@noneofthisisreal : footnotes, annotations, source materials, reference works, sneak previews, cut scenes, back channel communications, and occasional dead drop for @mumblelard
last night, i was out late at the wombo show with finn and fall. i didn't get nearly enough sleep, but my brain doesn't have that marinated in battery acid feeling today. it would have been worth it anyway, it was a great show, but i'm glad i've still been able to do all the things today
i was looking for one particular song from my memory when i wandered into a pile of field recordings full of the old preaching. found myself grinning at the energy and noise of it all, remembering how riled up they would get at those hot summer tent revivals when i was a kid. sneaking off and sitting by myself on the edge of the woods. still close enough to get back unnoticed, when they all wound down
the morning is thick but still cool enough. the paths are crowded
these last few weeks, i've constantly been a little bit hungry. nothing satisfies. it's not a more hunger, it's a something hunger, and i can't figure out what that something is. i ate a bunch of zucchini. that was a part, but it's not the whole something. for whatever reason it's sometimes fresh parsley but i know what that feels like. now i think maybe it's lentils
there should be something here but it's not
yesterday, that new moon pulled hard. i'm out of patience, not pushed to it, but ready for it
the snakes continue to amuse my wordless parts, and sometimes they surprise us, too. a minute spent doodling with a scrap. i might have grown bored already, but no. the engineer always full of directions and intent, received knowledge and best practices. ever the after before the before, even, for him. then sometimes he will get bored, it's such a small and empty room to play in, and these fingers will just do the thing. sometimes they still manage to do something surprising (to me, to me-us, to us, it doesn't matter) with something that is almost nothing. the surprises are, of course, small. little wrinkles and bends that weren't there before, tiny flicks of a tail
it will run it's course soon. putting it down like this may have already taken the air out of it, but it had me noticing such a slight internal state, i wanted to mark it, to maybe remember it
i miss the window in front of my desk with the hanging tree and the nest with new squirrels every spring and all of the sunlight. all of the sunlight. i like the way it turned this ugly corner into some kind of penrosian plane. the angle of the pictures doesn't capture the snakes well, but the pictures are their own thing. i've been eating berries and cut melons from the icebox lately, not setting an apple or two on the corner of the desk for later, and the swarm of blue bobbins appeared, glad to fill the space
earlier this week, i read on the calculation of volume i and ii. i enjoyed them very much. they were light but not slight. i appreciated reading something thoughtful but without peril. it reads like a literary novel, full of thoughtful observations about existing as a person in this world, that could have been written almost any time in the postmodern era, and the device of the work gives it momentum. i'll definitely read more as i get my hands on them. thank you @shortladyleggers for sharing them with me
this morning, i spent the two earliest hours drinking coffee and looking at cartier-bresson's europeans. i'd only meant to look at at a single picture for the duration of a cup, but i kept turning pages. when that movie ended, though, and i picked up the one with the american photographs, cartier-bresson's work next to walker evan's. the walker evan's pictures, that i love, were too much sand in my eyes. i couldn't make the jump. i had to stop
yesterday, almost to fall's house, i saw a grocery store on fire. i passed through right as the first trucks were pulling up. the smoke, thick over the road for a moment before the wind shifted, clearing the view.
later, on the way home, i passed through a suddenly heavy storm. the clouds were dark, thick and low, but the sun, even lower, just about to set, was shining bright under the clouds, across everything i could see
at fall's we drank dollar bucket nonsense out of hurricane glasses with cocktail umbrellas and talked about leaving jobs, leaving schools, leaving cities. we talked about flags and being done with flags. we talked about rainbow popsackles, repticon, ruptured empires, rental deposits, dairy queen breakups, dating smurfs, and debilitating spurs. we took turns hand feeding treats to two-fry, and praising blind molly for her bravery. i took one broken polaroid i really liked. it was a good night
woke up too early reading drinking coffee for hours with boba bedhead not so different from regular head mumblelard
the last thing i wrote in my notebook, "blessed are the chairs, stricken and collapsed." i only wrote it yesterday, but i don't remember why i was writing furniture based beatitudes, of course, i didn't know why yesterday either
sunday, i found a string of pink beads that some other had lost on the mountain. maybe these were the last few beads i need to make this ladder and start a new one. but, i've thought that three times now
i looked at the chair where i tattooed one of the beasts from this painting. finn has it now. i hadn't looked at it since everybody moved
may all your flies be juicy or happy aphelion bathroom guardian spider cousin
on friday, i saw the new native shrubs fallie planted outside his front window, blueberries, beautyberries, and a shrubby st. john's wort. he's slowly digging out the privet and english ivy around his house and replacing them with stuff from the native plant rescues where he volunteers. i'm looking forward to watching how it changes over the months and years
he and i sat for a while and ate faux-fil-a, drank a fruit punch four loko out of hurricane glasses with little umbrellas, and shared our stories from the week
i've lost the ability to appreciate the spectacle of the fireworks. maybe it will come back if i don't hold on too tightly. probably, i will be ok either way
we had thousands of lightning strikes in the area on saturday night. i woke up to find boba tucked hard against my pillow. when she was little she slept there every night, but she outgrew it years ago
i'm trying to stop using some words that mean too many things. words that've grown broad i can't be sure what other people are hearing, so diluted, they've lost all taste. just a handful of words. it's nothing serious, just a game, or maybe an experiment. watching what words fill the gaps
we walked up stone mountain early sunday morning. we had company, unaccustomed to the climb, so we went much slower than i usually would. i wandered all around while they rested on the way, and i got to notice things i hadn't seen since the kids were little. it was a nice morning
last night, i dreamt that there was a delivery man on the street in front of the house. he needed the neighbor's signature before he could leave, but the neighbor was missing. some people thought the neighbor was just out taking a walk, but others thought maybe in the hospital, speech stolen by a stroke, or maybe in europe on business. after a few days the delivery man looked ragged from sleeping on the ground outside his van. i emptied out the garage and built him a little room. when it was done he laid down on the little bed in the little room, went to sleep, and in the dream at least, he never woke up
i want to try just one can of hard pineapple whip without buying the whole party bomb blast pak
this week, i have eaten enough, and possibly way too many, wild blackberries. i tried to give a pint of them, in a clean deli container, to the vigilantly omnipresent lady who's always hollering at me when i take the shortcut to the river through her gated community, but she was not having it
i have not let the heat curtail the duration, speed, or intensity of my rambles, but my sweat may be developing the power to dissolve and transdermaly digest cotton tshirts
my experience of the whole bloody affair was less than the sum of its parts
next week, to celebrate the aphelion i want a party platter of nigiri and a kitchen chair haircut, but not at the same time
this morning, i got started rambling late, in the full heat, and had to stop and drink a gas station lemonade in the shady little pocket cemetery across the street. there's brumbelows and nesbits in there, but no holcombs. i keep hoping i'll wander into the holcomb family plots somewhere around here, but actual research would be cheating at this point
kakek, at the gas station, wouldn't accept the foraged, possibly lightly pilfered, gift card i had for my lemonade, but he did knock a dollar off the price and pocket the cash i gave him
a half dozen glute bridges i did to loosen up a stiff back last week, have somehow resolved the sleep breaking ache in my knees that would only come on in the middle of the night
last night, i dreamt i was living in the old house, empty of most all our belongings, the way i did those last few month before it sold. in the old family room with its tall ceiling, i built an egg shaped shelter that neatly filled the room, and i skinned it with cedar shake, and i lived there until i awoke
trying to remember the name of the irish story that describes a woman walking home after getting a tooth pulled. maybe it was scottish. i don't mean to be ping-pong, just that they're in adjacent drawers in this mind. i can picture the cabinet, i just can't seem to find the room
i sat down in the wrong kind of sun. i want to move to the shady bench where i planned to wait, but it might be too late
i'm not late though. i'll still be on time, just sweatier than i intended
happy new tethered fuel tank cap day imaginary constructs!
thank you for your service factory installed fuel cap last seen at the gas station on crossville highway. we traveled enough miles together to have commuted back and forth to devil's tower, fifty-four times. you will be missed
this week's intrusive craving has been a mission burrito in the mission
during my rambles, i've eaten most of three pints of foraged wild blackberries straight from the cane, and i have fine thorny scratches up my arms and legs to show for it
i learned that in the mirror world they might actually say "knuckle-butty"
last night, i dreamt i was drinking a cup of coffee and experienced the sense of taste in a dream for the first time ever. it was bad diner coffee, and i marveled at the badness of it in my dream, and when i awoke
the heat dome descended on us this morning. i'm not sure how long its meant to last
on monday, i'm getting new brakes. i plan on celebrating with a drive up a winding mountain road in the near future
fallie and i had a nice ten mile ramble up and around blood mountain today. near the peak, the clouds dropped down around us, and we got soaked just from walking through the chill wet air. it was a really nice day
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