Mahked Fortall

Thank you Sfinn for doing vocals/rhythm to this.

from Disc 5 of Chameleon Shelter.

Throw yourself into an unsort of current

 Passing five orange newts along the mountainous path up, up, up.

They were so blazing in brightness that the black circular dots on their backs stood out like an ice cream hut in a desolate New Mexican desert. Against the trails they stood out even more like a blemish on a model or a sixty-toed,20-eyed,plaid-skinned gypsy moth at a boat sale. So casual and fiery, I often find it easy to sit close and watch their calmness. I'm sure they feel affectionate about a giant human-flesh creature hovering over their tranquility, leering down with an amusement worn as an expression.
Then again, horseflies are ballsy enough to attack a creature 18 times it's size, so like David against Goliath or a Smurf against a giant turtle posing as a continent, the difference of stature does not always jeopardize courage.

Days beforehand I wandered into a large tortoise near Recluse Stream.

 

 

It was, however, out of commission: Expired.
From the first photo it obviously looked as if there were a possibility of life. Yet approaching closer proved a crispiness resulting from the heat (as a Doktor's-guess.) The soil creature had unfortunately been docked. It's shell was impressive and it's age likely to have been qualified for many birthday candles. Do turtles celebrate birthdays?

Back to the Newts:
Passing newt number four and newt number five: Legs have done days of biking on a flat-rimmed, squish-tired, stuck-gear, lopsided-handle-barred bike and now a sturdy amount of trail walking commenced further flesh bending.

So at the top of the trail the view was a reward for footsteps gone trotted. 

And two hawks spun in the air. and little baby bugs harassed the skin with little baby bug bites. If there is an immunity to avoiding skin-nipping bugtagonists it is to lose them when they are not looking. That is when bug spray or yelling at them to stop are choices you would rather not indulge in. Just run. They surely won't catch you
Your efforts of escape surely won't be an amusing joke to the tiny winged things, surely to lose you, and not chomp into you the second you stop thinking you have lost the lot of them.

The wrist watch I had drawn, again, onto my arm seemed to have stopped working so it was only a guess as to how long I had been up there at the lookout. The watch said 11:48 when I started yet it remained 11:48 before I chose to depart.

There were three ways to go.

The way back down from which you came, The second way around which goes a full circle and back down to the bottom trail, and that way which you have never went before. The first two ways are trails. You can recognize, by color coded bark scribbles, how to keep from wandering off into uncertainty. I chose the third way.
I decide to go somewhere where the newts didn't even show up. Unless they were hiding. They're (un)known for that.

Some action of throwing the self into a quick rapid.

You never realize how slippery your shoes are until you decide to descend down a mountain side that is loose with leaves and topped with fine soil.
A water thermos and tripod are looped through a camera strap and the best way is to slide sitting on the ground using your shoes as boats. This was the third way.

Convincing somebody else to go with you would be more of a nightmare than the actual plummet itself.
That is why sometimes it is best to solo into adventures that would seem hellish or insane to somebody else at first glance.
Shaking up anxiety and then over-coming it or riling up the new can spark something you've never known about yourself.

But, secretly, anxious at first or bewildered by possible stupidity of the situation, I think certain people would love to get trapped into such adventures. Others I could see possibly arguing for minutes over which safe-trail to take back down.
Until you JUMP into the slide and it is either come-along with me or go back down the safe way.

some action of throwing the self into a quick rapid

Deciding to get lost, to abandon having any familiarity of anything around you... to have no choice but to become more aware of your surroundings and self... there becomes no excuse for distraction. Leniency becomes forbidden and impossible.

So I slid down and down and down. Piles of leaves with slick shoe bottoms gliding me down. I knew it was far and I knew that it was steep but it started to even surprise me "I am not at the flat Yet!?"
The stupidity of the act started to rise. Perfect. Morph that idiotness of the situation into some kind of enjoyment. 'This is a life, Okay. Going back up would be painful and a retreat."
some action of throwing the self into a quick rapid


The choice to become lost unites  memories that serve as a sort of subconscious underworld. They [memories] can re-emerge into the present and act as a shadow or an antagonist if they are not properly taken care of.
They become alive again; The mythos of hades becomes a mentality..
But also, I think, Eden can arrive when the second self is met.. As to look back at things you currently or have once feared and to embrace them and even find pleasure in those moments.

We become what we are by the ailments we avoid. One less thing to fear and shun is one more thing to experience and learn from. 

Many avoid that with comfort or formality (which even using as an example and self righteous or ignorant, sorry, it's not my life just an ego of contrast. D'oh!,) But I think once you toss yourself into those rapids you can find something desirable. Recognizing you are at a point of no return can be refreshing anyhow. I think after the first four minutes of descending downwards you I recognized 'there's no god damn way I am going to start climbing back up now.'
So then the roaming and investigation of all-that-lay-beyond begins.

That is a difference between growing and thinking you are already solidified or finalized. It becomes childish to enter a hectic or foreign situation but so much more can be learned from facing that chaos or fear and then re-stabilizing in the unknown: Searching for a wisdom of childishness. After all it was those new, surprsing moments that we entered and tested as children that brought us into the forms we accept as solid in our personalities now.

To a child every experience seems new and refreshing or exciting to the senses. Then we become punished for our curiosities but to re-establish and tamper with the patterns I think brings out that 'roamer.'
(Curious and smart enough for new tastes and idiotic and foolish enough to risk securities and sometimes even life depending on  the jumps.)

some action of throwing the self into a quick rapid. Note:Worrying too much causes worrying too much.



It eventually came to large stones predicting a leveling to change from such a long ways of sliding. Once it became flat there was a good 18 minutes of walking, in one direction, following the insight of what kind of plants were growing in groups and the hollowness of the ground versus any wetness where one may begin to sink indefinitely.

Knowledge and quirps become a cluster of rattling objects in a large cemented ball all trying to escape out of a pinhole. You, or I at least, felt that certain informations were ultimately useless. The spaces to fill an area were sometimes so novelty that you start to compare your situation to: If I were dedicated to getting completely lost without a single security, would I be able to function on living amongst all of this?
What kind of information could I trade off or could have sacrificed to look around to the Earth that surrounds me and confidently be able to say "Okay I'm going to eat this now and it's not going to kill me in the most annoying way." All of my mental stats of novelty opinions would ultimately die in that concrete rattle, being useless in self sufficiency.
Ferns okay Honey Mustard okay.
Well then ultimately you start to learn and prepare, then recognize an ass-kicking joke that tells you that the risk of gambling Earthly foods/delights may be just as fair a risk as a daily input of f.d.a. approved foods. 
 into a quick rapid

Eventually it started to get marshy.

I felt like I was in dinosaur-land and reminded myself of those Land Before Time cartoon movies. Many old memories came up being so scrambled from 'identified' and reconnected to 'wander.'
Really this was the land before time. No wall-clocks. Wondering just when the last time that it really was since a human biped had walked through these grounds.

Old friends and climbing up hills. We had hatchets and built forts. Shoes were better dirty. Lighting sears catalog bra model ads on fire and climbing to the very height of swaying trees just to get a view of which direction may cause a vigor for the limitless child. Limitless until curfew and the next school session where your curiosities are ailments and imbalances.
We'd, my childhood tribe-friends and I, would sometimes come across things like old decayed trucks in the woods and they would be like the jewelbox of treasures to cave dwellers or the satisfying grail for the seekers. Having those feelings reflect to this were another surprise from entering down that hill to the unknown, into your own self, a kind of mental key agreed upon.
Wear a long sleeve, dumbass, great idea.

Blue dragonflies circled in either direction along the entire base of the pond. Frogs near the shore set of their alarm sound before hopping in to where the soup layer of pond film quickly patched the hole into where the frogs took cover.

After hopping myself over some mud that sunk who knows how far into who knows what I found my first sign of human bipeds.

Slunk into the ground like once the bodies that who have drank them
A pile of bottles were clomped in moss like the bodies that had sank them.

and so I did what any other rational breath-breather would do (because any rational breath-breather would, upon any situation, do what any other rationalist would be known to do, which would be to do what any other rationalist would do)
and I emptied the contents down into my gullet allowing the liquid contents of the mystery bottles to merge with my innards.
(Authors note: This is either a display of fantasy and needed amusement to excite the story telling or a true event to which I had survived or the fungal possibilities have not yet caught up to effect or kill me. You decide.)

There is something about finding older things, even mechanisms of drunkenness, that light an interest of a time capsule. The absurd idea of wondering (are there absurd things to wonder about? Rebecca!??) of what somebody may think if they find a plastic coca cola bottle or a dented beer can decades from now only offers some meek embarrassment about a present generation. Though somehow the shapes of these glass bottles match that nostalgia of pretending to know the things they have seen or who may have handled them.

Also wondering how many things we own and maintain, we rely on.. What will live on to be antiques or even become uncovered or how much of it will plastically-plaster away? To find these bottles and then a piece of an old sink telling that somebody resided here allowed a feeling of seeing how all of the streams replace to new paths. Floods come through and change the regular curves and S's of ditches carved out that the water was convinced was the correct path. A calmness of carelessness then emerges. All of that yarpling about billboard signs I loathe of will only be a presence of placement as they will all dismantle.

Maybe some day a human biped will feel light footed and meander the off skirts of an old city or vegas and under the marsh and bramble discover a giant head. A giant head with a mustard-like, time-stained smile grin of a tattoo model from a once-advertisement. Small whiskey bottles will still be scattered feet below the surface somewhere. Laptops will however be mooshy smithereens with cities of data mixed with leaf crisps replaced by newer leniency or forgotten.

Bramble scramble and under a twist of grab ass thorns
The birds eat those chasy bugs and frogs cast their horns
Pass a larger pond and leave a shed of masks
Then hop eight times past more swamp slime and make it back to the tracks

And Sky ball Your Eye ball

The Sun performs as Lava this evening.
This Evening, Evening Evening!
The Sun performs as Lava;
Lava Lava Lava!
Disrobe and dance like a Sucker
To confuse deer ticks so they fall from Skin.
Sweat beads as the Lava ball falls into the Sky Slot
Half a Lune lights up like a Pinball Thing;
Thing Thing Thing!
This ball is your ball and my ball
And Sky ball, Your Eye ball
This Evening Evening Evening!

It is not it's job, what it does
And it doesn't fancy speaking about the Weather, I bet!
Imagine that,
The Round one interested in other affairs than it's self
Because it is not it's job, what it does.
Though if it stops, ever, showing up, we Will Mind.
Mind Mind Mind

Human Skine Anchored to bones

Walking around with a bone in your hand and love in your heart in Dinosaur Land. (Actually it was a cattle bone, or just a bone-shaped hole in the sky, however you choose to see the story(If we perpetually shrink, cattle will be dinosaur.))

The right direction looks all over the damned place

Scramble across the stream to search a better view of the dayfall. Avoid poking eyeballs out from treebranch tips and fill shoes up with stone debris and slip and bash knee then spring up and run. Up the hill, run run run. Laughing at the bashed knee. Always avoid falling ontop of tripod and crushing it like with the last one. Sprock the snocket at 82 miles per hour, set white balance.

Pulling The Skunk's Tail

I, not wearily, but in a way in which I know will disturb some,
will brimble, bramble and even buzzle this following thought:

(warning: All ideas you may find unmanageable against are absolutely wrong,
However, what you find plausible may be true.)

I feel the personality and individual self as approached by what we identify as begins to completely scramble and discombobulate the further a human-biped looks at a culture.

Not as though waggling your noodle in the wind or winding your nips off the bobsled will be noted as distasteful and lewd it still seems hectic to my mind's eye's mind's brain's foot to reconcile a personality by what brand name one endears the most or a personality being a 'sucker' because they were not waggling their noodle in the proper, popular direction. (Let alone winding their nips during the right temperature.)

DEAR SKRAY,
No,
I did  not know there were places in the Americas without meth problems.
What is this para-dise you speak of?
Surely you fanta-size.
Next you will tell me of Towns that do not wreak of molten battery acid.
I write you from between a car dealership and a fast food restaurant'e.

See, if it weren't for my griming distaste against conglomeration, my personality may have subsided, and character gone lost in the dust.

Though such love for things: The twilight of the bristle and warm tones of empty highways.
Though, also, irrationality swoops down aiming at my gullet when not drowning myself in whiskey or beers makes one feel like an enemy of all mankind.
Dear Ann Landers,
How fucked is fucked when you wish to employ joyments without having to tangle up your temple, sacrifice your sanctuary, or even punish your pineal?


***The daily weekly***
Are you Ready to pull the tail of the loaded skunk? Stop! There are other options.

Things may STINK but think of what STUNK.
Sink not in the knots of modern day glunk.

Through the peptal preparation process we can promise a purely pristine procedure of polka-punned priss perpetration but only if you act now!

When every body is accepted as an equal
Individuality may be lost and the things we buy and discrimination that set us apart
may lessen the values we feed.

What fun will flashing be when nudity is rendered natural?
What good is righteousness when there are no feeble enemies to convert to justice?

Earth graduation involves skin dilapidation so don't pull that skunk tail before you regret it!

Signi,Mander,Electric Wings,Slithers

Signi, with a field mouse snack hanging in a grin.

             This is Signi, Short for Significant meaning. Or Signified-at-once. After walking over the lip of the hill I first saw Signi half hidden through some of the waist-high grass. Signi had stared and I gazed back. There was no fear of insight like there may be if you look an unknown biped into the eyes the wrong way say outside of a sandwich shop or near a park. Actually I was surprised at how calmly it felt after perceiving and then taking in what was registered into my site.
            Laughter of appreciation came in because I had been thinking of myself as a wolf or coyote-like creature nights before actually howling like a madman into the night skies. Part of it was for self-amusement but the remaining reason was a practice of letting loose from those gripping feelings of feeling not like a citzen but moreso as an unregistered being of illegal thoughts. That happens a bit, so this time I howled frankly howling works a hell of a lot better than some other methods, like internal regression.
The secret of laughter, as I've been hinted at, really is a nurturing way to make light of any situation. So then, maybe those calls attracted Signi shortly soon after. It was my first time seeing a Coyote in person. After a few moments of staring back and then posing for a portrait had Signi scurried off towards a large stone that lays in the woodland and I started off my own direction.

Signi/Uncropped photograph

                   That was the 5th*. Days have went from the ground land to being a bit more light footed. Feeling as if I may sink into the planet I decided to unite a feather to my hair to allow a feeling of lightheartedness/footedness if possible. If anything, it allows a feeling of being bird-like when winding down steep hills on a bicycle as the sounds of the wind going through the feathers made it just as exciting as when I would place a baseball card near the bike tire to get that 'vroom! sound.' The whistling of fast air feels like a bird is riding beside you.
Vultures and Electric lines.

                  On the 8th* I went out with a pocket full of half-dead spare batteries, two travel bars, a broken off Cow-Coffee Mug handle in my pocket and sneakers that would eventually collect tar. This time from the railroad ties as days earlier melting roads were the source of stick-soles.
(I wrote this poem relating to road tar:
Roadways are meant to melt and crumble.
It is their natural process.
Each time we fix and repair a road
we are going against their desires.
Roads want to crumble,
it is their true yearning.
If it wasn't, then explain why they smear
and get all over my sneaker bottom.
If a road would speak,
it would say 'let me crumble in peace.'
and stop driving on me that shit hurts.)
It seems malevolent that we create roads, which are meant to be driven upon, while roads themselves  claim that it is painful to them.

             I was to collect images of the cow coffee mug with several different backdrops and collect footage to edit to some of the soon to be Grammy Award-winning songs I had finished. To save images and footage for a time  when I have a less archaic machine to edit on (posting blogs is nightmarish; I must be a self-sadist or just highly reclusive and apt to tell stories now. Or maybe proving to create and fulfill as much as I can before I expire even if the pain of shoddy equipment causes nerve tensions that may lead to aneurism.)

The world is a backdrop for a broken cow coffee handle.

                 So I walked past the evil twin dogs who always seem to want to bite my soul from my being.. Barking back at them seldom helps  their keeping quiet but keeping quiet seldom helps them keep their quiet, either. Meowing profusely only encourages their hateful barks but entertains me nonetheless.

                It was soon that a swoop of Vultures would land on the deck of an electric obelisk. They did much more than serve as the backdrop of a broken cow coffee handle; They posed and danced in the skies and stayed a lengthy duration  to my presence much like Signi. If it were the howling the nights before seeing the Coyote, then the feathered feeling of the aires may have encouraged the birds to not merely scatter in the sight of a biped in sneakers (to distrust me as being some sort of threat.)

 14th*

It was all going amazingly until I stepped on that thorn.
Then it felt as if I had stepped on a thorn, Which I had!
I plucked it out.
"This is why you don't go barefoot..
why you don't ride bike barefoot,
while you don't jump from shaletop to shaletop barefoot!"
the academy for sneakers and shoes would have boasted and offered me a bandage.

                 The phrase "You're going to be just fine" has been trademarked, actually. I know this because there is a bandage container in the bathroom and I always eye it while I am peeing.. to the point where I had to move the package because I became upset how I would always read it every time I went in there. I would keep thinking about how it is so strange that certain phrases or emotions, maybe all in due time, would become accustomed and related to a company or brand slogan. "Ow, fuck.. I'm okay, I don't need a bandaid" however, would never become a phrase because it offers no commitment to a product or item.

                I like being outside, where salamanders walk towards me when I am playing music.
You look out of the corner of your eye and there is this small thing coming towards you.
Reduce yourself 1/800ths and it would be a terrifying dinosaur and each step would be a shaking stomp of terror but from my size and perspective the salamander's steps were very cute and adoring.
After turning the thought 'salamander salamander salamander' in my mind for weeks prior it was a nice occasion for such a creature to greet me in real presence, manifest from wishful thinking.
I had kept looking under stones near the moss and hoping to find some every now and then. One of the most humorous  and nerve-testing ways to come across something is to stop looking. Or stop 'wanting,' perhaps. And so behold was the fiery creature coming toward me after I forgot all about searching.
I remember once my friend was being sexually hit on by a preying mantis in a tennis ball court but that is another instance for another time. Though he was wearing a green and white striped polo which I think may have had something to do with it.

I picked up the mander and placed it into the soil where a feline would not later harass it.

:Interlude:
24 Year Old wind surfer who hates music looking for a mean girl. Activities include not having fun. Seeking Canadian for holding hands and attending autopsy concertos.
__----___----___----
Find sexy singles near you. 89% disauthentic robots. Electronic sausage fest of repressed desires spilling out into digital overflow.::

                but it wasn't until later that the thorn decided to attack.
I'm sure if a snail grew human legs and nice full thick set of red lips and spoke from them "man you people all seem weird to me" then that would really throw people off.

                 Pistachios were saved for another time and I started to pedal my bike. Pedal pedal pedal and sweat collected yet the skies were forgiving to all the time cramped up around places where payment buttons opted for conversation transfers and it was nice to get out of a citizen-mindset.
"But how will you live without money?"
"Burn it!"
"But how will you survive without gps?"
"Kill me!"

                Away from digital fuzz the crickets swept in tune and humans around were possibly real.. not just electronic murals of 'click here for eight offers.'   Millions of men were harassing an effigy of a female somewhere but not here.. not now. I'll throw a stick with a celebrity cut out pasted on it.. throw it far one way, far, and allow the poor woman to escape while the others chase the stick. Run, run,lady, get away while you can.. and then I continue to ride off into the sunset with a social retardation that makes a rabid squirrel look like a possible contender for Mr. Universal Proper.

             "Write me bite me fight me, but don't write me long." was texted in an alien language then I took the phone and tossed it into the lakeside. It skipped like a stone then I apologized to the fish or crabs who may have to see such a device. Maybe it will infiltrate them, too.. God I hope not.

Eternal love eternal peace eternal joy internal grace
God fucking damnit can't this line go any faster, why do people look at you funny when you walk backwards while peeing your signature in cursive***
The contradictions of wishful mantras.

***The only way you can pee any names is in cursive unless you start and stop and start and stop enough to cause a line break of words on the ground. An insightful tip from an old Ann Landers clipping via The Daily Times, Aug 15th 1993.

                Like some blur in a busy world, weaving in and out between a niche the beautiful air was breathed in fully up the stream side where clothes were shed and Geese covered their babies eyes for they had been taught what proper and improper were.
Somewhere there was a beach party with pasta being cooked on an open flame and it might have been the very first time that ever happened... but there was no proof of such an event because it was all so good that everybody ate it all up. Weird to think that photos weren't taken and posted on anybody's wall but none were because the pasta was so good.
              I sat and ate my Cliff bar in the sand while that scenario never even crossed my mind at the time.
I was glad that it didn't, because I would have grown  a deprivation for a much tastier appetite.
I pedaled and pedaled more and more then I stepped on a thorn. I plucked it out.

15th*

                 It was not a dismal experience but a great adventure having found the quicksand. I'm unaware of anybody having the intention to find quicksand but I am sure there are those out there seeking to hide some thing or some body for a very long time that appreciate it. All off the rest of us, it seems, know that quick sand much like the Fiery Mander above, finds us and not us it.

                    Further down there was Misterio Slithers, The water gliding shore sailor. It was past the pollywogs that Slithers emerged on through the stream. I listened closely to any advice.
Sssttttt stttttttttttttt sstttttttttttttttsttttttttttttt
"Yeah, that's what you always say' I thought at first, but then I had begun to listen more closely.
Stttttt if youstttttt chsstttttttttttttttt shlssssttttttttttts sssssssssssssttttllyyyyy
"no no, I haven't tuned in yet.. wait, I can almost hear...."
If we had any respect for the children we would take them out of the schools immediately.
That made a bit of sense to me at first but the longer I talked to Slithers the more obvious it became that Slithers was referring to schools of fish. Therefore, the snake meant he wanted to take young minnows out of the larger groups and down the innard tubes of the Slithers meal expressway.

All of this finally leads to a cast of words starring in:
Quick-Lined Musketeers
(Scrutiny Laments)
This building collection of Scrutiny Laments was a proposed giration for a book that was promptly to-be printed on papernapkins with moldy cheese as the front and back cover. This book was never printed.
However, in the book you will notice the table of contents is missing not only all legs but it completely removed from the book altogether.

The fish were getting dangerous. The schools were getting smaller and many were becoming hookers.

Cider seas the fish are getting drunk! Rotting cheese the mice are walking zags!

Oceans,too, like brisk dry heat, saw porpoises hording Zigs.

Now the docks shook, the shores wiggled, The buoys sunk.

Seagulls bottled in containers wanted out. This was not an unfair request.

Cinder seize on fiery shores: Let all birds not have to tip-toe on scorchy grounds.

"wanna have a good time?" a baby trout quips through bubbles making crayfish blush.

Freckles flew out the water and into the skies, striking bottles with seagulls inside.

Now some fish were naked: Their dots coming off and rising to the occasion, out of the fluids into the skies!

Before bottles hit the ground the fish freckles popped the Seagulls free.

Whisker fish and rainbow scales saw hemlock tortoises dressed in snake skin.

"wanna have a good time?" some fish were really starting to lose it, as liquids merged with their airs.

The bellybutton at the bottom of the waters uncorked it's cork and waters swirveled in.

The equivalent to canned-heat, dry-air, nubby ladders...





*Note:All dates are measured by the Gregorian Calendar system and may be horribly inaccurate.