little bear walked through the muddy banks of

the twisty creek oblivious to the dreck that floated on its surface

blind to the evil that awaited him around the bend

ignorant to the tragedy that lured him towards its depths.

little bear heard the song of the bluebird and turned his head to listen.

it was a song about a litte bird whod fallen from his nest one night. the night his mother had flown away to chase a hawk back to his perch while his papa was long gone hunting for food.

the little bird the bluebird sang cried as little birds do but somehow knew that it might attract the wrong attention: like from that of the wolf or the swine or the rat.

so the little bird kept his mouth shut and flapped his sticky twiggy wings to absolutely no avail and if the owl had seen it, it would have hooted

before swooping down and making a midnight snack of it.

so the little bird, the baby bird, so tiny it had yet become blue did what any little bird would, he walked into the forrest

and hid in the shadows.

until he fell asleep,

shiverring in his own sweat.

the bluebird sang this song and little bear listened and the stars listened and the breeze listened and the darkness crept a little slower so it too could hear every word.

and noone noticed but the babbling brook hushed up for once to find out what would happen to the little bird out there on its own.

even though they knew what would probably happen.

but they had hope because bluebirds dont usually sing tragedies

unless their name was tony

which this bird was called

but before he could tell his tale he was startled by the caw

of a pal telling him that trouble was on the way

so straight away he flew away

leaving little bear and the night wondering if the poor little fragile

helpless little scrawny everybodyfood

made it through the night.

and little bear saw a butterfly fluttering in the moonlight

and playfully chased it

not even noticing the squoosh beneath his paw.


flagrant has pics + simpleton + green catfish + kevynn malone

theres a reason i dont publicize what im gonna do

before i do it.

made it to the 5:30 showing of corpse bride at my favorite movie theatre The Vista and it was ok. but as soon as i got out of the door this crazy woman walked next to me

i know why Stiff isnt coming out.

why do i do this to myself.

why do i trust the world. why do i break my own rules why do i sometimes put true things on a blog thats perfectly happy with beautiful lies.

i know when you’ll die.

never know whats going on never care whats going on if she said she had a bag of weed ida told her i had a big black bong.

just stop for a second she told me its your heart its your heart that stops you.

not on a sunday i thought. no mediums or psycics on the Lords day. saturday or sunday i dont what they say. a long time ago i was in the woods in a chapel with these brothers, not brothas, brothers. they didnt touch me if thats what youre thinking, they touched me in a good place. they read the bible to me. no fucking around with their theories, they just read it to me.

there were some scrawny uncoordinated retards in there who just didnt wanna get slam dunked on in basketball hour, and if wasnt for bible study ida been out there with my crossover dribble and afro and redwhitenblue kneepads and wristbands and

the no look

bouncepass through the paint

i didnt need to be out there in the woods getting taught the word by the brothers as an escape as a shelter as an excuse. i was there cuz i wanted to be there cuz it was the best part of the day cuz it was the reason the Lord probably put me there, cuz everything has a reason even if its a bad reason so i stopped before i got to my car and said you have two minutes woman what do you need from me.

she said your heart is punk rock. you cant sell out without a fight. even if its something the people want. you cant do it. it took you years just to put ads on your page. the struggle of this book is ripping you apart and causing conflict in your life. you dont need the money you dont want the money you dont want to give away the money. youve already given it away free and its still free you dont want to make this because you know you’ll make a fortune and thats in conflict with your punk rock nature of fugazi and the pistols and the hero of your book. you dont want to put a gun in your mouth when you reach the mountain top so you’ll just shoot yourself in the foot before you get there.

my stomach hurt from the popcorn id just eaten.

but ive seen the future and you’ll be fine. less people will buy it than you think. but the right people will love it. its them you should think about. not the gibson sg you’ll buy. not the canon camera you’ll buy. not the bills you’ll pay. not the monster tires you’ll put on your ride.

she was ugly.

these are good stories that you made and youre stifling them by keeping them caged up. youve gotta let them go free. youve gotta let them see the light of day. youve gotta let them be ok away from you. youve gotta stop staring at your poo.

i told her. i think your time is up can you please walk away from me.

she said do you promise to release the book before your birthday.

i said every time i set a date its a curse. so no. i will make no promises to mediums or psychics who disrespect the sabbath. if i wanted a channeler id call up my friend ann who i respect and trust.

and she said how do you know ann isnt talking through me right now.

i said cuz ann knows how i feel about sundays.

and the woman said something that i didnt expect

she said

didnt Jesus heal on one particular Sunday.

and she bit her lip and walked away.

human landscape + paige + krista + happy birthday small island girl