angel came down from heaven yesterday and watched part one of a hendrix biography with me.

angels and demons walk among us. how can we know who is good and evil? we can only guard against our own corruption.

are you saying that humans can be counterfeited like money? made to behave like money? without conscience? 

death to tyrants

discipline, fen, is the cornerstone of success, and my building is falling down.

distingue

juno

my new girl, lucy, who is riddled with b.b.'s.

me and fen share feelings about winter.

one could become a millionaire in the course of an hour, bend people to one's own ends, become a war profiteer.

remember spring? sunamabitch, we didn't know we had it so good.

sweet dreams, fen, are made of this.

the marquis of space-time.

vanya the chekhovian service dog.

whose fault is sorrow. we're born with it, like bodies.

if you like crows look at bernd heinrich, he's a great soul, and has raised and studied them and drawn them for decades.

i was desperate for green when this popped up out of the past, the loveliest green i could imagine.

there was another devastating democratic drone strike today.

don't let it bring you down.

ho-sanna, hey-sanna, sanna sanna ho, sanna hey sanna ho---sanna!

searching for sugar man. oh my sweet jesus on a stick what a story.

i feel so bleak, but why? is it because i live off grid, in impermanence?

pay dream america

it's a sad sad country but i'm free at least in my pleasure dome.

son of a bitch, this is not going to end well.

our souls are bowed down by violent culture.

snow lovers

sorry monument.

don't worry, mister, i won't go back on the grid.

it's funny, they can kill people across the ocean with technology from a bunker in america but they can't make a sustainable society nor a decent road even here.

i mo tread it til the snow melts and then i'm gon' go barefootin' in the clover.

volare, woe, woe, cantare, woe woe woe woe.

what fresh hell is this.

whisper mister.

domine sanctu, world without end.

if it weren't for copp i'd be pfd (pretty fucking depressed). he delights and helps me in my mind of winter to see it's not supposed to be all struggle. i still can't imagine how my body will survive the cars and the winter. but then a snowman pops up and provides tasty fig buttons and a crunchy orange nose and i live vicariously through mister.