Super 8 is great

My friends, behold the super8 revolution. Fuck digital, kids, this is some analog shit!

Oregon pt. 3

skies and grasses passing

all the way there

and all the way back

music

talk

silence

where are we?

lost together

on our way back home

we are brothers and sisters

of a common mother

yes

we are the chosen ones

on the junkyard I5

gas stations

convenience stores

and auto wreckers

malls to the north

cross border shoppers

no allegiance to either particular country

like a carny at the carnival

too fast for you to catch

too slippery to hold on to

We accelerate with the carefree of teens

Where have we been?

Wouldn't they like to know?

We go

and keep going...

Oregon pt. 2

friends

above all else

sand and wind and waves

crash into our faces

saw in your eyes

as you walked along

and the wind blew your hair

and made your cheeks red

rubber boots

rain coats

dreams

laughing

all the way there

and all the way home

Oregon

Such a good trip

the kind that gives you goose bumps

and makes you not pay attention

at work all week

the kind that moves you like a mountain is moved

but all at once

not one stone at a time

Rain fell

and should be capitalised

for it's unwanted grandeur

and knack for upstaging the party

and demanding

in no uncertain terms

to be heard

The hills and trees passed by

like the cars and trucks and fences

We the people

we the fools

when it comes right down to it

and by we

I mean all of us

all who participate

I love the wind

and the raindrops in our faces

The stories never cease

Like a disease, they grow on and on

And continue like a comic or a soap opera

the actors eventually quit

but their faces remain for us all and places and names

a calendric reminder of our own age

the creep creep creep of our lives

It all seems to mean more and become precious

the older you get

You want to protect it

you want to stand up for it

whatever that is

It means different things to different people

It means the same thing to most of us

love

acceptance

belonging

justice

And speaking of love

all the rest are borne of that

Trying to achieve it is our most predictable thing

Learning to give and receive it

successfully

is our most punishing task

And the sheer beauty of life is the reward

if we can find it

we found it together

1966 Porsche 911

We had the run of the land that day

Either man nor nature could make you welcome

All wires sang an eerie howl

the rain ran down the glass all day

The horizon black

The tips of the waves white

The anchor watched with vigilance

Small tasks were executed round the boat

the rigging taut and holding

Like a nation on fire, we waited it out

Like a bird on the wire

we hung on tight

The wind kept us devout

and full of respect

the kind that turns boys into men

and you make friends

like you'll be back again

the little people

The colour of life

is the same as death

As though they are both part of the same thing

the mission to Earth

The long grass blows in the wind

the trees are beautiful and terrifying

the grown-ups seem to know everything

But they are flawed in some way

I cannot put my finger on it

They know how to drive and chastise

But not how to fly

It can be done as soon as you close your eyes

It is that simple

don't you know?

The sign on the window

and on the side of the road

tell me all I need to know.

I am not listening

to them anymore

"I am the cat that eats fish. Seriously. I like fish."

The time bomb

ticks away

like the end of days

Sharpness of the Sun.

the signs are sacred

the line has been crossed

newspaper

television

the evenings

wallpaper

the gin

taxis to town

and back

I retract

all my statements

except about art

from the start

I set out

to change things a bit

Others do too

and you...

Crazy Clown Time...

If you haven't heard the new David Lynch musical offering Crazy Clown Time, I suggest you go get it. It is like everything else Lynch makes, disconcerting but good.

Heroes on the move...

The Sea Shepherd Society prepare to take on the Yushin Maru, one of the flagship vessels of the Japanese whaling fleet. Japan has ignored the pleas of the rest of the world and taken up with the whale hunt again in the protected whale sanctuary of the Southern Ocean.

I wish them all the best and may the force of good be with them.

1970 Porsche 911 Carrera x 2

The Republican Nominations...

And meanwhile, in the Carolinas, the precursor to fanciful notions gone awfully awry, is taking place. God help us...

Gas Town

streets of brick and rain

chains swing back and forth

in the wind

white lights

twinkle in the night

shopping carts up and down Water Street

bottles and cans

beer and wine

spirits are bright

late into the night

party below

music thumps

line-ups

cars pass slowly

a man sells flowers

to people waiting in line

to get in

waiting for a taxi

tourists shop for t shirts

for the one in their family

that had to stay home

they could not get the time off

perhaps they needed some time

for themselves anyway

chain link and alleyways

just behind the facade

of the one block buildings

It's like a city in itself

An image frozen in time

But in on the latest styles

Newspapers and radio stations

buses and pedestrians

red light green light

stop

go

it's official now...

2 Handz

love is...

foolproof

tidy

messy

old

young

resistant

accepting

encompassing

simple

complicated

truthful

pure

profound

creative

love

holding food court

Music fit for a corpse

Not even the dead

The air was filled with exhaust and dread

and yesterday's talk

Push, pull, understand

what was expected of you

Alone in the crowd

The server wipes away the coffee stains

The new clothes in the bag, please

I can't believe that record shop is still open

The elevators go all the way to the roof

Or the basement

Crowds negotiate their way to the exit signs

To their cars

waiting outside

in between the puddles or the piles of snow

Department stores are filled with dreams for cheap

I found myself in one the other day

It seemed a mistake

I let myself out

The winter air felt good on my face

the 18th floor

This place makes me feel new

But a bit reckless and characteristically resistant

A bit official

In the way that an owl might be

Perched up here, no fear

Not that I have many

Fears, that is

Maybe a shark attack

or a plane crash

I sit here and tell stories

To myself

And listen to songs

Watch the trains go by

It hasn't been long but I miss it when I am gone

The light is magic

The river runs through it

Always moving, churning

Waterfront lands in metamorphose

Tar, log booms, falling down docks

Tall grass where it can find space

Empty parking spots dot the lots

A rusty fence lies in semi repose

Old trucks and trailers

retired but not forgotten

The creosote ties maintain order

While crows and pigeons reluctantly share the air

Traffic passes and nary stops

The bell rings at the crossing

Antique street fits all that's unique

Pillars and pavement

I embrace this place

My memories are clear

And so is the future

It is here

now

on creativity

"Creativity is almost a mortal sickness. It’s not easy to be happy and creative because with creativity comes great anxiety, effort and desire for love. To be creative, you have to be curious, generous and want to try to understand. People often ask me: “How do you remain creative?” The secret is still to be loved and to want to be loved."

-Phillipe Starck, designer.