it was an old market--- now there's a bit of charcoal remnant left of old wood. Further down a gulley: & a story ghasped in wives braille fashion of a teenage grandma girl who lived in the cleff between hillsides. I didn't hear too much of the how and reason why except that she was a skin-head, assuming neither most anyone else had any skin or flesh around or underneath their noggin.
She lived in a tent by the stream... mid '70.
Not much sign of any human life, though--- but way further the other way I found some suspicious knife/brass knuckle one-piece on the underneath of a highway bridge. It was rather crudely malignant to see there near all of the goldenrod and honeymustard. I always raise my eyebrow when I pass it, walking..
It seems like a thousand unleveled measures to pick it up. I saw a skunk run off with it one dewy morning.
What is it with the attraction to bring up skunks performing unbelievable traits.
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Oil spill cleared up.. well a decade or closely enough it fled and settled. Beaver-slick oil fur and down the stream. It's cleared up a lot since--- but occasionally silvery blur mud pockets brew to eyeglance.
Fit all these stories in to one bag: 'Trying, 'Trying! But they jumble around ripping at eachother with nail-rust certainty freeing from bags. Certain to remain a character each. Paper bags scrunched up, curled.
photos from this post Folder: 05/29/2011.'ll add more from this walk if 'on break' from typing typing typing.
This week is dedicated to clearing away from coffee and instead drinking tea. As a reward, the following thereafter will allow maybe 5 pitchers/day.
There's a character called Amskray I'm developing character-senses for. It took a long time to get the name. The character was there--- the habitat, tastes [all senses of fortune and destiny somehow predetermined for poor or fortunate Amskray.]
But the name; Coming up with name can either----
well, I won't say.
It's all a roulette-type thing, though, really.
Emperor pope demands a great number of little popes into battle with pope-headed lions in the Grand Colosseum.
Perpetual Pope machine
(The pope is really the Buddha anyway,
since everything is the Buddha.)
Gracious dexterity: A starving, rags-worn young Eldgar Sleavens Popelmoe faces pigeons-luck in the caste-system
and has to work a lifetime of slavelabor in the hellokitty factories.
All of these have something charming in common:
Each were a novella written by Amskray.
!Stacks! full of Pope books.
You became a fiend of Windhoek time
To know: To mow down a vice with great precision. Such foibles would never deter the flyby whim of Amskray.
To knock, and move down with a voice of generousity,
Each were a novella written by Amskray.
!Stacks! full of Pope books.
You became a fiend of Windhoek time
To know: To mow down a vice with great precision. Such foibles would never deter the flyby whim of Amskray.
To knock, and move down with a voice of generousity,
simply: 'Skray had stacks and stacks of books already passed and
printed by binders then cease and decised prevented further sale.
printed by binders then cease and decised prevented further sale.
Simpler: Amskray was stuck with thousands of the Pope
novellas which, in legal terms, would not be permitted flat-foot means of sale. To insult the church meant repercussion, big-time.
novellas which, in legal terms, would not be permitted flat-foot means of sale. To insult the church meant repercussion, big-time.
Though underground pleasers, they were.
The Hangliding-Pope series was one of the best cult-sellers.* Therein papa Pepe-o Pope hang glides the stem of purgatory. Random bits and pieces of Julian Moore stay in mind while the
pope cascades and sweeps down upon to cleanse the filth and re-direct lost spirits. Usually dangling a cherry cluster cigar from between his
teeth, the Pope, somehow, has arms like popeye peeping out from his popedress. He uses those to snatch up any of the misguided, but,
on occasion or lack of worthy donation, would be wise to just drop them and say 'fuck'em,why bother?' and then fly off back in to the night sky,
delivering sacks of coal to float down to families along the way.
(*track records of sales cut snippeted. Amskray would wheel and deal these
books to small shops hidden under sleeves of other titles.) "
The Hangliding-Pope series was one of the best cult-sellers.* Therein papa Pepe-o Pope hang glides the stem of purgatory. Random bits and pieces of Julian Moore stay in mind while the
pope cascades and sweeps down upon to cleanse the filth and re-direct lost spirits. Usually dangling a cherry cluster cigar from between his
teeth, the Pope, somehow, has arms like popeye peeping out from his popedress. He uses those to snatch up any of the misguided, but,
on occasion or lack of worthy donation, would be wise to just drop them and say 'fuck'em,why bother?' and then fly off back in to the night sky,
delivering sacks of coal to float down to families along the way.
(*track records of sales cut snippeted. Amskray would wheel and deal these
books to small shops hidden under sleeves of other titles.) "
SDR_1680_OneDayTheSkyWillRainGifts
One way at a time: Pull from a file pile at random
04-01 Pegasys, local station: Potato-couchers surfing random may tune in accidentally to 45 minute edit. That's channel 13. It plays a few other times throughout the month.
That Energy of the wild: can be so beautiful and kind. Its the WILD that lets 'ye relax. Proper causes the tiger:Mad.
Captions to photos that are not shown:
nyc-10-2012
IMG_0603
Oh what rush of animals when frozen in moment taxicab resemble Byson
pouring in herd
She where a payphone (such species extinct--- removed by crane,gripping, ripping from the ground)
she stands whereabout dialing
Underlaying themes, room to breathe immediate backwards into the mouth of Central Park
graphs of light streak when the camera eye slows its pace
and meshing together, the yellows and reds opt each other backrubs
A lady of amnesty sits to one bench 30 yards away to the left
shifting and fidgeting
I stack feet upward and lean
sorting through things
drawing out souvenirs to leave before I vamoosh
to test the fate of fate itself!!!
Items to be trampled or trashed
Is it trashed!! Or to be picked up upon
by claws or beautiful fingertips
What more morose tinctures
mixing up and shaken, and shook
and compounds mix and lose separateness
and pour in to one another and become their own solid
losing traits and attributes of foremost distinction
IMG_0600
These torpedo launchers stay hunched together,
easily maneuverable as their wheels guide them
