Know some call is air am

and your writing him back, lying here on your back
your as serious as a heart attack
all those picturesque moments, the sunsets a-glowing
through the back of the van
and the water is diamonds there's something you're hiding
its just your fatal flaw
smile and composed but just being this happy is like
walking around in somebody else's clothes

and you all think I'm stupid, too nice, too aloof
there's no winning here at all
been on the road for so long, singing self obsessed songs
I'm always coming as I'm going
and the water is diamonds there's something your hiding
you wish you could just scream it out
just fucking love me I'm tired of leaving and
waking up in somebody else's clothes

and my dad's been gone for two halves of a year
got my first letter today
it was simple and sad, it was painfully clear and this how it read:
"well my darling, this time well the water's not diamonds.
I'm a fraud and I've grown old. They found me out, just being your father is like walking around in somebody else's clothes."

I'll be back by the first snow
wearing somebody else's clothes...

My beloved facsimile
I want to breathe smoke and to consume the world starting with you.
We traveled across the universe to find that we have the same parts but differing hearts
Pass me cards filed with Tabasco shotgun blasts
Chose me to be your broken hands
You always got me to try new things
Now left with salty pretzels pouring down
And
I spilled letters all over the page
The summer sun cant even warm me
What happened to the days of facing the burning
Drowning in yelps of ecstasy enveloped by the hand of god
Bucking up on two wheels to feel the streams of air caress my face forever
Nothing is as disappointing as your wasted genius
I can still feel your bittersweet excuses pumping in my veins
I’m glad that you got away, but I am still stuck out here

Hey Everyone, Check out the press release below and join our facebook group!
If you live in or around Vermont, come and participate. Everyone is welcome!!
http://www.facebook.com/home.php#/event.php?eid=72495014784


Thursday March 26, 2009 FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Contact: Oz Skinner
http://www.vtfreetomarry.org/
http://theyesmen.org/
Telephone (802) 287-9212
Cell Phone (646) 884-0061
Email – Diversity@greenmtn.edu

Marriage Equality: as Vermont as Maple Syrup
Green Mountain College students to demonstrate in support of the Marriage
Equality Bill during annual tree tapping ceremony with Governor Douglas

Poultney, VT

A coalition of students, local residents and supporters from across Vermont will demonstrate on Saturday in opposition to Governor Jim Douglas’s plan to veto the Marriage Equality Bill, which passed by an overwhelming majority in the state senate earlier this week.

Saturday at 10am Governor Douglas will tap one of Green Mountain College’s maple trees during the highly publicized “Maple Fest”. Green Mountain students have been working around the clock since the veto announcement to display their support for equal civil rights for all couples. The student demonstration will be creative and respectful and is not intended to disrupt the Governor’s appearance, but to call attention to this important civil rights issue.

Student organizers were recently inspired by political activists and satirists “The Yes Men” to engage in creative political activism. Green Mountain Student clubs Diversity (a Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender advocacy club) and PANTS (People Are Not Their Sex, a gender studies club) have taken the lead, noting that “It’s not every day that we have an opportunity to affect historic and political events.” Students have been working with local Vermont residents, Vermont Freedom to Marry, Central Vermont Peace and Justice, and local schools and businesses to speak out against the governor’s pledge to veto the Marriage Equality Bill. Diversity and PANTS encourage all supporters to attend Saturday’s demonstration as a way of engaging the governor in this political conversation. Information and materials for the demonstration will be provided on the Green Mountain College campus before the tree tapping at 10 am.

This entry will be long, I apologize. From exploding computers and hard drives, to spring break and almost constant travel, I have been insanely busy. It has been hard to find some time to myself let alone time to post. I have been up and down the east coast in the past month stopping in North Carolina, Georgia, new York City and Washington DC. Not bad for a kid whose in college full time. I am just getting over midterms and a nasty cold. Here are the musings you have missed…

Day 50 – Drink me silly day – When I was in Salt Lake City for sundance, I stole some really sweet stella glasses from a bar. I now like to drink from them and pretend I am royalty.


Day 51 – Midnight doors day – I came home one afternoon to find a door sitting on my kitchen table. There was no explanation. So I photographed it, and left it there. Mysteriously, it vanished during the night, reinforcing my belief that our house is actually built on a secret underground colony of gnomes.


Day 52 - Invisible lamp day – I walk past this light everyday on my way out the door, I never noticed it til today. It’s odd how certain things fall into the background.


Day 53 – Museum hair day – My roommate leaves her hair in the shower, I don’t know if I am disgusted or fascinated by it. It looks so abstract when I am taking a shower that I sometimes feel like I am actually in a museum and expect to see patrons watching me with avant guard fervor.


Day 54 – Veggie song day – i leave for DC on a veggie bus. 12 packed in tight and no seatbelts to make a 13 hour drive. The only way to fight the claustrophobia is acapella singing at rests stops in New Jersey.


Day 55 – Reflection day – I like the framing of this photo, the bus provided me with interesting way of seeing the world again. It was like getting new glasses, so much inspiration.


Day 56 – Hot rod day – while passing this car in the parking lot in DC, I coxed my friend into posing in front of it because I thought that she could channel an 1980’s model on the cover of a music magazine. She did not disappoint.


Day 57 – Secret eating day – My roommate eating in the dark. Little did I know he planned on hiding that bowl until I found it 2 weeks later. How time sorts things.


Day 58 – Flatmate love day – The roommates trying to look cute. I have avoided using my flash because of the way it makes people look washed out, but I recently took a class about strobing and am excited to put it to the test in the “field”


Day 59 – Big hair day – I am shooting models this semester in an effort to get better at art directing. I am doing a series called big hair, these are some captures from that. The problem is I need a really big fan, but I can only find small ones. If anyone know where I can get a cheap industrial fan, your help will not go unnoticed.




Day 60 – Behind the wheel day – I went back to the bus. Again i like the symmetry and abstractness of it all.


Day 61 – Noir lighthouse day – On my way home I passed this building. The light made it look so mysterious. Particularly around the tower. Like the legion of doom was planning some dastardly plot with an intergalactic death ray. It was then I realized that I do not have enough 1) poetry and 2) mystery in my life. I want to be a part of esoteric adventures in the machinery of night.


Day 62 – Old timey radio day – My friend has this old radio in his house. I stood on a chair to photograph it while he was in the bathroom, he returned to see me photographing his things and it was awkward.


Day 63 – I saw the light day – nothing more than lights, but they sometimes shine the way.


Day 64 – Guy Debord day – Some beautiful detournment, someone has to keep those advertisers honest, and it wont be the government.


Day 65 – Say no to coal day – A protest in DC against the capital coal plant. I chanted and lost my voice. But I did find that they committed to switching to natural gas. Who says a little protest ever accomplished anything.


Days 65 – 75 are missing cause I was in Georgia on spring break and didn’t bring my digital, but I did photograph with my holga, be on the lookout for the missing week!

Day 76 – Lonely twin day – I saw this guy on the street and I was amused. He seemed a little lonely and though we may have that in common I neglected to give him a hand. I wish now that I have at least removed him from the dirty pavement.


Day 77 – swerves and curves day – shooting through other things can be cool, no matter what anyone says to you. I only wish that the lens wasn’t so heavy


Day 78 – Sex is dirty day – Part of a series I did for the gender and sexuality art show, this is entitled “Sex is Dirty” I think you can tell why. I don’t think I fully nailed this one, I might try again with different models. I just have such a hard time directing models, cause some of the things I want from them makes them uncomfortable and you can tell, cause they are stiff in images. Any suggestions from more experienced photographers out there?

This last week has seriously kicked my ass. I was out of commission for a few days with a bad flu thing. Now I am way behind on my work, and I haven’t been taking as many pictures. Hopefully good health will lead to more photos. I have been playing around with my new holga and trying some cross processing; hopefully I will be able to get those up here soon. Also, I just scheduled the models for the spring sessions yesterday, so keep your eyes peeled for some good portraits.

Day 43- spring cleaning day – its time to clean the fucking mess that is my room. To do this, I take everything and throw it on the bed, then I neatly put everything back. This process usually repeats every 11 days


Day 44 – cold as ice day – warm up, cool down, warm up cool down, I am getting pretty tired of the meteorological schizophrenia here in Vermont. I am counting the days till the sun comes back to play.


Day 45 – Clarkson day – Went to play Frisbee in Clarkson but my camera battery went kapoot. So instead I have a photo of cute little professor tiny cat the third.


Day 46 – Bowl of Sex day – we have this bowl of condoms next to the front door in our house, and I was stuck recently by how awesome it was. Mysteriously, however, many of the condoms have gone missing, and I am sure that no one here is getting any. It must be gnomes. Horny, horny little gnomes.


Day 47 – Lay in bed day – The death has reared its ugly head, so I spent most of the day in bed taking photos. I discovered that my room is not that interesting in the dark.


Day 48 – manipulation day - I am not big on photo manipulations, but I took this photo of a flame and blew it all out of whack, and I liked it. Its like an eye, looking at you, from the abyss.


Day 49 – head in the clouds day – One of the cool things about laying in my bed is being able to get lost in the clouds. My head has been in the clouds recently, both metaphorically and quite literally. I cant seem to focus, the siren call of love and summer beckons me. Its sound lights me a flame.

Day 36 – Guild day – worked in the art building today and noticed the added flare for jennas show. I subsequently realized how rare it is to see actual candles in buildings, they are usually just made of plastic.


Day 37 – Art show day – Jenna has her art show, I take photos and buy some art. The food is amazing and I eat myself silly. Tom acts as the curator except that he just points and stares at the art awkwardly hoping someone will buy, or at least ask him what he is doing. We retreat to the apartment where I entertain her New York friends on tales of booze.


Day 38 – Thrift Day – Make plans with Liz to go to Burlington and go thrifting. Find some cool tights and blankets, I spend too much money at American apparel. Find cool TV’s at the recycle store.


Day 39 – Packed day – Mondays are always packed for me. Too much class, too much conversation, too much drama. I just want to retire to a shack in the woods for 6 months out of the year, and spend the other 6 months in a densely populated city like NYC. Is that too much to ask? I almost get run off the road by this gigantic snow plow.


Day 40 – Secret compost discovery day – While making cookies, we hear noises coming from the compost. Upon closer investigation, we discover a little critter has come to feast. The whole house was in a tizzy. We lead very simple lives here in VT.



Day 41 – Visibility day - there have been some recent anti-gay messages floating around campus in the past few weeks. So I organized a reading of ten years worth of hate crime victims as part of a day of diversity awareness. To tell you the truth, all the people who wanted their names attached to the event and wanted it a certain way, didn’t even show up to participate or to help out. From now on, I do things alone. I am a loner, Dottie, a rebel. However, a few people, like Jon, pictured here were spectacular.

Day 42 – Warm winter day - The weather has been on the fritz today, it was like 60 degrees, its febuary for gosh sake! I wore a t-shirt outside and was teased by dreams of summer. I cant wait for the floodgates of ramshackle traveling to be unleashed and the hitcher to come out. I am going to see the world in may.

Oz: Winter of our discontent

It has been cold as balls here in VT. Blasted groundhog tells me that we will have six more weeks of winter. I hope to cap it off with a boy and some hot coco. I have been photographing more than writing recently. Is that a cop out? I want to hear symphonies of words echo from my pen, but language fails me in winter. Perhaps thats why bears hibernate and why my mother fears them so. Another thing, the earth moves beneath our feet…are we really walking? We do not choose our destinations.

Day 30 – Magic wand day – Slow shutter speeds can be fun. I am experimenting more and more. I want to do something with fire. There is magic in the frozen air.


Day 31 – Fire walk with me day - I have been watching twin peaks religiously since my return. I like to eat lunch and stare into the fire place. Elements flicker and dance and recite esoteric poems in moonlit foyers.


Day 32 – Super bowl day – it’s the super bowl and I couldn’t care less. I sneak to parties to drink and eat free food. I spend the rest of my evening putting together enlargers. As I walk home buzzed this lamp post seemed so lonely. I gave it a hug.


Day 33 – Mundane day – The sky has been the most fantastical shade of blue recently. I wish that I had gotten some better shots, the framing on this is all off, but aren’t the colors pretty. Note: I need to get a tripod. STAT!


Day 34 – Icicle day – The Icicles hanging off the fire escape on my walk home were awesome. I couldn’t just post one. I took a bunch. They just seemed so impermanent.


And another


Day 35 – Where’s my bike day - Oh I see, its buried under 100 feet of snow.


Fin.

Day 21 – Take my picture day – While at an after party at sundance this women drunkenly approaches me to take photos of her. I tell her I am a famous photographer from New York. She demands that I give her instructions on how to pose like a famous model. I am drunk too, and fumble with the controls and the framing. I tell her she is naturally beautiful, I believe this to be true. She is dissatisfied, with my photos of her, she is ugly she states. I have failed again…



Day 22 – Summer in winter day – The warehouse lets out early, so I skip across the street and photograph the windmills made of tin. They look so cool against the stark blue sky.


Day 23 – Close to the end day – Things at the fest are winding down and I am tired. I am waiting to go home to my Vermont home. Posters are everywhere screaming about the last showings before it all ends


Day 24 – The last day – The Egyptian looks so cool at night. I trip and fall on my face after meeting a film maker. They can’t all be gems. It starts to snow around 12am. I get drunk and make out with a boy who cannot dance. Mistakes are around every corner. I choose the less complicated of two evils and am subsequently disappointed.


Day 25 – Lucky Travel day – I used to love to fly, now I hate it. It seems like every trip I take lasts an eternity. Due to sleep deprivation and possibly a hangover I leave my camera at the gate in Utah, and don’t even realize until a flight attendant makes an announcement. The camera is returned to me, and out of sheer panic I photograph the gate to prove to myself how fucking lucky I am that my device didn’t get stolen.


Day 26 – Welcome home day – If feels good to be home, and we have a potluck for Jenna’s birthday with delicious cake. Joey looks like a goof, and makes a big mess, but I love him anyway.


Day 27 – fortune day – The irony of finding this fortune upon my arrival from a 6 week expedition of self discovery is not lost on me. Perhaps I am destined to be a wandering soul…


Day 28 – thermometer day – Everything is frozen and looks like jewelry.


Day 29 – snow day – The snow keeps coming. It looks beautiful. It looks like it will never stop. I secretly hope it dosent…

I have been on the run from myself for the past two weeks. The internet is sparse for this modern day carnie. I've been traveling so much, its hard to write or photograph when you are not sure what your next move is. Moments, and memories are hard to capture, it is the mundane things that are the most striking to me, so all this excitement doesnt phase me. in the midst of all the hallaballo I am looking for the small things This is a year of change I can feel it. I am headed somewhere and the journey is enticing and palpable. I cant wait to explore this insane messy existence and the swirling of the cosmos with my friends and family.

Day 1- New Years day - I am sitting on a ledge both physically and metaphorically this year is about taking the leap into the next phase of my life. Lets hope I land on both feet.

Day 2 – Experience LA day – View from perishing square, just around the corner from my temporary apartment.

Day 3 – Disneyland day – Clock at Wilshire, looked cool in the fog and at night.

Day 4 – No leaving apartment day – I smoked too many cigarettes and played to much xbox today.

Day 5 – Observatory day – Went to Griffith Observatory today, I learned all about space and had some face time with James Dean.

Day 6 – Blast from the Past day – Met up with an old friend from middle school today. Spent some time thinking about the past and watched the sunset over downtown from the roof.

Day 7 – Self portrait day – I have been experimenting with self portraits recently. I need to get a shutter release thingy but for now I have to hit the timer button repeatedly.

Day 8 – Pirate bar day – Went with Mitch to our favorite bar only to find that the hipsters had invaded it requiring a long wait after the art walk. He took me to another bar a few blocks away that had a pirate theme. Awesome.

Day 9 – Rolling fog day – A heavy fog rolled into downtown and everything looked all eerie, went to the roof and took some more photos.

Day 10 – Haunted hotel day – Wondered around the hotel today, some rooms and floors are completely abandoned, It was too creepy and I scared myself a few times. Took some out of focus pictures of Duncan.

Day 11 – All for me day – Packed my stuff to leave for Sundance, took some photos in bed cause I was feeling saucy.

Day 12 – Full moon bond day – James Bond party and the moon was full. It looked perfect in a way that my camera cannot capture. The clouds and the light were just incredible.

Day 13 – Starfish beach day – Went to the beach with the brother, a very nice way to end my trip. Under the boardwalk we found a starfish, Duncan took it and returned it to the ocean. This is the biggest ripple I have ever witnessed, I feel lighter. Today reminds me of how beautiful the universe can be.

word.

Day14 – Arrival Day – I arrive in park City and it is beautiful. Get all situated with Sundance and get a really nice condo for the festival. I explore with my roommate and his friends. Meet some cool people, its going to be a good two weeks.


Day15 – Warehaus Day - A stack of New York Times in front of the warehouse that I have to deliver as part of my job. I usually arrive about 15 minutes before the rest of the crew, perfect time to take photos before the sun comes up.


Day 16 – Delivery Day – Make more deliveries, go to an advanced screening of a documentary, enjoy the mountain air. People keep stealing the pallet jack from the warehouse, so we brand it.


Day 17 – World Premiere day – I see two world premieres in one day, here is a photo from the audience, you can pretend like you are here.


Day 18 – Hungover day – too much to drink at the bar = miserable day. After work I take photos while I am waiting for the bus. Here are the instructions for a propane heater.


Day 19 – Shot tree day – Walking to lunch I discovered a grove of shoes. I got so caught up I was late to work. There must have been hundreds of shoes in these trees and no explanation. I wanna go back at sunset…


Day 20 – Latin Lover day – Ran into the Spanish actor again, I didn’t know he was also in the devils backbone…flirted…again, saw some movies, took this photo walking down main street, the blue lights seemed cool.



I 5 days i return to Vermont. I am excited by the possibilities that the spring promises. This winter break in the left coast has opened my eyes to things I need to work on, things I need to let go, and finally released some sexual frustration. I am ready to get my shit together and stop worrying about the little shit. Watch out Vermont, I am coming back and taking over!

Yo. I started contributing to a photo blog. You all should check it out. it rules. that is all.

http://365photographyproject.blogspot.com/

Inspirations waxes liker perspiration seeping through the pores after philosophical confrontations with creative believability
family roots tangled at the shores of left coast blues bars, leaving the magical kingdom too trivial to pursue
Apartments eat artists alive through the night gnashing their teeth at visions of abandoned windowsill fornication leading to the release of master elations
Opinions carved into chests, defacing the appearance of reckless abandon
Adrenaline fueling subjective fashion held forever in tricolor captivity
Mexican buddahs in yawning ceiling hums that blanket the floor
Fairytale doorways alone on linoleum platforms invite enticing eyes to partake of wood grain delusions
Open doors channel past pockets poets adding to dissatisfaction connections beneath the old moldy conductors thru synapses speaking in desperation of moonless nights
We never have our shit together
so much for birds of a feather
secrets scribbled inside locker doors and down pale hallways
Filled with the shimmer of possibility
The road never stops so obviously desperate to prove we are not lost I keep moving to remember that a rolling stone gathers not moss
Spiting broken teeth into crowds, a harlequin clown asks for the time but my hands are stuck in clocks and calendars
Gentlemen slip me five spots in back alleys to show them where fire burns
But we breathe the kinds you breaths you breathe with your lips to cool your insides
The universe talkso me in soft translucent whispers in my sleeping ears
A thousand fingers are stuck in my eye but a fool looks at the finger that points to the sky

Surface cracked, and torn skin
Memories set, in trash tins
You looked at me, and saw my soles
The music was all wrong
It was wonderful
I looked for you at the traffic light
Held my breath
to avoid a fight
But now I have lost my way
inside my veins
While you left me there
Through a window pane
I don’t know myself
when I hear phone
And your absence hurts
Its tone leaves me all alone
I’m glad that you got away
But I’m still stuck out here
I have turned to stone
To try and hide the tears
The end of paralysis
Death sticks for lost souls
I’ve been a wanderer
no alms in my bowl
So now I make my bed
Behind my mask
While you hold her hands
And make her laugh
So I repeat mistakes
and You find new bands
My heart is made of glass
I am not a man
when I turn the key
It all gets reversed
Til I’m home again
To sing another verse
We were fooled by love
But now you’ve turned away
Days turn out as months
We’ve been led astray

I leave the northern coast of California because the suffocating presence of my family requires my immediate departure. I hitch up to Redding where I stay in the most asinine hotel room haunted by the ghosts of strangled prostitutes. I find a tooth under the covers and subsequently have insomnia thinking of what outlandish scenario could have placed my ivory trinket beneath my sheets like a modern day princess and the pea. I wake up early and catch a bus north. I lose my coat in Fresno. I stop in Weed California which is just as hilarious as it sounds. A one stop town that, as far as I can tell, makes its revenue by selling t-shirts and memorabilia with “I heart Weed CA” to middle class suburban kids who pass through on their way to ski resorts. I buy two postcards and a shot glass. I like to buy local. In Portland I meet a nice boy on the bus who comes on to me talking about rugby and asked to come visit me in Vermont, the Oregon of the east coast he said. I take down his number, but I don’t call. I visit old friends and am surprised by how much I love the city. I watch “streets of fire” with other hipsters in a bar / movie theater and walk off my buzz over the bridge caching glimpses of the beautiful summer skyline. I hitch out with an ex-forest ranger who is late picking me up and has a car packed like a sardine can. He and his two friends are heading to Rhode Island by way of Denver. I have never seen the northwest and of it, I can only say that it is like getting hit in the face with a stick of gum. The air is so crisp. I see the center of the universe which is located curiously in Wallace, Idaho, which is also where Dante’s Peak was filmed. Coincidence, I think not. I ask for directions to a cheese shop at a supermarket in Missoula, Montana and am laughed out of the store. In Yellowstone I see old faithful which I am convinced is a conspiracy to get tourists to come and get them to buy merchandise. There is no way I will believe that a geyser goes off so routinely. I witness the sunset on the Grand Tetons, where a crow perches next to me on a piece of drift wood, and tells me that the future is going to be dark but exciting. The anticipation is palpable. I eat ice cream in Big Piney, Wyoming for my birthday, and follow it up with a truck stop breakfast where I wear an absurd ten gallon hat while minimum wage mothers sing a corporate song of celebration. I land in Denver with both feet running. I scour the parks and streets for a friend of a friend who came from Africa to lead me. I find him with other anarchists who, after giving me the serious size up, welcome me into their fold. I suspect they think I am an informant, and so to prove myself to them I work hard, and while I am not an anarchist, I find something valuable and interesting about the lifestyle. They teach me things about cooperation and community that previous jobs never could. I get swept up in a sea of public dissent. I am maced on my birthday and have a mild panic attack. The police looked like storm troopers and I think about the power of the state and am scared for my future for we are allowed no mode of discourse and are so effectively shut down with such brutality I begin to think that Gandhi and non-violence is bullshit. The anarchists offer me a place to stay, which is good because I hear the cops are picking up people sleeping in the park. I find a typewriter in a tree, stowed away for a special day, it doesn’t work. I am taught by a freedom fighter how to patch and repair a tire of a fixed gear bike. Hipsters and anarchists aren’t that different after all. A man, who saw me with a flat, can’t help and so instead returns 10 minutes later with some chocolate, which I promptly eat. While preparing food for the march I am harassed by anti gay protesters, who apparently link punk and anarchists with homosexuals, a link that befuddles me. So in reaction, we all walk over to the men with mega phones and had a big gay makeout party. Then Jesus shows up and all hell breaks loose. I am interviewed by a reporter from the associated press who wouldn’t email me the photograph he took of me because of liability reasons. I am irritated by this. I make a sign out of cardboard and tape it to my chest advertising that I need a ride to St. Paul and that I am desperate. It attracts many people who need rides themselves and I subsequently become the patron saint of travel. I find a guy who offers to give me a ride in exchange that I listen to his manifesto, I have no other options and reluctantly agree thinking perhaps it will expand my mind. His off kilter enthusiasm makes me uncomfortable and I spend the rest of the day acting out hitchhiker death scenarios that my mother so graciously implanted within my psyche. I rescue hopeless souls from the purgatory of the rideless and organize a little caravan. I chain myself to a bike for a protest against cars. I have never been tied to anything before. I work all night long with anarchists to prepare 2,000 burritos for a march, all the materials are stolen from dumpsters. It is amazing the amount and quality of food that we throw away in this country. I fall asleep in a pile of flour tortillas. Performance art, and commentary, beer and friends are central to an anarchist variety show that marks the close of a good week. Two boys are asked by a man to drive his van from Denver to New York and in turn ask if I need a ride. I say yes. My attempts to ditch the manifesto writer fail and so we smoke some pot hoping that will mellow him out. He talked of paranoid schizophrenic visions in the twilight of the Midwest and asks if we are prepared to die. This question strikes me, and I can honestly answer, yes. I smoke too much pot and become nervous that people think I am writing about them in my journal. While the others embrace slumber, I embrace funyons and Pepsi and the long road through midnight with another rucksack wanderer as a companion. As the sun rises over Iowa, we eat at a diner and I am reminded of high school and all the trials and tribulations that I escaped to make it out alive. I feel nostalgic and concerned that I am not as young as I once was. The idea suddenly dawns on me that this might be one of my last great adventures. I was filled with sorrow over coffee and eggs. We arrive in St. Paul to stories of people arrested at their homes during the night. Secret police lurk around every corner. More and more I envision the empire. Compatriots of ours sent ahead to scout out the scene are already in jail, and people are being collected off the street. Thank god I don’t look like an anarchist. Again we search for housing and end up with a girl with pink dreadlocks. We sleep on the floor near hypodermic needles but I adopt a don’t ask don’t tell policy. She has never been part of any demonstration before so we took her out on the first day and promptly get her arrested. There are many more people than in Denver, and as a result more police, national guards, CIA, FBI and secret service. Protesters fight back hard, and at every turn are crushed by police. The Gestapo cut off all the access to downtown and arrest everyone inside. My friends are arrested, so is Amy Goodman. I take photographs and run into the AP reporter again. I believe this is fate so I tell him I am studying to be a photojournalist and get his card. I ask him again for the photo to which he still says no. Immediately following our conversation he gets pepper sprayed. Karma, I think to myself and snap his photograph to send him later. My justice nerve spasms, I no longer know the difference between right and wrong. I am discouraged and frustrated at the supremacy of the state. The media, the police, the roads all controlled. I stand with my brothers and sisters with our hands in the air blockading an interaction demanding the release of our friends and the right to protest near the republican army. We are shot at, and gassed. In a mass of confusion, with my eyes watering and bombs going off, I think this is what freedom fighters in other countries the US has invaded must be going through. And in that moment our spirits are linked and I feel part of a kindred revolutionary movement. I scream the name of my friends and searched for them out as the smoke builds and builds. I can’t breath, I can’t see, I can’t hear, I can only yell and feel my way with my hands. Police snatch people who get to close and drag them, by arms or by hair, screaming into smokey alleyways. I find my friend who has been maced and attempt to clean his eyes before we are both shot with rubber bullets by a line of police moving in to arrest us. He loses his glasses, and I lose my lunch. We run and run and run some more. We make it out of the battleground, scared, tired, sick and disheartened. We were never meant to speak out. It is all a song and dance. The media does not even report it. After four days of the same narrative, I leave Minnesota and head south to Chicago. I reconnect with old friends again and realize that nothing can stay the same. I say goodbye to the younger version of myself and embrace the adult. I am removed from my childhood and have seen much in my time. I feel detached from my peers for they are stagnant. They remain still and I zoom along. I am surrounded by slow-motion mannequins everyday. I board a plane in Philly, return to Vermont and no longer know who I am.

This is long overdue.


I crash landed in rainy northern new England where I learned about lights and love and moving vehicles that take celluloid reflections and turn them on their heads. I slept in close proximity with the marrow of life and tasted its forbidden fruits, Still, I had to walk away, for I can not let myself be at rest. I bared my mountainous soul to a room full of strangers and teachers only to feel parts of my self torn away, put under microscopes and labeled revolutionary. I was ridiculed for my passion but stood firm in my beliefs as a result I was lost before I even got to the road. I ate up the desert to be reminded of duty, honor and the power of commodity love. I can’t even buy American shoes anymore. The guilt of weighted holidays pressed in and so I left with scarcely a note attached. Headed north to see the great unknown and to connect with other rucksack wanders at the end of their journeys to confirm the beginning of mine. I saw the center of the universe set in cement so that it can’t be stolen. Mountains of fresh chewing gum aroma and the pines that go on longer then my heart. I have never seen a car packed so tight in my life, and while dogging projectors and remnants of dumpstered breakfast I contemplated the meaning of it all beneath my world worn shoes. Tourist traps are always that, disappointing, but the sun set over lakes and crevasses is just as good as a game of twenty questions. Twilight lanterns stretch the highway further than the sun rising over corn fields. With a boom the expanse of the west collides with the power of the state. Black buster officers with shields and swords attack the youth with ideological rhetoric and bombs to boot. Pepper belongs in food not eyes. Amidst people together for the common good and messages of hope and peace turmoil was building, and in the city of twins I saw the future. Like a feverish dream the clamoring for a new kind of dialogue people upon people pleading for some semblance of rationality we were fed pamphlets like food, and though my knowledge has increased I am left stricken by a intellectual famine scarred that the bottom rushing up at us in unpreventable and while I shrilly scream that the end is coming not one person will turn their heads from the flicker lights of an instant message text machine to see that the world is all around us and that god is trying to get our attention. We are caught up so much in 24 hours infotainment that we cant see people as people only bobbleheads. I saw freedom disappear under clouds of smoke and explosions. I escaped in time to savor the last bit of liberty before heading home. Upon return I have felt lost and confused and older than I should. Like a sage that has returned form a quest into the world I find the more I explore the universe to find more of myself the more I alienate people from me because they don’t have the same experience. They are further removed and each step close to my salvation puts me a step further away from humanity. In light of this all letters from across the pond fill me with both joy and heartbreak for I know that I can never be with the people that move me and though they remain prominent in my life I am unable to remove the heart from my sleeve. I am glad the silly bitch didn’t die. And so now I remain connected to the ground in an attempt to come back to clocks with the same math and once the wanderlust fades from memory to legend I will have rooted to my place and like a tree absorb the energy from the earth and provide shelter to my friends again.

A special thanks to the cast and crew of Boundaries of Attraction for helping compile this list.

Ten Things I Ate Around Noon
How to Eat a Pie in Ten Ways
Total Meatball
Vanilla Chai
Banana La Mancha
The Man who Ate to Little
A Fridge too Far
How Stella Got Her Food Back
Fondue the Right Thing
Mission to Marzipan
Mars Bars A Snacks
Animal Cracker House
A Mid Suppers Ice Cream
Episode II A Snack of the Scones
Full Sugar Packet
Lord of the Onion Rings
One Stew Over the Chicken Breast
That Thing You Stew
40 Year Old Extra Virgin Olive Oil
Under the Turducken Sun
How to Succeed in Business Without Ever Even Frying
Seedless in Seattle
Cheese the One
Stand by Meat
You've Got Kale
Miracle Whip on 34th Street
Fat Times at Rigdemount Pie
She's All Fat
Field of Dreamcicles
Soy Story
Munsters Inc
Toastbusters
Lox, Streak, and Two Smoking Bagels
Scone Alone 2 Lost in Stewed Pork
The Inedibles
Swiss Cheese Family Robinson
Operation Gumbo Drop
Much Ado About Stuffing
Chasing Gravy
Pearspray
No Country Fried Steak for Old Men
I am Ham
The Ham Shank Redemption
Natural Corn Grillers


Thank you.

I am looking out the window of my large Boston apartment surrounded by grey steel walls that should make me feel safe but the truth is I couldn’t feel anything less. Every nook and cranny feels more like a prison and is a constant razor sharp reminder that I am bound to the material. I want to transcend the experience and frolic through fields of daisies. I can almost feel the sweet summer kissed breeze across my bear chest as I lay in fields of hay and contemplate the movement of the planets pondering the workings of fate. I can count shooting stars on my fingertips pointed skyward yearning for kindred spirits in festivals of light and fire to follow the pied piper to the ultimate freedom. The moon full of carnal rage and sensual sexuality pulsating forth like a growing organism, messy and desperate moving forward with the beat of the planet. Pavement slapsticks to the bottom of my world worn shoes and I hit the dusty trail with laughter and plunge into caverns with just flashlights and love not knowing if I will ever see the light again. I want to feel the freedom of the open road and the wind at my back. I hear the tales from other gypsies and collectively remember what it is that we forgot, communal visions of the future and the meaning of the underbelly of you and I and everyone under the sun with no SPF red tape to hold us back. We will bust forth like a breaking levee and rush the earth and cover the ground with our cold hands and remember the warmth of the soil. My heart is brimming with brine of love and passion. I want to share myself with everyone, I want to peek at the big everything and connect in the giant electrical motherboard of human reality and relationship. I want to build and burn bridges and to keep journals and journals of poetry to read to my loves in bed while blowing kisses across naked chests. Summers sleeping breaths make music in the night when I hold the present embodiment of my craving close to me and whisper it will all be alright. To stand in the rain and feel it upon my face, to burn in the sun and revel in it’s dangerous bite, green green growing grass tickling my toes letting me know that the earth has a firm grip upon me and leads me to speculate that one day I will go careening into the clouds. Another year has passed and full circles have come to mean less than the great unknown. Haunted by visions of red clad warriors, and the possibilities of the future I flee, to towns, to people, to the great unknown. I have made my choice and I can not be contained, I must seek truth and knowledge. I must find my fate, for I feel it will lead to treasure. It is all happening and I am ready to take the plunge, for friends of a feather flock together, I grow more impatient as each day goes by, I am stifled here but in a half a moons time I will be out on the road to find adventure, to find freedom, to find the sweet elixir of life, and suck it dry…

Is it weird to compulsively lock the bathroom door in my empty apartment while I am taking a shower because I am concerned that while I am taking a shower hordes of the undead will come crashing into the bathroom and feast upon my flesh and I don't want to be "that guy", the naked zombie?

A new Mix I made for those times when you want to flee...

1. La Valse D'amelie - Yann Tiesen

2. All I Want Is You - Barry Louis Polisar

3. Infinity's Lips - The Impossible Shapes

4. A Kiss At the End of the Rainbow - Mitch and Micky

5. America - Simon and Garfunkle

6. Joan Jett of Arc - Clem Snide

7. Just Pretend - The Bens

8. Devices - The Terrordactyls

9. But When The Little Fellow Came Close And Put Both Arms Around His Mother, And Kissed Her In An Appealing Boyish Fashion, She Was Moved To Tenderness - I Can Make A Mess Like Nobody's Business

10. Spit on a Stranger - Pavement

11. New Friend Song - Ben and Bruno

12. Snow Day - The Honorary Title

13. Why Do You Let Me Stay Here? - She & Him

14. The Big Guns - Jenny Lewis With The Watson Twins

15. I Wanna Be Ignored - Ezra Furman & The Harpoons

16. Absolutely Sweet Marie - Bob Dylan

17. When The Heart Breaks Deep - David Dondero

18. The District Sleeps Alone Tonight - Jonna Lee

19. Think I Wanna Die - Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin

20. Not Going Home - The Elected

21. The Start of Something - Voxtrot

22. Kiss - Scout Niblett


ahhh the loneliness of summer...

In earth warm and wounds lies a fearless warrior
With spears and knives of forefathers and marches to capitalist drumbeats
Slurping life away like concentrated orange drink that is no longer juiced like brainstems rung out in the rain
Like the snow who knows the look on faces as they fall down on ice that is the place where all hear the hearing of all that is thought possible
Beats like boom boxes left here to find their own Pandora looking for the evils of the world to release them into local landscapes only in miniature minds but that is a lie that is fighting off doorways inside pills and prescriptions
We are not made of yellow yarn and can not stretch like string or rubber bands
We all have our breaking point
The planets swirl around the universe inside milkywayed cereal breakfast nougat
The green makes the work go round and the green makes the world go round and standing here with nails buried in hands
The martyrs of the new society are violent individuals
Waiting for the red and the blues and the sirens who no longer are looking for lost lobes
In the school system a system of jails upon jails upon jails where children are beaten out of imagination
Looking through sand stone as an hourglass
Looking through hourglasses of Sanskrit set in stone
Happenstance buses set upon sins and I am not old enough for wing tips
A hit man of historical proportions hidden behind street lights in corner lakes looking for solitude
Masters of time and space command demons be gone
Look to the compass craft and map makers no more
Explore and find your golden treasure
Minds going out of style looking for something that can never be found
Where is it
Where is it
Searching for it all the keys to the kingdom the master of the house
The cup that will never empty
The founder of the search
The female form personified inside the beginning of catastrophe
Locked away behind doors and windows
Flames are closing in and cold seamed hearts spade the shovels of grime
Bridges are no longer built for queens when there are no more rules in the land
We are gone and forgotten
Building walls around thoughts to sanction dreaming
Hands with disorders eating us alive
Collapsing hearts refuse reflection of others
and the sun and the blueness of all the at is feeling
and stone between oceans
and a globe without end

Endless cups of coffee or beer and late night manifestos swaying to the tune of streetlight concertos drunk on the fornication of language
Words and ideas thrusting into one another in the darkest hours of night
Sensually sliding off S and groping the underbelly of G and O O Oh my god the fierce electricity of scantily clad single syllable answers YES YES YES
Drenched in the sweat of alphabets and drunk on the taste of midwinter freedoms
Enveloped in sheets refracted thru musty menthol exhalations
I write holy hymns underneath forgettable happenstance and Swedish thread counts
Our dreams now inhabited by chip and the old block talking incessantly and bouncing all the checks
escaping conservative heterological orgasms
Numbers on purple bands stretch further than drunken doorman candy
Misty midnight squeals pull back secret hand jobs and ejaculations
Thieves thick with pockets lined in others masculinity
Dark dawn revelations beside cyclic full moon absurdities
Dictionary arguments prove erotic
Writhing in words like books bound to text and pages
Cast aside orgies of letters to put U and I together