a couple stories of my life

ok, going over to the cast party now-- see ya soon
-zed

story of my life

a lil bit of something else

so to avoid the onslaught of the wheezing robots, i changed the blog to "readable by authors/invited readers only." hope that's okay with you. if you want to open a fellowsquid-squirrel-fox's mind to something adventurous,
- click "customize" at the top of this page (or navigate to the "dashboard")
- click the "settings" tab
- click "permissions" (the last tab)
- scroll to the bottom and add your buddy's email address to the waiting-wanting "invited readers" box
they'll get an email with the address and so long as they are not a robot, are welcome here.
[update: after talking to some squids, i switched this back so you 1) don't have to sign in and 2) anyone can read the blog. as a little sidenote to myself&all, since this is an open page and we sometimes direct our friends here, use yr Sense and don't post any super private info--address, phone #, full name, etc. and since the robots are here, email addresses are rife for spam so keep em to yrself.]

in other news,
capitalism is so boring.

for instance,

this weekend i went to madison with z, the isthmus of bikes-goodfood-tall leaning trees-lakes-co-ops-“ethnic”food-bourgeoisdelight and for the rest of us it’s a prime site for liberatory politics and homes that heal after a long day of the same-the same-the same, this time in wisconsin. the capitol building is better when the farmer’s market rings around it and after we make the rounds (cheese curds, kale, wallawallawallawontcha onions, conversation, little leaf samples, toothpicks for free, hot pickles, endless preserves) we go at it again with coffee-as-handwarmer just to see if there’s something we missed. for instance, a pastry. for instance, strawberry rhubarb something. for instance,

we toured some co-ops, not quite tourists more like “membershipper&waywardperson,” dwelling in the in-between between living and desiring, asking and choosing. reading house journals, asking about conflict, in this gap between rhetoric and reality finding cleavages of spirit and quietude. for instance, how much is dirt a part of your house practice? do you do the dishes because you have to or because you love to? when you say something objectionably real, do others agree? and are you friends? were you friends first? for instance, who shows up? who lives here? for instance, in this huge space, yard-public-rooms-niches-shed-kitchen, where in here do you live? for instance,

cigarettes on a porch, punching kimchi until it sweats, introducing legs to hills and mounds to muscles, homebuilt saunas full of steam and newly-met naked bodies, greywater toilets, filling up space with talk, local beef and indian honey, filing cabinets rocking back and forth with the weight of zines that could change the world if they landed in the right hands,

for instance, our hands found each other.

for instance, getting this funny feeling between my hand, heart, stomach, junk, bellybutton that maybe what i want (permaculture, farming, living, learning, thriving, flourishing, creating, loving) might not be as far away as the west coast, that there are places where life is easier to live well, a funny feeling of jealousy and impatience and through stories and reconstructions and resonance,

coming to love my now/here/present all the more, as ephemeral as it may sometimes seem.

something like,

dear madison,

you are one hot isthmus. thanks for the sunset. i think i’ll be back to go bikeriding with you soon. meet you by the ramps at the farmer’s market?

with communal warmth, cool breezes, and flying hair&pages,
eliot

Telling the same story, another way

ate all the fruit candy - didn't taste like fruit...scuse me sorry (need a minute, need six minutes, need six hours, need twelve-thirteen-fourteen hours)...ate all the caramel popcorn - tasted mostly of salt...should i say something about the ocean though let's be honest, if we're honest, it's been said

between drinking all the soda and finding the cookies on that high shelf (sometimes I stand on chairs) FOUND OUT what tub thumps up against the solar plexus, what shakes up the insides is simply a collection of space anthems by space girls like weird, alienated reverberations distant cold, but i mean really distant-far-away-underwater

just enough distance, just enough space between so no one has to feel challenged because let's be honest, if we're honest, there were always wary glances between us from one to the other when neither of us were looking or looking at other things like the lamp or the mug or the scarf on the floor, honing in our beams on the mug-lamp-scarf (still space objects, freezing surfaces having been invaded by the vacuum, to keep us from getting too warm)

because, again on the theme of honesty, it's abject terror that fuels us (after all what if I/you am actually just the blanket on this bed?), shoveling crunchy pot stickers from that one terrible restaurant, over/undercooked lentils, veggies with the bad bits cut off, and pasta pasta pasta, noodles noodles noodles, rice (and still candy that says it tastes like lychee, apple, mango, peach), squealing squelching tummies quietened - just a replacement really, for the fact that my/your sentimental attachment converts itself to a desire to crack open my/your jaw and force your/my head into my/your mouth WHOLE

tippy-toed on the kitchen chair fingers scrabbling around on an unseen shelf looking for crackerscookieslollipopshardcandiesgumtictacstinychocolatevodkagin filling up the bottles with a little bit of water just to make sure no one notices that i had that drink to fall asleep at a regular hour (my tummy hurts and I lay face down on the bed so my organs don't feel too squished) - the thought, "uh um um um um uh, ouch, really, ouch" wiggles into my brain

so stop...

oops

best chatroulette session ever

the beginning of a thought

all of my friends are getting furuncles...i think this might mean something.

The furuncle may begin as a tender, pinkish-red, swollen nodule but ultimately feel like a water-filled balloon. It:

• Is usually pea-sized, but may be as large as a golf ball
• May develop white or yellow centers (pustules)
• May join with another furuncle or spread to other skin areas
• May grow rapidly
• May weep, ooze, crust

telling dreams (latest updates)

in conclusion, my dreams predict
that i would make a very poor newspaper salesman,
and an excellent harmonica player.