I've been writing in the work gallery a lot recently which overlooks downtown cincy.

The thick clouds shoulder the towers of the city. I see flashing lights and moving cars but no people. I know they're down there, starving and itching in the cold. I know alleyways with heat exhaust comfort. I see shining shoes passing the empty bellies. I know cups of soup for a dollar and change. I know the lonesomeness of being surrounded by people.
At least we see eachother sometimes. Reaching out in the rain for understanding. These shoes hurt and it's too cold to stop walking. Don't have anywhere to stop walking anyhow. Maybe a beer or two to drown this shame. These clothes are not much help but they keep the wind off. The warehouse down central is open and you can get in if you can take the smell. shit smell and burnt shit smell. It's dry and no one will hurt you as long as you don't bother them. the junk and funk ties arms to stillness but there's nothing else. I don't care. I just need a drink. a taste?
There's this guy on 13th that sells blow to art school kids. What else are they going to do with all that time and their parents money. Buy art supplies. The only people drinking cough syrup are kids without parents. It's free if you know why. This is a chemical town running on chemical resources and bathed in chemical facial products. The only thing left natural is us, sometimes. If I could buy anti-deppresants maybe I'd feel a little less like killing people for my speed. Uppers downers turn-arounders the only side-effects are loss of individualism and freedom.
But I need this prescription world. I can't be me without this. I can't think to see without it. I won't be free without... struggle.

me

plastic

strings

shadow

we got lost in space
headed to joe's place
on a spun saturday afternoon
the smoke signals faded
feeling homeland jaded and
mis-communicated
through mixed emotions
the ebb and the flow
struggle to let go
and can never be the same
wash and repeat
grab a seat
the show is just getting started
I've been waiting in the wings
for what I feel is mine
my moment to shine
"a story for all sinners"
I whisper to the crowd
"the things we hold a sacred,
are never said aloud"

I spent the week-end at the farm. We painted and moved stuff. I was able to spend time writing and thinking. It was stress-free and wonderful.

dagwood

table

knife

wax

wallpaper

floor

paint face

stairs

chair through fireplace

shadow these pictures are from the farm

You are connected to me throught these words. When you read my thoughts as thoughts of your own and interpret them, I become part of you. This transends our typical interactions with reality, which are often so passive. This direct telepathy that we are involved in is the root of understanding. As you consume this mental energy you will compare the experience to all of your other experiences and hopefully relate.
Together we are greater than ourselves. Together we are growing and changing in infinite ways. Today has never been before and never will be again. Flux is the only constant. You are now a different person.
Now you can choose. There are infinite paths laid out before you. None of them have ever been traveled before. The only fear is in inaction. You can choose not to choose.

Ocean Beach 2002 guitar string

Ocean Beach 2002..