Pulling The Skunk's Tail

I, not wearily, but in a way in which I know will disturb some,
will brimble, bramble and even buzzle this following thought:

(warning: All ideas you may find unmanageable against are absolutely wrong,
However, what you find plausible may be true.)

I feel the personality and individual self as approached by what we identify as begins to completely scramble and discombobulate the further a human-biped looks at a culture.

Not as though waggling your noodle in the wind or winding your nips off the bobsled will be noted as distasteful and lewd it still seems hectic to my mind's eye's mind's brain's foot to reconcile a personality by what brand name one endears the most or a personality being a 'sucker' because they were not waggling their noodle in the proper, popular direction. (Let alone winding their nips during the right temperature.)

DEAR SKRAY,
No,
I did  not know there were places in the Americas without meth problems.
What is this para-dise you speak of?
Surely you fanta-size.
Next you will tell me of Towns that do not wreak of molten battery acid.
I write you from between a car dealership and a fast food restaurant'e.

See, if it weren't for my griming distaste against conglomeration, my personality may have subsided, and character gone lost in the dust.

Though such love for things: The twilight of the bristle and warm tones of empty highways.
Though, also, irrationality swoops down aiming at my gullet when not drowning myself in whiskey or beers makes one feel like an enemy of all mankind.
Dear Ann Landers,
How fucked is fucked when you wish to employ joyments without having to tangle up your temple, sacrifice your sanctuary, or even punish your pineal?


***The daily weekly***
Are you Ready to pull the tail of the loaded skunk? Stop! There are other options.

Things may STINK but think of what STUNK.
Sink not in the knots of modern day glunk.

Through the peptal preparation process we can promise a purely pristine procedure of polka-punned priss perpetration but only if you act now!

When every body is accepted as an equal
Individuality may be lost and the things we buy and discrimination that set us apart
may lessen the values we feed.

What fun will flashing be when nudity is rendered natural?
What good is righteousness when there are no feeble enemies to convert to justice?

Earth graduation involves skin dilapidation so don't pull that skunk tail before you regret it!

Signi,Mander,Electric Wings,Slithers

Signi, with a field mouse snack hanging in a grin.

             This is Signi, Short for Significant meaning. Or Signified-at-once. After walking over the lip of the hill I first saw Signi half hidden through some of the waist-high grass. Signi had stared and I gazed back. There was no fear of insight like there may be if you look an unknown biped into the eyes the wrong way say outside of a sandwich shop or near a park. Actually I was surprised at how calmly it felt after perceiving and then taking in what was registered into my site.
            Laughter of appreciation came in because I had been thinking of myself as a wolf or coyote-like creature nights before actually howling like a madman into the night skies. Part of it was for self-amusement but the remaining reason was a practice of letting loose from those gripping feelings of feeling not like a citzen but moreso as an unregistered being of illegal thoughts. That happens a bit, so this time I howled frankly howling works a hell of a lot better than some other methods, like internal regression.
The secret of laughter, as I've been hinted at, really is a nurturing way to make light of any situation. So then, maybe those calls attracted Signi shortly soon after. It was my first time seeing a Coyote in person. After a few moments of staring back and then posing for a portrait had Signi scurried off towards a large stone that lays in the woodland and I started off my own direction.

Signi/Uncropped photograph

                   That was the 5th*. Days have went from the ground land to being a bit more light footed. Feeling as if I may sink into the planet I decided to unite a feather to my hair to allow a feeling of lightheartedness/footedness if possible. If anything, it allows a feeling of being bird-like when winding down steep hills on a bicycle as the sounds of the wind going through the feathers made it just as exciting as when I would place a baseball card near the bike tire to get that 'vroom! sound.' The whistling of fast air feels like a bird is riding beside you.
Vultures and Electric lines.

                  On the 8th* I went out with a pocket full of half-dead spare batteries, two travel bars, a broken off Cow-Coffee Mug handle in my pocket and sneakers that would eventually collect tar. This time from the railroad ties as days earlier melting roads were the source of stick-soles.
(I wrote this poem relating to road tar:
Roadways are meant to melt and crumble.
It is their natural process.
Each time we fix and repair a road
we are going against their desires.
Roads want to crumble,
it is their true yearning.
If it wasn't, then explain why they smear
and get all over my sneaker bottom.
If a road would speak,
it would say 'let me crumble in peace.'
and stop driving on me that shit hurts.)
It seems malevolent that we create roads, which are meant to be driven upon, while roads themselves  claim that it is painful to them.

             I was to collect images of the cow coffee mug with several different backdrops and collect footage to edit to some of the soon to be Grammy Award-winning songs I had finished. To save images and footage for a time  when I have a less archaic machine to edit on (posting blogs is nightmarish; I must be a self-sadist or just highly reclusive and apt to tell stories now. Or maybe proving to create and fulfill as much as I can before I expire even if the pain of shoddy equipment causes nerve tensions that may lead to aneurism.)

The world is a backdrop for a broken cow coffee handle.

                 So I walked past the evil twin dogs who always seem to want to bite my soul from my being.. Barking back at them seldom helps  their keeping quiet but keeping quiet seldom helps them keep their quiet, either. Meowing profusely only encourages their hateful barks but entertains me nonetheless.

                It was soon that a swoop of Vultures would land on the deck of an electric obelisk. They did much more than serve as the backdrop of a broken cow coffee handle; They posed and danced in the skies and stayed a lengthy duration  to my presence much like Signi. If it were the howling the nights before seeing the Coyote, then the feathered feeling of the aires may have encouraged the birds to not merely scatter in the sight of a biped in sneakers (to distrust me as being some sort of threat.)

 14th*

It was all going amazingly until I stepped on that thorn.
Then it felt as if I had stepped on a thorn, Which I had!
I plucked it out.
"This is why you don't go barefoot..
why you don't ride bike barefoot,
while you don't jump from shaletop to shaletop barefoot!"
the academy for sneakers and shoes would have boasted and offered me a bandage.

                 The phrase "You're going to be just fine" has been trademarked, actually. I know this because there is a bandage container in the bathroom and I always eye it while I am peeing.. to the point where I had to move the package because I became upset how I would always read it every time I went in there. I would keep thinking about how it is so strange that certain phrases or emotions, maybe all in due time, would become accustomed and related to a company or brand slogan. "Ow, fuck.. I'm okay, I don't need a bandaid" however, would never become a phrase because it offers no commitment to a product or item.

                I like being outside, where salamanders walk towards me when I am playing music.
You look out of the corner of your eye and there is this small thing coming towards you.
Reduce yourself 1/800ths and it would be a terrifying dinosaur and each step would be a shaking stomp of terror but from my size and perspective the salamander's steps were very cute and adoring.
After turning the thought 'salamander salamander salamander' in my mind for weeks prior it was a nice occasion for such a creature to greet me in real presence, manifest from wishful thinking.
I had kept looking under stones near the moss and hoping to find some every now and then. One of the most humorous  and nerve-testing ways to come across something is to stop looking. Or stop 'wanting,' perhaps. And so behold was the fiery creature coming toward me after I forgot all about searching.
I remember once my friend was being sexually hit on by a preying mantis in a tennis ball court but that is another instance for another time. Though he was wearing a green and white striped polo which I think may have had something to do with it.

I picked up the mander and placed it into the soil where a feline would not later harass it.

:Interlude:
24 Year Old wind surfer who hates music looking for a mean girl. Activities include not having fun. Seeking Canadian for holding hands and attending autopsy concertos.
__----___----___----
Find sexy singles near you. 89% disauthentic robots. Electronic sausage fest of repressed desires spilling out into digital overflow.::

                but it wasn't until later that the thorn decided to attack.
I'm sure if a snail grew human legs and nice full thick set of red lips and spoke from them "man you people all seem weird to me" then that would really throw people off.

                 Pistachios were saved for another time and I started to pedal my bike. Pedal pedal pedal and sweat collected yet the skies were forgiving to all the time cramped up around places where payment buttons opted for conversation transfers and it was nice to get out of a citizen-mindset.
"But how will you live without money?"
"Burn it!"
"But how will you survive without gps?"
"Kill me!"

                Away from digital fuzz the crickets swept in tune and humans around were possibly real.. not just electronic murals of 'click here for eight offers.'   Millions of men were harassing an effigy of a female somewhere but not here.. not now. I'll throw a stick with a celebrity cut out pasted on it.. throw it far one way, far, and allow the poor woman to escape while the others chase the stick. Run, run,lady, get away while you can.. and then I continue to ride off into the sunset with a social retardation that makes a rabid squirrel look like a possible contender for Mr. Universal Proper.

             "Write me bite me fight me, but don't write me long." was texted in an alien language then I took the phone and tossed it into the lakeside. It skipped like a stone then I apologized to the fish or crabs who may have to see such a device. Maybe it will infiltrate them, too.. God I hope not.

Eternal love eternal peace eternal joy internal grace
God fucking damnit can't this line go any faster, why do people look at you funny when you walk backwards while peeing your signature in cursive***
The contradictions of wishful mantras.

***The only way you can pee any names is in cursive unless you start and stop and start and stop enough to cause a line break of words on the ground. An insightful tip from an old Ann Landers clipping via The Daily Times, Aug 15th 1993.

                Like some blur in a busy world, weaving in and out between a niche the beautiful air was breathed in fully up the stream side where clothes were shed and Geese covered their babies eyes for they had been taught what proper and improper were.
Somewhere there was a beach party with pasta being cooked on an open flame and it might have been the very first time that ever happened... but there was no proof of such an event because it was all so good that everybody ate it all up. Weird to think that photos weren't taken and posted on anybody's wall but none were because the pasta was so good.
              I sat and ate my Cliff bar in the sand while that scenario never even crossed my mind at the time.
I was glad that it didn't, because I would have grown  a deprivation for a much tastier appetite.
I pedaled and pedaled more and more then I stepped on a thorn. I plucked it out.

15th*

                 It was not a dismal experience but a great adventure having found the quicksand. I'm unaware of anybody having the intention to find quicksand but I am sure there are those out there seeking to hide some thing or some body for a very long time that appreciate it. All off the rest of us, it seems, know that quick sand much like the Fiery Mander above, finds us and not us it.

                    Further down there was Misterio Slithers, The water gliding shore sailor. It was past the pollywogs that Slithers emerged on through the stream. I listened closely to any advice.
Sssttttt stttttttttttttt sstttttttttttttttsttttttttttttt
"Yeah, that's what you always say' I thought at first, but then I had begun to listen more closely.
Stttttt if youstttttt chsstttttttttttttttt shlssssttttttttttts sssssssssssssttttllyyyyy
"no no, I haven't tuned in yet.. wait, I can almost hear...."
If we had any respect for the children we would take them out of the schools immediately.
That made a bit of sense to me at first but the longer I talked to Slithers the more obvious it became that Slithers was referring to schools of fish. Therefore, the snake meant he wanted to take young minnows out of the larger groups and down the innard tubes of the Slithers meal expressway.

All of this finally leads to a cast of words starring in:
Quick-Lined Musketeers
(Scrutiny Laments)
This building collection of Scrutiny Laments was a proposed giration for a book that was promptly to-be printed on papernapkins with moldy cheese as the front and back cover. This book was never printed.
However, in the book you will notice the table of contents is missing not only all legs but it completely removed from the book altogether.

The fish were getting dangerous. The schools were getting smaller and many were becoming hookers.

Cider seas the fish are getting drunk! Rotting cheese the mice are walking zags!

Oceans,too, like brisk dry heat, saw porpoises hording Zigs.

Now the docks shook, the shores wiggled, The buoys sunk.

Seagulls bottled in containers wanted out. This was not an unfair request.

Cinder seize on fiery shores: Let all birds not have to tip-toe on scorchy grounds.

"wanna have a good time?" a baby trout quips through bubbles making crayfish blush.

Freckles flew out the water and into the skies, striking bottles with seagulls inside.

Now some fish were naked: Their dots coming off and rising to the occasion, out of the fluids into the skies!

Before bottles hit the ground the fish freckles popped the Seagulls free.

Whisker fish and rainbow scales saw hemlock tortoises dressed in snake skin.

"wanna have a good time?" some fish were really starting to lose it, as liquids merged with their airs.

The bellybutton at the bottom of the waters uncorked it's cork and waters swirveled in.

The equivalent to canned-heat, dry-air, nubby ladders...





*Note:All dates are measured by the Gregorian Calendar system and may be horribly inaccurate. 

Pee on a radiator

 Coming shortly

Turn my day into a sack of love

Galactic Foreigner   You Always Serve Somebody Unless You Ain't    That one again Dadd/nny bought her flowers once but died at half her age. Time travelers hardly ever get paid.

Off the regular roads where nobody goes nobody car(e)s boo hoo boo hoo!
He's been like that for years
threats blowing across the air
he walks off ledges but just won't fall
I see no reason to discourage
a go-getter needs pourage
but oatmeal won't please em all

 Having ideas in an industry that relies in scarcity is like a suicide note on your being. 

First you have to make sure your competition of depravity and scarcity are okay, by free will, to have available resources for other entities to live with abundance or joy or withdraw of servitude.

"There are always surprises for those attentive to non-expectation.(laughs)" 

I'm a suicidal idiot won't you charm me
say 'please don't" and promptly disarm me
Shoot me in the dick like you love me
be beside or behind or above me

I'm the suicidal idiot wont you love me
turn my day into a sack of love
send donations so I can buy a gun
air out my morsels for fun
Ride the elevator high on through the air
Stare out the windows of my beefy Lexus
Tried a diet or two through exercise-chew
Plus my wife is g'damn relentless.

I'm the suicidal idiot won't you harm me
Four marriages seem more like a mirage
Chistmas isn't that far away
and every tomorrow is a latter day
So we'll see what the time slot will cause

He's been like that for years
threats blowing across the air
he walks off ledges but just won't fall
I see no reason to discourage
a go-getter needs pourage
but oatmeal won't please em all

Cross a stick, dryly.

Chameleon Morsels

Bouncing Bella

Some song called Lucinda I forgot about. From 09/10/2011. Pretty dorky but fun

A Morsel of the Chameleon!!
Absolute original labors of self-combobulated tightly squeezed sound and atmosphere births plus a few movie samples and the guest accompaniment of Soil Finn. A spirit unwiring cartoon ear ritual within a playful excavation of the intolerable to the cozy.


Comedy/rebirth/chance/ghetto appliances/Soul-Force Rising/
Using a toaster as a percussion instrument/The reflections of a Hermit lifestyle

Like a dyke on a plane it could flood in the sky at any minute.

After calling in beings of balance and beauty for guidance on an insightful day:

The story of the bat and the facing of the 'other half' peered deep this day

(How have thee refrained from smashing thy computer I ask! How have thee garnered thy patience to not rip sockets from thee wall and punt Windows 90 year old OS from a tall building!! Okay maybe some soothing..)


A cut snippet of the front and back of Soil Finn and I near the Recluse Stream playing music between pulling off ticks as more Hawks Vultures and Crowes dance in the skies. Fish, too.




Soil Finn & I were up to flowing again and I recorded more as usual. These songs are actually from a different day with different music (03-16-2012 two days before the tree-climbing.) Find a fitting environment for your framework. In this case, ours was this seat of a wood-paw near fisherpeople, fish-people and perfectly flat shore stones.

Then there was the power-ballad "Glub-Glub Glub (Serenading the Fish)" We actually did help somebody serenade a fish before when playing music in West Virginia. No, that's not like it sounds.. A fisher-person (or fish person) was in the stream of a public park while we were playing music and after he caught a fish he told us that it was our playing that allured the fish unto the hook. But I already wrote about that, or even already wrote about writing about that one. More hooks.

In the meantime here is a beaver. Actually, in the pleasant time, here is a beaver:

and one of these

I would have enjoyed to have fixed the imagery up a bit more but I corrupted the system. (There,I admit it: I corrupted the system, it was me. It wasn't even on purpose, it just happened >naturally<.) The audio will be a part of one of these sets that I keep hinting about. If I could make another Paige's Dragonfly I'd be ecstatically happy but this equipment is all literally on bare minimum. BUT this is what could pull through despite that and whatever proper knowledge of editing that is castrated from my (im)proper approach.


 03/14/2012. Okay, 14,16,(I'm going to strike this computer, I swear!ahem,sorry) and the 18th. I hadn't realized the days were so close together when all of this happened. This materialized from the 14th around when the EEAEAE tuning started to strike my fancy.
Firstly, I really did just want to inquire about this though:

We call this camikaze-enkouragement.

"Die in your own filth, artboy!!! The muse of the sou/il needs parachute pants and toy-story references! Pills'up'Mede!!" (Source of light free me from this chastised realm of boxes in boxes!! Free souls without identification. Human(e) Being! Manifest higher speeds of abundance, kept down by material banter no longer says 'm'ya!)

Avoid ticks. Sing about ticks.



Call upon the Old ones to guide your ways


Sso far:

Each copy will be FREE like YOU ARE.
(If by free, you mean donations accepted and providing shipping/stamp costs covered.)
Hand drawn artwork with each version,
Plus 'el presidente' the album guardian in whom protects all jewel cases.

Here are some examples of custom sketches that are ready to send out to some friends when this is finally finished:

 Portrait of Soil Finn

Thanks for the paper tablet 'Lana, shall use these perfectly-sized pages for each CD case.

 Each will be hand-done until I get tired of custom drawing album sleeves.
But despite that I will be giving away completed  pieces like these, too (16X20 canvas.)

and ruin someone's day with a naked Hazel-Island self-portrait

Because they do no good sitting around. There is no use of things going unseen of being stacked away, so shed all things for offering. If others can appreciate such then so be it! Just cover shipping or allow a kindly gesture to the accumulation of ability for more to spread.

(Note to self: Create a gallery of each new personalized album art as they are sent out..maybe.)

If I told you there will be many surprises then it wouldn't be a surprise!! I am hesitant to not already post all available for free right now but a bit more work needs to go into it and I want a lot of special visuals and keys placed through the physical copies. (Or lots of extra copies laying around ready to throw into a lake or not?)
Mostly likely this will be released on a DVD disc with each album and it's set of visuals in place.



The moment, the sacrifice of life-experiences to create.
The risk&sentiment of putting something out to the consensual world but to hold affirmation to what you
could create from that experience of heart and lesson. It is easy to be snide or criticize or
bitch but to use what little you have available and create a space puts an abundant path where
scarcity once resided.

I suppose that is a means of saying that hopefully where 'talent' or proper approach may be lacking
perhaps a personal touch could replace that (and it does.)
At the end of the day, there is a scale: hesitation or pride. Conquer self-doubt.
Any force that needs to bring you down or hold you from being whole seems in itself to be imbalanced and unfulfilled of it's potential.Buy your peace medallions it only adds to the suffering! Shed identification or not, it's fine.


Other:

These are some mighty fine ducks

Wait, We're not done yet, you and I

Mauling List Fore

(The two songs before the Chameleon Morsel) Download link coming soon (maybe) for all three mp3s.

Inhale Every Rubber Skin Bat Birth 03/29/2012
5:40 9.09 MB 224kbps

:01 to :51 ?????????(Currently unnamed) 03/24/2012
:51 to 2:18 Rebirth Of An Acorn Hat Snapper(With Soil Finn performing Rhythm guitar) 03/27/2012
2:38 to 3:22 Rubber Skin Bat Boy 03/26/2012
3:39 to 5:36 Inhale me in your skin (Every Cage Broke Open) 03/27/2012
Priestess rise & light is born!
5:36 to 5:40 Planets come and go in perception

Dance Like A Human(e) 03/29/2012
6:20 10.1 MB 224kbps

:01 to 1:44 Dance Like A Human (With Soil Finn Percussion) 03/27/2012
1:44 to 2:38 ?????????(Currently unnamed) 03/24/2012
2:38 to 3:45 Dance Like a Human/????? 
3:45 to 4:35 Granted to Many Lives (Current title) 03/26/2012
4:35 to ???? (Currently unnamed) 03/24/2012
4:44 to 5:21  Dance Like A Human
5:21 to 6:20 Granted To Many Lives

Dance like chameleons

It is near finished. I have been working oh so very exhaustively on it. When do you know something is complete? Oh, you know. It tells you when it is done. After re-compiling and adding, subtracting, fretting and enjoying over it that moment of assurance and creative explosion guides an affirmation closing. Then what? More!

Rosie The Mountain Dweller

The first time I called cats, I got some goose.
"My, that is one strange looking cat.. You, with your long feathered neck and quackus quacker, that beak you beckon..."
A goose with a wounded foot.
It came to me and my yellow folded paper in hand and stood closely.
We had a dine of stillness near where the shores were the entirety where the pond once stood.
Old baseballs and clams in the muddiness. Stones to throw at tree stumps.

The second time I called cat I got Rosie.
Well, I actually hadn't called for her, she mostly came upon her own accord, as most cats do.
I blinked and there was a cat.
"My, you're one funny looking goose, with your cat-like tail and velvet-ears."
We had a dine of stillness atop the heights, where you could look just over the ridge and feel like a bird.
A feline with soaring wings: That, I'd like to see.

Rosie, The Queen of the mountain top.
Eyes of Mercury
The loving ball of fuzz
For she who forever was!

 

Fixated, to look a stranger in the eye.

Look a stranger in the eye.

Look a stranger in the eye.

Look a stranger in the eye.

Look a stranger in the eye.

Worlds happen, they just do.
Beyond word or writing.

Nobody's Crying Those Regretting-Things

Shape chooses you

Workingworkingworking,finishingfinishingfinishing. 28 hour work days. Look back and have all but regrets! Every aspect of ability poured into creating an experience, where death becomes parallel to acceptance within knowing the life culminated was one of no chance held back and every moment: everything surely enjoyed!
To create something, using those moments and perceptions to record that experience. 
Rise, awareness of ability!
All efforts go noticed. Usurpers disintegrate. Abundance, Abundance.(suppression, oppression, shoo.. shoo!)
Every grain gone into, this.
A cartoon of calamity and an initiation of sounds, ghetto technology, makeshift approach. Organic shifts of mindsets, lessons learned along the way.
FUN is a good reason to breathe. Completion is a great calling to leave,
the repetition.