking in to feelout direction, but commanded about how little you are doing right, the slap more for me sitting ere then realized. for him, off somewhere inside the lonely german mind . on our pains maybe he found peace. A year later he shed up, a ride with hi new wife and first child. maybee he wasfrustrated at not being abe to have his ownchild so we were the great savior 's product, never to rally like never to really hold, a great sence of entilment, but he wasnt that bright and i would spend the  rest of my life wish to fullfill my intellect, and cast off the smallness i feel.
 but i can not.   and ther e wonder again if i am fullfilling my neurosis by saying such, as perspective are the first rule of thought, through which glasses,  it is to question the creation of tunnel vision . 
 abe the last feeling i ever really had as his back. there seems no pressing image at this point but the pure releif and fear i felt , what would life be next, a cross rad, 
 i of course crossed into the left overs of an abused child , years piled onn years of a judgement left to alk away a system i knew like the ending of the war, i was really stuned, and that night i slept well. but i was already knowing so little of personal wealth, what difference the outer world  when you are fighting to feel alright, pretending to get through your days waiting for the night to fullfill, the hidden world of teenageness and drunken women offering temptions unknown, while you pucked vodka and lemonade, while the lights on streets looked like liquid and never could you be aware you can only try to survive your feelingsthe sickness to repeat the agression against self which seemed missing. for so many years extremes of pain the slapps the leather belt the spoon at dinner the two by four , a room bluring in tears .blurred naturally, stumbling is like getting slapped the world of gravity and surendar. 
 and fifty years go by so quickly  years where the novels of the day where my thoughts. a stranger in a strange land and i was the exploited  child where sex was a means to get marijuana or beer women were to open like a puzzle until you said i love you then yu read them by the moans once satisifed this was going to be a spiritual conection where i first learned sales. . and hard cider is a gallon jug in an empty field for a couple of months,  and crime is only what you get caught for .
 all in that year i found quality over quanity , my brothers drinking over my own, he was quanity and Lsd and a truck his was football and beating me up if he could catch me. but never thanking me for breakfast and my whole world was the paper chase tv show and Fame, until i broke my leg doing summer saults in eleventh grade then i started to read then i started to write, while living every passion offer for i couldnt choise alone i wasnt worthy and hid my writing and went into the militaryand got out just as fast, 
  with a tattoo on the arm and my first steps in homelessness. the first time some one askedme what i wanted, and so i told the i want to rite, writing is about wwriting the osmosis of natural leaning like tai chi and brian getting so ingrooved to take on any writing though i wrote becausenothing ca stop writing , a page and a book, and the great miracle the small man getting a voice and somewhere in all theaction is some understanding , i ant to be a writer turnedinto a fireescapeafter getting kicked out of my first shelter, labor practises i found inconvient considering they were disturbin the hours i was getting paid for at a local resturant for that is where i had experience at fourtteen i had y first job and always bought my own shoes, or so i say though i am not really sure it is true ask my mother.  but a forevr work xperience so i worked and slept o fire escapes a local elementray school up before the children back after work,    why now? do i write this or havei always been writin this combingthrough these words ooking to seperate theconscious from the un? for long ago i learned a peacefulness in spiritual intuition a infinite happynessborn of the action of writing, such that the large and immediate are the same and ghosts proven metaphysics and you only have to see one to reweigh all excistance to point and purpose , there isnt one bt to make or be a more human plant.  a chemistry of bio energy.   the first poem. 
    
      photoplasm.

  the veins and the leaf against the sun. 

we are to think and resolve  we are frustrated when intellect is replace by economic stagance and selling ideas as a full time job.  and the sun is siking and my ass is cold and i must for money play guitar toorrow. . 

some editing today then i drew.
 watch three movies, one a forgotten repeat two others, hmm what to say,, the  transdence of johnny debtpt. siper heaven the reinvention of life through technology, nano bots save the world. agree or not as concept, the sciense screaming against some religiousness that combines with the government to rule against the savior technologic lical enenty.  i often think technology through philsophy and expernical spirituality or a natural metaphysical mechanism. so there is that, 
 but acting; this is that germ movie with dustin hoffman, and johnny and everyone else turns on solo proformances, limited budget and alot of props.
  three movies sleeping during the first , chess during the second, and third, but i had wanted escape and have been feeling a cold run through me in my back all day. just uncomfortable,because of the juices and vegs, th vitimins and thee streaching and low stress, ie the movies, three for the price of two at the expensive first runn movies, 
 driven   mmm driven to let some one else lead me. i am afraid of leading myself or i just like to fall off the trail and let someone else be my motive, for i dont want for enough i hve come to see what is education for so you cant see the butterflys?   stress out over children though i am also afraid what i would do if i loved them i mean i would be driven for cash and more-alls. 
 it funny how music is formed around the drunken good times. but for me it is the private sensuality i love. the inner meaning and the hope. but hen i am at the bar it is about the sound.  we can create and yet i cannot explain to  musicians or people i am playing with at the jam. lately , but t the same time i can not step up for myself playing bass. and can not accept i can not do anything i want to try either,  after eight years here i am still alone trying to feel purpose,  drven to feel myself whole like i feel alone or in love. 


continue driven 2015 may-    driven is to feel whole
against what heart looks to see
 the changes of self
the steps of the ladder
 the tone of a tree
    I want to quit smoking weed, the side effects of an up and down conscious balance. happy sad numb sad . and i find joy in still life.
  and is there ever a time when that is so, i come as close as i can and still the night breaths its magic and intuition straight into a piss cup. question not to see red and blue flashing, aggressive sub-consciousness, frustrated future sight which keeps workers away from spectators, and  artists alone, 
   I have no reason for wanting to address myself as an artist, seeing as i have never studied an art but what i could do. and that becomes an explanation more than mere acknowledgement, or 5 percent see something. 40  percent hear the music so i guess i feel more accepted for it but no one accepts my writing . and i am not sure i do because of it. thats a hard thing ,, idea to swallow , seeing how i have written for many years constantly, since i could expand my time with writing get more out of silence for which i was trained to as a child, silence, a suffering survivalist silence, like waiting for a sniffing predator. silent like you have to  submit and often to unquestioning subservience, sort of like a credit report or criminal conviction, so really american.  I muse we are all  abused rise and fall in the planning of an international market, inflate and deflate, keep people busy, kill community, make children run from parents, move whole families  with fine print, and then guns from your local rich right occupational forces , the court the banker, who treat america as an open market to launder money once stolen from bloody  wars of the sixteenth century.  so my abusive past was only a prelude americans are tortured from birth, tortured with media and money worries, debt in education, housing and healthcare, Tortured into a willingness to follow our natural sence more than a unified destiny tortured away from love. or straight toward it. for we can easily have empathy, and easily fall in love, there is also the acceptance for  religious tantric-ness the holidaze, the sorted political-ism of religious zealots who vote while corporate spending consolidated cash, as in exchanging media money for a free electorate,  like me not being able to see myself without you looking. or me not being able to understand myself because i am in constant motion. there is very little that isnt going sixty thousand miles a minute or what ever the earth rotates at. 
    all this playing back the xcesses of knowledge , self isn't enough to know and yet it is the only thing at first pertinent. Americans are offered up as slaves because we are slowly loosing any humanity, as buisness needs our bread to grow stronger, needs our wills to produce, for the system and corporate family, And the smaller, the more greedy; for our time such that we are expected, in an hard market, to live the system and die innerly to  fullfill that which is expected to be  predestined.  you must have shelter ,tax it spnd those taxe keep the country weak, proclaim art to unify while slowly pulling apart the frame work through a global system of trade to replace nurtralize and drive a cheaper fronteer, now compete with people ho are less elightened and will do any thing to be what they dont understand, and the image out weighs the reality.  
 i have been trying to allow what good i do to shine into my happyness. to remember a self appreciations and the little steps i feel change me everyday as i slowly turn my love into my drive.  but i am gain forced to do this , i created the need by seeing other paths as unreal. but what is real. the music , not at  my age, unless some one buys the songs, but how do you get money to look at them and i dont care.
 i like playing them because it gets me out of the house and i can feel whole for a second here sitting with the artist tool. i am something that mobves the audience, if not me?. why dont i feel it as happyness, maybe bcause i see so many just not connecting with life not the beat not the intellect, they are caught folowing and forgetting personality for a crowds comfort, the controled cells the market shares, i feel peace but only alone.
  may15th 215   a morning ith text messages cleared up one girl thingy, it is funny you i help out women, yes part of me is looking for love but in the mean while i try to help also, those who would never be mine,  a seperation of age and intellegence and experience no one talks t me witthout a need . this one is cigerettes this one is a place and mere shelter the streets are littered with all sorts of addictions . and sick as they are they sometimes come to me girls mostly i am prejudice of couse, men would attract unwanted attention, and atleast women have the possiblity of insiting my creative side but tend to leave with my keys.
 my commnness is th lonelyness i feel everyday with L- gone . wih a world i cant seem to remember for myself i seem more attentive with women around. but i can rarely help , and my animal is suchthat i have  rarely feel good about it, i dont ike the secret hidden of disruption i feel. like i am always wanting to really be alone. a one bed room i live in feels full with one other person, and  these victums of society need space to moan and eat, i have trouble feeling at one with myself. but i always have being another victum i know, 
 so in the last year there has been  J---, Cosmo, Squrish, and F---, each stayed for a minute but there lives didnt change on account of me i just interluded, and they took a second to see my art or to totally disregard me which has always been my thing i didnt use my pains to keep them and havent anything to do with me after. useless it feels bu something with each let me into my into.  J was the first and she was living wih her aunt, in a niceplace of in the woods.  we met playing music on a first friday art walk, sh was beeautiful, but as soon as i meet her i felt the lyrics " jes
---si-----ca /are you on the border/ of what you love and what you aughtaa." and thatwas right after i met her all beautiful and e instantly felt the connection , a world just over there i thought, she might have been the most perfect women for me, but i didnt think about her until she came over a couple of text messages and there she was so beautiful ?but?then it flows out,, her last boyfriend inexas beat her until she as almost dead, and now she is in constant pain and would get awful head ackes and needed pain pills she took mine, i had left over from a toothacke, once she had them she mellowed out we watched movies and had great sex, then she told me more, it sems is has anex she said who just assualted her and she had him arrested he had threatened to kidnape her and she didnt want to go home really. he knew where she lived and when he gets out of jail he will come back, or she only implied the last part, she ent home the next day i said she coud come back and she did and i wasnt receptive, if she didnthave pills she needed to drink to get rid of the head aches, no drinking in my house, i tryed to drink with her but couldnt and sheturned nasty and i took her home after one drink. she didnt even like drinking or pills, it as the head acke that kind of pain that you can only deal with, they said or she told me she was leaking blood into her brain nd ther asnothing the doctors could do,  truth or fiction i couldnt tell, not like it made any differencehat i believed she believed and so i started to look for pills for her, she took ll mine after three visits , she as like an old girl friend i once had ad that scared me,then wwhen i was visiting her at her aunts house which i never saw the inside of , we met in park which we drove to in seperate cars, we tlked of abuse growing up and alot of our sharingwas really starting to make sence of why we found each other but then as quickly as it started it was over. we were texting funny and sexually, an the it stoppd she had a fight with her aunt an as living in her car but wouldnt come to me then i found out her boyfriend got out of jail and tey weereback togeether i didnt find out until he caled me and thretend my life, then she called mee andaid he had threatened her life i called the cops. he took her phone fter i asked him where he was because i got madand even pulled out theline "who do you know" something i learned if you are going to threaten reprisal make it sound like you have coonection and you might kill me but these invisible people will come for you. i never heard anythig from them ut spent the whole summer and even now , looking over my shoulder waiting for him just for the record his name as is Rod or ron Sweet.  the facebook shoed him an army ranger, and i paused after enough to keep a fish knife with me all the times now. because the story didnt end . and on sept 8th i recieved a friend requst from her? on facebook, in november i called her. and talked to her aunt. the police found her dead in a park along route 5 . they had Sweet in jail for parole violations but not for murder though the cops had been to their house many times before, he had her truck in california and back but they couldnt link him to the murder. 
 i felt like shit it was nice with her except the pills and alcohol, but i didnt save her.  couldn't save her,  and silently wondered if he was going to come for me,  but after sept i did hear from her. i figure she had gone on being his prisoner, him feeding her drugs and booze. i decided i couldt worry over her, and moved along. but the savior in me wouldnt learn o anothr day went on. alittle colder in my consideration of me,  it was june and the air as sloy coming to summer, i was out alking lik everyday up main street when this couple stopped me, looking for weed they wwere an i had alittle i hadd figured to sell but wasnt looking to really i figured a friend ould ask for some andd tere we go cause i ent to the store for him every now and again as i got some for me, this couple looke like the perfect people , she wasyounger than him buti didntknow uch more than that unil we started alking back t the apartment. just ith her i am ustioning her the whole was turns out they had just moveed here and ddidnt know anyone, she was eighteen and he was her father, then it started to get weird she took the weed and we walked back to some bar he was at, while toook ahie but she was pretty, and i only felt the street senses of what is this guy doing to his daughtr as w tried a couple of bars before we came to the right one , all the timewe were havng a good conversation about art and music about spirituality and the further hope of mankind, until we found him drunk unable to drive and then i started to feel weid, hat am i to do ere is a pretty girl stranded with an alcoholic father, he was rich bought cigeretts and mr alcohol and took me back to a sound studio iws in heaven looking at the equpment, but i didnt look closely, and sa her retreat into smoking like the weed was going to fade aay if you dint smoke it right now. i saw her turn qquiet and bored and i didnt like the world and didnt want t leave her there, i hate being stuck with drunks. so she went weith me home. here she stayed for a couple of days leaving with my keys, and running around town with some kid, i culd only watch as she passed, i felt in love with her ikw the world had changed like i was young again, but that also oreout, i called he father andhe threwn money at'-b.  me and forgot about daughter,well enough that he keep on drinking and running his company.   idid some lyrics and got a photo gig for L-. girl was gone.
 and i had  new guilt to worry over.   
                 Youth in a media conscious culture is funny.  To much experience before the real blood experience , the ablity to know entertinment as a seperate experience from life seem to be a question i wonder if i can anser.  How quick was it from seeing seseame street and then to Hill Street Blues the cop shop of my moments ,  or from Howday Dudey the kids puppet show to dragnet,  the earlier fbi version of C.O.P.s with real stories,  how long from the childs mind listening to be entertained and learning to the adult which denys the learning while turning on the same devise,  i guess i should leave that alone , for there we go into the subconscious trainings and must devide the conversation again into emotional parental trainings and those from the ambigious land of television and movies as well as books and flim often i think about the first days of recorded music, and firsts have bloosmed since the cheap printting press books passing doubled (and more) out put  . where does youth now pass into .  
 Kosmo was afarid of nothing i learned from here father, for after the three six Days with me where she cooked and cleansed like to her jazz left me to write and play music. ere i  was happ again for a fantasized  moment, she was gone.  and i was scared, knowing i ould have to forget i have felt this before.  nothing can come easy twice i have fallen in love with roomates, three times i have met and moved in with lovers,  hhen it is over they leave never to be seen. i had cried to much i once figured the pains of the past being greater than the present   
shared knoledge.     and thenanother A-- but where we taunt love ito a mold i am lst i can not  itis intuitive and feeling i waited but tried and better or wrse she as real for me when i touched her th energy ran throuh us,  and a moment was enough, but i could be wrong or i coud be right i could seperate each moment until i know  or i already kno and take leaps that i shuldnt watching love happen, and there yt the like me she might really be , for all the time we talked i felt the reservve like i am trying to be calm but i cant  i ould bee her knight  if she ould grnt me but a touch abd as she leaves bwe hug, and treamors shot through me i kno and cant stop smiling as she leaves or she just makes the best exists.
 and it can not matter all the self needs to feel is the feeling the motivation i love direction a goal and of unity. i have been knowing ineed a one . 
 but like me 

  i am invested in my low self esteeme and need to figiht it , How i often ask and only when  true love persuit is listed, the logic comes. the god feeling.  i am a man who is intelligent enough to test and wander among his traumas and spiritual natures, i am Palovian and know it but what me is isnt a singular property breaking through sane fate for a something again holding mental understanding most high, and with that i have proceeded, the poets light shimmery and constantly following a unknown proof, will i again hold her eyes? Again to hug and join with her , i felt timeless love or maybe it is a first time i have been able to see another as well as now where i have brought personal sight to a forced recollection. where i look daily for the self sight of love which i have either through humility or just the left over of abusive up bringing , i forget self love constntly, in replacemnt i work art constantly work like each sitting down ith typewriter of drawingpen i leave what i can on the page 
  but life runs so fast and i would to still move to know more of the circles i have not pushed the romantic circles or the educational circles. these both are inspirational but romance being the center of loves attactments looms more involved, and the courage of living most exacting. one sad word from a new friend and analsis becomes pity which reigns because we look for superiority. 
 so i then wake and proceedto cigerette and coffe feed cat andget the mail the electric bill arrived with a shut off letter and the timing is sublime  Amber leaves my mind , but with devoted intent to be replaced by doubt further in self  and i start to panic , do not mistke my thoughts i am waitigg for the full feelings and control the actions but the border is know and shaky hands and tearful eyes t answer the qustion of money i didnt kno how to answer as they tell me from behind a computer and a counter that i owe over half of my monthly check 134.00 i owe and i'll have my service shut off if i dont comply by the first, i am infront of the omen a larger type with glasses a youngertype who never signed up to be consular or therapist gets nervous as i get emotional flexing my arms and running through my streching as i tell her there has to be a way to give me more time. she coms from behind the countre to how me the free places to get money. i hav already gone there, i sayin my extreme depressed state my making a scene carelessness.  here i am starting to feel i must get out of here unless i want to appear on a police arrest list in the paper. and all else leaves. i can only think about forgetting or answering . answering is worked on and i grab my pack and go the Salvation army which was on the paper . i walk there because ididnt play much this weeknd and have no money a couple of dollars worth of quarters and i forgot to get my bus pass last month. as i walk the fourteen bocks i see fresh strawberries in a front house garden, i notice acole of free itemson the side alk and each women futures my flowerly looking stem to seed,  all this i have pased many times in the car and every thing is getting more up close.  
 hen i get there there i a line but i am fifth the sack is for the food i get from there once a month  and it lays at my feet as i tell about the electric , How does one live on state disiblity ? very carefully such that this is  very important , as in i loose my housing if i dont pay the electric,  out of the 197 a month and constant homelessness i have a federal apartment whih cost me nothing until i get a job then i must pay a portion of income a third i think for a job has been up tothe people who give them and no one sks me to do something i appreciate doing  
  no that isnt it ilie, bcause i not fel hat i a orth a love can never be pid enough they can become sub human for you and not even notice it . like the burn out state comes without warning. where you finlly feel broken by system and those in it with you , the pt crawlers who see you in the way.  as they dive deeper for the little golden coin,  your flesh is your dirt you get under their   nails  and would you ind bleeding somewhere else, food to the churning sea, 
 burned out feeling the money creates limits where poverty creates none to thought your time invested in self, or working becomes a comnstantto rise where others have fallen the road littered with the bodies of higher consciosness and awareness. with poets and riters of all kinds and from each time since time was written, 
  nigght warmer than normal buta western ashington wind to push the reluctanthome  blos as i set up the amp, the accoustic possesioned hile the case becomes staging area money to be despoistied there, a soft shell turned inside out  th fine felt interior to support cds, change, the magazine and one stffed hnd puppert a buzzard sort of duck who ha never achieved a name but orks all the same,  guarding and placng the guitr pickup hich has a cord  and fits his buzzard body inside, his other job is to look cute attrctive and to disarm my general look of the hardened cab driver carpenter ho has been loong from his waitery days,  traffic people with the single goal of being out ,, out bis many things and as the night progresses, this definition gets streached andfolded , gets  taken as a number get leered at from the sight of thoathigh thieghs and glarmous uge shoulders , as we are all the outsie to another, the sex symbol and travisity of another , the mad joke eading a party of five that only knows.   and after i have placed all the symbols, claiming no control of my pace except this and  i can sit. i should more remember than bu i do just as much , I could and what is is often thought before ated ,, i shouldd medatate for a second tto focus for the progressive self to happen, and the energgy to be alive, but i only claim small remains, the placed pet.
    clan felt drk and comfortabe thn one top of two placed dollars,  tonight onlyfor most times  tocome out at all, i must be poor, real and so after the dollars two night goes the forgien coins  i cant spend rom a light green poch leather worn yello white at places, the giggle of circles amazes me , it is taken for money no matter what it really is and enough of them worthless peices and people will match and better then,energies ito a pot, for the singing one who cares not, for caring is to be given away in song. 
 ad caring critisizes and deters, i do not wonder on the state of my words, for years have gone by living a fear of reprisal, a step father in my head,, a power overr me i didnt understand you ould say that was then.

  i wear a necklace fr the same reason, cool down the image  and i would loose it first in the city, or would i.  staring into pus bubbles, the change of perspectives as weight is changed, as one thought lead to feeling closer to a true s-elf, fantasys are easy for some of possesive nd contro.ling minds , comfort in choas an american trait, if i really thought there is anything to refer to; else. Ste-isms i ill graant but not americanisms, for a definition of one time seems to over shadow the amorphious occasion of its streets,  shave close and clean dressed my age and comfort is what i live on, the chair is perfect,  though by thinking of it i move it slightly.  the mike and chair,  the amp , mike and chair. a small dance like bella laying any where.
  and then " i will play you a song nd if you like it give me money, a set of eyes i am searching for only to wish they a goodnight and a next time , the show is nt started  or i if part of it was me practing new songs and waiting for a set of eyes that says yes ,
 chair amp mike, guitar placing it first might have mag sence but no matter ho many time i forget it  place place replace swivel slighlty  an then after repeating the line like a subway dealer ,, trees i gt your trees here, the close confinement of washable tile walls, the press and bother. I repeat the line with different tons extending it, deforming it, it takes a whole three minutes, live proformance art  
 i just need an audience,
and sayit with a barkers rant some time the use car salesman the home electrics experts dream , out right and bold weigh against the general sedation, and so that goes be tween and over either random chords or ne song organization prasticing like i cant at home , apartment and authority, comfort is cigerttes and weed, it useless ness to other than a sog a stop a portaitt of an idea a plot a mirror. 
    Some one gives me my first dollar
  
thank you, i they stop i stop and say hello , you antt to hear a tune , if yes its my first tune of the night cause i try and work around my set list, 

 and "they" are so numerious  every age and whatever is out, they blanket interchanges and intimacs are shared and i feel lighter when smile acompany the end of the tune though i have seen tears to, people roted to that space of sidewalk looking at me fawningly, and i kno itis subconsious trainng hichmakes so special the touches of emotion  and i smie bcause they created thataudience is also and art, one on one or one on five wht ever, a moment acieved i experience for enviroment of all. 
  but i am livened, my hands move and beat endings to long ago calousedd like  my palms once were handing two by fours the  during construction days, a whole palm made to finger ends,  
 and three chord will due if the beat is alive and i with it.  , fluxing between  climax and groove, acceptance and words, for the acceptance must come amid release and courage  the working of imagedery the pernimance of a automatic exposure; the enviroment for a changing self reliance.. A mirror over all and peace through rhythem patterns, psycodelic and a mass of  tones untouching and oer as key links and beat defines escaping with a settle ment and final out.            
    
  the days into the world
   
     Sitting on the side walk.  A two foot folding stool under me , i painted it with my name like i needed to remind myself the echos of self importance. but yet the "k.a.ambrose"  is decoration. in white' orange and yellow, lettering like a second thought, mishapen and the look of speed , which it was. 
 blue on big breasts , crosses arms blocking the vice presidential veiw, her usage beside the child, the daughters natural feed of a once gone age, Who's slightly ahead  matching the determined  march of the mother adonna with a fullfilled trinity slightly behind. The responsive husband, smaller loyal commander lacky , he and the dauughter in a tan and brown ,shirt and pants, through different sameness, in sweats both, Mother adonna is dressed for work. and as the conection walk behind and aside of the attendant train, they both look lke they had left behind some intention for the light clothing, hurry hurry to help me. for you i have given life i am queen for all my commands you bow to,

   
 the line and nothing..
 her ladyship speaks. 
  Tom letcher
Pele report 
 blaming the pagan stars
the vibrational planetary 
gravity pull.
 little older sister 
brused mother
 forgotten father eathuge comand 
three siblings grow 
argueing..  enforcing. demanding 
right by guilt who is to stop the ball.
the one with the largest set.
she like the big boys before 
she fell into commanding
i mean love. safe controling
 helping a doctorate study
 but only finds fault. never 
to really listen i am mother
 small ways his tiny thought
try to chanlenge 
so neuter. 
corporatized.
 Made to suit.
 accomodate .
 rightious greed 
motherly properties.  
  the more i think the more i need to feel dreaming

 may29
  final days of may
 alongg with me goes concept, and i can not feel at peace with the work i am doing . making up sons writing songs right now yes , this driven and a new one called remembering . yes, but the maze isnt to end there. 
 high thiegh shorts really seem my only motive to anythig and i know that isuncorrect but you seem to like it my sociality to be hat is referred to most, 
  i have attracts to most shapes on women. but weare different for a sightis enough. the lines , are enough seeing ho i had planned for a career in enertertainment but forgot some where along the line. Career left when a couple of characters portrayed it, going to hollyood portrayed it,in that s a story for one day , even while days  are running out for stories, 

  L.A.   a driven story

You could remember his face in a million after the common storiess are told. Our lives being made up of those we have left behind who live inside us.   A million stories, each more dellicate that the rest as we grow and feeling  life. You dont pick up War and Peace without reading Doctor Suess, such that the human involvement is in between  we fullfill emotionally.  Where the composer gestures to. and his was  his and as he was my last childhood friend i can tell it but its not my own. 
 his face seemed always composed in its own memoriies eyes with long beconing eye lashes that looked like they wanted to cry, blue and slightly angled into subservience, the thin face pronounces. yet for a prodigious nose, which would get no matter the odds if it was love it smelled. 
     We met working. a show up collect job. the "I got a job" job sort  thing you tell a parole officer but you can hardly live on , unless you are young like us, an eighteen on own own in Boston. 
 no one asking where we are going or caring . our young and dumbness equal to the world crisises.success with an oil spill.  we loved life, and every night was an adventure , the new city laied out to apieze me, free home of the free land of the brave but we were cute, and ready for anything.  we,
  we?. i am going to take that line out, we werent i was scared most of the tiime when we met. and he was ready for anything.  I was scared of everything.  a constant fear that made me look down dark alleies and have a constant awreness the mediated street life gives when you are forced to it after years of tellivisionand cop shows. eery cornor was someone to jump me though that never happened  
 i had just came to boston , first job, an ice cream store i dont list on resumes, Cashier.  Twenty one percent unemployment and a one way ticket got me here back home, and i was never for too many people knowning my buisness, i had lead a secret life for many years previous, no one asked , i valued my life with sheer independance i created in me determined realization . even as they felt like justifcations in themselves these thoughts  became the basis for a tested logic, the body of spirit is energy, what divides consciousness into male and female?  the sum of the parts , leaned throuliving but arned all the same , i am gay,  i am straight  I am angluar  I am deformed but i am; remains .  maybe i would have fullfilled all the linear lines of home and family. if i didnt let tthoughts lead creating cover first for physical abuse as a child then sexual abuse as a teen. I secreted away truth and opinion, fact and falisy, igueess it was easier after i saw an upper in a small church i attended, the one ith the perfect suit and wife, as a sweat shop owner whos workers would walk a mle up hill to get to his builing , the dark color of their skin, twenty of them, formed a line from some picture from peru. they were  a dfference we just watched from the all white faces in the school bus.  they didn't look up.  Our passing was the world seperted,  excisiting in "way"nesses. you for yours , me for mine. the upper i saw on sunday. .he was a bad singer. and his son stole with me food we would take it back to sunday school and keep the money they gave us. we didnt worry on morals it was an adventure for me, free chips and soda, while learning about jesus and other children named jesus for whom prophetcy predicted, where as any child would have done and eventually did. this stop when he got caught and i ran.  but somehow that lesson of everythings alright unless you look behind the mask appeared for the first time. i look at everything with a weighing  perspective after that. it was shortly after also that i was finally rid of the violence and immediate fear that now i just fear of myself. 
  he had done it all before, a tale of bad houses and sexual abuse you never got as a complete story just bits and peices as listens from a friend . his was buse and further development of the streets and the rightious child claiming what they need from a world bent to tempt ignorance with security, a blantant exchange security for sex.      


 For honey

like touching honey
the sticky tempting
what sweet the tongue
can only the lips have no organ 
for taste and only meet to 
embody.

but the texture reminds 
paths endorphines
body teachings; trainings.
"once was " dreaming.
"once was" over thought mislead 
the hardened drying
bee spit.
by summers liquidifies
high dresses spandex
reminds honey lips
without tongue or taste
called memories. 

like honey, leading 
 from accrossed the room. 
 a slant of tea, a cup
of warmth, sweetened
conversant.
Hope fully explaining
what reminders awaken
So skinny, over there, under my finger.
a drop in the sun.
crystals left there.
i remember quiet like silence lets me see
for ages sweet sticky after, after
touch enjoining , sufferance of other lovers
not without darkness so ever unsecure.
touched once with toxic, everything
 Thoughts leading where the sweet leads
saliva glisening, proofs auto passion
consumption, possesion
entwined sweets

for a perfect meeting 
taste tongue texture
mystic voyage,
of honey of taste of rembernace
among enforced mazes
with honey to prove worthy
with sweet pleasures, Epicurean
absorbant as all else as fantasy.
yet only a crystal left
so long the cupboard closed.
mystery surrendars the honey drop

appearing on the counter  top.
virgin birth, as i collect only water droplets 
which freeze before they melt.
my fullfilled walks alone
seeing hopes collecting for another drop some day
of a now. until i realize, 
to give you come from the well. 
but not without gifts 
from longing and incomplete paths,
 feeling lips without taste 
dry as dressings
honey's influenced 
whims of a week or
tasty exchanges of short lived smiles.
until the reminders of so closed the cupboard.
 distant family, desired deoted delingquacncy
allways the odd man out
for reasons. what anger i have for reasons. the honey drop 
on the countre, 
as from me.
an accumulation of loney years hours minutes seconds

stirring emotios tastes 
to fullfill what i can not yet be,
and if it is honey. 
for things look like things.
it belongs to me , 
but i had to borrow it. 
 but felt the tempting sticky
remnance eternal spirit to evry touch
for taste is from the plants pollenated conscious 
the flowers
 dusty sex 

jun 21 i think ay of erth cast al i have not ritten here as other for no reading do i feel postumious for the hand written. worn pge turned repetious the scars cement the hard cover furried straght line. old addresses phon numbers disgrace or delights what fine written pages would seem in a movie script, little notes important connection with peple hoo never show orwomen wwwho my longing means litttle ,  
 notes which turned to believing in god and turn away.  the fine lines between organization and definitions.  Pages where meaning is lost to living those lessons, those determined functions and problematic  condolances. made of flesh and time more than rudiments  and theories. explorations are only faith filled and intuitiv experiments untiil you xperiment no more than your only goal is that whihc uu determined to miss for what definitions suggested but couldnt prove, parental fear the driven into the child wwho grew without question over the wholes absorbing others loing as lesson self seen and without blame, for we forgive more than focus, and exchangeliving foor tht balence, system for against man for against as squirres gathering what was hidden for good. 
  
  Allways backward until love reveals as a seperte life path, a more focused path corage self lives , explaination only to written books fear , still entered into ,    and sometimes i want a sentence to go on, forever.   if i could leave this by my epithath, leave a usb drive attached to a string on my grave , here up load, what is now  a corpse, a rock to rememeber the millions that have died with limited memory, when once publishing as over ran by the rich telling of there lives seventy percent of the population going silent, the pagans never writing cause they couldnt. the poor never being heard because the whole drive i being abut forgetting , living on the backs of others the higth, from where, to forget the ground which most never saw.   for tombstones have no usb to transfer onto alien computers electrical digital hardware.  maybe then the hand written pagees wuld becoe pictures of pages with high resolution copies expandble on the common notes of a man,
   but hich sit as collections of life.  I collect used notebooks, fully used and set aside, of course of my own script but still, 
 and i anted to work on a book. on that isn't just my flippant works to the spit iron, a slight sizzel and gone to the general fires all around.  Images comes faster than can be covered. the tale of one time leads into all time and has a hard time getting back. Each braking different ways abtractly, breaking into the historic and the sychological lie time and just as confsing,  Each seperate path asking of characters and description i have rarely allowed, for so long winded the windy road memory and association. but yet it is to face what one is doing to see the whole complex love. I often think more than an angle allows, turning definition into perspective and the sum out weighing the parts.. 
  paths
  June 30 th last day
  and self falls sloly from cosmic to micro in a bat in a tale, in a sight of self. each moment much ore than th self who sees it.   a guitar opens worlds , alone on the hyway north carolina the flat wastelands of feilds in late august of a hot year and early spring, but a guitar littering y back a thumb and a sign else but, a mai bag federal dark white pued to a close with rope around the sringed neck over the shoulder like  gun, an only source of protection. alone the cars speeding by into the forever horizen , wavey distance. the next truck along, slows stops , how far hello whats your name, sometimes e make it to what do you do this time a conversation startes witht the guitar.  
  I usually sit and play but i wasn't standing there long enough , just got a  coffee" and a guy just gave me this bag, 
  hitched from los anglese 
preying every morning
wwith no money
i have had break
fast every morning
and coffee every stop.
cigerettes to hold me over
a dry stop when i get off.
and silent focus feels faith.
 a stopped time
 inner fate.  

July 2nd 
i can feel the touch of the eagle
the flow of the ocean
the movement of tears and i can only tell you
report, dissect 
divulge,,
while discriminate
perspectives ,process plan
   One's love is in their own hands. 
 the moments of stories
the known
 can seem
 the feather and a thimbul
of ocean.

but yet 
to breath , to love, to need
forgetting what now
has been 
for a now
that is
Arrested against religion
psychology political duality

but yet
a fight to fight a fight
the most extreme 
to water down 
off a ducks back.
 ancient breath 
focus. clarivoiance.
when did i speak free ?
sophist and toxic opinion
witch hazel craft
 burning naturalist
maintaining nature 
for thinking wrong
bad broken robot
reaching self aware.
bad you
who've lived
where temperance 
doesn't go.


  and i would to live in an alley and write all day, Smoking as many cigarettes i could with coffee, 
Almost ten years since i have, but i remember. Each alley offered. This one a trash bin the next a fire escape or roof access you crawl onto when the town sleeps , round midnight until 6 or so  The first nights your awake mostly.  waiting for security guards  and every noise is a twiitch , you  hear trouble and wait for it. your crime not giving your blood for a roof but you get no blinders, 
     Running isn't as good as explanation even if you hear .  Running leaves doubts.  the world on the look out for catching people, a fascist stream running with the goody good conscious. Report addicts,  call nine one one over people using empty space, charge them, hurt them more. until its you so comfortable acomodated.   So you wait when you hear a sound to prove you don't smell of beer and automatically show your arms to prove the needles laying around are not yours.  Unless its others like yourself and then you are in someone else's reservered spot marked by a candle you didn't see, to comfortable not to be "owned"' to secure not to have an invisible name tattooed in the gravel and tar under laying. 
    But you can tell the interlopers difference, voices or no voice, or by the tread, loud and offical or loud and drunk.  Or silent like sober, secret hidden, silent like of one needful purpose.  you  easy alittle, in that maybe they will share but you wait in that case for the exit, alone is safer, un connected to what ever is another life, for not all hear the tract of flow , not all hear the lessons of chance meeting, the intuition uncalled for as having offer,,   And most seem alone at first, accepting the conditions like you, but you listen to names and stories and soon you find this is a resident pushed into the open or exploring some fault of welfare system the others repel from. 
    but if you get sleep,  with the safety of the day or so, you must leave and mark the spot mentally  " a quiet night here"  and you must have many; here an empty house with a realitor sign, a back porch out of what could be rain and another spot, that one is a definite morning wake but up at 8 means aware, and resting, planning out the day, where to get breakfast, coffee.  what shelters for food. what air conditioning from.  how long at the library,, the coffee house, or and  work the streets poetry music. work like a squirrel against the now for the now never goes away. 
  the paint store's street alley side infront of me has already came out and said a dismissive hello.  workers wear, name tagged, the glance " i see you i know you are there" Verbalizing nothing pretending not to interupt my writing.  Two doors down self righteously straight backs tell of the workers they are hiring, but then go quiet'  as they comment on me i guess for why else be  quiet  when just before they were at ease but you can tell when they refuse to see you .  the reaction differs for no sight is no report. life going forth without the preoccupation of normality.

 i am writting so some peace is achievd some calling to culture small town respect more than big cities. , in the night you wouldn't be able to tell if i am an artist or i am enough of the beyond the box to take whatever label  and break its mold. and again the untold becomes the law,  

 july 1st
      Oh and a small town creates. A band plays wednesday shut off street, A line for the three free  restrooms though no one waits around in the plastic four by four  by ten hot box structure with no rest for the weary as inside the tempture rises by twenty degree and your sweaty hand drips on the paper ripping it reaching for more. 
then the foul smell leaving you for a moment knowing a part of Jean Val Jean's run from the inspector. and breath deep to feel your humanity or hold your breath to only find out how in control of your body you really are ,while your graciosness hold the door to the next imprisoned soul in need of the slight rediscovery of a common experience. but the line is twice as long as you exit and realize equality through all the colors and beauty, the smiles and sounds. young girls mid dressed, high thieghs gesturing what erotic would ask. the boys trying to be squared shouldered and masculine such as the indescriminte civility completes brainwashing into each muscle and fluid vessel, ridged , contained, posed.  What flow it takes to move the hand with grace. left to the encroaching public dancing law of the old religion,
  all to the beat of  once protest sound, the inbetween of marley's raggea, no middle of the road comercially viable happy music, funny how an acceptance of continual protest is so used. have the celebration but not the action. like selling beer at a protest. but there you go what would be for a cause in the city, is left to full collection of retail buisnesses.
  july 9th 
    yesterday i faded into a lovers voice, into a romance with a stone, caused by what i don't know but could guess at, and it is that guess so perplexed, that gave e pause. afool to love? one can never say foor love alone guide its way , if not here then i am to learn the way and through all pervades. and i should from the book reesight     
 
   " july 8th 7pm 
                            I still feel the city in me
   awake only to sounds
 my veiwed actions
 unseen comfortable.
without the countries glass
of rural i feel my Penslyvanian roots
I am alittle hesitant to remember
seen, like a high school 
dance party. 
 but listen, the warm embrace
of the few who venture close. and it is a small town
 cookie cutter touriest
colored to match
Away to peace and store bought opinion

for what else is there
 feeling denied for health.

i slept all day
what passed
the infinite montras
answered out last us
and i've seen enough
 to rain water 
for focus
and feel.
 for Most else
 i have given up.

66 miles to the border theater  (for Winter comes)
  urban SCENE people walking everywhere entire conversation in "I love you"
  FADEOVER 

TITLE 

scene continiously under. lowered volume for sound tract. but the first I love you tract sets up the sound tract. 

SCENE HIT CANMERA-  a camera gets hit around reacting like through the eyes of a beaten child    notes ( a camera flys around while it gets hit
a room destroyed  particals of desk and plastic car models ,bookshelves and man child collections, an easel and one canvas. with a bright flower ripped into parts,  a desk lamp a broken nightstand and ripped up bed,  
 ( screaming can be heard as the beating stops) in a broken room we pull back, for minor seconds then to the slowly lookinh around each waters the camera, jerking movments until the blur changes 

 OVER SCENE--  a slapped baby (tinted filtered to age video)

OVER SCENE -- more shaking? watery visions  shoing a growing child and violence abuse, foul language and 1970's rock music. 
until 
OVER SCENE -- a child now ten performes a head stand in an out of the way cornor of a small mobile home bedroom paneling wood design, bunk beds a desk. 
   our hero stands on his head tears and snot into him eyes , speeded up the light goinng down from feet to shoulders. 
OVER SCENE- the paneling (we dive into the wall panel forming figurs in blurry cartoons, movment and abstracts, making frames.
  OVER SCENE-  spinning scenes together 

SCENE CHOKED CHILD-
        8 year old - inside view, a shoke caera, pins andneedles feeling atoms looking for air, 
 background 1970s moble home living room. 
 uncle dosent  get off airplane of returning veitnam prisoners of war. and then nixion resigning.
SCENE CHOKED CHILD TWO - 8year old just after with still red eyes and long lashes going to sleep on th bottomof bunk beds. mumbling word to himself.
FADE  INTO 

OVERSCENE  - witches-  4 seconds
               three witches surround a caldron classic dropping in alive rat.
 SCENE--rising sun on a desk top, on book  named "witches" on the cover from the libary.  rise and fall of day, sun line passiing accrosses desk revealsanother book the shoes under the desk change and get bigger, the deskchanges.  moves. the sun comes at a different angle, astream of books, gets laid on the desk rise and fall of a day .
  BOOKS--white magic
                           occult magic
I ching 
astrology-
     josph conrad
                  tolkin
  a nd then voices from star tract, fame, paper chase, spinning until wreslove back to                        
  SCENE HIT CAMERA- fading to tears and black ness 
fades to SCENE MOTHER hit - fades to father type's back walks  to truck." 
  for winter
  i couldn't be with you but what is need.  the  ideas we spoke make me want that life we feel togther, fuck the madness of time alone we are not. 
    together why let our spirits continue to try to find when we can accept.  Time is meaningless to loves ideal, your age and mine, abndoned from all other kinds of consideration, no one minded when i was victum.  they come and help.  no they again abandoned me to greeds silent cunning the abusive natures whole inisible silent secret frabric. we can not stop living ourseles for standards and i love you and talking to you feels me into whole i a .. such that for our ords i have started this film , of the second side/

    SCENE GIRL- and eightyear old child just waking to sounds of foot steps drunkly coming up carpetted stairs, fear bcomes her still waking eyes and silence her pushed together eyes the hall light crossing her face.
   

MORE LATER ABOVE

 july 12th three days passng everydy a festival, everyday frgettig and spend, gay pride like allother event brought in lots of money from out side . i have played every night and day. most of the tie lookng at women when i wasnt mad ito a beat which happen a oupleoftime and which made more money then orginal pre written tunes well mostly because of one type having less real air time i music id out like twice doing maybe ten minutes just expressive infront of a beat,  i remember some of it , like lfryday nights flower poer ver thedance thingy, where i started to lay out hat i believewas the real sixties revolte for love and vibrational stress reduction which includes all forms of peacenick stuff.  and today again i started an free improvisation of how sufferance of right and wrong has limited the scope of personal and societial love, i guess it would be just as easy to point to A. Huxely but then a bumper sticker would be just as good.    
  the thoughts lasting out side of of the song, for which i can not remeber the words but same dancey thing . the dance thing had consumed many chords this weekend starting on friday by theice cream store with peoplecoming up after passing by a couple of times. and saying ""your fresh" and "that ruled" Money appearing to egg me on and i dont need players on the street, it would be a devide and a pause for player who re not use to playing one song and stopping. that is  why i am trying to train cats , cats on bass lead and drums with congas on the side for me.  or the roland juno9 . i am hungry and tired i have texted many women who are to young for me but i need a good friend, and only a omen can be my real friend to fill a whole with me ,sexual or not,  bella misses people , he didnt like some but still came up to them when i wasnt home; loyality is only a petting away. though i think she would cry for a couple days without me. 
    i could go on about the importance of my cat but i would bored , yet she has helped me realize a life of love which has spread into my improv and complete enviroment. love is the only thing one can spend as much as you want to get more and nly to get more back, even as the love seems spread out smaller more important wholeness is helping another love for hich i ould hope my music does,   my ass is strting to hurt and i will have to go soon to the doctor, then i wont be able to sit like this and another few months will go by.  the pain the pills ith the complete disbelief that i couldntjut change my diet, like i have for the arthritis, using lettuce and no stress or at least keping menal process to limit it.   but still i couldnt help but feel the dream of many women during the eekend the girl in the red charger a girl much into the women state the tight red dress the slow replay of her getting into the drivers seat with my eyes glued to her legs and brats and face until her sx established and our eyes smilig i could only love her. our sexual transendance as she held my eyes and smilingly observed me. ten second and my imagination is eough and i have touched her dreaming butt with all the others , i could feel another omen girl that came to me last week. who i am going to tell i miss to next tie i see her . even though she may be scared and never talk to me again i have entered a place where i feel able to try to love now that i feel i am maintaning my love enough that i can share some and make four times the love and hope.
W--- dont know how much i love her energy and if a twenty year old can love me it will be for the energy i give her, i do not deny my age but accept that the young love stronger and with fewer secrets. or is that me. i think i cn love stronger than ever me wanting the reception wanting to care and create, be it a child which women my own age are beyond, or a theater (or atleast some with a joint understanding of two to cretetogether is a great thing if i an reember love as accepting another and communicating what might be just a lesson of personal discovery
  july15th it ha been a while since i had no money coming in and two days ago my two hundred dollar a month grant ran out , i got itt because i am mentally inpaired or considered so for a moent when i apply for welfare. 
 i have been living this way under the auspise that i am disabled and yet i am not sure what that means yet the title did , for seven years yeild cash, a home and food, only the cash has left, still electric bills and cat needs shaving stuff and clothing stuff, i got lucky while i was getting the grant,i bought souls for my shoes stocked up on batteries for the amp, and yet still we have no copies of the magaine and only this week i have seen the ned to follow through again on the stream idea of the enertialcall and the book idea of the digital copies with a coer ( i ahd once though of an interactive cd rom and i need to write it myself, 
 these last seven years i have stepped into the character of pwerlessness , accepted my foolery of vision for the eexposed unity of free style words. i have seen theactions of the unwritten words and the beat which creates more , like the vibrational effectof a rthemyem line is contagious . but as soon as you do it well there will be copy cats , i hear theposer down town talking about how they improv and i  laugh small towns are offensive to intellect too much.. it aught to be a sin to not trin your life and educate your being to grow, but 
 listening to my self i heard the rusted wheels i hear the over and over symbolism and causual human attentions inside my dialogue sung improved, i can hear things i dont mean to say coming out and a perfect pease realease authorship joiningthe soundas just another , out of a keys minor sevent flat five, or some such thing back beated, 
  so that was ony last week where i finally felt the motion of the jam all alone, ull tide escultion, give um a hook and you can say anything fast, listening to comments passingthe ice cream store , hellos to me with little bows and now thats the shit ..  but i am just working on a rthem line i like and mxing words which get tongue tided as a stunning women walks by and you dont want anyone to see you need to see her, and your words stumble the non concentration focused and you fell off the bull. want desire knowing no to befullfilled by her but yet, she is all you would want where you have no one after the crowds pass you stareat the streets the left over trash, money crumpled and material, magzines and cds gone , and no one to touch u hair and say its all cool. hold on we cando this, as i stumble home weak kneedspent ,, hoping somee allusion took place that another could learn to teach themselves, to follow paths of vibrational plant being and yet its all for symbolism the slow grow of understanding ancient foreteeling of energy and being , the infinite that has to beincluded  for uncontroled reprocusions come from the limited spirit of form. limited surviving animal dis reason hidden laws jungle in plasticness and debts to god instead of instant peace of self energy for a world representation, educate learn grow ,, find agreements with passions and balences with understanding , all balenced on happy happy joy joy as in a smiling path and i have been reading peirs anthony even though it is immature of me , theeffect of logic is to cherish the opioin also of joys simplisity in  each day. at 7 i started to thik about death every day,, the foundation of life . but yet for not knowing we have given souch knowledge toward its results , i e chosea relgion and i have effect mst,, tryed to feel in them but to much magic comunial ritual, for hich most wrters can not stand, musicians love them for the gigs they provide instant cash  sam, 
  i feel better no that i have written and tomorrow will come and i think to answer a question is to be the answer long before . faith is a vibrational being .  i forgetsometimes and want to leave .. or want to forget . but then to type and create gives me strength i dont have to scream in the streets i have a magazine , i dont have to go kill cops and ask for my prison time for something other than running with a printing press, i am involved in life and that leads around the edges of family lives which i havent know in a married sense, family is hippy urbanity, my friends,  old school croded in jamacia plains where night was bars and bands, poets and headeden over the bridge, mass ave central square, i will sto there for you know i could think of a million stories goiing around the streets of boston of a once was age. 
july 16th
 the guitar by my sidesitting on thecement but under
the cities only trees i know like i know me, over fed plant grown object in a landscaping shallowness build o enhance the town while covering it with where yu cant sleep. the sprinklers going off at threeam awaken anyone. 
 but i sit see what attitudes i see, aloof these special ones floating don the street, medocre round abut who sho up, just aiting for the secrets to get out casting them also into the under orld. here the street the smells of urine where i would feel secure , a sancuary , a non sun spot inn rising summer's  foul bright.  i sit but dont play leavig my amp at home.  leaving my heart sleepin the curtains the shade down drawn, reading and sleeping. that is where i am the nights cold comes through the indow telling me the summer and the money of busking is going away.  but the pinkish reflection never leave and the western sky will always give me pause at just before dusk, from pink t organge to red all jumbled into different parts of the year, today we see pluto tomorrow we leave  the system.    today i feel action . happy? happy? joy?joy? depressed as i sound i sit, and art becomes desprite , where we create scens cause you are placiated by them, and humanites triumph are forgotten, 
  
july 166th ater 10 later mbe destitute is what ce you would have said of my condition except a an apartment now,  and 200 in food stamps, so i feel differnt about playing ,moreral on beat and designs to fullfill i feel mor the need for thereality to be in of me. 
  without ego assignments oof a once cre to prastice, tonight again i felt equal the passion . mre determined  or less feeling i am afruad. maybe i knw crzy roaming the hlls of a onehundredman sleeping building , a shelter, a trnsients restbit yet claims staring alcoholics surviving only to driink, but 1 in a thousand are legaly crazy and few come to the shelter,   tomany people to many turns of ploting and who would offend, true legal sanity  stays away under brigdes into the underground.  Half sane is buisness man on pills and drinking, telling themselves material yet blinds at seas and fracked feilds burnin fountains. Dislodging sanity to system is easy if you are vulgar. Easy and created for the ignorant to be leaders, fall guys fools, yet, 
True sanity see's death every day as life's explaintion. 
 given that their seem a disparagement
  against thoughts un-real arguments 
to adjust terms, 
 i forget sometimes what i am created of and the strength to reach i have lived.  To write is its reward and adventure, Maybe only one voice but the chorus makes environment. 
aug , 05'2015
  tweleve minutes a picnic able a spedy breeze, after tie you forget it like the rain remember enough for electrical opinions, and change of  wet to dry to wet conditions , and it is just another day all seasonal effected ddisoders aside,  i sit with a filet knife ,attached to my belt concealed no not really and the point just barey clears the edge of the ragged greyish wool sportscoat.sticking out like a tale. 
 the othr day a man looking homeless and crazy, sleeping in the park the brown landscaping called dirt and festializer, laer his light grey over sweater shirt hybrad. as he waks by he flings a directed at me , cigerette lite.
 being moty at rest with the world i first thought he was giving me a cigerette except for his eyes which met mine, somepretend jail shit  afight over a piss corner, . nic 
 but tthe mnd runs the waste land character developement textures the raage to impart o to an rssog al l most a welcomed event the silence and ineffectuality,contained by fasicist attention to fasicidiousness, anal staring the job hunted, please me or be me,suffer me ,bo and crap for a chace to bow udereghts and a need for respect. without a college degree but i have graduated jailed edicate, as in i am not in this one just got out and dieg to go back, buti dontant to deal, i fol yself so times thati would like to fight , but it s a insecurity, male maybe though females worry about as much so generalization    i havent seem that spotof our unhappy camper since, 
  i played to night  august 6th, 2015 
  i think.  Played many songs tonight ,   
  and i am tired .as a last thoughts laying in bed. Yes there was one who just took me away as one would love.  A set ofgestures who tenderness you understand, show me and i will walk that way, boy girl thing a moment shallow me for a second thinking  Maybe i could try for " someone to love, a job or vocation, and your health" as said by Dick Clark in the movie Confessions of a dangerous mind, a movie about the autobiography of chuck berris. 
aug 10th, 
   anther new therapist and i feel like i am reliving. my first hours of therapy again like i havent gone for months after playing thee game of loving the last one , changing accepting answers she had no clue about me i never really got into the whole story with her. Today i talked the whole time and watched the hour go quickly. it is funny what i have still confused with life, the lonely persuit of words?  or just my arrogance? at timesia not sure i am telling the truth, or an invention, especially with a new therapist. what is mostly the case is the coming winter hen for weeks on end it will rain, and i will sleep and read watch movies and sleep. food will rot in the refrigerator, an yet bella kitty must have where i am provided for. all the songs and all the summer money means little when winter comes. and now we must prepare. it funny but i hve been arueing ginst the unfreedom for many years . the legal abusive rental system for which casts don our live by refusing to cleanup enviroment and as such mismanagement continues bring down your life. 

  so lets talk of  more profound instance of unclarity,the presdential elections which haven't even started yet and already the side politics have started, black civil rights groups have started to show up , and the hint at the major  domestic issues are trying to root out social democracy because of one canidate Bernie Sanders a senator from vermont, ho started speaking out in 88 about the inadiquecies of our government, and even though it seems like a global government line, his common sense is the peoples for which has been stifled and pandered to for years, when we weren't electing less taxes for the trickle down rich who are still geting that voice through even while all indecators lean the other way because the reagan bush one and two did nothing but kill unions free up banking and destroy the middle class with housing market by free market realistate investmnts which created a run on houses you sold or struggled to ay the higher value of your home through taxes get behind in taxes and they take your home.  and still the republican  arm of the koke brothers in the form of tea partiers has been rguing every budget preposal into the twelvth hour, except the military budget.  meanwhile the streas and water supplie are getting worse from fracking and last week an e.p.a spill releasing a million gallons of organge liquid into the colorado river, while sccientific weather control studies say global warming is real.   and i worry about my head, as a docmentation, and children are forgetting love as an economic choise. forgetting problems and accepting debt as the fantasy of a good life becomes less and less a real choise, nd all the while republicans are telling people to invest ( you need 10,000 usd to even start investing)  while the market cleans out the weak quickly, and even investing with retirement money has made many broke into the last years of their lives,   and as market flux relys on  growth  growth relys on buisness as usual, with growth being n more than moving money, money that was given to the rich didnt go into the united states ecoony but into globle economy, like letting communism into free marketisms fueling  the lowering of the american quality of life. that only the rich enjoy but they say the poor get cheaper products mostly because they have less money as the standard income falls and we blame it all on ourselves and must go to therapy to understand there is less to go around and if you escape the box you are out of the box and its hard to get back in to the nice peaceful area of the common slavery for which you were once accustomed. 
  but i am not feeling well I am tired and confused how i will get through the winter.  even while i know i could eave this economic terror-tory this ruralness small ton for which only drugs and lchol have any rising priciples. but now i have an apartment . given to me by the federal government to end my homeless status, but what happens when the budget cuts start in on me whre without my car i am homeless again. prepare for the worst the saybut yu cant trust even the news anymore, while whole events get un-reported ten thusand peope desend on wall street and its only covered three days after and its reported through the eyes of the buisness owners of a privately owned park (one who buys a park) for the ten thusand set  up tnts and styed around for weeks after even the initial un reporting, and that was years ago.  Now,  we have to weigh everything why was this reported we say and where is the rest of the news beides articles from the main 6 corporate sources. ho seem to repeat themselves or slant articles worse than even the old Hurst daze. and then when you are tryig to find something lanted rticles are every where on the internet, so much that even the six mains have t play ketch up against the focus the intternet projects dividing us all into race, class and rightious opinion when divid and concore is one of the oldest rules people still re use to foloing instead of thinking see how the erge intlligence lowers evry year and some qustions never get nswered really, like additives in the water upply and food. adddictives which create the ipressio of taste without the nuitrishion. i guess mce dont get iq tested . but what is the child of man t do with the lost hope of a better world for the greed of the modern era. 
   and so we go to anther day or paragraph. i hve sat here outside the coffee house as the sun goes down now i sit with a joint of legal marijuana , only smoking it in public is illegal, and i sit in public, or i sit now with the homeles on the other side of the street  and maybe homeless is to much of an over iew, most real homeless are asleep either in the shelter or in hedark cool evening air stationed somewhere no one can see them , hidden good homeless peple with the drug addicted and alcoholics beg for change or sell drug to what ever drunk population asks for it , delievery provided.  here the ugly women havent hooked up or dont want to, not true ugly, for with soft eyes sometiimes that shine through a blanket of this  chemical or that. faces that have just dryed before there time or were violently meet the scares real accrossed the cheek or over the eyes like mine i earned in childhood. outer expression of an inner challenge , submission, these people watching the clean crispy types the laudry smelling  pass by,  like movies of great lives or a heven they can only imaginee for the next life, 
  some time you feel the past welling up in images vision relived movies for me atching people when i am down , they are ll acepted here i feel like i am not living in some recorded paloven. subconscious dictte. un me an accepted structure un natural yet to as nature oes advances accepts but crawl slowly over.  accept and over come  Lickens and rocks,    .   
 i looked up at a pair of blue hightops walk into the limited sphear of siht , head down ,trying to keep track of the tablets intrepretetion of now a missed comma or letter  and some other extra becomes with out me, 
 i look up, lke waking from a slepless stae. its family tall and africain black but half blood native indian, tall to six foot four on a skinny frame . hes from lowell, but tells every one boston tonight i played like i didnt kno and of all kinds of storyes, i guess i anted too talk knowing we cant be friends yet, hours of years would have to pass, he lives the wd addicted some times, living in the park, waiting for the free housing, Our run-aways align. th rest a seperate beast i dont get ivolved rule ofthe streets number three hundred and four dont involve your seelf passive and alert for incriinations, 
  battery stopage
aug 10th a tird day i am bot sure hat is wrong but depression.hich has gien  a coupe of day upset, mybe i am longing for winter and not wanting the feeling of comfortable cod and rain where society washes off and i am attractdd to my creation in steead of natures.. through me the museic happens a ntural effect from me but you fll off the streets for a second nd you feel little freer just cause you have avoided the raw for a second  here for a second you are forgottenn, the streets respect the respectble for  minute any longer and someone ill come up to pul you apart looking for an angklee to represent you as part of their problem and hell start with no less than simple jelousy  
  but the summer is coming round to a day angry today is vibratioally sad for me  and then i ent to th streets and it wwas the same, even now as night hs started it full bloom a man walks crazy yelling don the street e hid n our homes as much as we can knowing the frustarion is coming the sight of inter before the fall in the last days of sun. before clouds confuse yet demand shelter and i wear a scarf and ear muffs.  all the time. 
  for it is the ast days of cofort weather it be leaving a house or feeling th first hints of winters rain,for which cretes attention focus frustration blame the realized decent yet further than nothing with a problem to nothing with a problem and cold rain, 
 or your leaving a house and you look around at all you did so little with,
if only for this peice of reliestte  the peice of anther persons life , a uterous siphoning off your seat and workers blood. from where bills raise with created important taxes and clean air funds and extra are keeping up and paying to enjoy each other instead of meetig and breething the same space no ttht is intrpment.capturing harnesing, training the idividual to grow when most are not ready toconcieve, apartent done trail over the heiffescome  monday new years day, the shelve hat was broke stayed broken, the whole in the wall from the last tenents still there horse hair plaster you have to replaster no short form to that , no cheap out, 
                                                                                
 so you think your going  tocal n area yours the back of the house punks fro three different dealers in the building i can nt recall the apartment numbers but i fel like s muh action is going on, twice now a skate kid all decked in street dirt come to the trees behind the building and  i was ee he left ,Sleeping? or picking up?  i dont kow but here in thought land is why either acpcept its become known the spot. to hid or smoke why so close to the building accept you dont have to walk far . bikees in and out untill dawn freinds of friends as they begg for the front door, i am the outsider  but that just sheilds my own cain also as i expore what woud fantsy ask.   ad i a content t crete private fuures with any women as solo i am, foolish usage of ceatvity but there you go. ifyu can do, and the essance of mystical abuses, fantasys level, and because you can, you deflate what love you never had.  We see the trend in sex.  porn is the highth of relatins in visions which fullfill creation. i dream of the perfect love  an then wonder how i can love myself equally.     
   and each small advancement to a vibrational holenes is being alive,  each moment beyond subconscious ego is a knowledge but in lead is practicl observations of nature of self, exponding on them help me ,  if only to park nother of to document one mans trial in as many ords as can be imagined. it helps e to think i am docmenting my time. 
 escaping prisions of employment because i as blessed ith depression which keeeps me grwing 
  Wanting more love involved in my life accepting the love i have , and living the molecular fulness, my stretching, my water,  I love feeling the world move. entering what we inhabite bio pioleted space, ring dogs to the quatum releaseing factual fractelly, we are light and skin need to be left behind while infinite is each moment in them.  
  and its nothing to do with me i am a musician on a stick, helping myself to the over load, trange schorkras depended on yet starting to be defined, the only health that holy is heath of the mind.  
 but mountains can not mve they say at me , the ivisible people whos every thought i know televised internet campaigned,  kittens and political buttons ,  issue 12 
 the burnie sanders issue, 
??

every article has bernie sanders in it, 
  
  sally started to talk about her life . it was a frown when i asked, i gues the quesstion and answer period was supposed to shorter, we had talkedabout shaing a joint and she would meet my cat who always likes new people smls messages from forgiegn lands and al that, and i offfered her coffee instead of beer, women whear nothing in the summer so ou are neversure if an expod breat is a come on , bt i just love them for the jolt to what ever chemical that rules attract, some mystical memory entwined light spirals,  just love's memory like to much lsd in the spine. flash backs and forwards, remembering, imagining, remembeering reliving. of air the spirit made,,, and you see through the blind window self without form with only connections to passions and there to light, 
  but when she spoke i could only listen for a moment and replyed child abuse sorted into unspoken denials fantasies and blame fo importance, she is twenty, and the sun has backed herredish pin for her pale skin dirty china maybe irish i dont ask she tells stories from the se streets i alk but i dont see, where we met. she is running from her lover, and motof thiswas from taking her to the open mike taking her such that she borrowed a guitar and played magic mice tunes, and later jamed with me 
her frown was that she didntwant to tell it again , and roamed the bedroom and asked to play with crapzes, and a pretty butterfly moment later e both weree drawing well i as preparing a surface whle she drew,  i put on music. she didnt stop. i loved her, but dream as i might the words un said i ould learn later the streets talk though you have to slowly learn its particular language, and minding les and slang change but cunning is an actors role.
  aug 11th . came home slept, moments is spaee te dreaming to replce ctual life movies and internet replace touching you so you  leave untouched escaping loves challenge.  
 but really you just slept off the last joint, the downtime effect out put, and the hot day and accumulated summer roasting what is your mind waiting for the winter chill, welcoming it, freedom from the streets.  and i drew two pictures today. both of the samewomen through one was closer but  didnt show her on two different buses.  going and comin.   
 coardise the second time for i started a conversation she didnt pick up , so i did give more but instead drew her back.  funny older and older the less and less saying hello yeild anything , my whole world was confusing love with my reproductive process, so i can expect no less when i am out of loves circles for some she was of course to young but as a model she might not have expected the approach.but  i connect with models and that is just the muse, openig channels unseen unherd but reacted to all the time silent reaction passive. 
 today i took the bus for which i mentioned to j-'s, the woods i walked along road side and blackberry bushes, tan colors poisoned edges or lack of rain but the woods by the creek leading to the sea is verdent and green.  i think of living in them, the cool hours in the shade the nice quiet in rain my tent absorbing droplets whle i read and sleep. but no matter where i might go would go, people are there' people are living hidden in there among the black berries under them sometimes. these peple come before memany with family in the area and fine traditions of saving their world from out siders like me,  and sometimes i think there is the only real future as water wars ill drain whole areas soon and the moveout rate from california could change the state language to spanish and secondly chinenese..

aug 13th  and sitt attracted people sitting, it is my own inner working,  i see tempting , else to poverty focus i am blind. 
  i listen  the tales of little money and telling back poverty.  we should just say we are still poor, the intrcates  bore this sistuation could chaang like the last time we talked i was to the moon, and ended up some where more inconvienant, i just want the seat back so that a gret looking attractive women can it don , but he rattles on, he is /was interesting , always making the wrong descions because really he really doesnt know what to do getting mney to live out his crazy life depressed .  interested in thing but just hiding a preversion he never lived, i have fe such worries  , my youth filled with adventure and women. he'll never see much of himself for not looking    but i after forty years of trin still see new thing most days. o i shouldnt complain and give him his minute of time but this is my time nd i am still selfish with it when i want to write,
    the peace is in the cool night air, and a certain stillness which comes between the days labors and the nights summer release.  tomorrw i hear of rain,   and tonight i feel calm waiting for it i want it to come.  Washingtn weather makes fast growing summer and a peaceful slow growth year round i want my slowness. for the summers energy has given my cheeks  cramps playing music on the streets, smile sell a cd get to play for an audience, smile go bernie a clown in a fools costume, a want to be plaing teccito music with mild jazzy funkness about it, and the associated blues leading licks, except no one can feel the pressures of all the gods and ghosts around , all the statemnts which should be said for all the times they were said without remembrance,  common sence seeming so unique.
  but Marley , and elivis costello bruce spring stein and so many others, 
but you listen to what drones and fewand far between the free vices make stage , free voice feel free and quit life for it sufferances for the facts unlived and the heart un felt.
  and what lyes beneath the weight of mans system and the nature of heart, what remains of innocents pure sight and the destruction of lost emotions lost awareness lost conscious. the common recreated subconsciousness of our placements with a million links and chains but one energy connecting feelng, one realized early learning of love for hich stays around holding on even when thefuturemakes bleek associations oftime , such that blindness , materialism rule, becuae we can see so much more than any previous generation but can also see nd feel what we dont now, in that preteory rule emotion a hope to discovery oof joy nd happynesss for all ad yeet one one to worry over  slf and soul in atery values for the flaw of creation is often the repetition of a model reation lack of personal leaning. lack of true voice, 
  i listened and he left, whining i can not really handle.  Neither do i wait around for people my own age ,or older, to grow.  it is foul t listen to much to th stories of other you might feel their pain and forget you can not help anyone. Help is part of the natural state to personally change, the love everyone feels is part of everyone you must fullfill.  i fullfill this with my pettyness to write. 
  and right now again i feel only wanting to write like there is nothing else i can do.  Pushing keys, telling what comes to limited thoughts to tell, the stranger on the bench the musician on the lamb , my generational conclusion, my pride and ego of sufferance, who else is going to lead me off after a day of sleeping   but me een ow i promised to be somewhere and idont want to go, like i can be respectedand yet i keep trying.
  but have hard timme resolving my self respect as the mind wants to enslave to exteriors and break up my conscious for the faults of my own paloven responce. the fool hardy malism and class structure by racialisms, or poverty ism, for i can see it of me and the nature of this writing is idenity, leader all different ways but singularly in peace, joy and vision. 
  i have traveled many miles to feel, looking to get beyond my fears but they are of me and i must face them, like my music becoming a drive for more understanding, . different chords and performance level quality, seing as the man left over fter years of construction and moving till didnt remeber he has written all his life, but was beaten all his childhood, beating which werereplaced by system and now i realize it was me beating me i have been holding my head underwater and only i have a hard time seeing what could be great about me while th hours draw short and every waking hour i look for art as more important, than any world conflict and i hold my individualism only in question. 
  when do i set my way. i wanted to go and et a night to jam t an open mike . but i feel litte hope creating a free jam movement. so mny different kinds of music but beat and key would weigh out yu would think, but weall want to self represent, me and my music songwriters and ego. adventure of automatic cretions bother people everyone looking for perfection while only easy chord structure create the room to dance and smile, a performer often forgets audience,  tries to stay with the program  the "this is what i do" independance. the  "i can not deviate each second is toone and beat voice and romance, a dance and if the next move isnt  well lived before it lands the next will n lead , a beauiful women, a smile from a child , ca break he delicate magic , conposed vibraionall exporitons woud fall the one breaks and a merely three mintues, it can not be. pure to composistion of the intellectual sorrow and global frustration,  at what once was poetic right.                                                                                              
aug15th sunday and often i would to meet a women on sunday so i sit this day alittle mre open to the sudden awareness o another, and through it asnt until this moment. after hours drawing and talking sitting out here that i feel a why . maybe she will come this day after all the others she could of shown for or mybe he has ben in my life and i never knew. maybe i played a song fr her and she could respond . it meant tomuch and she didnt know why and me,, in my lonely stareing way get through to the song felt it yet,, the unmotional un presnt for me emotions where i am this, a busker strange on thestreet who feels love from so many and so fe compaired to the thousands i have seen and seen me , singluar exchanges make m nervous without the guitar barrior but for having seen it there before and yet that is expected response; through a player would say different. sinister collectives of love,  For each victum he would play the mention of love being enough.  the search for a one and the telling.  And but for the action of finding self i would be loved,but half  known leads to a halff forgotten, half unexplored and yet so few the hours. 

time to fed kitty. John redmans 

 Aug 17th tuesday coffee house different younger crowdes and older disabed, all above, over the shop the black drop, this is where they would be if they jumped in suicidal depression , the black drop. i dont like names with black in them, even if a srition of coffee sold by the drop does repersent well in the prices, if theycould hid the costs like thegas prices they would. but the coffees lame at night, though in the morning its good everywhere. 
 this is the psycho crowd with the majority of inmates above the black drop, are housed by the government to clean up the streets homless plnning for corporate american image. Yes i know each event that's good for global busness limits domestic quality of life, high gas prices, a threat to anyone that doesnt think oil exploration shouldnt be subsadized, free market controls on housing, which creates investment hich falsly represent the ablities of the local market, so communities further break down , i mean further because how many peope stay where thre is no work, how spread out is your family, average should decide actions , governmental goals , and the state should let market respond to  laws not make them, 
  or maybe i am again going nuts , so little to confine me, i am average, in size and matter's weight, Average farmer education, though i have only drank fresh milk once and complained of the curds, no around me was the farmers small town pennlvania a peaceful place ith huge apples in skinny but branched out trees lining miles of bus route whenwe werenton road sliced into forrest, here dear season seems like a federal holiday, with the eighties circling around us, and politics i didn't uderstand but could recite opinions on, consumed me at times, as the remnance of threemile island sank into the blisful fog in that early light here i stared to see phesants, or rabbits or even crows, those magestic colors, light tans and yellows bouncing over early hay feilds, led my day. so silently iheld them preciousto myself , 

We can never replace 
what visions we hold
 where they alone
 show soul.

if we learn anything 
from toa ism
it is that consciousness 
is made up more 
of what we are 
then what we are not.

eat bow and prey
thats how good Taoist
 are made.
  aug 18th,   so yes i sit and feel the crime that i commit , a cigerette in one hand a joint in the other, what crime? no one pays attetion much to the lonely man unless he come with a public adress system, but into his belt , but hat th hey let m do this here, looking into hat madness civiity demands . but i am crime criinal, smokeing inside the yard lines of payed for property, retail or other for the residential property lines i  cmplain most, a man and a cigertte hemingway stlye except me, and i know nothing of Hemingway except the Stienbeck mixup. for the books Falkner, novelist orth putting out for,  and i have to feel that , that some achievement is the mark of exterior impressions, i never been bl toconcntrate on one topic for long mayb its depression or maybe the osmosis training of tellivised life, though pre written or nt , these moral placs of perfect life were one one miht be cause,
 food additives and else i would mention if i didnt think there as a plus side to the continiual emphsis on the subject of hange . 
     so feel as a greater understanding  the visual educational effects of high speed communication, people saying they  don't read but every thing they see is typed first, though i still will take the entertainment of doing over that of watching , but i didn't become the engineer like i should have , turning instead to this, this body as  a learning. this sycosis , this child, 
  its scary how much we need love. and sad that we don't appreciate our own love enough.  to feel part of life is to forget mechanical sub-conscious system or remember it, for thedream is continual, 
 i have been driven to this  to smoking on the side walks , sitting in front of coffe shps blame it on televisions Orells 1984 the clover leaf, chess, blame me if religion went hypocritical early, and witched viited dream way before, here i felt the ghost of y father growing some portrait of metaphyics in me , mechanical spirituality, and then i found acting
 oh devise a better understanding fthe conscious or not. so abstract is lerning.   
aug 18th why come out, late nigght collge town a long way from 18th cntury england but what fun to think of the difference and the sameness. 
here walking on paved streets the beggars coin ith give away cloths , we dress our slovenly., and bottle our beer mostly. butstill a picture of th once s as seconds pass faster then the counting  and i sit  side walks under the passingg heated summer, tight skins and shorts on the newly free drunken 
aug 19th
  you sit on the dge of your death if you are paranoid, I dont kno if i am but a health shade of paranoid , but i have been to extremes. comfortable paranoid is what a leadership book might registar. considering all the likely and unlikely reasonin plot inventions and personality types , i think it is called consrvitivizm now a daze.  maybe mine is a flamboint paranoia achieved through years of being alone and years of seeing violence. s m sense was awakened early, and in those year developed as a tightening of muscles for i could feel the anger brewing.   But I am special , i was abused violently everyday for fourteen years, so i wonder on my paranoia a lot more than most yet eeem to  
 aug 22  9pm 
 i sit and accept ihave to get back on top of the thing the game the metamorphisis of self between the edges of my cockroach suit.   it makes no difference wether i do so to anyone but i can feel the wind of my progress as something forced. i am not hole to the farm at my age and for straining to keep away from asystem which can not approve of a constantly changing idea of self . but i fel it as survival to follo desires and pathays naturally , the system stifles my creativity, middle manages my employment,  such that what i do goes to my supervisor he she it made me do that i am least mentioned annd first fired,  because  i get sick
   sick of what is done in my name 
sick of hat i do to myself, better to live ith in my means 
do art and worship the trees converations and squirrel's logic.   but i ant to feel whole here my ork is mine only txi driving back in boston rings sastainable, except if i dream 
   for dreaming gives these words prey, these words and ideas as relivant. 
 we re enslved and are letting a system steal of comon beauty , our love fr each other, our love for our self  oh if only one too stand and raisee a pen while the world accepts what high pay says, the good life goal where everymoment is accounted for, every movementmakes a great machine grind out commands, what slavery is that, white colored gold coined. to uch for me, letthe kings rule when the paupers can live free to live and sponcer more life for the creative nature rules the common man,  
    and the dream was only ever as good as the practise, and the years have passed enough that i feel my respect for self as the obstical i don't believe and this whole road has been for little more than a couple of thousand words. 
 thats not right.  I am battling with the esteem thing , i want to believe and my mind is caught in wanting approval , the trap, but it would be approval from  suecess, and i forget. i forget because i am doing, the endlessness is vortexual and devine , burden of purpose not provided, for all helps but ord to the illusions dispelling them reating sckras hoping awe.  some times the muse visits the stage, someties when word dont come and all is anger, expressionism  abract frustrational angst with ayers of ords heard without me ords from history and malcotention words fro fabes written f elections and tidal waves of hope, Funny how close is the word hype one letter, why?
   and yet i am wanting my anger again, the "this isnt me screaming in my ears, but in bellingham i am unknown, and i oly get ideas for money i can enact,
 but then .. my anger comes along,, the stead fast nature of my class,  and the ideas come to believe in myself more. Easy.  Study drawing first. it developes my love more fully  Your sight is heaven,  the forms and shapes and movements and characters combining into visions , and the suggestion of its reverse , as from its ridigity so we see its complimenting toaism.