philfreedom

11:50 pm - i tried to blog but this came out. it was inspired by the presence of friends.

I love I lust I thirst I crave
I desire I want I need I think
I wonder if things are good if things are good enough if things are just things and people
people people people
the whole reason, the whole mutation, the whole self-replication, transformation,
the purpose of all...people...not those people untouched but those that are
those people that know your name and maybe just the face or maybe just recognize the art, the ooze, the recognition of energy that seeps forth from beyond sense, that I, that bleeds into the present
that we, that flows back into the streams, that source that perpetually reconnects
thats why. thats how. thats it.
and as silly as it seems
we live you live I live for others, we live for each other
how many? which ones?
Those are the questions...
how do we exclude each other how do we include each other
we share problems but isolate for too many reasons
we share needs but isolate...
funny how interest lies in connecting with the unknown other
but connections usually resonate with the known
the mirrors with different faces listening to each other
communities expand and contract convoluted by the routine exaggerations of personalized bias, projection, and expectation
does expansion require coordination?
Do systems require harmony?
Bulldoze the suburbs and return to the center...
the bureaucrazy has reached peak government and the collapse shimmers upon the horizon...
a system of control/distribution/dissemination hinges in a constant state of locked grids
shhh...what if the slaves get bored? I dont mean it like that...but wont they realize? External control is a constant imposition...if they let go...at some point, reorganization will start back up and next time...
if no one consolidates...it/they/we will understand the dynamics of perpetual re-organization...
I wanna say its heavy but its light
many hands. more and more and more hands.
It may not seem like work. And if things are not what they seem...then... then... that agreement becomes a playground
I wanna say its only work because we fail to organize it differently.
Tedious since we fail to recognize necessity.
We fail to appreciate process while we worship it.

We give to each other. We can deny it, we can hide from it, we can reduce/seclude our each others to taboo fetish or audio genre...but still...we give to each other.
In ways...thats all we do.
So friends...thanks...thanks bazills...really really.
Open expressionways, catapultation platforms, and todays and tomorrows that make yesterdays feel like yesteryears.

03:23 pm - Smoothie Apocalypse Trailer

Current Mood: accomplished

10:52 pm - Taking a Circumstance on an Allegiance to Freeshit

just todays thoughts...


boxes and boxes and bochsays of books and fabric and books and fabric and...bags of stuft animals and shoes...how about another box of books. I think they help me feel sane or not as insane as you can feel at times...but damn there are just so many incredible ideas and words stashed just inside their cardboard or paperboard covers.
Is it too much to ask to have a place where people are reading aloud, emphatically about whatever the hell inspires them...?...the history of recorded thought is neatly packed away behind the title or contents and we seldom reach for them and even less often share them with one another...but then what are they gonna do? Sit there waiting, wanting, watching a pair of I's to scour them for their morsel of truth or story...then they just become space holders like VCR tapes waiting for a good drop kick to the past or up the street via some quasi legal garage sale. I think the limit is 3. 3 yard sales a year then it becomes a business. Not positive, but the people that lived behind me near Palm got shut down cause of too many yard sales...and that was what they said.

You should have just seen me on the stove. i had 4 burners blazing, steaming, boiling, and sautéing...the fake sausage burned around the edges slightly...but otherwise I had it nailed. Yeah big deal I know, but until the last 2 or 3 years, I was a two-burner-max-kinda cat. Typically overcooking. Total fricking art I barely possess the patience for. Thanks to all you chefs and food preppers out there...

which brings me somewhere else real quick...I really must thank the gods,,,well instead of that direction,,,lets say the gods and goddesses pretending to be the people that have ignited the cycles of freedom..er..a free shit circulating...'Cause hot damn! People have been hooking me the fuck up. Theres free shit in every direction,,,I'm telling you, and it keeps finding me. I mean, I pledge allegiance to free shit, I believe in it, I try to live by it, and I do what I can to keep it moving, but it keeps finding me. Rather than jinx it by naming it all, lets just say that financial exchange is secondary to all transactions. 'Transactions are done between people wishing to exchange objects for use; money follows to fill in the void left behind'. Damn that sounds like sorta prophetic. I wonder does it work for bailouts? voids left behind??...from what. Magic? -Whatever,,, that wasn't the direction I was headed...just started to feel it. What I meant is that everyone has access to something and that something is available. Availability is negotiable depending on circumstance. Thats it. Circumstance. I'm taking a circumstance on this... that circumstances have dictated that we should be giving more to each other. Thats it. Take a circumstance on it. okay okay. Heres my point, thank you friends, people, and mr. and ms. universe (no, not the body builders, or that other......oh forget it). Thank you thank you thank you. I hope only to embrace and empower the forces of freeshit all around me.

hahahahhahhhaaahaha air conditions in the southwest thank you too... for all that you have done for us this summer... it has been great to give you a rest, I hope you can slumber dormant until may 2010. Hello blankets and hoodys, we welcome your return to functionality.

Okay keep returning to silly...better wrap it up. Not quite an A student here. Bout to roll outta college a decade late with a 2.0 and I care...I do...oh wait heres a new one liner I made up but havn't used yet,,,maybe someone else already made it up,,, I dont know,,,here it is...It's not That I don't care, But, I dont care...yet as ironic as that may be...I do care about school, just not about memorizing every fuckin tidbit trivia within each class. Rar. That sounded bitter. Maybe I should go do some homework...but theres that movie I wanted to see and then that show, and man, theres things I could pack, flyers I could circulate, more dishes,,,I dont have skool till tues...

12:43 am - music, moving and other stuff

October is coming october is coming...damn... somehow the summer came and stayed and ...stayed and is on its way out. Under 100 degress sounds good to me. Tired of that 110...I wrastled some fricking...no no...fucking, goddamned fucking seats outta that mercedez at ecology...sweat dripping off my eye covers {brows} cursing at the 12 noon appointment I set up that I happen to be eclipsing...

Fuck. Cant get to the stupid, stupid fucking nuts...seat wont...go back...Ima yank this Con-capital-Trap-tion out. Throw/push to the front...throw/push to the back again and again (yell silently to/at self...moan/groan frustratingly/angrily...stupid fricking frack afunk frek fruk...floorboard chunk #1 yanked out...gimme that seat...pull towards self and plow. Grab the bolts, the tools, the handy-dandy as fuck battery powered speakers for my mp3000 (YEAH!). Pile it in the wheelbarrel and settle at the front. 90 bones. Barely piled/packed those hot new vinyl seats into the back seat, front seat, and trunk of my who-ride. Damn. That was a trip. Not so excited about working on cars again. Its like certain bolts are systematically stacked into some layered, runaway, tetris game. Why dont we have go-carts or
golf carts? Stupid stupid cars. Linked a little on some veggie oil though. It may frui-ate soon. Now theres a handful of noises I should problably handle. Maybe soon. Stupid cars.

Oh yeah oh yeah oh yeah, by the way...MP3000! (not really 3000 you beatmakers, 3 plus some excitement) Hear that? Ohwee...can I just let you know that my doctor prescribes two things to me and the other one is music. I love music, I crave music, I want to do dirty things with music...and the silly thing is – I dont play music...well not anything your average joe would consider music...but thats not the point. So, anyVays my portable robot blew a fuse after I poked it in the wrong hole and it has been rebelling against my doctors orders ever since. I've played cd's, lost an mp3 player or two, and have painfully gone through bizarre disgusting fits writhing on the floor, but now my friends, I have reached a new plateau with my condition. 3$ external sound card for the robot/bazillion hours of big kahuna web surfing waves/priceless. Well not by everyones standards, but I cant really live my life by the suk standards of every square unable to name more than one genre of music they enjoy. Its not really hard. You just have to quit looking at the world as being divided between things you like and things you dont. Too much of our attention and attraction is based on a comfort zone 3 feet from our favorite couch.

In addition to providing my craptop with its reason for existence, I threw down a tightly clenched handful of feddy's (you know, fed notes), say like the number 25 for 4 giggles of data storage...and wow. How does that average joe guy get by without a constant soundtrack? To all the modern devices that play music...we salute you. So...to bring this full circle, not only do I get music from my robot but my spaceship has a tapedeck and with some other 3 dollar trinket, I can play music from the future in my wheelbox from the 80's! Hail the anachronistic revolution!

My linguistics teacher was looking at me when he said to the class, maybe some of you should take this class in a different semester when you can spend more time studying. I could spend more time studying, I just didnt know that everything had to be memorized immediately! High front tense vowel. Voiced alveopalatal africate? Ok sorry. Not quite memorized yet. Film class is kinda interesting. Man, there are way too many people involved in making a film. An hour of make believe costs endless hours, days and people to make happen. What a drag. Funk all that big money ish.

I guess I'm gonna move around the corner and up the street. I like my house. I hate moving. Well, maybe not hate. I painted almost every room in my house and my stupid stupid landlord wants it all back to stupid fucking oppressive white ass walls. 4bdr/2bth/900/Coronado? Anyone? Anyone?
The economy's crashing, should we try something else?
Mad shit too do. Shirts, hand puppets, party planning, library project, calendar, skool, car, breadtruck, banana bread, new camera, more poetry, print something, make stickers, make ad, make, make, make, make, make, make...

thanks for sharing your attention

09:19 pm - nothings happened since last time

is that an overstatement...no I guess an understatement? People say understatement of the century as if one person sums up whole eons with one statement or at least sarcastically alludes to something large with something small...but an understatement would be like "a few things happened" when actually lots of things had happened...

bla..bl..bla

I had one experience recently, where I was like 'this deserves to be blogged' maybe because I wrote about my last horrible car fixing situ...and this new one has dramatically empowered and excited me...I hate cars...I mean driving them can be fun and driving them really far can be cool too but realistically car culture seems to have sacrificed the future of existence for parking lots and drive thrus. Stupid robber baron oil empires...anyvays, my man, lets call him Will, gave me this mercedez from the 80s for 2 measley installments of 75 fed notes. Its from New Orleans before the flood/storm and supposedly from Europe quite literally, I guess. Its sat in the same position for maybe like two years. Towed it to a local mechanic (Barrows, on 7th st). He replaced all the hoses and spent some time trying to iron out a few other issues. I took it the Demon V, wait its MVD now, right? They fronted hard. Cant see this...needs that...I felt like a criminal being processed...no one really talks to you, but at you, and the papers are more important than frank discussions. Didnt make the grade. Needs a new windshield, need to be able to get in and out of all doors, needs to stay in place when parked. 2 house call mechanics, 4 months, and like 150 blood dollars later. BLOUW! Back at Demon V. Thats right. Thank you. Emissions...black smoke...no prob. Legal as every other non-insured driver out there.

This ride is a motherfunkin diesel. Hear that, thats right. Finally agent J034 is part of the alternate fuel movement. This bucket of bolts has a different exploding mechanism than so many others, and it can make hundreds of tiny explosions with numerous liquids. Hopefully I can find some creative juices for it too burn rather than just shopping at the joint on 15th ave and grant.

Ok so here it is...a mercedez enthusiast friend of mine showed me the junkyards with my car and then, I was like out there, all by myself, wrenching on some wreck, picking parts like some mad max vulture and damn it felt cool. My inkering for tinkering, dormant in the autos department, for quite some time, resurfaced, and it was like holy shit, I can do this. I wanna strip that car now. Its funny, most of the junked bodies are cleaner and in better shape than mine...a bit humbling really. Three different junkyards, one with this angry german lady who thought every piece of junk in their yard was somehow worth lots, and the other two have names and themes reflective of recycling. As if those yards of smashed trash, those piles of wasteful, broken-down, heaps of hot shit, could somehow assist the building of a non-toxic future. In some ways, I'm sure it is better to have your trash neatly arraigned for easy scavenging. Fun though. Like some secluded man fun. No not like that...but if you really wanted too...there was not many people around even on half price day. I kinda felt like shooting some movie clips...pretending that someone had an office in the back of a broken down truck in a junkyard...but he was important...or maybe like some karate kid training. 'Show me, remove headlight'...I guess Laruso was washing cars...okay I dont know exactly...but something...maybe some glossed out rapper braggin about all the cars he has that just need a little tune up. Something.

That was it really. Stupid car experience. I make movies now. Thinking about selling ideas to Hollyweirdos and reality shows...no but really...I've done a little chop chop wit some vidi edi'ing. If you have read this much and dont know...I believe you should check the proof of my soul stealing here www.youtube.com/philfreedom a little different here http://www.vimeo.com/user1184250...

I've also recently decided to join every social networking site I can find. So, I figured I should update something here.

What else? Skool started back up. Seniors! 6 year? Was I supposed to join a program? Just kidding. Anthropology degree coming up. Look out business world, Ima get a degree! Maybe I'll get a job for the CIA or something cool like that. Oh wait...anthropology. hmmm...did you need a shovel? Culture is my passion, maybe the organizers of reality will give me a job stitching the backdrop. I dont know...jobs are pretty sucky. More free time! Less work! Where are the robots at?!!I'm tired of touching this button.

Cheech transfered to a public skool with uniforms. Oh no! What happened to freedom through fashion. Hows a clothing constructor gonna let his kid wear a uniform? Its like the end of freedom [cue the music]. Thats important for making movies. Ha. I squeezed a newly found passion into my skedge. Film:The Creative Process. Why it takes a bazillion to tell a silly story. My other classes are evolution of disease, statistics, and linguistics. I love it when prose rhymes. Lose the punctuation and its fucking poetry. But it doesnt need to rhyme so just lose the punctuation and articulate more meticulously repetitiously. I should record the language class or maybe you can just imagine it for me, or you, really [I'm never gonna hear you imagining it, at least I dont think so]. Imagine a classroom of college kids, wait, close your eyes (after reading this) and then imagine 21 kidults (not quite 21) making voiced bi-labial fricatives! hahahaha just kidding. I think thats the v sound. Imagine the shh sound or s or ba. Ba. More like Buh. Buh. Its kind of fun. A little weird.

I've been listening to the Zeitgeist Mixtape. ooowweeee. Its hot. Kava 1, Conspirituality, Immortal Technique, The Unity Project.

Been digging Afrobeat, Transglobal Underground. You should tell me about some music you really like that I might not know. please.

Been making some hats. Some decent custom embroidery. We made a token. Make your own money art contest coming soon. Got lots to do...till next year...or hopefully sooner.

paz.

11:51 am - the pictures were not lying

damn yo.



we found that tropical paradise you see in all the photos. I wasnt sure if the photos were lying, but they aren't. Caye Caulker (pronounced key cocker) is an island within the national boundaries of belize but somehow outside the national problems. Belize city is hectic as shit, with crackhead panhandlers, hustlers, and taxi cab drivers that dont even let you get off the bus before they solicit you. The place is crawling with activity, most of it fairly legit I suppose, but with a city of only 70,000, a reported 7 murders a day, seems a bit high. On the water taxi to caye caulker and caye amberguis is mostly european descended peeps, with a slight mix, but then once on the caye, more diversity surfaces, and with that, more tolerance, and more ease. Almost like that expected mission beach/venice beach attitude, of, chill out 'mon, you are in fucking paradise, no one gives a shit, take it easy. The theme seems to be slow down, which is a healthy welcome from the hustle that penetrates the mainland.



Fucking gorgeous. Reefs all over with fish wearing those bright mixtures of colors and accents we usually only see in tanks. Sting rays and nurse sharks have be trained to swarm near the boats ala pavlovs' conditioning, so its real easy to swim with them. Our guide was holding a stingray with both arms out, yelling for about ten minutes to the adults and kids still on the boat, "you wanna pet a stingray, anyone wanna pet a stingray?" It stayed there like a happy little kitty snuggling up against his chest.



We went to a party the other night and I wanted to call all you guys and invite you here cause we basically had an island all to our selves. Caye Caulker is split in two and on the north side is a large three story resort with deck walking around the sides, and maybe a few houses. A water taxi boat would frequently come and pick people up at the pier with the poster for the show and bring them there. It was a ten minute ride and by the amount of promotion that went into it, tv ads an' shit, we thought this would be a serious get down. We could have got maybe 1000 people on the island. There was live bands, a kickass sound system, a bonfire, tikis, beers and mixers for 2.50 and 3.50, and maybe a whopping dozen cats. Me and the lady befriended some englanders making their way around the world (a 12 stop world round year long package for 1200 pounds, about 2400 dollars) and partied with them mostly. Man if I could only bring this party to arid-zona...Hey guys lets bring an island to AZ! yea man. We just need to work on how.



So, also my alternate love affair with jah buddha, or mary jane, was able to surface once again, and it was by a guy that worked for the hotel! gotta love that. Its some seedy, stemmy, mid-grade shwag, but well appreciated. The papers are straight from New York City, those big bamboo ones.



Shi-ite. The beach sands are sifting ever downwards and we be back in the good ol' AS of U town, come morning, AND me lady is eyeing me AND the owner of this 'puter wantin to be out in the waata, so I'll sum it all up with some pics in a few daysies...

peace inda east
frienzies
mucho amor
freedom

03:44 pm - takin it belizey

we'll call this 1.3 cause for the time being I am going to skip 1.2 until I can make it through the now.

Placencia Belize. 600 residents and I'm sure the tourists can triple those numbers in the high season. I'm in a closet with internet access and air conditioning, something not very widespread out here.The carribean sea is to my right, out the window with thatchet roof over a restaurant, smaller tables nearby and some scattered palms in the sand. This is your typical island photo op. I mean its fucking gorgeous and the water is as clear as can be. Mostly light skinned european-descended americans around, which is not the average residence of belize.

Tikal was crazy. Hot as shit, with a large galaxy of mayan ruins, much of which have still to be dug up. We opted for the tents at Jaguar Inn, first, I thought for the 'back to nature feel,' and second for it being cheaper, and lastly cause it was all they had left. I would advise against it. We wandered early that evening to catch some of the stuff we thought the tour might miss, and besides the tickets last for 24 hours and there really wasnt anything else to do. The guy asking about tickets spoke only spanish and carried an automatic rifle (which can be pretty intimidating), like much of the security in Guatemala. Not sure what to say about the park though. It is mostly made of large step pyramids, in varying degrees of decay and reconstruction, and like I said, much of it is still to be discovered, dug out, or reconstructed. The size of it is most intrigueing and then contemplating what the hell they were for. Celebrating the kings, tracking the stars, and the weather, sacrificing animals and people, watching ballgames, celebrating the organization of labor, watching nearby temples, touching the heavens, having a good place to throw spears from. I dont mean to downplay its significance, it just seems like its mostly speculation, like much of anthropology is I suppose.

Heres the intense part, After a swealtering dinner we headed for the tent. The air mattress and air pillows had that soft fuzzy texture making them seem comfortable at first, but after a few ten minute increments of stand-still sweating, a bit more gross. I imagine quite a number of people had sweated deep into those mattresses years before we had got there. Not that I was too grossed out, but I was just not used to sweating the night through. Me novia (thats espanol for girlfriend) was a bit sick and I could smell her cough in the air. I figured if I was going to get sick it would be now (I didnt though, phew). So I sweated and sweated and slept for brief intervals wondering how long the night would last if we were to be up at 4am for the morning tour. The fun thing about sharing an air mattress is that every move is felt by both people, and I could feel both the edges of the tent cause of my 6 foot stature. So I tried and tried to stay in dreamland as long as possible and then finally I woke up and wondered how much longer it could be, and damnit I was close! It was almost four. I delightfully jumped out of bed and headed for the front where we were to meet up with the tour guides. It was very dark still and there was only one other couple from the hotel. Then out of nowhere, three vans and a tourbus full of american and european tourorists swarmed to the scene. Our tourguide, Louis, asked for our handwritten "tickets" like all tickets are here, and we began to take to the temple in packs.

It really was gorgeous. We all, I think almost only lightskinned except for the tourguides and the other couple from the Inn, marched to the top of temple four, to watch the jungle wake up. I kept wanting to sleep, holding my head between my legs and hands, thinking that hearing the jungle was just as good as watching. A few birds flew around and one bird seemed to be the main instigator of the whole thing. The monkeys were not howling and the sun was obscured by either mist or smoke or clouds (they all seem to blend at times), but it still was very beautiful. The different trees all jampacked together, the light but cool breeze, and the other temples where mock human sacrifices were being held (kidding, kidding).

The guide Louis, divided us up into language groups and showed us english speakers around. He was native and interested in the development of mayan understanding so it felt legit. We did end up seeing almost everything on the tour, and he was open for questions, which helps. It was definately cool and worth it, but damn that tent was hot! Stay in flores and catch the bus like 90% of the other tourorists did. We had breakfast at the Jaguar Inn and my man Freddie burned a disk of my flicks so I can take more! woohoo! He spoke more english than most, hooked us up with a trip to the border, and had a whole set of gold front frames. Lots of people do down here. Gold teeth but mostly frames.

Off to the sandy beaches of Belize. Our driver, Carlos, didnt speak any english, but happliy drove us to the border which is only paved about halfway from the main route. The part that was paved had potholes the size of manhole covers every couple meters it seemed. He picked up a few other people along the way and dropped them off without asking for dough. The last guy gave him some though. At the border, another guy gets in and trys to seal the deal on our ride into cities in belize. He's friends with a guy on hte other side and they work together for a little kickback. We pay ten quatzales to leave guatemala and are then approached by money dealers. Like street hustlers, but they're just trading money, and I think its all for the same rate. We get some 'belize' and head through to customs, who pay us no mind, except asking where we are to stay. Homies' homie picks us up and offers to take us anywhere. Of course its more than a bus will be but we need to get somewhere, especially if we will have any luck getting as far as we want. Instead of San Ignacio, we have him take us to the bus at Belmopan. From here, we board an old american school bus that is packed to the hilt with people. 30 seats, 2 to a seat, with about 15 standing in the isle. It looked fairly multiethnic, but as the drive set on, things became more clear. The white people are tourists, the latinos are few, and the country is predominately black. It was dope really, I like the experience of minority status, but I dont think I like being of the tourorist class. I stood all the way to Dangringa in the Isle, well almost all the way. About an hour and a half.

We got off at Dangringa thinking that we would stay here for the night, and add one more city to our list. It was hot, it still is, its fucking central america, the only country in central america where english is the official language. Which is kinda funny since most people consider the main language, creole. Now creole seems to mean different things to different people, just ask someone, then ask someone else. The language sounds a lot like Jamaican english, which it is. Some people will tell you its a hodge-podge of spanish, french, english, and garafuna, but I've talked with enough locals that stand firm in their assertion that its just broken english. I do like it though. No one teaches it, its just spoken. I think it would have a gang of hyphens, accent marks, and silent letters, as well as accepted expressions. Our tour guide today, Eever, says some people want to teach it and there are dictionaries for creole now-I might have to pick one up.

I crossed the street, cause it was the closest food source and there was a young boy and his kid sister. He said fish and chicken were ont he menu. I said fish, he called back into the kitchen and they said there was no fish. So I said chicken, and he calls back to the kitchen, comes back to the counter and grabs one of two styrofoam meal boxes that were on display and hands me one. Uh...uh...okaaaay...We walk up to their elevated eating area with the lonely fan oscillating and snack down. It wasnt bad. The mayonnaise container had some spicy funk inside, and the place looked weathered bad. Hurricanes I guess.

We decide we should just try to make it all the way down to placencia, where we had reservations. So we wait in the bus stop, where the schedule is handwritten, and the two doors have signs saying gate 1 and gate 2. Back on the bus and we got seats this time. The man from the restaurant was on the bus selling water, ahem, waata, which is why he wasnt at the restaurant, a boy was selling fried plantaans, and then another man was selling meat pies. Meat pies damnit! I almost wish I got one. So the old american school bus with the 'all american' sign inside dropped everyone off individually at the house randomly dotting the main road. All the houses are on stilts for the hurricanes, and are relatively spread out. The road cut straight down the edge of the water and was dirt a good percentage of it. The place looks and feels broke, but it maintains. I would have caught some stills but it seemed inappropriate. The bus pulled into placencia and we still were not sure where we were going. We got to the end of the route and asked the driver if he knew where sea spray was. He thought he did and said he would drop us back off there. It was only a short walk, and we made it.

I'll finish up later with 1.2 and 1.4. 'cause I cant have my rum punch in the internet room, and the ocean is calling. One last thing...we hunted for the whale sharks yesterday snokeling, and went up monkey river today and caught some mini crocodiles sunbathing, watched some dolphins and manatees, and taunted some howler monkeys...I'll report on it all soon.

peace friends
geezus

01:24 am - Kid-Fuckers an Micro-Managers at Plop Copy

Man, my work is crazy fucked up. I mean its one thing to be there still after a decade of deviance in the discount department, but just when it seems like the cows been through a bit too much bloodletting, someone smashes through the rafters pulling all the attention away. Even though I use everything I can and try to share with friends, hanging on to a corporate job for 10+ doesn't even look good to those people. I should have been fired, repeatedly, years ago. Somehow I maintain. And since they allow to me work just weekends with no bosses and one homie, its ok.

There was nothing in particular recently. Some feet of vinyl sticks, color prints here and there, coupla booklets for a peep, a few posters...but since my mans been sharing the shift, we be sharing the shit...and it leaves quicker, and in doubles, and we have cats come in, and hang, and make shit. We been slightly sloppy is what I'm saying. Skipping meetings here and there, few hours late at times, just fucking rigid around the edges.

Then comes the body through the rafters. A straight-up kid-fucker among us. Yellow tape and all that. Friday morning breaking and some plain-clothes and dekt-out coppers secure the area, wait until the store is empty, and nab Mr. Sicko. They shut down the store and took the signshops harddrive. He had allegedly been either A.) Selling photos of himself sexing-up an underager, or, B.)Making financial transactions with undercovers promising to deliver an underager. Either way, what the fuck? The news says they got multiple pictures with multiple partners, but did not mention gender or age.

I kinda considered myself a friend of Mr. Sicko. He was definitely strange, but it seemed relatively harmless. He was a devout Atheist, ready to jump into anyones conversation and push his perspective. I prefer Atheists as work buddies, but Sicko was a dick. He wasn't just that he worshiped science like fools do religion, he had to bring his critique of anything, to the forefront of the conversation. He would walk in and start dissing electronic music, because we were listening to it, and because he felt it lacked organic grounding. He would criticize art if it had any direct, knowable influences. It seems as if he felt it his duty to share whatever shit he could spew forth. One sister coworker was constantly freaked out by him and his invitations to his surveillance van parked out front. I used to think she was over-reacting, but I didn't tell her. At times, he had some good shit to say. Real big fan of bizarre animals, technological gadgets, anything alive or created by man.

Oh yeah, the surveillance van. If you had to guess what car a fuckin perv was driving out of hundreds and hundreds of vehicles, your eyes would keep drifting back to that big plain white surveillance van that you cant see into. Somethings up with that fool. He got a second job while he was working at POP. He got a job teaching at an elementary school, cause he felt that if there was any hope for the future it was with the kids (hmmm...). He gave it up after one week. The kids wouldnt respect him and he felt defeated AND he got caught smoking weed at the school, on his lunch-break, WITH HIS SHIRT OFF!! He would smoke shirt-less to keep the smoke from absorbing...I guess.

Lets just say that no one cares about copy clicks for the moment.

Two other tidbits about POP before we move on. So after years of being in the same position and seeing different stores ebb and flow with work, it seems to me that everything is arbitrary. There's these percentages we are of course supposed to maintain at 100%, and then theres the bottom line of making dough, but seriously, I've seen it fluctuate so much that no work we do makes any effect. Two weeks ago the chocolate rations were up, but last week they were down. What the fuck? Did anything change during that time? Not really. It seems more like they got different departments reading data differently and sending it down the chain of command at different times. Or, its just all made up, like the headlines about chocolate rations telling us whats up, even though it is in contradiction to what we knew previously. I try to pretend that I care, and I think they believe me, but I'm really just humoring them, because I dont think anything makes a damn bit of difference in there. I might be slightly exaggerating, but you should see for yourself. We'll have to throw a party sometime.

Ok. More work. This shit is funny as hell. This girl we work with, lets call her Sleepy, likes to go home early (who doesnt right?) all the time. She may have more medical conditions than the average Joe, but really, I dont give a fuck. I would rather have the store to myself when I get there, unless theres mad shit to do. So, Saturday's shes feeling offended by the boss's claim that she goes home sick too often. Sunday, she falls asleep in a back room. Haha, thats cool with me. Sleep all you can on the clock, just dont ever say shit about my biz up in here. Anyway, this is the prelude to the funny part. So she leaves early, goes home, and calls back a few hours later. Her boyfriend is stranded up the way. She asks a sister coworker to go help them out. Maybe they want a ride. No, they want gas money, they got a car and passengers, they just need a few duckets to get'em back home. The sister helping slides them 9 bucks to get them through till payday, and then grabs a drink from the store their car is conveniently parked at. So Sleepys boyfriend, being the treasurer, decides that 9 bucks can get them more than just gas and figures he can use half for gas and use the rest to sponsor his personal needs. He doesnt even wait until the kind sister has left the premises before he slides his two tall cans of Cobra onto the counter beside her. “Five'll be enough to get us through the week on gas,” he explains, justifying his selfish indulgence in cheap beer. Fuck Yea! Party on man! Kids outside, borrowing money from his girlfriends coworker to get home, and he splurges for some tall cans. This guy should work for the ...uh...uh...C..I..uh...no...F..B..this shmoe should just fucking work. Shit, get a job at AMPM and stash those tallboys in your jacket. What the fuck.


9.12.07


Oh man, and then it gets goofier. So not really trying to talk about Plop copy too much but this last saturday deserves mention. I usually work at 2pm, but had something interesting to do early saturday evening, like check a biker bar. A cool lady I work with allowed me to switch shifts so I could cut out early. Her shift is 6:30 am to 2:30. I had already been up at 7am to take the kid to school so it didnt seem like any big deal. It was the night after first friday, where I typically like to get sauced up into a frenzy until the late night but figured I could halt it early this time. So, I had been drinking, not heavily though and had managed to crash just after 2 so I was decent, considering. Woke up with a tiny hard spot in my head, nothing too bad though. Get to work 20 minutes late after calling 5 before and listening to some lady say “were waiting for ya” As if she was interested in getting out immediately. I didnt even know she was supposed to be there. Oh yea, the new assistant manager is helping out grave.
I clock in and stumble over in a slight early morning daze.

“You cant wear those pants in here. They're dirty!” She proclaims instead of hi, how you doing, good to see you, or any of that other cool shit normal people say to each other.
I'm assuming shes talking about the apple juice that squirted from out the apple I was eating in the car on the way here. Probably like the size of a condom near my pocket, sure to dry up within the hour. She couldn't have seen the piece of cake from last night...my shirt was covering that.
I explain that it's going to dry and she blows up asking what size pants I wear, cause she's going to find me a pair. She's a new assistant manager so she couldnt have already known the dilemma about ordering my pants...that I had them do three times already.
“35 by 35” I answer.
She blurts out that I am not a 35 and that she'll find me some pants. I let her know that I am willing for her amusement to try on some smaller ones but that I had already done it for a different manager before. She digs through the bin finding out what everyone else knew, that we do not have any pants bigger than a 33.

Then, she's looking over some done projects... I'm checking in on the computer. A customer approaches the counter and stands there. She looks over at me and makes some signal. Sleepys there and she gets the counter. So Miss. Manager accuses me of not getting the counter. I ask her, “are you accusing me of not getting the counter” just to spell it out and make sure that is what she was saying. AND it was. This is the first time I've worked with Miss. Manager and she's accusing me of not doing something I have done thousands of times before. I thought it was funny. Like this cant be real.
Now, I'm thinking, the morning staff's here, why dont you get the fuck out. So, she is clocking out finally at 8am (should have left an hour ago) and she says that she has some stuff to do and wants to see how things take over in here. From across the room I explain to her and my coworker that she just wants to keep control. (I figured something out about myself within the last few years and that is, that I am control sensitive. What that means is I do not blend well with control freaks, can pinpoint control easily, and do what I can to dismantle it.) So mismanager is off the clock, lingering around now and doing some of her own work.
The guy I work with and I are bullshitting about some bullshit, laughing it up, enjoying ourselves and she looks over to me and blabs “Is it gonna be a problem for you to keep it quiet back here today?”
You fucking bitch. She was serious. I ask back, “I dont know is it?”
She says again “Is it?” And I begin to feel like I'm in 5th grade, biting my tongue. My whole persona dropped notches. Low blow, Control Freak. Yea, its a motherfucking problem. I talk. I talk loud. Dont like it, peace. She then has the gall to ask me to help her with shit. Yeoow.

I change the musak from 80's pop to Kingston, the reggae channel. The atmosphere is still light, so I'm kidding around and I share my belief that reggae calms the customers down and makes them more amiable. Instead of talking with me or trying to reason, or rationalize, she changes the station back to Pop. Are you fucking kidding? Really? Change it back as some exercise of power or understanding? I go and turn the radio off. If theres a disagreement, then we dont have to listen to the radio.
She comes over and blurts out quickly cause I'm sure her time is muy importante, “most of our customers are between the ages of 45 and 55 and they prefer 80's and 90's Pop. Go turn the radio back on.”
I'm thinking who the fuck cares about managers and customers, but I pull my service card.” I been here ten years and the radio has never been a problem.”
She retorts. “Well things are changing. And wanders off.”
You fucking micro-managing Matilda. That was her name. Well, close enough. M3 continued to hang at the store until almost noon and wondered why we didnt jump to work when we got there. It makes me not want to work to have some busy-bee buzzing 'round trying to poison my flowers.
The graveshift cat sentenced to work with Miss Micro, decides after a few days of working with her that he wants to try Ecstasy for the first time at work. Wow. Being at work is the last place I want to trip. He thought it had helped him get through the night, after M3 wrote him up for texting the day before.
Later that day I printed out everything I could find on the web about micro-managing, highlighted particularly interesting parts and left it in the breakroom after showing it to many of the coworkers so they could be aware of exactly what it was.
Damn. Good thing I only work weekends. I'll think twice next time I consider switching a shift she may be overlapping.

02:26 am - complaint department. automobiles

FILE UNDER COMPLAINT DEPT.


Oh man. Its pretty bad. It seems kinda fucking ridiculous now. It didnt start as any big deal but 7 weeks and 2000 dollars later, it feels like I've done some bloodletting. It was a routine tuesday on my way to skool in tempe and the breeze begins to overheat. Damn. Uhm...turn the heat on. Yea...it aint that far, I was on the freeway and passing 52nd street. Rt at Priest and the Breeze dies. Doing 30, shifting. Uh...ok back into gear you go. (Green lights...green lights...no reds, my mind focuses on the mantra). Again shifting, just missing the light at Rio and the ol' plyMouth shuts up. She's going down, I can feel it. Now. Where to stash her? Light at 5th st, dive into the alley. Dddddduuuuuuhhhhhh and its over. Right into a dirt parking spot behind someones something. Left a note about picking it up later, grabbed the rusty wooden and pushed the rest of the way around town.

Back after 8ish and figured I could push start it. No bueno. Had a homie help tow it and it sat in my yard for a month. I didnt need it, I figured. This was like March, I think. Just about a month of skool left. Picked up the free bus pass for AASSUU and companioned it alongside me' stick. It was alright. Moms worked around it and my women shared hers. Had people from work picking me up. I was using it as an excuse to be later than normal. I was managing. So, I thought the engine had seized. Not sure why, but the starter was fine, had power, just wouldnt do anything but click. Had a friend check it... no clue. Uhhh...didnt know any local, trusted, cool, or whatever... I dont know any mechanics living nearby working on peoples rides. So I just waited and asked around. I dont at any time have much money and what I do get I enjoy spending on things other than uh...well cars at least. I also have a 82 mercedes thirsty for some vegetable oil that could easily be coaxed into roaming. 5 bills, maybe 6 and that heap is mobile. I was thinking I could choose one or the other to hook up depending on which manifestation happened first.

Somehow they seem like a stream of bad decisions that marched further and further into absurdity as time lapsed. Really though, this are basic, fundamental, lame-ass interactions operating as functions of our society. Most people's hours seem to revolve around keeping their home and maintaining their car. If not most of our time, at least a large chunk. This was just my time to deal with it. I have been pretty lucky with this ride, until now. Maybe its like Ray says and I'm working out some karma. Figured I'ld have to have a few car stereos stolen from me at some point.

It was a random convo. What I remember is walking around Trader Joes on the phone hearing a friend explain my cars problem, at least thinking it was the head. Hmmm ok...uhm...maybe. Says him or a friend can work on it and have it handled for like 600 bucks. I was game. The only other thing I had figured is that it wanst the starter after I pulled from its awkward ass position and that some engine guy would replace the whole engine for 1400. Ok fuck it, lets do it. (Looking back this lies right next to most my other too-trusting situations). It was actually my friends boyfriend, but instead he had some other guy he knows come out and get it. He came with a friend in a century and they tried to tow it with my knot tied nylon strap. Nada. So, uh, Dick comes back later and picks it up and I hand him 250. Seemed like a cool enough guy. Sounded like he knew what he was talking about.

It was a week later and he sweats me for more of the money, needs it for parts. 350. Starter goes out. 120. Timing belt. 40. Sounds like hes got it under control still, handful of receipts. Whadoyaknow the valves are bent. Which should have been addressed first, or at least during a head gasket job. Dicks got no dough, so I need to either borrow a car or get a ride to his spot across town to hand him 90 bucks. After that I had to pick up another head gasket and bring it to him. The car is actually a quarter mile up from Dicks house in front of an aban...no uh... seemingly vacant house. Its owned by the same guy that owns the house he lives in. One time I stopped by to drop off money and Dick was a meeting. He actually went to meetings daily sometimes. He was forced to, I imagine, by the state for some drug charges. AA or NA meetings I believe.

He had told me that they had my front tire off, so that no one would tow it. About three weeks into it and I got off work, was chillin at home de-compressing 'bout to smoke and thap thap thap those loud copper pounds were harassing my front door. 10:30 Sunday night disturbing my peace...these public servants wanted to make sure that my auto had not been stolen. Thats right officers, I let that dipshit have my car, he's supposed to be fixing it. Ok thanks Mr and they were out. But the police? At my door? What an inconsiderate jerk. Jeopardizing my freedom. What if I had been listening to loud music or something? Fuck.

I try to catch Dick before his next meeting with the super-sobes and review the operation. Bright orange window sticker just passing the 24hour deadline for moving, 2 hours ago. Fuck. I leave a note explaining a brief synapse of the situ- and roll back to Dicks to uh...get a key...wait...I guess...Must have been a light workload for the CEO's today, cause he was there. We go back, he puts the tire back on, and we tow it with my girls car into the backyard, doing a 180 and driving up a curb.

Needs me to pick up the head. Head needs to be milled. Too bad its saturday. 250 dollars, 3 trips with girls car and roomies car, and the good head is delivered. Needs to replace a sensor, its cracked leaking, so I pick it up and bring it too him. New starter needs to be traded in. Good thing my roommate is a professional driver. More driving.

A few days later Dick smashes his thumb and cant work for a while. He also gets to cheat his drug-fast and pop pain killers for the next few weeks. I love how that kinda shit works. At the AA meeting fucked up talking about how sober you be.

5 weeks deep and I call my friend again and make sure she knows whats happening. I had talked to her a few weeks prior and things seemed alright still. Now, I had spent close to 1300. Its done, I guess. Except she's got the key and not answering her phone. Had a ride hooked up but her and her boyfriend couldnt make it by when they said and then wouldnt answer. I scrounge hard in my spots and locate my second key. Dick says that all it needs is gas and he's stressing the $40 I owed him that we agreed upon except there was a condition...that the car started. Gallon of gas and nothing. Battery is not pulling enough charge. Ok lets replace it. Dick, by the way is in a passive mode and my homie, another person, tied into this nightmare, was working with me to get the battery. Where the fuck is it? No one knows. Oh, in front of the tire. Yank the paperboard out and their bolted cables. Dicks like, I'll take care of it tomorrow, and I'm thinking why the fuck dont we do it now, right now??!! “Dick, you got a wrench?” “Uh...Mark has the keys to the tools.”

“What the fuck? Are you kidding? You dont have access to tools? What the fuck are we doing here?” Had J1 roll me to AutoFuckers for a small toolset. Batteries off. Check it. “We could charge it but its not gonna last...”
“Jus gimme a new one” and were back at the car not hearing it do shit.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Where are the camera's?” Haha, I'm on Gimp My Ride. Thanks everyone, its been a pleasure getting served for your amusement. The Gods are angry. You have been sentenced to work a shit job to pay for your eternal wound of a automobile. AAAArrrrrggggghhhhh...fucking angry...frustrated...confused...how did I waste all this time and money on something I care very little about. It felt like I had jumped on the wrong craps table and they only had 500 dollar chips and I played anyway. One flick of the dice and it was double or nothing. No backing out. Cant really sink a G into something and just let it go. If I was gonna lose, I guess it had to be big.
My friend and her man showed up and tried to ease the transition. This wasnt their plan, it just unfolded this way. We pull it out the backyard and set it up with the strap onto their small SUV rental. Dick is stressing about “his” 40 bones. I tried to explain the condition of mobility but he feels cheated. He did the work after all. He got so huffed that he had to take out his dentures, he dropped his price to 20 and threatened to get a mechanics lean if I didnt get it to him. I dont think he deserved it, but I would have given him 20 just to shut up at this point. I know how lame it is to work on cars. So he bitches and bitches. I yell some, explaining how fucked up this situation is and how negligent this fool had been. Hes still carryin on, so I pull a twenty and am about to give it to him and the boyfriend steps in and says “you give him that 20 and I wont tow your car home.”

Again, I'm looking to the sky for a camera, doing what I can to chase the light at the end. We're strapped about 7 feet apart and he wants to roll the freeway. Not only roll the freeway but do 75 the whole way. Its not really that safe. The tow rope was at an angle making his back-end shift when I would tug on the brakes. My friend was trying to sell me on some promotional idea and I felt like I was barely hanging on to our petty little lives. It gets home safe.

I call for a diagnostics and the guy at 7th st and Osborne can do it for 40 bucks if its simple. Timing cover is broke off, the place where you can align the teeth, its not even there. Replaces it and the timing is off by two teeth. Still nothing. After some tests, he's thinking the valves may be bent again. An easy mistake to do really. He later finds out that the rocker arm is bouncing around and not connected right. He attaches that and she runs. AC's not blowing cold though and the exhaust has a large leak near the engine. It seems as if Dick was trying to torch a bolt off and somehow didnt realize he was blowing a huge whole in the exhaust. Or maybe he passed out while he was doing it. Or maybe he was trying to create a temporary home for some locust buddies of his. Whateverthefuck, it was stupid. This guy said I could die of asphyxiation if it hadnt been handled. 820 bucks and my car was out of his shop and at the muffler shop. The first place said that since it was a flexi part that connected to the engine and that the whole thing had to be replaced at a cost of 1000. He could do it through his dealer for 575. I had just pulled the last dollar out of my account to pay of the last bill, which ended up overdrafting me on some shit this week. Hustled a few books and came up on like 50, and brought the ride into some small shop on thomas on my way to work. 75 bucks and its all good.

So what does that make? I think like 2200-2300 for the bastardized industry of Henry Ford and Lee Iacocca. Thats how it feels sometimes. Of course Dick zapped a lot of the loot, it just feels like all these autos are obsolete, constantly breaking down, causing wrecks, getting people in jail. Man I wish AZ had a sick transpo system. Shit I'll take a train, but that shit should have been done in 1908, not 2008.
Car works now, though. Except the headlight and the stereo. Man is it different driving around not listening to music. Weird. Kinda creepy.

03:02 pm - First Fridays June Phoenix AZ

First Friday Baby.
I swear its like a regional holiday around here. Definitely one I enjoy celebrating each month. Thought I was on the schedule at COLAB but I hadnt checked the online schedule and so went up there and found someone else already working. Thats cool. More my time. The Chi came with, shes my Toddler. We hung at the store anyway, walking the tightrope, and handing out False Gods. Chi had this plastic Halloween ax we picked up at the dollar store and we would place the distorted Chick Tract on the ax and hand it to people walking by, asking if they had been born against or if they would like some propaganda. Its funny to me how many people do not accept things from people, even flyers. It did start to seem a bit too much to have my 4 year old handing out my anti-religious propaganda even if it is righteous, especially on a 4ft black ax. Moms came through and rescued the tyke, granting my non-responsible status back.

And then it was me on my own. Had taken a beer down already but wasnt stressin the fade. I just want to get my fix of inspiration. Started with a new friend this cat had wanted me to meet, he was spinnin reggae disks west of Carlys. Wandered through the Firehouse, who had fire performances on their backyard stage with the espresso machine dripping and the dream machine blazing. Tripped on the candle holding dance while a friend and I broke our favorite law (to break that is, I dont really have a favorite law. Rights maybe, but not a law). Ok ok through the alley, tables, vendors, tables, vendors, oh yea I wanted to check the One Place spot. My man had a show there last week and he said it was dope. Caught the lady with the singing bowls first. Check that shit.



Sick, huh? Found the One Place and strolled around peeping the art which was cool, bboy influenced paintings.


Emcees were rapping and some people stood around, perhaps enjoying it. It was cool, too, until they brought up my Pet Peeve, Dogma. Most call him “Heyzeus,” or ahem, Christ/Lord/God/Almighty/King of Kings/Lord of...you get the idea. So these god-fearing rappers, after mentioning the King of the Jews once, had to repeatedly go over it as if some of us had somehow missed it. I mean its 2000-fucking-Seven we've heard it all before. Some of us have experienced abusive aspects of our childhood through religious indoctrination that our parents were afraid to question. I could deal with a christian reference now and again and not get upset, but after the 5th or 6th one, I get a little offended and want to start slinging God-concepts around. I heard this other fool later, on the other side of Roosevelt say something like he was here to save us, not Mr. Christ, but him, the rapper, by exposing us to Lucifer's brother. Such a nice kid to go out of his way to share his blind-faith dogma about sin and hell.

Fucking self-righteous pricks. Not all of them, but shit, you aint exposing no one to nothing. Theres a Babble in every hotel for chrissakes. Its Art night, Fuckers. Go Home missionaries, get up early and go to a church and leave the artists and musicians and free-thinking people alone. I really dont mean to draw so much negative attention to this nonsense but its become a bit overwhelming for me. I mean really, who invited the Christians and the Cops? What the fuck are the bandwagon-riding control-freaks doing at an art event? I thought it was bad after Jesus Camp had moved in at the Color-coded Condos and kept a stronghold, but now its worse, its spreading. Even worse still is that this place is a church, a church pretending to be an art space! How evil. Once the emcees couldnt quit talking about ol'cross hanger, the idol, I dropped False Gods on a table and moseyed out.

Seriously though, are the Jesus Freaks and City Cops such opportunists that they cant resist large crowds? Ok, I understand the po-pos and their jobs and the cities concern and the kids with drinks and...protect and serve and all that...but damn there was some heat on the beat that night. They were almost trying to blend in. Its their helmets that give it away. And their light-flashing bikes. And their chip-shoulder wearing black outfits with bad attitudes. My girl had the keen idea of Vodka with clear soda in a sportsdrink bottle. Brilliant. Since I'm not the biggest fan of Gin or Vodka, I forget that they have certain chameleon-like properties that can come in extremely handy in a heavily visible situation. The christians though, they are what inspired me to redo the chick tract. At first thought I would say why arent there Muslims, Jews, Hindus, or Buddhists, or Sikhs out here on first friday pushing propaganda? But that would suck too. Maybe not as much, but it would still suck. Keep Dogma in a Doghouse or at least on a leash. I dont want anyones Dogma shitting or pissing on the sacred ground. I thought about bringing Rabbi “Hey, Zeus” Mohammad, the secular priest down there, I'm just not sure if I'm ready for that yet, so instead I asked people to be 'born against' and read the False Gods tract (which will be up soon, btw).


Caught the ill jazz ensemble that airrates the Modified on 1stfridays.

Peeked in the windows at Eye lounge, wandered through the bad ass collectors store “Hood Ride,” that has been creatively pimped out, and caught the printed shopping bags at 515.


this homie P was hustling his stencil shirts and pieces as a vendor on 3rd street right by Holgas. His stuff had just been on display at the willow house. Check out this sick sewing machine.

Speaking of Holgas, Mr, Tom Cooper had the front room decked out with paintings of local performers Steve Strange and Windpipe the Clown with black lights accenting the neon paint. Dope.

This cat below had his stuff on display at Jesus Camp. I usually walk by and lend a curious ear to see if the God-Fearers are saying anything constructive, and they weren't. Fear death. Sin crap. This isn't real life, yadda yadda. This was when the ego maniacal christian rapper let us know that he was here to save us, fucking dipshit. I asked the kid showing art if he was christian and he said no. Cool. At least the secularists have already infiltrated Jesus Camp. The empire could crumble easily perhaps. His art was dope, check it.


The Lost Leaf is now open for business and rocking. That place has got the vibe nailed. Good Art good beer, and cool cats. Feels quasi-beat in there, just need a few letter pushers, the music and art can be handled by the staff alone. Hung there for a bit with dozens of peeps outside and inside until I found a ride to the Art Show Party at Produce. With a full page ad in Provoke I knew it wouldnt be difficult to hook it up. My cars still broke and we may very well have to bury her. (My) Girls not trying to drive cause of her expired tags, so I hung on the corner and solicited myself. Caught a friend heading that way and we just had to wait a minute. By that time, my Roomie was available with his taxi. A few beers from Circle Korporate and we rolled up on one sick-ass party. Mahfood, Dumps, Pickster, and a few other threw down some ill multi-person multi-form photo drawings.


It was hype. Thick with hipsters and cool cats mostly from the hiphop and house scenes with some artists and drinkers and local celebs sprinkled through the crowd. Definitely the right spot to be. B, the man behind the curtain of Alpha Monsters happened to be behind the bar that was kicking. Dope. I love it when people throw a good get-down on the tail end of the 1stF. Ran into this cat a homie tried to plug me into before over some veggie car fun. He was talking with my girl about sun gazing. Staring into the sun actually, for incrementally longer and longer periods during sunrise and sunset. Sounds slightly absurd, but I have heard of people doing it before. I'm slightly fascinated by it, a little intimidated, but still. Staring at the Sun. Its like the biggest taboo next to, uh...I dont know...pre-teen masterbation. Feels as if I can remember only two instructions from my childhood, dont pet your monkey and dont look into the sun. I gave up the former years ago, why not the latter? I'll have to look into it a bit. He was talking as if the act of staring into the Sun God was a healing act in and of itself. What a trip. I actually have a book someone gave me before, I think its called the “Rays of the New Rising Sun,” by a cat that claims descendence from Manson, ie. his kid.
Shit...how did we get home? Cant recall at the moment, but we made it. Oh yea, J1 came through.

On a different note, I been listening the fuck outta Modest Mouse and watching movies like a zombie. Its sorta in response to me donating my first born to fix my car, well almost. About 2 grand and counting. Its fucking depressing. I got lists of things I would rather spend my money on, than a bad interpretation of Henry Fords automobilee. Still more to come on this nightmare...speaking of nightmares...
Root of Evil by Dawkins and Deliver Us from Evil are both on Google videos and are very important for any questioning believers. Bush pardoned the Pope on charges of conspiracy to cover-up sexual abuse in the catholic church. Damn. Over 100,000 cases of sexual abuse have been reported in the US alone. Only about 20% of cases are even reported. The church pro-actively covered up these fucked up Priests and their sick sadistic perversions. Fuckin sick fuckers. Just recently gave up my aversion to the last star wars movies, and can you believe it, the entire dark side, the construction of Darth Vader and the death of so many jedi's is the result of a few bad dreams little Annikan couldn't shake. Power in Dreams friends. Power in Dreams.
Peace. Freedom.