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Sweet Seals For You, Always

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JBB: An Artblog!
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@heressometypeoftree
call out in an old-time holler, call out if you're afraid of your dark
kattyĀ August 14, 2010 at 6:03 PM
I usually go with my family to a some village specially because we like to know the people and the places. I believe the people are more helpful and kind than people of the city.Ā
I love to go with my couple, he usuallyĀ buy viagraĀ and we enjoy too much our privacy.
Intensive Training
We spent ages making a scarecrow but itās not working really. We should just get one of those wind-machine ones. Itās getting awful now, leading the pigs out to the training area in the dark. Weāve been training them for some time now to improvise weapons. Their shootingās mostly OK. We really drill them hard. Them forming units for roll-call is quite something. We call them stuff like ābaconā and āpork-chopā. Soon weāll be shipping them out, theyāre nearly ready.
Ā Itās time to address the rumours circulating that the crows have access to a bolt-gun. We donāt want panic on our hands. Iām personally struggling a bit, the TV receptionās terrible so near the forest. And Iāve managed to ruin all my shirts. A corporal ended up beating one of the pigs with an iron bar. It was a bit much. The crows are definitely worse though.
Ā Mostly I just wish the weather was better. The airās pretty muggy with all the burning fat. Weāve got the locals working to load the waste into the incinerator. Going into town at the weekend, weāre at the burger van in the layby. We need to be back for the next delivery of slops though, they get bigger each time.
Ā Yesterday I shot a blackbird by mistake. I let it fall before I could get close and notice its beak. Apparently a mass of crows is gathering right over the road, where itās just been ploughed. We brought down a few trees to make a barrage. Weāre really trying to be as efficient as possible.
Ā Trains going past is so irritating, having to quickly stop what weāre doing. But weād definitely rather people didnāt know what goes on. Last night I woke up in meat sweats. I rushed out to turn off my car alarm but it was a crow up a tree.
Ā The last crow we saw, a pig shot it out of the sky. The birds scattered at the gunshot. Then two pigs set to work eating the body.
start coming in continues to fall pakistan's even better we'd like to address it it makes us look provides a clear yesterday perfectly depression rented three hundred sixty pancakeĀ batter don't want any training and intercompany international to u when i can't resist the who opposes somehow socialism forĀ freedom just seems like there is a place for us crisp and clear deficits and spending the weekend harman is reallyĀ nice movies if you live by the end of it you have any insight into one of thoseĀ things within three months of wasn't installedĀ in portuguese and now for the past nine days peopleĀ love him have conversations with compensation toĀ renounce violent being difficult including started not money walkable distance and intensifiedĀ individual citizens limitations in two thousand whose always something going on thisĀ office uh...there's always been testing theĀ creative people coming in when his own so many opportunities to learn to takeĀ part in have that's cool places really helpful helicopter we have to keep the on-site seventy and flexible work badri dvdfab were behind flying meter defense extra powers purposeful something that's and practically law isĀ the parents and practice studios dealing with different challenges suchĀ as homework nelson helped them with a chance to sayĀ experience but it's not for the past they could continue support a partyĀ nominated charities foundation incentive people really would like to get involvedĀ in order to get involved which interprets would like to get involved inĀ churches willing to do for good causes doesn't apply toĀ seventeen at the school harvest up in queens park school it's quite rewarding experience to seeĀ people have been unnecessarily clinton previously it's a caravan antibody as a few minutes definitely it's destiny well people i've got three times legally except but that's okay the dentist electorate coming cpsc
Ā Ā - transcribed automatic captions from a corporate video
Into the River Now Parting the Reeds
In the mud are shoeprints and there are parallel lines carved into the bark, theyāre deep trenches so the sap runs out. Ā Iām watching the river flow off, this is a wide river enclosed by birch trees the branches all hung with flowers. Ā It feels like a storm but itās really only the white flowers. Ā Iāve lit a fire the lightās spreading from it. I can see everything from this coin-operated telescope. Ā The skyās clear, I remember someone was talking about contrails or chemtrails. Ā Iām unwrapping this one tree trunk so I can roll tobacco in the bark, the pouch is under my hat. Ā Thereās a flat blade on the ground in amongst the feathers. The sunās reflecting off of it. Ā The woods Iām emerging from are pretty thick, there are some stumps and then the trees opening out. Ā Here comes a rush of water. Iām harvesting reeds with a flat blade I found. In a tent with food dangling over. Ā Iām tapping on a hollow gourd. Some hollow logs are leant up into a shelter and now Iām hitting those at the same rate. Ā Visualising the water starting to freeze over. Thereās a buzzard riding on the wind, itās circling now. Ā Lightning hits a telephone pole but itās fine, the wires have been taken off. Iām beginning to think thereās some regularity. Ā Finding a woven sheet, folded over a rock. Someoneās dropped a hammer I can hear it falling close by. Thereās also a long linen dress. Ā Iām ashing my cigarette onto some moss. I need to brush off the salt thatās all over my jeans. Ā I can see a cruise liner and a fishing boat, both kind of far out and the road bridge up closer to the mouth. Ā Thereās an old car headed straight across painted like a turtle. Iām picking up a fossil rotating it slowly. My handās bandaged. Ā Iām feeling the ripples from the port, the beacon tower looks like a watchtower. Ā In the process of making a pile of reeds to shelter in. Thereās a plume of smoke coming from a clearing. Ā Iām probably inhaling spores, there are splinters right near my eye. The slopeās so steep I have to pull myself up. Ā There are loads of seeds being carried on the wind. Iām washing my left then right hand and spitting my toothpaste out into the shallows. Ā Standing on a concrete ramp that goes down into the water. Iām pushing my hand forwards thru air my palmās covered in graphite. Ā Several fish have been laid on the ground. Iām covering everything with a tarp and trying to find a cave to keep wood dry in. Ā The pickup truckās flooding and thereās someone throwing pots off the back scooping out water with a saucepan. Ā Iām sure a birdās scraping the concrete bridge with its claws. Ā Iām counting a pile of smooth stones and keeping my eyes closed. The countingās starting to yield some results. Ā This light was left on overnight I think, itās casting my silhouette onto the trees. I can feel a low humming.
Dulcimer Maker
For Edd Presnell
He hammers a wedge into the gap between the brace and wood, then runs glue along the edge of the curves, the plastic bottle loose in his grip. Weāre in his workspace,
a cabin in western Watauga County that took me three hours to drive to. He ignores my pristine shirt and says that the wood heās using is aged cherry
from an old log house. I watch his hands, follow their deliberate trace as he tests the joins, gauges the smoothness. I picture how, two weeks ago,
he boiled down those side pieces, made them bend into shape like a Matisse torso, or a boat trying to be Rita Hayworth. He carved the head at one end
of its three-foot neck, curved over itself like the arm of a Georgian couch. Now he is whittling a tuning peg, the horn handle of his knife tucked into his palm.
He shifts its incline, rounding the corners. He makes three pegs before measuring out the frets, their precise irregularity, and laying metal into the grooves. It takes
some hours to do all this. I sit down as he sketches out the sound holes, and while he cuts them out I look on like a foreman in a factory. He unwinds and stretches
the three strings, tunes them like a rhyme scheme. Finally, laying it flat, he plays it, his fingers downward, sliding and can-canning in time. He says the songās āAura Leeā
but it sounds more like Elvis. I stand, and he wraps it in fabric, handing the bundle to me at the door. I wave at him as I put it into the trunk of my car. Outside, the forest smells like Air Wick.
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Here's a poem I wrote a while ago, while I was living in NC - realised I hadn't posted it on here. It's a bit more traditional than my usual stuff, but kinda shows how I was dealing with culture shock etc.
Birdwatching
When the streetlights come on itās not a minute too soon. Thereās a car radio playing but the frequencies are a little tinny for my liking. Iām sitting up this tree. I can tell that the crows and ravens are in some way keeping score. Thirty seconds or so later, the hills stop shaking. As a statistician I find both this and my own reaction to it most unusual. Iām paying careful attention to any fluctuations in temperature. Each sound that is made is immediately followed by another sound. I take off my shoes and socks and climb a little farther up the tree. A cuckoo tries to push me from my position in the branches. Iāve already made a gas mask from piss and potash, but I can still smell overripe fruit. The gorse around here is abnormally high at this point, and mostly on fire. The wind picks up and the last few leaves are evenly distributed. A short distance away there are bears of some kind gesturing at each other. I strip as much bark as I can carry and empty my pockets. I think about shouting āI can see youā a few times but decide against it. The wind and radio stop exactly two seconds before the streetlights go out, leaving everything perfectly still.
Iām drawing out elaborate patterns with a biro, a National Geographic -type documentary on in the background. Iām trying to find a 9V battery in a drawer full of ribbons. Iām strewing cut flowers all over the floor of the kitchen-dining room. Iām washing an animal skull clean while I cook rice with a little salt. Iām shouting at the children playing with the chickens. Iām setting up a tent next to the parked car, and lying on the long grass. Iām hiking up the mountain trail. The night sky now is especially clear. Iām imagining a traditional ceremony in the centre of a village, near a temple or ziggurat, me tracing a planet with rings into the dirt with a long stick, a few moons and a sun at the centre. Iām holding a big rock like a sun. Iām seeing my own face projected onto it. Iām dancing feverishly, whirling so my sarong fans out into a circle. Iāve painted my face with red clay. Iām playing some fingerstyle guitar before settling down for the night. This book about astral projection says to āfocus your energy into a point some distance in front of your foreheadā. Thereās a whole group of us all standing in a circle chanting the solo from āMaggot Brainā. Iāve drunk so much coffee that my skin is humming with energy. Iām blinking slowly and deliberately. Iām putting all other things out of my mind.
reminder that I'm still posting poems over at Records from Last Year, new one up in ~1hr
Weāre carrying huge blocks of ice tied up with laptop cables. This is through tobacco fields, in a minute some dude rancher in a mustangās gunna drive by. It maybe wasnāt such a good plan to leave the nearest city, thereās so much light pollution at night. Back at the house Iām boiling vegetables with a little honey. It stopped raining a while ago but the phone signal out here isnāt great. I wrote you a letter on torn-out bible pages and you read it a few times, I could see you reading it. Back into town, then. In a low voice, I tell the child in a photo to stop crying.
This is the first post from my current project. Next one tomorrow!
tory burch flats
she wont credit me very often
she was wearing her favourite shakedown
dressed stunningly she wipes lipstick
on her white dress again
she is not the matrix wearing pink pyjamas
she wonāt credit my eyelid very often
I used to bring her eyeliner
Wednesday is Obama Day
After coffee Iām showering with shampoo, this is my Obama beard and Iām making Obama pancakes. Slightly too much baking powder and the butter and maple syrup forming a coalition. Michelle rubs a palm on my really short hair. Talking to you you seem pretty relieved getting tickets and a week off in January on a plane the size up from a 747. Someoneās blasting āEric B is Presidentā but with not enough bass. By the afternoon Iām walking round the Obama lake with headphones, waving a massive flag. There are only a few moorhens and some guy fly-fishing under a birch or beech tree. Itās starting to cloud over and get chillier, I end up putting on four more layers, my raincoat with Obamaās face on it. I can see my daughters with pretty names and their tongues attached to flagpoles by the cold. We start to watch the video again, everybodyās faces like laptops drying.
Local News
Subsidies here, this is corn syrupĀ on my free pancake. Again Iām sittingĀ at the counter in Olde Waffle same timeĀ as usual. Local news on mute,Ā like in the waiting room of the ERĀ with you, another TV was some goryĀ medical drama. We waited and watchedĀ how in Johnston County someoneĀ robbed a bank, Wells Fargo maybe, forĀ small change, made off on a push-bike.Ā You said something like ātypical JoCoā.Ā But it seemed nice enough, we droveĀ around the days after ThanksgivingĀ to enjoy the houses, remind myselfĀ that Iām in Carolina. That I made itĀ over after the sleepless nights inĀ Bedfordshire, what I thought was countryĀ on headphones
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New poem of mine over at Should Does.
Walk at Ayr Mount
6/29/2012 aborigines use ancestral landmarks not themselves for directions, the place a point, an origin. for instance, ten miles north of ayers rock, not āfirst track on the rightā. weāre however far south of ayr mount in a mostly piney wood, itās 102° but feels like 107. iām sweating a lot but weāre braving the middle of the day heat because i only have a week and a half left in orange county, in north carolina, with you.
im reading in chapel hill on monday with dan anderson and tom macarte! also reading in washington dc on tuesday (venue still tba for d.c.) and pittsburgh on wednesday. see all my tour info here
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Figure 5: Illustration of the meme diffusion model.