Wheel Of Tone - Cosmic Hopping Spider

Wheel Of Tone

Translators

Portable Flying Skin Suit

Source of background, photo of flooded stream channel 04/27/2011. Mirrored to result the effect of above images.

Parts ???/??? continued. These images were finalized on 04/29/2011

A further in the series of 'viewpoint on perception' (ha ha) and using hands/eyes as the center of concept.

For the concern of possibly non-important information I'd like to note that upon the opposite hand of the eye there had been drawn a wrist watch with a ? within the center. I had sat at the bus station leering for a bus that would not come, occasionally checking the hand-drawn and numberless clock.

I should update the disclaimer on this page, please don't be a jerk and use images from this blog without contacting me first.

Take note! Seagull sneeze and space-wave hopping spider:

Cosmic Hopping Spider

So I Melted My Own Belief

'So I melted my own belief'

Part ???/??

Valid Sale

Click for larger

Valid Sale II

04/24/2011. Ingredients include:
-An old collage made from an advertisement of a woman religiously holding a bottle of milk, cradling it as if it were a baby.. which would make sense because it is milk and a life nourishment yet the way it was advertised reeked with material rather than life force. Also, she holds milk in such a holy way yet the tap to the original vessel is nearly right below her hand. (Used from a collage taped onto the inner foldout of a cocoa chocolate bar wrapper. Images and marker layered over)
-Two photographs from 03/26/2011 merged together (A construction fence and a blurred shot of some street lights)
-Repeated photomutation of four hands stemmed from one.

Valid Sale I

The 57ryjtrdju7d5678kr

Back to tinkering around with digital imagery.

The 57ryjtrdju7d5678kr

04/26/2011
Inspired by j8trm9tbtsdbsfusdbifsdifsdjfubsdyfusb.
This is a special, secret code that has just been uncovered from several ancient texts. If you unscramble the letters you will find something that works much similar to the prophecy of w_sted t_me.

If you act seriously enough and put lots of eyes into frightful unknowns, a substantial amount of mystery and wonder can be accumulated. A great way to introduce exotic new coffee blends.

Rain, rain raid.. Last night I drove through a thunderstorm and then proceeded to have dreams regarding the very same thunderstorm. The flashes of lightning lit up the entire plane-view only to recede into a vast thickness of fog that the headlights could not pierce through, a fun process when weaving in and out through the frog infested back roads. Today I worked on a bicycle and proceeded to use zip ties to ghetto rig a milk crate to the back of the frame and then continue in creating some digital imagery which has been my calling over the last few days. Why this would be interesting to anybody is beyond me, but I've read more mundane things within the 'blogosphere'.


Thinking about a concept I may greedily have felt was original, though possibly it is not very original at all, I wanted to form a use of 'over-advertising.' A very 'to-the-throat' adoption of reversal of the anti-corporate stance or much too serious protest of companies. 'Over-advertising' would rather plaster advertising slogans and company logos virtually everywhere to such an overwhelming effect that the 'overdoing it' method will possibly allow more of a result than the dry process of screaming or protest. It would of course need a much more slogan friendly term than 'Over-advertising.' A branch of culture-jamming, I'm sure the legality of it would not be in too much of a concern if in fact that many more bright smiley yellow M's were to be strapped across America, companies would not take action. This is of course only in pilot-mode and all backfires should be thought out and the percentage of people that take it literally or too seriously will either result in proof or disaster.

Also, I started thinking about the horror of blogs and youtube accounts, about how many people's creations would go down the drain if a 'terms of services' changeup of a minute kind were to be affixed. Since only so few sites are the driving force of such a wide host of storage or public access it is interesting to see how with such an ease social networking sites can raft a population of internet users from one dock to another. I also thought about facebook being plunged from existence then realized that if this were a Luddite mentality I'd be a hypocritical cunt for writing a blog post about it.

Back to the image:
The eye is of 'Vinnie,' A feline not that far from being similar to the ancient cat god from the wisdom laden tv cartoon Top Cat. The use of fingers and hands has been a common theme for many recent pieces of imagery.
I'm going to use a bunch of conspiracy-related labels to relate to this image post just to see what the results regard after having posted this. The post that receives the most views on this blog is my write up regarding DNA, and while subjects like that fascinate me to no ends, it is interesting to see how views change so quickly and one moment something of complete interest can later be questionable. I moved from analyzing such things in write ups to questioning them in a personal regard, so whatever expectations there are of this blog is always news to me. I'm sure if there are any 'regulars' which i doubt, the constant change-ups are a bit confusing, but this is not based around a sole topic or mood, just whatever occurs in my adventure and attempt to keep it from being as boring as I can manifest.

Semi-related, at the moment, the observation of 'worry' being an addiction is rather apparent. This does relate to the image in a sense because if the will or mentality of perception relates a reaction to it, being overly-serious or worried upon something that does not have to be so concrete stirs the mind up to 'reaction' mode. Instead of taking an image or viewpoint and affixing your own use or interpretation, you are guided by that very worry to be convinced that nothing more can be done with the object if certain guidelines are fenced up.
 
The serious side of this imagery is that you can take something that is an 'eye' and it doesn't have to be instigating forms of mystery but can in fact be fun or involve the empowerment of self rather than instantly thinking the word 'THEM!' The ridiculous side of this image is instantly thinking the word 'THEM!' and providing the power of an image with an impression that can be flexed due to perception. This is a two sided coin that somehow landed upwards. This seems like deja-vu x20.

One thing I hate the most is when a person who creates an image goes on and on about what the image may refer to or attempts to make a suggestion as to how the viewer may perceive the image thus distracting the flow of insight that may come from the viewer's imagination. With that, I will allow myself to forget that an 'edit post' button exists.
The next post will be another image without any words following it.
If I can be blessed with more experiences to allow myself to struggle a year later trying to write up another travel article, it will be a very cherished opportunity. Try walking through the next rainstorm that comes near you. It is very refreshing and cleansing to overcome that common taboo of 'getting wet' within the rain drops of nature.

The Holiday After Easter

The Holiday After Easter

I could try to make up many an excuse for a direct meaning of this image, like the sexual organs being the main replacement of where the mind usually operates from with some blurred vision, or rich, well off people looking at oddities and minorities as social entertainment.
A story of alien invasion (yawn) could be drawn up but the family seems just too thrilled for an extreterrestrial attack to occur, unless it is a benevolent contact (which is a rare concept in media.)

Really though, this is just completely random. A random collage with no intent of symbolic meaning other than what your insights will allow.

Collage:
Magazine 01:
'Better Houses For Rich People Living,'
or maybe it was
'How To Get Your Wife To Cook Better'
I forget which one
merged with
'National Geographic.'
(I'd like to celebrate the lengthy years that National Geographic has had its wonderful professional photography ripped up and collaged by the countless amounts of collagists out there.
Without National Geographic, there would have been many tacky, less than qualified nature backgrounds for lingerie models and pornography mutations to be affixed to.)

The third layer is a self portr I would rather not talk about. I tried making a birds beak from the 'robin hood jeans' in another photograph but the beak looked way too flaccid. It's as normal as the bunny story. Sometimes you learn to hate flower illustrations.

The Insomnia Scriptures Pt 1: The Forbidden Zzzs

Written 04/24/2011 by Les Monstrelli

A slight exaggeration of surrounding perception forms around the base root of dreams and stock quotes. If the two were to ever mix you might find yourself buried within a pit of shame wondering how creative imagination were to be infiltrated by hopeless gambling. A certain carelessness of worry, yet chaotic sensitivity to the slightest noise guide way into realizing that the inner self is connecting to the physical being by only a frayed string of something resembling dental floss. This reminds you that your swollen lymph node glands and plaque collected teeth need as much attention as an old dog sharing the home with a brand new puppy.

Nightmares of truss rod adjustments and soggy socks swivel but are swooped away like cartoon birds circling around Top Cat's face, led to go off and bug somebody less resistant to illustrative follies. Waking up in a sleeping bag with uncoordinated zippers, you realize you're out in the middle of a field. It is started to drizzle but you don't give a damn.. You'd rather wait to give a damn for when you are soggy and surrounded, even a part of the mud puddles that were not birthed when you first lay down. What state are you in and how did you get there? You've heard the stories of people waking up to wandering bulls, in places that they did not remember entering the night before, only dragged along by a certain phasing of survival and numbed away concern of consequence.

Ideas of truth, image, quest, all seem laughable and even hunger has lost sense of desire in the bath of 'the ever drenching rest-lack' the absurdity of viewing a world of worry from the eyes of what sleep deprivation expertise torture tests would seem tame in comparison. Worry-gone in a worry-world, however. The drizzle picks up, you test to see if your feet are still working.
Hills surround.. A circle of hills. What kinds of creatures may lurk within. No cows, no bulls, not even any animal shit to slip in or mud-puddles built up from the young rain. You get up onto your feet, surprised to connect a feeling to them and feed yourself with the operation of moving them to a place of dryness before the puddles grow.

Two lovers fall into an awkward state of humility in sexual escapade, a fender bender occurs on a hesitant trek to work, an arcade machine eats 50 cents, and somebody else on the planet is in just as much of a hysterical sleepless inertia at the very moment. Count until minutes later and there will probably be another fender bender, this time from some drunk, a favorite t-shirt will be shrunk in the dryer, a man will kiss a woman with a long lost guilt in the back of his mind which will hide some truth never admitted and eventually cause a crash of irrational behavior between the two but at least they didn't get in a fender bender.

Of course, none of that crosses your mind, because by this time, on a different location of planet Earth completely, you happily reach a dry spot towards a ridge of a cavern as the hill sides grew nearer. Where you are you will just have to figure out when you are well rested enough to give a damn, To plug events together and see if this itself is not just some dream.
A flame awaits the inside cave and you care not to fumble with the zippers. They were like that since your friend gave the shoddy thing to you. Something about Plato comes up in your mind, but you figure other people must have written about flames within cave walls and then you laugh at the absurdity of finding yourself where you are and wonder the threat posed upon yourself in entering without proper etiquette.
If you're unwelcome, you'll know.. If you're to be devoured down to a bone-rattle, you'll surely know.. If you're dreaming, you'll have to pinch yourself damn better than that. You start to think Twilight Zone and raving violent goblins but only see to it as embedded images from the fantasies of writers during chaotic times. Chaos never settles, but that's a thought for after well-rest.
Take off your shoe as it serves as the worst pillow you've ever had.

Wake up, a cold breeze. Radiant smile.. It somehow happened, Batteries slightly charged, eyes kept closed. The last time it's been with such a lost collection of Zzz's was a horrid cranky town full of expensive pay phone calls pleading for escape and irritable folks with city accents hoping for your death.. But that adventure is destined for later days. You open up your eyes, see the sun from out the cavern coming from the curves of tall hills. There's a sound of swooshes in the distance.
Highway. Stream. Alright knees.. connected back to having to concern the body. Stretch, groan those human groans of "Can't stop now. I've known people nearing a lost liver who haven't stopped downing drinks, 'seen race car drivers enter the trip of coma but came back to the wheel' so you follow that stupid philosophy though it's less on base of self-destruction, follow your own feet towards that sound of a hiss.

A new hiss enters your perception as a stream enters ear-way. You think of how it is that the sound stays put once it enters in perception, right after you 'lock in' or notice it's relevance.
Dip down, find a lucky stone. Cold on your finger pads but not as much compared to the water now through your palms and against your face. Clean enough to drink, this isn't pond scum or city water.


One foot falls in jumping the rest of the stream from over a bank. Damn miscalculations. Awe well, you hadn't awoken gnawed on by cavern dwellers nor faced the despicable nightmare of truss rod adjustments just yet, so the soggy-shoes dilemma will have to be met with a collection of briers and small vines wrapped around your wet pant legs.

Car insurance signs stand tall near a thin 'highway' if you can call it that.
Thumb out, intentionally non-threatening-seeming 'I'm not going to kill you' smile on your face.
Inner admittance of 'nobody, no-fucking-body is going to pick me up. Thanks a lot, predictable, gore-filled hitchhiker murder movies.'

Somehow the sarcastically infiltrated beta version of the word 'cute' comes up as you see the wet prints of the one soggy shoe follow behind with the sloppily folded and tied sleeping bag shrugged upon your shoulder.
You get to read even more tall billboards the further in miles you have gone on and the only other traffic around had been older cars going the opposite way and one travel bus going yours.
You take your thumb and press it up against your nose blowing a snot rocket out onto the sandpaper-like road, all along following the stream sister to the roadway, that you had hopped over from coming out of your little nap 45 minutes ago.

You're no amnesiac yet trying to avoid the worry or wonder of just how you ended up here or where you are. All other memories seem to be all but escaped but at a hidden worry, an alert is set-off to 'freaked outness' when 'WAKE-UP' is glanced upon quickly on the next billboard coming up.

Jitters and quick breath, a quick second of panic mode..
A dream?
Great, you're in some mid-world and a manifestation of a cheesy sign is trying to be that 'Pinch of the skin.'

....'To our new breakfast sandwhich."

'The fuck??' you respond, wanting to backhand reality hard, or your own perception of sign, wondering the coincidence or perhaps reaction of commodity, where this phrase surely is seen everywhere, with a big cheesy smiling yellow 'M' with curvaceous feminine uppers of the shape, yet it's time and place is too appropriate for the lacking of understanding of just where all of this is.

You want to climb that sign and rip away it's paper sheet.
You stop and look up, consider it..
A car comes along, you decide not to.

Things get stranger, or less predictable.
This car stops.

Impala, 1980-something-Impala. You don't know shit about cars, you know it's a Chevy and better than most horrid regular new models.
Man stops... Dalmatian in the back seat is the first thing you notice. A red collar. You look up to the driver..
Round-edged sunglasses, a straw hat, Gillette-commercial shave, long sleeves and vest, passenger: pale-skinned 1950s hair, wrist bracelet, v-line black cut sleeve t-shirt, green eyed lady.
'Rise'N'Shine' sticker on the side back window of the car...

You're in the back being driven down the road.
Douglas.... Shannon. Douglas looks at you from the upper gape of his sunglasses in the rear view when he talks to you. Shannon tells you about how they'd both first met on the road. You admire their ability to pick you up within the mental confines of a superstitious collective, and are surprised of the dalmation's admiration of you.. Usually most dogs try to turn your fingers or organs into chew toys.
You glance over to the window sticker, place your elbows onto the sleeping bag atop your lap.
'Rise'N'Shine' Damn the awake world is weird..

"So where are you going?"

03/2010 Travel Photographs

It started off as a flipped coin. The options registered between solitary living and complete assurance of recognized territory verses uncharted exploration with limited resources and an addiction to getting lost. Luckily, that imaginary coin inevitably landed on the 'fill up the damn travel bags and let's get out of here!'

Dylan, or from now on in this story known as 'Soil Finn' and myself found the March of 2010 to be of a charming temperature. We'd both finished 'The Hobbit' and around this time so the idea of 'adventure' was alluring. People would be slouching or getting drunk to complete extremities and many familiar scenes of grey walls were open to repetition in a place where spring break nourishes a populace with getting hammered. I don't remember exactly how the idea was approached, but the events of the previous sentence had a mighty reign of decision on where not to be. Soon enough we were piercing through hordes of town borders alongside enormous RV/Camper lots and Stop'n'Gos along the interstates.

The interstates and back roads are brought up a lot when traveling is discussed and it is indeed no hoax that the back roads are of beauty and surprises whereas the interstate is as different as visiting a theme park in FL rather than going to a theme park in LA., or, visiting a Wendy's in Portland would be interstate, but eating home made food and ice cream in a tucked away family run business in West Virgina is the back roads luxury.  I imagine those on schedules getting irritated with all the winding roads, but throwing that clock out of the window led to appreciating many of the reckless roads and expansive forests that surrounded rocky scenery but also new cities along the way.

A couple guitars and some changes of clothes... Many extra socks for myself, with what proved to be TOO many socks, canned foods and a stack of memory cards and notebooks of course. There was no real destiny other than where we would end up and how long we could ride on expending the fuel costs plus how much money that could possibly be panhandled to correct that.

The first town we went to was Jamestown, but only after we rolled into Allegeny park, Ny. It was a last second decision, and the curvature of the off ramp exit was as rounded as an obvious fake set of silicone breasts on an all too petite.. well, a better reference could be used.. The off ramp was simply a complete loop, so we felt like a rocketship making a u-turn with this

"Should we"

"I don't know, should we!?"

"Yeah!" decided, right when the exit was nearly passed.

So we went there instead of seeing the world's biggest ZIPPO lighter. Which might have been a good idea as now matches or the stove top are my current resorts of fire.

Ice patterns within a lake at Allegeny

When everything is new to you, it is all untouched. The details are vibrant and the colors all have a temperature and story that you can find yourself too overwhelmed to realize until you look back on it later. Even looking back on the choice that was delving into that off-ramp exit.

It was nearly empty and the roads seemed to go on forever.. But they weren't roads, really.. They didn't seem like traditional 'Roads' going from a point A to point B. There was actual experience in any direction. Park wherever and get out.. so we did.

There was still ice over the pond

Enter Jamestown:

There were two areas visited which I had experienced in the past, Cleveland, Oh and jamestown,Ny.
The latter, being the second 'pin on the map' of discovery was a town that never really seemed to have aged.
By the time we arrived, nightfall was already starting to birth, and one thing about this town was that after 8PM it was ghost-silent.
Though the communal aspect was tucked away, this only added to the availability to explore the areas otherwise limited such as old buildings and places between the gritty areas. Old dreams of this scenery came up many times since my first visit, so it was interesting in seeing it all once more.

A statue photographed from through architecture nearby a pawn shop and taco restaurant Pawn
your shoes and buy shelled tacos.

A rooftop viewpoint with the olde tyme movie theatre across the street.

A human below walking the sidewalk, creating a fun photo perspective.

Soil Finn skates down the garage ramps in a blur of speed.

Alleys ahead: Land of stray cats.

Beside the train tracks and near a passing stream in Jamestown,Ny.

The town was nice and worth a third visit, but it's mellow tone was too subtle and only being the first day of travel, we had said our goodbyes to Jamestown and headed
forward.

I remember two 50 stacks of CDs becoming wearisome by the end of the trip, but somehow the Ramones saved me from what otherwise might have been a drained behavior and upset demeanor of becoming 'too lost.'

driving, driving, driving, driving. Eyes became heavy and it was about damn time to re-energize. A parking lot of a strip mall.. How appropriate for indivuals seeking free air and breath of life. Well, It'll do for now.. The street cleaner finally went away and the morning was filled with a wish for more sleep and parking lot gifted with piss stains and passing shoppers.. staring at the out-of-towners.

A bed room and pissed parking lot as Finn wanders while I get rest.

Photo by Soil Finn, A nice capture if I do say so (which I just did.)

I woke up with a giant 'Babies'R'Us' sign staring at my face. We'd quickly get the heck out of there

Photo by Soil Finn. Cross re-arrange wires on light totems.

FOUR more children popped out of that vehicle which made me thank never being premature with and previous close lady friends.

Travel breath fights a war with shoe stink and sometimes they fight to the end.

Canned foods taste better
when your gums and tongue aren't up to the brim in plaque.

Eerie

Eerie, lake Eerie.. Mostly beautiful. Almost always beautiful.. Somebody read the map correctlyand after passing many vineyards on left and right and unforunately being reminded of the newAmericana known as TOLL roads we made it to Lake Eerie.

Lake Eerie,a bit zoomed in

A woman collects shells on the beast and finds herself in strange composition.

Shortly after, I remember the 'Happy Imbecile' song playing by Butterfly Joe (Joe Jack Talcum) and and arriving in the Town of Eerie. We'd rolled into a parking lot, picked some canned fruit out of the trunk storage and walked/skated to wherever we just might end up.

This town seemed rugged at first, moreso a factory town. The textures were sharp, the colors wererusty yet bright with the sun displaying them as important. We'd hopped a fence and used the railroads as a guiding point.

This is what a mushroom house looks like, in case you've ever wondered. Photo: Soil Finn.

S. Finn gets extremely radical doing amazing maneuvers from a tree.

Peach Street:

Town Summit.
Town Summit, Again.
Town... Fucking Summit!

Something happened. A time vortex conundrum, or.. Very impractical route choices.
Every seven or so minutes we had kept finding ourselves in Town Summit.. With the same surroundings and odd road structures.
We gave up on the delusion and rested our now nerve wrecked minds over this Town Summit thing
and took two packets of instant oatmeal and some bowls we had bought earlier on the trip into a grovery store eating area.
We proceeded outside as I sat three yards away from busted glass on the outside eating area as normal patrons gawked outside at two people enjoying a mid afternoon breakfast on the pavement.
I remember waving idiotically and winking at a senior couple and lively brunetts a few times  and soon breakfast was finished and this Town Summit problem would have to be tackled.

Somehow, we escaped the paradox and were freed from the Summit demon's entwined fingers.

The next place only has a name of Peach Street because we bothered not to figure out just what town we were in.
We parked outside of a wine store which I would later enter with a 'fiver' between my forefingers in a black overcoat which could have doubled as a parachute.
hesitated not to ask to be shown around to see what kind of fine wines I could afford with my five dollars.

Now it was out to wander.
We started in a direction that most would consider 'the wrong way' it grew dim and slimey. textures and old buildings.. but also antique stores, thrift shops
and a smoke shop. The smoke shop was th only place open. We chatted a bit and explained our situation. Some people are very affectionate towards the event of meeting outsiders. Good friends to meet and people to be known as a landmark in case a return to any given place is taken up.
A dog proceeded to try and hump my leg which was fucking awful and annoying and we received advice on a good direction to go.

'Down one street and a few blocks to the left.'

Another building waiting for a headstone

Lovely lingerie in a Peach St front window that would sure to be something to ignite a reaction from your loved one.
Just what kind of reaction is your own fate.

A reason why I am more of a cat-person. Get the hell off me

LOCKED TRUNK

CLEVELAND

Cleveland: Creatures of Green and the Elephant Stampede:
"Dylan, what in the hell is going on??"
"I don't know Lee, I just don't know"
Lake Eerie was spacious and beautiful, still in present out the passenger's window.
We passed the handlebars of the bridge and entered into hordes of green people.
It was all too immediate, but wasn't to be the least of surprises within that hour of condensed moments.
Green people, everywhere.. what the hell!?

We'd quickly figured out that it was the seventeenth, St Patrick's Day. That, or the city we had stumbled across was full of very strange people (would would be just fine, really.) Cleveland, OH. My second time visiting this place, and Dylan's first.
An immediate U-turn was necessary. The streets were relentless in number and parking garages stuffed. The spring-break-drink-a-thon that the introduction of this writing stated abandonment of was now not just leering, but piercing with a concrete heavy stare into the fabric of our very being.
"Experience' was the agreed plan. There were old memories of perfect places to cheat the parking meters or pay booth, so we parked within those gates, brought musical instruments which proved no noise comparison to what we were about to hear, and headed this time by foot back over the handle bar bridge into the mouth of Cleveland.

Some of the nice people I'd ever met, in Cleveland. There was one lady that harassed Dylan at light night, guilting away his pocket change, but other than that, even the drunks were cheerful and bright characters to be around.

 (In the lowest sounding pitch possible)
"Vrreooohhhohhhhhhhhhh!!!!"
"What was that!?? "
(A pause, and then the same exact sound from a different direction.)
'I don't know, but there's more than one of them!"
The sound grew thicker and noise became a wall the further we had moved forward.
There were memories of pigeons wearing bread necklaces and singing street performers from my prior visit to this city, but now there were road blocks and these...
"Vrreooohhhohhhhhhhhhh!!!!"
these gargantuan sounds echoing off the concrete walls of the talls Cleveland centre buildings of grand architecture. 
Deep down, we knew it was St Patrick's Day drunkeness but a new and exciting adventure unfolded to the traveler's imagination. 


"Elephants!"
"Yeah, giant runaway elephants!"
A stampede of them.. Our light steps in a new city, blocked roads.. the sounds of shattering glass. Somehow it was all very plausible.
Vreoooohhhh!
Finally we had found the instrument of which this sound had come from. It was a green tube, a noisemaker like you would see at a soccer tournament to ragingly piss off the opposite team in distraction of them from scoring a goal. And now drunkards were allowed to obtain these very instruments, while we had nothing.. but our guitars.


The serenity of silence came as soon as the shop door closed. Guitars set down in the seats and up to the counter.. The friendliest bakery workers I'd ever met as I came inside from the friendliest rowdy drunks I'd ever seen.
Something besides gas station coffee initiated thrice the energy and amazement of cheerfulness. God, that gas station coffee was horrid but it wouldn't be soon until it'd be had once more so we sat down to enjoy the shelter from winds and mild suppression of Elephant sounds still heard muffled through the glass. Asking to use the bathroom, it was completely trashed and I knew not to take the blame for that. Somebody in the hallway to the bathroom had alcohol poisoning. Very soon the ambulance would come in through the store front, in which by that time we were both playing songs by request of one of the workers.
We'd left soon after with a donation of some money and donuts from the workers, and we discovered more alcohol catastrophe victimization, unfortunately.

WV

TO VIRG

Roadtime hysteria:
Like anybody who has driven countless hours straight, unto the blurry vision of the night time, for days straight... with oddities of sleep patterns, they too will know about road time hysteria.
We're both smelling like shit, driving a constant rate or 85 mph down roadways non distractedly changing CDs one after another and tuning into some of the most psychotic and entertaining baptist radio shows we were to ever be offered.
At one point I speed past some large signs.. my mind elsewhere at the time. Some sermon playing loudly, being told how much of a hopeless sinner I am. We're both very quickly submerged into cones deepening in count on either side of us, yet not slowing down at all.. The main traffic parts way to the right, we have the fuck of a slightest idea where we are going but I remain confident that I can keep going straight and get us back to the right direction. I sure as hell wasn't thinking about backing up into reverse for a half-mile straight,but I was also wondering if soon up ahead there would be some sort of drop off or discontinued road. We'll make it into a fine print obituary, with extra cans of tuna and sliced peaches gone uneaten. .Luckily, at 2AM I finally merged back onto the correct roadway.

 This park was amazing. It was so nice to be away from an area where a falling red stock arrow caused threat or harm. Streams turned into lakes the further the trails led. We had driven up the trails as far as we could get. I released myself from my atomic bomb stink shoes and we played guitars on the picnic tables nearside a stream. Many fishers were basking in the sun up to their high ankles in the creeks.

"You boy's helped me serenade this here fish!" A mustached fisherman joyfully said aloud to us as he walked past our path with a large.. what was it a trout, I don't recall.
Never before did either of us have the title of Serenader of Fish until this day.

SCRANTON

Each town has it's own character. A sole individual set in flesh that embodies the color and texture of that town they reside. It's like if these souls were to ever leave the town it wouldn't be any different than losing a grand monument or cherished historical memory. Our own town had the wandering teleporting Gypsy. We only'd thought he was teleporting because no matter which way one would travel, they'd seem to run into him at least twice. He also seemed to be on a constant lsd trip, whereas my entire observation of his every form of communication was done in voice impersonation and often seemed to be directed towards himself only. One day I had bumped into this figure on the street, the super market, the salvation army and the book store, thus the speculation of teleportation ability... Though this character had 'vanished' as of the last few years.

Towns like Scranton and Cleveland, Peach ST and many in between all had these diverse characters as well. Many of these memorable people are usually either vagrants or high hearted but normally lower class individuals. Some of the craziest and most story-worthy characters have the gutter to call their home but at the same rate, many of the most intelligent and wise characters I have met were also on this shit-end of the class-stick. 
There are different degrees of mental institutions that people are let out of and you run into these people all the time. One of these institutions are colleges where the accepted insanity is free to roam and the other institution is the mental institution where when some of these are closed down, they are forced onto the streets. Though you and I both know of the other diversities of institutions such as military or employment. the
'Hi-Guy' refers mainly to the mental area, and it is always harsh seeing people in this mentality thrown along the heavy stream of the rat race.
That being so, we'd have run into him dozens of times.. Each time we came across was our 'first time in meeting him' and we'd re-introduce ourselves kindly each time.
Blocks away, literally blocks away, if he spotted you.. "HIIIIiiiii" at as loud a pitch possible.
Town-greeter, replacement of church bells, this man was the landmark of a small town and a character you couldn't trade for any normal man. No, it really did beat a bland and blunt conversation over weather temperature.

I don't know why we smoked cigars upon this travel, but the winds were heavy and I
grabbed a local paper.

Letting our lower limbs rest, I cut out local faces of familiar performers and made stickers of them. Later some characters from the adult personals were to be immortalized in sticker form.

 It was carpel tunnel all for nothing. If I get to a library again soon I will try to remember the majority of what was written, but I don't think it'll matter much because this is neither pornography nor endless mystery.
Thanks, anyhow, to Blacksmith in Cleveland for being such a downright charismatic and gifting individual, and to my computer for being the biggest pile of shit that randomly deletes the majority of things I work on.

Anyhow, if you're looking for completed, well written travel stories you can check this link out
http://www.northbankfred.com/stories.html
My lack of sleep is growing into a dire conundrum and human interaction on a base level looks to be revolved around mellow hellos and how are is the weather or people trying to sexually stimulate themselves. The original full story was much funner to read than all this 'hooplah,' trust me.. I'll try to get to that again, and this time back up all the words before blogger.com digests them completely.