Sunday, June 30, 2019

that was a dumb post. it is undone.

ok. i'm at the beach.

when i go to the beach i greet the water. hello, my friend. when i go to the beach alone i sometimes feel like the lonely guy. it's ok. i'm at the beach. i feel the water remembering me. someone comes along also remembering me. remember last year? that's so wild, you remember me?
they look at me a little sadly, like, he used to have a dog. it was such a long winter, no? oh yes, i had a skin affliction, oh yeah, my dog has a skin affliction now, yes, yes, it's ok. i still have a dog, sigh. he's at home.

in the first picture we had just eaten some fresh saint john's wort, otherwise known as amber touch-and-heal, demon chaser, and goatweed. this is the first time i think mister has tried it and he likes it. it's good for depression. mister is mostly happy unlike me who needs help. i often pluck a few leaves and chew on them slowly as we walk. i'm taking a leak behind this evergreen and we're about to meet r. in the garden.

meeting r. in japanese garden. she looks like a japanese girl bowing toward mister.

signs of aging in mister. he doesn't see well and hears some frequencies and not others. r. says he loves everyone, but i say he likes most everyone, but he loves some particularly, like you.

in the mulberry tree by the pond we saw this heron with a catfish. i could see the heron's round red eyes, and the catfish breathing.

i was so attracted to the heron and the catfish just resting it seemed. maybe the catfish in the air felt dreamy.

then they flew off. i said i think the heron want's to eat the catfish in peace.

 looking at the reflections in the pond.

r. saw the heron by the moon bridge on the other side.

r. asked if there were still koi in the pond. we didn't see them, but i said i saw one yesterday.

here you r.

r. wondered what kind of tree blossoms are these. catalpa i think.

have a heart, don't be a poisoner levy. please don't roundup us.

 and support your local honey bees.

if a tree can be a father, this is my father tree.


a dragonfly landed on mister. goodness.

i notice today how in nature things rest on other things.

beings support fellow beings. i'd like to be a being. can i be, being like me?

 you asking me?

local flora and fauna.

what's that thing?

holy mulberry street.

everything is communicating. 

stepping softly as shadows.

the fisher man.

the fish.

 the fisher man, the fish, the eroding shore.

mister meets lovely people on the bridge.

wild strawberries and sweet grass. this post too long? 

i guess we have to go...
  ...i haven't even been to the beach yet.


i got four hundred and sixty pix today. i had no idea. it's not really a good thing to have too much. i'll go and erase most of these now, but even that makes me tired.
i'd be food for butterfly in order to fly.

Saturday, June 29, 2019

 i should get out more and i don't vote.
 i'm a lazy gardener and i don't vote.
this is how i garden and i don't vote.

first of all, i abstain. man, my first swim at pebble beach a guy comes up to me and suddenly we go from my skin affliction to him asking but tell me this, do you vote? not really, i abstain i said. my high school poli-sigh teacher said it's a legitimate choice, but no, it's not on the ticket, and i don't write it in. why bother. it's a rich man's game. dark money, lies & propaganda, gerrymandering, the fucking electoral college?, voter suppression, hacking. if this is democracy the jig is up. and this man, he's the second one to consternate me today. i had the feeling the last time we met he shot the same vote dart, and i can't remember what i said, but it hasn't changed really post trump. people voted for obomba, people voted for trump and two bushes, that's enough for me to say the system's irretrievably fucked. not to mention raygun, pfuh. what's changed is next time that man asks me i'll let him have it, what i really think. no shame! the system is the shame! i salute collapse. i bow to anarchy. i don't vote.
i feel your love
i feel time is up
when i was a child, i never knew enough
what that do to me?
the wave of love is a transient hunt
water's the shell and we are the nut
but i saw a hand arch out of the barrel
look at all the peaches
how do you celebrate?
can't appear inside of nowhere
it's already dead
i know you have the dove
i'm not getting wet
looks like a date is set
show the ferret to the egg
i'm not gettin' led along
i rushed in to hold down your page
and now i sleep 'side words you do not read with me
i hear a song from inside the maze, the very one you made
you shook at the ivory mantle
as a poet, i knew to be gentle
when you have a child, so begins the braiding
and in that braid you stay
look at all the peaches
i want to celebrate
i can… 
aldous harding,
the barrel

i'm still thinking about that odd man who said the island is an empty waste. cleaning house i find a note i didn't make use of and couldn't throw away. i don't know what i was thinking about at the time, i barely remember yesterday, even with notes, but it says, 

                 how much of our daily 
                 experience made up of 
                 influenced or a product of 
                 mental distortion. 
                 how much fear is not fear of 
                 anything, just fear. 
                 one thing clear, fear creates fear. 

and the waste stream creates waste. not emptiness, which generates, but waste.
now i think i remember, it was about, or instigated by, witnessing the fear of dogs. i know, they say, well, it's complicated. it's simple if your fear opens up and meets the real dog. anyway, i was thinking of all that man failed to see with his empty eyes thinking only of human utility. all the life in that precious place, our nature sanctuary! full of life. how sad to not see the life that surrounds us, and sadder yet the danger of not protecting what you fail to see. this is the failure of love, of nature, this is the failure of the human spirit that once belonged in the nature we are actively, meanly and ignorantly, destroying.

i met a man i know coming back from the island with his dog who never shows any sign of recognition and he's saying empty! there's no one there! what a waste of money! and i'm thinking, empty? what the fuck are you talking about, man, you must be out of your mind! your sorry spirit must have flown! money? who gives a flying fuck about wasted money! sure, they waste money, fool! they waste everything! obomba's coming! you want to talk empty? you want to talk waste? you and your aloof dog! what the fuck are you thinking, what does empty mean, you're blind! i've no respect for you at all, you sorry sucker, excuse me, don't talk to me, please, talk with your inside voice. talk to the empty place inside.