Kids, Plants – Subhumans, etc. soundtrack

The girl made a very modernist flower
out of three Star Magnolia leaves

show details 3:37 PM (32 minutes ago)



Skateboard parks, ESPECIALLY the Food Lion Skatepark (really, check the site. This is such a great thing the city maintains.) in Asheville, NC… Awesome. Definitely.
I have never ever felt out of place at the Food Lion Skatepark. I am a Rad Mom when I am at the skatepark. I am A Mom With Tattoos. I love those little skater kids.


Also – right outside of the FLSP are three Metasequoia (Dawn Redwood) – presumed extinct until the mid-20th century. A living fossil. Ancient redwood cousin.

The three trees are planted in such a way, very close together, that from certain angles at a distance appear to be one tree, a single trunk with a pyramidal branching habit. But, the you realize it might actually be two trees and then you see it is three…in perfect triangulation. There are a lot of Dawn Redwoods here, in Asheville. Big ones, old. Bald cypress, as well. Odd to see bald cypress in the mountains, being from the swampy cypress land that I am from, the land of tannin and brackish, moss and biting

flies, wind and heat. Actually, this is a picture of a tiny caterpillar on my forearm in the shade. Mother Teresa, anyone? Hahaha.

I think I might need to visit old St. Mary’s sometime soon. It is only a day’s drive from here. 26 to 95 S.

A straight-shot home. Probably shouldn’t do that to myself, though. Salting old wounds. However, sometimes when we revisit the places of our supposed crippling…we find that we walk quite easily after all.

It is summer. I was too self-absorbed to note the solstice passing here.

I DO WANT TO GO TO LETTERPRESS SCHOOL TOMORROW! I am excited about it, actually. I like learning things.

I am a very hands-on learner and so while I am able to discern the basic concept of a thing via text or observation under the right circumstances, it is in the doing that I actually feel the synapses start weaving the new understanding in with the old. I am constantly re-understanding the world. Constantly.

This site has awesome diy project videos on just about every oddly practical thing you could imagine, drip irrigation to Kombucha…
I find it hard to focus on the lessons, but they are admittedly entertainingly useful. It’s a youtube of DIY projects and it’s free

It is for that reason that – right now – I am really actively not paying too much attention to the specifics of the human experience on planet earth. I have actually been quite ostracizing of myself (‘self-ostracization: to willfully exclude oneself from others.

(I learned it from listening to songs like this at a relatively young age.) (And just like drawing brings me truer, so does punk rock and basement music of all sorts…I trust the songs.) (And song lyrics are – if they are worth a thing at all – really quite stunning little bits of

poetry or invective, or poetic invective.

I have done this sort of thing on and off for years. That’s why I don’t have many friends…I disappear and they don’t look for me at all and I try to visit to reconnect, but when some huge re-understanding has taken place…why, it’s as if I forget entirely how to interact with an entire group of people. How am I supposed to be? Ach. Don’t want to go down that road.

(This is a good song. Very reassuring that the world is full of people who subjectively self-exclude.)

a lightning bug inside

isn’t very fun at all.

Trying to forget there is even a road that goes…there…which is nowhere…nobody…nothing…nihilism….

Who needs it? I think I have limited brain capacity for the bravery and fine tuned lack of self awareness that makes socializing pleasant to people. It wears me out, frazzles me and fixes my face in a false countenance that surprises me when I see my reflection. Who is that?

We want crowns, but we want them plastic and smooth and easy to get.

No alchemy or metallurgy or thorns involved.


Speaking of Plastic and Smooth and Easy to Get:

I think I may actually need to write BIG LOTS about this. It is really viciously ill, this doll.

This doll has an obvious terminal illness. It makes me sick that I had to process with my daughter in the toy aisle about why real ladies don’t ever look like that unless they are sick.

I am, myself, quite thin. I wish I could get bigger so that my daughter never feels at war with the innocent body of her birth.

AND THEN: I came across this poem on someone’s facebook profile and it was like a total slap in the face and I realized how close I had become to total fetid mush.

Ick is right.

fuck ’em if they can’t take a joke
act like a dumb shit and they’ll treat you like an equal.
there’s gold in them there hills

Tell it like it is, WB:
People often ask me if I have any words of advice for young people.
Well here are a few simple admonitions for young and old.
Never intefere in a boy-and-girl fight.
Beware of whores who say they don’t want money.
The hell they don’t.
What they mean is they want more money. Much more.
If you’re doing business with a religious son-of-a-bitch,
Get it in writing.
His word isn’t worth shit.
Not with the good lord telling him how to fuck you on the deal.

Avoid fuck-ups.
We all know the type.
Anything they have anything to do with,
No matter how good it sounds,
Turns into a disaster.
Do not offer sympathy to the mentally ill.
Tell them firmly:
I am not paid to listen to this drivel.
You are a terminal boob.

Now some of you may encounter the Devil’s Bargain,
If you get that far.
Any old soul is worth saving,
At least to a priest,
But not every soul is worth buying.
So you can take the offer as a compliment.
He tries the easy ones first.
You know like money,
All the money there is.
But who wants to be the richest guy in some cemetary?
Money won’t buy.
Not much left to spend it on, eh gramps?
Getting too old to cut the mustard.

Well time hits the hardest blows.
Especially below the belt.
How’s a young body grab you?
Like three card monte, like pea under the shell,
Now you see it, now you don’t.
Haven’t you forgotten something, gramps?
In order to feel something,
You’ve got to be there.
You have to be eighteen.
You’re not eighteen.
You are seventy-eight.
Old fool sold his soul for a strap-on.

Well they always try the easiest ones first.
How about an honorable bargain?
You always wanted to be a doctor,
Well now’s your chance.

Why don’t you become a great healer

And benefit humanity?
What’s wrong with that?
Just about everything.
Just about everything.
There are no honorable bargains
Involving exchange
Of qualitative merchandise
Like souls
For quantitative merchandise
Like time and money.

So piss off Satan
And don’t take me for dumber than I look.

An old junk pusher told me –
Watch whose money you pick up.

william boroughs

——Original Message——

From: Me
To: Me
ReplyTo: Me
Subject: Ah…June 24th…good ol’ June 24th
Sent: Jun 24, 2010 10:57 AM

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