Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

page 132
(almost a nouvelle)
plus attention deficit
War & peace no more

page 132
(almost a nouvelle)
plus attention deficit
War & peace no more

drinking coffee @ 6 a.m. - put too much sugar in it - YES !

I'm just going to wing it because I feel like some fun after reading poetry all night on the web by God it's time ! to rattle the cage and do a pan blur - Impossible friction down in the caves where the news don't come / painful apparel - writing on a napkin with abortive smile then using same to blow my nose -

O get serious ! Old girlfriends ? maybe, in the freezing crowded talented letters that would modify the acoustic toward a semblance of watching quiet paint - years ago if someone had told me I would be falling asleep in chairs as easily as in a bed I would have said "No Way" - now I fall asleep in chairs all the time don't even know I'm doing it -

Following speed snake dreams, what chilly looks ! Egads ! Can't say it's the same sleep just appears that way I'll have to take a narrow cure past the little last with all the abounding attractions - over shiny ? overbooked ? Coffee going cold - time to split *

in the middle of a hot one....cafe Nola sittin, AC's cool...see ya later..

in the middle of a hot one....cafe Nola sittin, AC's cool...see ya later..

va-va-voom !

Dawn here. There's a song playing. A woman is listening to that song in a room that includes me & a sleeping dog. This is how the day begins.
I'm sure not far off the mark to imagine days begin like this about everywhere. Call it ordinary.
Jumpin' Jimmy the Korean Vet would say, "and that's how it should be"

Next door girl mowing the lawn already. When she is done she will park the lawnmower under the big maple tree. Somebody make a poem out of that.

Didn't get out on my bike yesterday - I'm cranky about it.

I can see part of the sky from here - because of the way the trees are and my angle of view the part of the sky I can see looks like a river.

boats on sand
bows all pointed toward
the water

My maternal grandmother, the Indian, died the year I was born. I don't remember her. My cousin-to-the-first-familiar told me a story about her once - she said she told my grandmother she would always bring flowers to her grave. My grandmother said to her, "Don't bring flowers, bring me a can of soup." The year my cousin-to-the-first-familiar died I placed a can of soup on my grandmother's grave, cocked it up against the headstone. I told my uncle about it before he died. he said, "I wondered where the fuck that can of soup came from."

I went and saw the ghost bicycle two days ago. It was all white, exactly as I was told.

Sun rising into cloud but still bright.

....always they lived late, in a rush, at the mercy of the throng.....never knowing the ease of being early...

..the trade value was 2 yak butter for 1 tea....the Tibetans regulated their diet using this mixture supplemented by yak meat......the old lama reminisced about summer and winter bandits, horses that flew like the wind....

workings of the mind....forgetting all about the show last night, a chance to poeticize .........but yet perhaps too soon anyway.....a movie tonight that I better remember, by tarkovsky...breaking waves.....

octopus.....14 X 11 .....09.02.17.....(1st since last stroke)

the octopus - smarter relative from the sea.
brilliant offering to the world at large - thank you wireman

octopus finds soup
screws open lid
hat-tip to waiter

your welcome judih........where's mingo I wonder?......Zuihitsu like the 7-11 of writing....a little bit of everything and it's free......owls on my mind today and Buddha too...I could do a 1000 of em for sure.....

owls are marvellous
their call and the night breeze
wire Buddha! I want one! please!

From blood, flesh, bone, & spirit - too much ? Not going to make anymore coffee tonight - not going to write anymore poems tonight either - I just haven't gone to bed yet is all - something seems to be bugging my neurons - the night is dark - hard to see very far into it much less anywhere beyond it

Pile of pillows on the living room floor - some curtains not yet drawn - dirty dishes on the counter & in the sink - out on the bike last afternoon, stopped to pick a late bloomed black-eyed susan - put it on my hat -

Picked up a beater bike couple of days ago - given to me for the going and getting it - a classic 3-speed that's seen better days - frame is big for me -
thought I might use it for parts but for now I just ride it and it's freeing because I don't have to care anything about it - I can beat the shit out of it if I want - leave it out in the rain - run old tires on it - never clean it - never had a true beater bike before and it's damn sweet not to have worry one about it - the bike is near 45 yr old - the damn 3-speed hub still works through all its gears - the rims are still true - the coaster brake still works good -

damn ... sweet - it's like some kind of poem

judih....will send pics of sculpture when done...

sounds like a good ride mingo......like Enku the Buddhist monk, who carved a 100,000 buddha's as he traveled throughout Japan in older days I'll start with one and see where it goes ....

I'll start with one and see where it goes ....

That's exactly what I do

....a series....whirlwind of creation, the where it goes...so many Buddhas ....all the different cultures have there style....even a Hellenistic Buddha......in the beginning, stemming from Alexander I suspect......that big Buddha in kamakura Japan ia spectacular......all the trevadan (sp) Buddhas in s.e. Asia are amazing especially the emerald Buddha .......

The pail at the corner of the garage, overgrown by wildflowers, is full of elastic cave water - the giant beams keep missing it.