Artist. Collector of Media. Incomplete Archive. Past and Present. Bike pedaling dog walker, weekdays weekends weeks begin.
pedal pedal pedal petal.
Moved back to the warm soft middle of America after 3 years in San Diego.
I cannot summarize myself in this box.
I cannot summarize myself in this box with this fox eating lox.

"I'm finally running into myself on the way back. Never having started or finished... or some such cabbage.
As I am somewhat strangely strange. Meeting myself on the way down. Coming up down the other underside of the top. Making me laugh at the wit of myself, that isn't. Sending the last card of insurance book, back to the insurance fuck. With the address unknown, here, clearly written on the face of... as from fools they come to fools return. "Why not indeed?", she stated unclearly. When two of the many things happen, the sad one gets, and I am happy alone. Male species of one or two creep sideways, and try to steal into my mind. But there is no time for these threats to my freeness.
'The thread between sadways and happyways is slight', she said.
Yours insincerely... unfaithfully... amen b-men c-men...omen."

Plan of attack, crafting and creating, keeping my eyes, ears, and mind open, creating neat sound art, arting up found objects, playing with any synth I can get my mits on, observing/photographing the surroundings, traveling as much as I possibly can, and whenever the opportunity presents itself.
Dreaming of past and future world adventures.
Piano plinking, using my bike everyday in every way, keeping my head above the pond water, scribbling in my room with a sharpie, and a wood panel, whilst musical stylings being born in my basement drift up from below.
Day dreaming about dapper men helping me out of my Sundays Best, smiling to myself, laughing aloud, observation, city scout, observation.
Being so optimistic your face is melting off, and your eyes are beginning to bleed.

Accidentally elbowing short females in the head whilst dancing.

Finding joy in wind stirring the tops of trees.

Making art on something you give me.

Making art on you.

A tall glass of water, waiter.
Where is my water? I have been waiting for a tall glass for nearly thirty minutes and I just don't see what's taking so long let me speak to your manager go get your manager.

Writing left on my hand, on my face... the act of sleep.

I read books like my life depends on it.
I don't want to die because I stopped reading books.
mmmm knowledge addictions...
I make/play/listen to music like life might depend on it.
I put so much food into my mouth. So much. Will try anything edible.

This is Lazy Bones.

I don't want to lose my limbs.
voice. vision. mind. passion. bicycle.

Too much at once.

Megalodons, and The Challenger Deep.

How a depressed optimist is entirely possible.

Drawing something. Listening to something. Playing music something.
Homemade dinners with friends something. A glass of wine something. Friends spinning something. Group effort something. None of your business, something.

Was stung in the eye by a bee once on the fourth of July.

...

Eat gingersnaps in bed, sometimes.

dot dot dot

a lot of tongue and cheek.

You can carry a beat with a book in one hand whilst knocking me off of my feet, unplanned.
You're an attractive savant with social skills.
Own a bicycle.
You have a kind, strong, creative, sound mind, in a dapper dan skullcap.
Lyricists. Inspiring co conspirators. Unpretentious mavericks.