Dont Count The Miles

Continuing on from pt 1, "43 Miles"

A photography series from ~05/2011.

A good opener for the second half of the series.

I thought I saw a cat but it was only a fur
I thought I heard a rumble, it was just a purr
'Swore there was a tower but it was only a brick
Paul wanted polio but he only got sick.


Amidst these photographs I took will be random fragments of thought. Some will have to do with the actual photographs while others will just be amusing crap that will possibly temporarily entertain only myself, which is the beauty and problem with 'blogging' in that you can publicize words that relate nothing whatsoever to the common or infrequent reader. That's been the way I have always felt about newspapers or Sears circulars, or those little self-reminders and I.O.Us that are written on crinkly $1 and $5 dollar bills.

Hey Outside

Soaking sopped wet, this photo was taken as I felt as close as I could to a wet alley cat or gold fish in cotton attire. Still, a moment of enjoyment was to be had yet watching people run full pace beneath the safety of an umbrella from the doors of the book store to their cars 15 ft away made me feel like the biggest joke or the freest from weathered reaction.

A dialogue:
"You know what you need to do Joey?"
"No, What do I need to do?"
"You ought to make sure to never allow anybody to tell you what you need to do or how to do things."
"Well I guess I'm fucked now no matter what choice I make."

Like A Vulture

Like A Vulture

Like A Vulture

 These vultures live in the cave of a gorge hidden beyond streams past trails that part from the railroad tracks of Recluse Valley. Every morning through afternoon they swoop in unison to find their own treats to devour. I had traffic blasting towards me on a highway bridge-side as taking these photographs with angry commuters barely striking me in preparing a meal for the vultures. 

I recorded footage of them as well. Their dinner schedule is  nearly always on queue and they never have to leave too far from their gorge home to get fed. Now I ask, who has it better, the vultures or wolves?

Be Late For Everything

Growing Your Bangs Out

You know those commercials where products talk, where products have personalities and characteristic traits? Do you know those? You shouldn't, none of us should, but you probably do. In the sane world, in the sane world, we have products that encompass traits of human behavior. And scientists who want to free the world of dependency and scarcity tactics are called mad.God help us if talking brooms are of the sane rational (or characterized pieces of dirt being picked up by a broom, or a bottle of window cleaner for that manner.) What breed of hysteria is this? Part of me just knows deep down it's a long branch of some absurdest movement, and what a prank it is. We call it the free world. It arrests those who go crazy from expressing their discontent with living amongst the mad. When I say 'we' not only am I not speaking French but I also mean 'We' and in 'They' and any other raving fevered broad generalization. When the vacuum bag starts having full on conversations with you I think it's safe to say you've been company-bitten.

Flashy Outreach

Gnack

40th Wonder Of The World

Tripping Down The Stares

When you are the only human out roaming about, everything else can feel so much more alive. You can actually stop and think about what happened in the places you stand at and experience without being pushed or pressured to move along the path to 'get where you are going.' It's a beautiful feeling. Owls feel it. I'm not sure if chimney sweepers do or not. Probably not.

5 AM

The day sky starts to slip out of the covers, The sun gets out of bed from the moon but there is no coffee, so it goes out to the store. It's been all day. he gets back to his wife.. by that time it isn't light out any more. (Don't try to think that one out, I haven't.)

Restrictive Conversation

Using intimate objects and their placement to pursue the viewer into an imaginative interpretation. Much like talking vacuum cleaner bags.

JOIN us!

 A poem:

The darlin' who gleefully pees in the breeze

need not care about phrases like 'it's the bees knees'

but instead smokes to where a small walk ignites a weeze

Then attempts to use a wine glass to bottle the seas.

An argument ensues over all the false and trues

Walking naked to check the mail regarded as truly rude

But clothes hide nudity and sway fashion through urge to screw

So fornication is divided to love, creation and getting used.

A bird on the shoulder is brave if the shoulder owner likes chicken

The bird sings "Bob" in the mornings as the fog thickens

A small child is brave if given a piggy back ride by a cannibal

but eating your toe-headed young is an act that is truly stricken

There's a bathtub in the boat in an ocean with giant soap fish..(To be continued..)

"The Day Something Happened"

On a serious note was something written written rather jokingly.

But on a much more serious note, albeit almost forgotten, Here is the long non-awaited video for "Cat Opera"

=

If anybody wants to donate hard drives or blank DVDs I'll ship you prints and make you a grilled cheese sand which. Space is running thin."Too many people ask for things." "I agree, I was just kidding."

This is updated but not complete. 'May expand or continue with a pt 3.

43 miles

 Warning: This 'post' will occasionally contain anti-logic used as logic.It is subtly approached in the act of belief that common logic is practiced too assertively and tightly stitched and thus bastardizing the taking of  chance. This use of yellow text shows you just how dangerous and nonsensical some of the sense-making will result.

Part One: 43 Miles

Well forty-three miles is not very far at all, but it was a start. It reminded me both of why I began and more importantly, why I should not, tamper with 'blogging.' If this duality is too indecisive; Getting on a bicycle for a two hand-count of hours uncertain of drench-wetness or sleeping arrangements was more thrilling than sitting around attempting to pull interesting observations of theory from the air. The avid avoidance of this bulky, slow processing machine stacked up high, the opportunity for many tales and adventures, which annoyingly funnily enough results in perfectly interesting subject matter to 'blog' about so that A.I. Frito Lays tracking bot links can later search and spam.

Also, too much stagnant time results in things like this:

which is not necessarily a bad thing.

A common absurdity came to being which involved the forced eavesdropping over long bus rides of passengers talking about going to work 'obliterated' and beating the shit out of strangers for fun and acceptance. That's another thing, too. Don't ever think your life is too shitty. Just get on a public bus and don't bring earplugs. You'll start to feel like an enormous dickhead for thinking that your own life is dire straits. 

Though, the world is already filled to the brim with cosmic hopping spider xylophone solo albums and the more time spent wading means the river raft is furthering away and away from your traces. That's another thing, too, does the 'blogosphere' really need anymore terms like 'the river raft is furthering away and away from your traces?" What does that even mean?

(Reliable sources of information may tell you this 'may or may not be correct, yet we are all doomed, so buy the advice book!'
Major worries could woe the most unwholesome antagonist of woes but wooing the right one with wander could rid any wrongs that are doom prophecies. Y2K never could keep on schedule.)

There are more important subjects in being a breathing being than thrice dead disney villains or major catastrophe... such as water towers.

None tipped over from what I know, and that is a good thing! Yes, on the day of 05/06/2011 nobody died from falling water tower accidents, and a communal rejoice is in dire need because of this! In fact, it's quite plausible that nobody died or suffered from blimp disasters, therefore nobody was killed in any disasters regarding blimps crashing into and knocking over water towers. (Discontinue interlude)

I removed my body from the bicycle after eight miles into town to find the library doors closing right as I stepped up to the building's entrance. The act of duty was to upload a video I had been finishing up the entire night which inevitably would only result in a fraction of the '(holy) views' in comparison to a youtube video of a drunken frat boy slamming his mound of flesh into a heavy windowsill. But to no avail, that option was halted and not allowed to succeed upon the day and it will have to be a future 'post' with less side tracking for that to be thrown into the pile of electronic data-wading that is the online world.

So I missed a couple of buses, and met a traveling life-trekker amongst the waiting between rookie bus drivers. Coming through from Boston with a sky as the ceiling and heading towards the very town I'd just rode my bike down from, it becomes an inspiring occurrence knowing people are out there with lives not so tightly knitted nor orthodox in leash.

A so/cio-political comparison that may be argued out of value in a monetary state of philosophy:
There are attempts to 'dent' the world, via reaction or -anti-_fill in the blank_
They work battles yet often exert energies of a kind of madness and outrage, such as 'fucking the system,' or 'fucking the _fill in the blank (fucking the blank?)'
Denting the world, via violence or re-action (outrage over bin-blala, protest over the __latest media outrage) can pretty much just suck up energies and distract any creative thought.

Shaping: Shaping as opposed to denting is something that may work out through non-participation. Is this True!? You tell me.. Is it worth trying new things or are we better off on the path of self destruction through expected behavior and mass-non-chance? Are you sitting around reading some lengthy, side-tracked blog rather than finding out!? Am I a galactic ass for saying that!? (answers coming soon in "How to be a free human being by following these easy to remember steps!)
If there is a point, it's that 'shaping' versus 'denting' is a fox compared to a blood-hound being that non-participation is the 'key' whereas chances to actually live and experience DO exist over protesting and asking/pleading a 'system' that appears to own you to give you permission to take care of your own body/mind.
Does that make sense is it closer to fulfillment-rambling?

So, the traveler I met was breezing by in a sway of complete freedom yet chose to give up material leanings.
I hopped onto the last bus out of town after making it to a more reliable stop where I'd actually get picked up. (Previous attempts to get on busses was a  success if failing to catch the bus was the plan, which it wasn't. Pro bus drivers wait more than 5 seconds to pick up passengers. Rookies don't.) The bus I did actually make it on is where the forced eavesdropping and life philosophy comparisons took place.. In that, if you have the time to look at the world and ask questions, be grateful that you do, for there are many people that have children they entirely do not even want and jobs they need to get 'fucked up, reaaal fucked up' to deal with having and we're all in debt of one form or another anyway.
A flood of outlook permeated into me in an inescapable note of seeing the world through perception and a trail of decisions. It's often like those old practices where I would compare my world to the outside world, often finding a sit-down and observe plan taking place in a shopping mall or trying to take news headlines seriously. This test and lesson was different, though, because I was within the confines of a moving bus.

I took my body and bicycle off from the bus, the final bus of that night, and the condensation of modern life struggle blew out into the air and faded away.

Dancing heifers (okay, older than heifers) of Tire Farm Hill

The sun was tipping the hill and I chose the 'long way' past the farm hills. There was a smell of cow shit that was actually refreshing compared to any ghastly perfume or vapid factory toxic. Grinning at the cows on the ridge of the steep road hill I yelled "MOO! MOO!" and they waltzed up en unison to me from beyond their fence, and danced.. Yes, danced, in their own way and responded: Moo! MOO!  After having all that said, the peddling continued past farm lands and farming machinery unto the meeting of interstate highways and signs for bug-zapping agencies.

These notes were made upon the bike ride:
-Mattress Mania has soggy mattresses outside the outlet store, Shut down for years.
-Get on bike. Teetering milk crate, Worldly squeak, Bleeding face.
-Cows chase & Moo. I Moo, too.
-Grinning at passengers.
-Headlight, brainflash, Blinding lights.
-Over exert energy. Chew gum. Water,water!

The photos aren't the best, but show the slopes of country roads.

Approaching the dancing cows

Pictures of sun rays through abstract clouds mean slogans of enlightenment are nearing closer.

 Tony Guykamuyni once said "I would rather eat a soggy half-moon cookie, than have no half moon cookie at all." This ancient Chinese-takeout wisdom led me to believe that 'I would rather chance myself into a shitty miserable situation than to play safely into expectation.' That said, Anybody could have slipped into cow shit, but the opportunity to be there and slip into the cow shit, to experience a new place, is more worthy than a permanent residence of familiar carpet patterns. (I am not encouraging or recommending anyone into slipping into cow-shit. (Read: The Insomnia Scriptures Pt 1) The best thing about this is that you can mold it to be true to you (not the cow shit) or you can just think it is bullshit nonsense, which would be completely false because all writers must protect their claims to death.) 

 The chance and result of some of the most miserable occurrences later led to insights and story details that otherwise would not have existed. They were lessons of the self and studies on how previous insights of chaos were but dainty little snail freckles. The huff and puff of mild dehydration and breaking personal boundaries was nothing compared to those who every day live on the verge of exploration, but finding the self out of it's comfort box of expectation allows a duration to be tested.  Tony Guykamuyni must be talking through me, In short terms: Damn it feels nice to expand my old limitations and see a new place, even though others have gone further does not mean my adventures are worthless.

Still upright, no traumas or disaster.

(Interlude of the slightly unecesarry:
Instead of still life fruit renderings can we fulfill a practice of painting prominently displayed breakfast sandwiches? And how can some body state a claim in that a fool cannot be wise? Often in order to evolve you have to really take a chance, and that area of the unexpected is usually delivered by common thought as the stupidest thing you could ever do. I think it is wise to be a fool and foolish to state that a fool cannot be wise, but also foolish to dismay at somebody else's thought, for they're only possessed by it's convincing belief is....)

now that the unnecessary self-dialogue has passed before it could scientifically and morally be proven unjust and horrendous...
The bicycle continued to squeak.

Small secluded town were prominently passed. Cashews in a can were kept as the closest of comrades.(Say it!)

Days passed and though no major groundbreaking events happened on the returning ride home from the bike ride, it was still a chill of free air and gain of insight on the difference of water textures between the drinking fountains in supermarkets and the bathroom sinks of small gas stations.

(The proceeding area of this is going to mostly rely on the images to do any story telling.)
Pt Two: 
Favorite Creek Stones of the Day

& More

Belling Profile

Know You

Frog and Pipe

Absence Of Belief

No Negating

Taste Dried

Pt 2:Don't count the miles up soon.