i like to tell stories

* ~ includes adult content

* ~ includes humans & animals in distress

* ~ drumming & singing recorded with permission

XI JULIUS

This Day Is An Anniversary Of An Exercised Right Of Choice

I looked at my love sleeping on the couch next to me exhausted in the pain from the procedure.

In that very moment I looked away and I promised myself that on this day next year,

I would spend the day creating something at the limits of my ability.

I have done this on this exact day every year since.

Every 11 July 2007 – 2024

In January 2022, 25 People Were Reported Missing

I Am Documenting All 24 Locations They Were Last Seen

I Miss People Everyday, This Is A Work In Progress

Year 17

DIES MARTIS XI JULIUS MMXXIII

11 JULY 2023

Year 16

DIES LUNAE XI JULIUS MMXXII

11 JULY 2022

Year 15

DIES SOLIS XI JULIUS MMXXI

11 JULY 2021

Year 14

DIES SATURNI XI JULIUS MMXX

11 JULY 2020

Kerry Stuart Coppin

I Promised Kerry I Would Be At His Funeral, Over 30 Years Later, I Was

From A Place Far Away To Providence, RI

22 MAY 1953 – 17 APR 2022, “A Short Story Made Long”

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25 AUG 2011 & 09 SEP 2011, Every Single Second of Student Joshua Deaner’s Interview

Kerry’s Photographs, Selected & Arranged By Kerry Prior To Death

KANSAS ISLAND

It was my first day at this college as a student.
It was his first day at this college as a professor.

That is how it began. I met a man for which metaphor and technique were both to be mastered as they were already married. A mere 20 weeks that then went mostly quiet on and off for thirty-one years minus a random note I would instigate or an electronic letter as technology allowed – or if you knew him as you may likely know, he allowed.

A photographic problem. An argument seeking understanding or enlightenment. Soft and quiet. Loud and heated. All of these things often all at once for hours and hours until: you understood as he desired, he needed, or you walked away. He was there, he would not stop. A conversation with no end.

I once brought him a fresh wet print of mine in a tray for guidance. I asked my question, he said, “How hard is it to make a photograph?” I replied, “It is the hardest thing I know.” This circle went round and round until he abruptly stopped speaking exclaiming, “Your print is dry.”

He gave me film when I ran out. He let me live in his home when he was not there. He swung at me when I first photographed him.

Eight years after we met and years without speaking, I tracked him down now halfway across the country almost in the middle of Kansas. We went for a drive and made photographs. Thirty-one years after we met I sent him an electronic letter inviting myself to now Rhode Island to go for a drive again and make photographs. A few days later, student Joshua Deaner called…

Kerry spoke of being alone at his death and he was.

I told him once I would attend his funeral and I did.

1999 Kansas in color/2022 Rhode Island in black and white.

On Kerry as a student:

“More – much more – production will solve your photographic problems.”

Aaron Siskind – 5/18/75

“Seems to have a very clear idea of what he is doing. Contributes a great deal to class. Has an obvious strong visual talent.”

Harry Callahan – 1/5/76

“What we have learned has yet to be made visible. Joy will come when we learn to do it fearlessly. The ability to grow is locked in with the ability to define.”

Ray K. Metzker – 5/29/77

On Jonathan as a student:

“Jonathan approaches art as an earnest, vital, and important affair… I am convinced that Jonathan is a highly motivated artist, committed to the use of visual art practice as a means to formalize and structure experience, into layers of content, and social political critique.”

Kerry S. Coppin – 12/15/21

“You’re going to the Philadelphia area? If you see Ray Metzker, tell him Kerry Coppin says he is an asshole.”

Kerry S. Coppin – Spring 1992

31 MAY 2020

Asheville, North Carolina

On May 30, 2020 – The Colorado Times Recorder documented thousands of people that voluntarily put their faces in the ground with their hands behind their back as they chanted, “I can’t breathe.” All these strangers came together to do this together for 9 mins. This is the amount of time it took for George Floyd to slowly be murdered by four officers and a system that allows and celebrates “Blue Lives” over all others at all costs.

On May 31, 2020 – officers in Asheville, NC did everything they could to make it as hard for those peacefully assembled, and often kneeling, to simply breathe. The Asheville Police Department even went as far as singling out and targeting a black man wearing a Colin Kaepernick shirt with a chemical weapon to the face.

Hold your breath for the length of this story, when it ends, hold your breath four more minutes.

Then do it again while four men hold you down while handcuffed.

06 JUN 2020

Asheville, North Carolina

There Is Something In The Air In The Appalachian Mountains Of North Carolina

I Saw, I Heard, I Met, The Man

02 JUN 2020

Asheville, North Carolina

On June 2, 2020, long after the protest for George Floyd and Police Brutality ended in downtown Asheville, NC., at approximately 2:30AM, many residents in the Shiloh neighborhood called 911 to report a fire.

The Venus Lodge No. 62 was engulfed in flames.

Venus Lodge No. 62 was the first black Masonic Lodge in Asheville, NC.

The cause of the fire is under investigation.

10,000

Price Hill Potter’s Field

Cincinnati, Ohio ~ EST. 1849

When An epidemic struck this mass grave was begun.

For 132 years 8,500-10,000 people were unceremoniously buried here.

They were deemed the city’s poor, unwanted, unknown, and “Pests.”

17 AUG 2020

Cindy McMillan On The Second Anniversary Of Her Husband’s Death

We Sat Down & Waited For Her To Begin Speaking, This Is That Wait

17 AUG 2020

Julia Black

XI JULIUS for DOT Editions Exhibition, A Projected Sampling Of Photographs All Made On July 11, 2007-2019

21 Prints by DOT Editions From DIES LUNAE XI JULIUS MMXVI, Year Number 10, XI JULIUS

Exhibited Oct/Nov/Dec 2019 ~ Asheville, NC

 

 
 
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A Sweaty Shirtless Man In Sunglasses I Did Not Know Told Me A Story

 

 
 
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I Never Realize When I Am Harmful

J O N A T H A N      S A U N D E R S

October 11 – December 20, 2019

The Gallery @ Dot Editions

821 Riverside Dr, Asheville, NC

Reception for the artist: October 11, 2019, 6 – 8 p.m.

The Gallery @ Dot Editions is pleased to present DIES LUNAE XI JULIUS MMXVI, the very first exhibition of work by photographer Jonathan Saunders, on view October 11 – December 20, 2019.

On July 11, 2006, Saunders and a love were faced with making a choice that would forever change the trajectory of their lives. They made their choice together – and that evening, Saunders made another pivotal decision: He would mark that significant moment the following year, on the exact date, with the promise to himself, “I will spend the day creating something at the limits of my ability.”

Saunders has kept that oath every July 11 since, producing an ever-growing body of work, each anniversary approached differently in terms of tools, techniques, planning, and happenstance. Images featured in this show were created entirely on the 10th anniversary – DIES LUNAE XI JULIUS MMXVI.

For DIES LUNAE XI JULIUS MMXVI, images were built using a mosaic technique comprised of a series of captures and exposures that were later stitched together to create a single image. This body of work was made in the Coso Mountain Range of California, and along the edge of a burned periphery of the Sequoia National Forest. Having scouted the locations briefly once months ahead of time, Saunders traveled to the area on July 10, 2016, set his tools in the darkness of the desert, and waited. At 12:00:30 AM on July 11, he began.

DIES MERCURII XI JULIUS MMXVIII

– – –

This Is The Anniversary Of A Choice

This Is Year Number Twelve

Wednesday, July 11, 2018
 
 

I looked at my love sleeping next to me, exhausted in the pain.

In that very moment I looked away and I promised myself that on this day next year, I would spend the day creating something at the limits of my ability.

I have done this on this exact day every year since.

This year old loves and loves I never knew sent me themselves from all over the world for me to have, for this day. My source, my mother, gifted me two drawings made this day. My brother’s daughter let me photograph her too. Then I went to where the water is called emerald and then to a place where the water is called black…

Then on this anniversary of all days I was attacked and stopped by a man with a uniform and a gun while photographing trees and that water they call black.

Someone called me black this day too.

I Kept My Oath

Sgt. William Cortez Dunsford Jr. Broke His

“Tyrant Alert” is language used on YouTube to warn the public of officers who are out of control, breaking their oath to the Constitution of The United States of America, and or pose an unregulated threat to the community they are failing to protect by openly breaking laws while wearing their badge.
 

These are the events of 11 July 2018 only as:

I allege.

I remember.

I experienced.

I documented.

On July 11, 2018 in Blackwater River State Park, I was attacked by three such men who were then backed by an information system within their department that lied about the existence of public records. These three men had no problem falsely reporting my race, witnessing fellow officers break the law, and falsifying charges all while being video recorded. The actions of these 3 Sheriffs and one unknown, un-named employee at Santa Rosa County Sheriffs Department have collectively silenced and mis-directed the public accountably and safety. Given the ranks and repeated behavior of this Department, I ceased all contact trying to hold them accountable out of fear for my safety. I have reported the attack to the FBI and the ACLU. I will live the rest of my life in fear that more false charges will be filed, that I personally will again be hunted and attacked by these specific officers, their unions, and the Santa Rosa County Sheriff Department. I have witness these exact things begin to happen across the country. Those with cameras to authority are routinely targeted, harassed, and or often accused of being pedophiles or terrorists as excuses to cause harm under the color of law while ignoring the law. It is real. Look around.

This department has publicly doxxed me, slandered me, libel me forever with unfounded, undocumented, disgusting hearsay, by an unknown, un-documented, likely non-existent, “complainant” and contrary to all witness statements about me they tried to coerce long after they attacked and falsely arrested me. They searched my phone and cameras without permission or warrant. They held my recordings for evidence they then never provided my lawyer on discovery.

I am sharing only the portions of the video for my safety and legal reasons that show some of the direct lies by SGT Dunsford who repeatedly states that I am correct about not showing ID then attacks and illegally arrests me anyway for not giving him ID. I was under no legal obligation to ID at any time. I am also sharing how SGT Dunsford gets in my face baiting violence while not letting me create distance, chases me around the parking lot with his hands hidden while I walk backwards for my safety from him. Dunsford later claims I got in his face yet this man is entrusted to detain, arrest, and kill based only on his word and is openly lying on video – repeatedly. Dunsford would also go on to falsify the entire arrest report.

I can only imagine the countless lives that have been ruined by Sheriff Departments like this one.

In June 2018, I finished a rigorous and extensive 6 month application process to be a photographer for a different Sheriff Department. I was chosen #3 of 10 finalists of 100’s. I am background check often by various places for various levels and assignments. My fear was not being ID, my fear was being needlessly and falsely added to facial and criminal act databases when I have not done anything.

I respect the law and did not break any. SGT. Dunsford, LT. Phillips, and DEP. Doggette did.

I share this as everyday, I see officers who openly break the law and it must end. Until it happens to you, I fear you cannot understand the terror, PTSD, social, and financial horror these fake arrests create. They further the hate of law enforcement endlessly, deeper, and dangerously.

Lt. Scott Phillips, Sgt. William Dunsford, and Dep. Mason Doggette:

Stalked me, menaced me with deadly and debilitating weapons,
blocked my freedom of movement, assaulted me, molested me,
tortured me, kidnapped me, extorted me, imprisoned me, robbed me,
slander/libel my name forever, searched my property without
my consent, erased/altered/stopped video, and they threaten
3 people 4 times using my device after they attacked and falsely arrested me.

Radio traffic shows I was reported by Dunsford as a “BLK MALE.”

I am red-ish headed, fair skinned, white man.

Press Play.

They claimed I was photographing children in the park. I was not and I was never anywhere near any.

Almost a month after the false arrest, they tried to coerce two professional female lifeguards from the lake that day that I did this.

Both swore, because it was true, that they never saw me photograph children.
 

Every Single Frame I Made Is In The Video, All Memory Cards Preserved

Not That They Asked To See & Only Searched Illegally After Attack, To Find Nothing

They claim there was a “complainant” that stated I, “Didn’t appear to have any children of my own present.” They seem to claim that since I have no children, I should not be allowed in the park with cameras.

Maybe If I Had Made A Difference Choice 12 Years Ago, I Would Not Have Been Attacked

 

 
 
 
I Once Knew A Polish Woman Who Would Later Marry A French Man Friend

Even Later Than That I Learned She Had An Identical Twin

Even Later I Fell In Love With Only Her Sister

To Me, They Did Not Look The Same

– – –

Much Later Than All This, The Polish Woman & French Man, They Got Divorced

 

 
 
 
I Like To Give Away Everything

 
 
 We Both Know The Inside Now Yet This Crystal Knows The Inside More Than I Do
 
 

 

 
 
 
C & T

 
 
&
 

“… If I Ever Touch Your Dick, You Will Not Like It…”

“… I Am Lucky, It Is Good For Handjobs…”

“… I Know What You’re Really Doing…”

… Of The Hundreds Of My Forever…

 
 
17 JUNE, – 9 x365

 
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InSight is a robotic Mars lander designed to study the interior and subsurface of Mars.
The mission launched on 5 May 2018 at 11:05 UTC and is expected to land on the surface of Mars at Elysium Planitia on 26 November 2018.

– Wikipedia

Woman (C)

Woman (N)

Woman (A)

 
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Two Decades

 

 
 
 
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Turn… Turn… Turn…
 

Tick… Tick… Tick…
 

… Today Is A Birth Of A Dead Man …

 
 
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DIES VENERIS XI JULIUS MMXIV
 
 

I looked at my love sleeping on the couch next to me, exhausted in the pain.

In that very moment I looked away and I promised myself that on this day next year,

I would spend the day creating something at the limits of my ability.

I have done this now every year since.

This is the anniversary of a choice.

I sent the internet a letter seeking someone to hire, a woman, to allow me to follow her, stare at her, record her, and pretend with her.

I accepted the fist response and we started the moment this day began under the false lights until our time ran out.

Then later in this same day, I repeated this process in among the everyone else under the real light who did not know and did not pretend.

Year Number Eight

Friday 11 July 2014

 
 
In A Shadow At The Top Of A Lone Hill,
The Moon Tried To Save Me From A Fire
That Is Always My Forever Burning.
 
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Obscuration: 62.8%

Start: 09:06:11.0
Max: 10:22:00.5
End: 11:45:53.7

When it started, I did. When it ended, I did.
 
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The images made within are all mosaics captured in sections and then reassembled, designed to be exhibited thirty by forty or larger.

Cover image is an image of the moon transitioning across the Sun, taken by SDO/NASA – in 171 Angstrom Extreme Ultraviolet Light on August 21, 2017.

A Real False Mars

In The Shadow Of A Real False Mars,
At The Gate Of A Real False Hell,
On An Actual Eve.

– – –
 

The Jet Propulsion Laboratory MarsYard is a simulated Martian landscape used by the research and flight projects to test different robotic prototypes in Pasadena, California.

I was not allowed access to the MarsYard, so I walked the JPL fence line shared with the Arroyo Seco watershed. In the Arroyo Seco is The Devil’s Gate.

In 1920 flood engineers from the Los Angeles County Flood Control District built Devil’s Gate Dam in the Arroyo Seco, the first flood control dam in Los Angeles County. Named for a rock outcropping which resembles the face of a devil, Devil’s Gate Gorge, located in northern Pasadena between La Cañada Flintridge and Altadena, is the narrowest spot on the Arroyo Seco’s course below Millard Canyon.

I walked this JPL FENCE line for 200 minutes on the eve of Christmas.

The images made here are all mosaics captured in sections and then reassembled, designed to be exhibited thirty by forty inches or larger.

Cover image is a mosaic of the Valles Marineris hemisphere of Mars projected into point perspective, a view similar to that which one would see from a spacecraft. The distance is 2500 kilometers from the surface of the planet, with the scale being .6km/pixel. The mosaic is composed of 102 Viking Orbiter images of Mars. source/Credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech.

A Seeing Man’s Daughter Gave Me Her Peak

An Unknown Man Hid From The Fire

I Watched A Hole Blow, Three Times

 

 
 
 
DIES MARTIS XI JULIUS MMXVII
 
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YEAR ELEVEN

HAND SEWN BOOK

ANNIVERSARY OF A CHOICE

TUESDAY ELEVEN JULY TWO THOUSAND SEVENTEEN

 

 
 
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Sing To Me

MINUTEMAN III INTERCONTINENTAL BALLISTIC MISSILE LAUNCH

03 MAY 2017, 12:02 AM PDT

MINUTEMAN III & MOON WAXING CRESCENT

 
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POLARIS WITH EARTH ROTATION, MOMENTS BEFORE THE LAUNCH

My Friend, He Told Me Everything Is Temporary, I Do Not Want To Believe Him

A Love, She Said To Me That For Me, Any Interaction Was:

“The Gates Of Heaven Or The Breath Of Hell”

I Believed Her

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A Stranger, Moments After I Met Her, Showed Me Her Forever

 
 
March 5, 1990 – December 10, 2014
 
 

The day before I met you, I was screaming and crying in my phone on a tarmac in the rain in West Virginia. The fight attendant was pleading with me to get on the small plane from the door, “Sir, we need to leave! You must board!” I ignored her and kept pleading into my phone against hope I knew would not work but I didn’t know how to not try. I looked at all the faces in the windows of the small plane, they were all angry and annoyed, but I could tell they also understood as they heard all the words I was screaming that I can no longer recall. I turned away from the door of the plane just as I got to it, my last pleas must be said one more time but I had to make this flight, there was no choice there. Finally, when I felt the attendants hand on my shoulder and a soft, “Sir, the pilot asks you to please board.” I closed the phone without a goodbye, turned around, stepped into the tiny plane, took my seat, looked at the faces staring back at me and I fell asleep for the first time in days.

We met really early in the morning while it was still dark outside. Your mother was getting you and your brother ready for school while your father introduced himself and left for work. I was your shadow all day long, no one questioned why, no one looked at me oddly, I was welcome to be your shadow – all day. Sitting in the middle of the small gymnasium next to you, across from you at lunch and by your side while the woman held up large oversize crayons and asked you to identify the colors. I watched you struggle and I watched you in victory. It was a personal joy the way you’d look towards the light that came from my hand each time I pressed that button on my forever machine. The machine in one hand, my light in the other, confused and seem to fascinate you just as I was fascinated watching in return. This was our game. On our drive home from your school through that Indiana dusk and rain I made my last few frames of you on my new, but old, favorite machine. When we arrived back at your home your father helped me set up for the family portrait and when no one else was watching he told me things I would never forget about you I would bet he never told anyone. I didn’t tell him that shortly before this moment, in a moment to ourselves, your mother asked me things about you she could never know… And I told her what I saw.

Later that night after having met you, alone in a hotel room arranging all the film from all the machines to be sent directly where it needed to go as fast technology then allowed I tried to not touch my phone. Make no more desperate pleas, make no calls to anyone that hadn’t called me and wonder who would ever ask or say the beautiful things about me that your parents had asked about you. I was sitting on the floor of the motel room between the two beds and under the sole lamp that worked. All my film was arranged in neat little rows and I counted them out. There was a roll still in my favorite machine, the machine from the car ride at dusk. I grabbed the machine, flipped it over and took off its baseplate… And then I screamed. I hadn’t wound the film back in the canister. 1000’s of rolls and muscle memory and I had never done this before. Instinct took back over and I got the baseplate back on as fast as I could and started crying again just like I had at the airport in West Virginia a little more than 24 hours ago. I rewound the film, removed it, marked it and sent it along to the client in the morning without sleeping all night. I would not know the fate of or see this film for months. When it was returned I ripped open the package and found this frame, light streaked but just as beautiful as I remembered. I printed it really large and staple gunned it to my wall. This is what meeting you meant to me.

 
 
I Saw You Everyday For 13 Years

 
 
Dorothy Was Murdered Here
 

Dorothy Ruth Hoogstraten took the stage name Dorothy Stratten & was a Canadian Playboy Playmate, model, & actress. Stratten was the Playboy Playmate of the Month for August 1979 & Playmate of the Year in 1980… Stratten appeared in three comedy films & in at least two episodes of shows broadcast on US network television. She was murdered at the age of 20 by her estranged husband/manager Paul Snider, who committed suicide on the same day. Her death inspired two motion pictures: 1981’s Death of a Centerfold: The Dorothy Stratten Story, Jamie Lee Curtis portrayed Stratten & Bruce Weitz played Paul Snider & Bob Fosse’s 1983 feature film, Star 80, starring Mariel Hemingway as Stratten & Eric Roberts as Snider.

Hugh Hefner reportedly encouraged Stratten to sever ties with Snider, calling him a “hustler & a pimp.” Rosanne Katon & other friends warned Stratten about Snider’s behavior. Stratten began an affair with Peter Bogdanovich while he was directing They All Laughed, her first major studio film. Snider hired a private investigator to follow Stratten. They separated & Stratten moved in with Bogdanovich, planning to file for a divorce from Snider. By August 1980 Snider most likely believed that he had lost Stratten & what he had called his “rocket to the moon.”

Shortly after noon on August 14, 1980, Snider & Stratten met at Snider’s house, where the two had once lived as a couple, & which Snider was by then sharing with its owner, their mutual friend, Dr. Stephen Cushner. Stratten had come to talk about an amicable divorce and brought along $1,000 to give to Snider. At approximately 11 p.m., Snider’s private investigator called Cushner on his private line, saying that he had been trying to call Snider for several hours, but Snider wasn’t answering. Although there were many guests in the residence, Snider’s bedroom door was closed & they assumed Snider’s privacy was essential. Cushner broke into Snider’s room & discovered the nude bodies of Snider & Stratten, both having been shot with a Mossberg 12-gauge shotgun. Police believed that Snider murdered Stratten, who was 20, then abused & raped her corpse, before turning the shotgun on himself.

In 1984, Peter Bogdanovich’s book about Stratten was published, titled The Killing of the Unicorn. Four years later, at age 49, Bogdanovich married Stratten’s sister, Louise, who was 20. Bogdanovich had paid for Louise’s private schooling and modeling classes following Stratten’s death. They divorced in 2001 after being married for 13 years. – Wikipedia®

 
 
… 14 Years Later …
 

 
 
Nicole Was Murdered Here
 

Nicole Brown Simpson was the ex-wife of professional football player, O. J. Simpson and the mother of two of his children, Sydney and Justin. She was killed at her home in Brentwood, Los Angeles, California, along with her friend, a restaurant waiter named Ron Goldman. O.J. Simpson was acquitted of the murders but was later found liable for the deaths in a civil trial.

Brown met Simpson in 1977 when she was 18 years old, while working as a waitress at a nightclub. Although he was still married to his first wife, Marguerite, they began dating. He and Marguerite divorced in March 1979. Simpson and Brown were married on February 2, 1985, five years after his retirement from professional football. The marriage lasted seven years, during which they had two children, Sydney and Justin. Simpson pleaded no contest to spousal abuse in 1989. Brown filed for divorce on February 25, 1992, citing “irreconcilable differences.”

During their separation and later divorce, Simpson built a relationship with model Paula Barbieri, and Brown had relationships as well, including with her friend Faye Resnick and an alleged affair with Simpson’s friend, fellow football player and football analyst Marcus Allen. Allen denies the allegation, though it is backed by multiple members of his and Brown’s inner circle, such as O.J. Simpson, Faye Resnick, confidants to Sheila Weller, and Simpson’s defense attorneys, who claimed Allen confessed the affair to Simpson. Simpson nonetheless let his friend get married at Simpson’s North Rockingham Avenue estate. Beginning in 1993, Brown and Simpson attempted to reconcile, but “they were a dramatic, fractious, mutually obsessed couple before they married, after they married, after they divorced in 1992, and after they reconciled, at the fraying edge of which reconciliation the murder occurred.”

At 12:10 a.m. on June 12, 1994, Nicole Brown Simpson and Ronald Goldman were found murdered outside of Nicole’s Bundy Drive condominium in the Brentwood area of Los Angeles. Brown had been stabbed multiple times in the head and neck, and had defensive wounds on her hands. Through the gaping wound in her neck, the larynx could be seen, and vertebra C3 was incised. Both victims had been dead for several hours prior to their discovery. Among other evidence, one of the first two officers on the scene, Robert Riske, discovered a single bloody glove. – Wikipedia®

 
 
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Dorothy Was Murdered In 1980 By Her Jealous Husband

Nicole Was Murdered In 1994 By Her Jealous Ex-Husband
 
Nicole Was Murdered On Bundy Drive, One Home Away From The Cross Street Of:

Dorothy Street

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At This Corner, At The Same Time Of Night The Body Of Nicole Was Found, Under A Street Light, I Found:

One Glove

 
 
What A Map Taught Me

 
 
Trump On The Other Side Of A Wall – Las Vegas, Nevada – During Debate #3
 

Nothing Big, Is Built Alone

 
 
Hillary Emptied & Refilled – Mohave County, Arizona – Parking Lot, Hoover Dam
 

 
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I Once Wanted To Meet A Crystal
 

 
 
[ Listen To Us ]
 
 

Hear Us
 

 
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Miles I Counted I Do Not Remember, More Weight Than I Could Carry
 

 
Because The Words I Waited & Wanted To Hear Arrived, Before & After I Came I Left
 

 

 
 
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The Man Rolled Down His Window In Flight & Screamed, “You, Sick, Fucks!”

 
 
P O L A R I S
 
 

Once a month I photographed the North Star.

Each photograph took approximately two hours to create.

When this year was over, I stacked each of the twelve photographs into one photograph.

The photograph above is one photograph, that took 24 hours to create, over the course of one year.

 

 
 
DIES SATURNI XI JULIUS MMXV
 
 
Every July Eleventh, I Make A Portfolio Of Photographs

All Photographs Made Entirely Within The Twenty-Four Hours Of The Day

This Is Year Number Nine
 
 
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DIES IOVIS XI JULIUS MMXIII

This Is Year Number Seven
 
 
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DIES MERCURII XI JULIUS MMXII

This Is Year Number Six
 
 
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ANNIVERSARY OF A CHOICE

The thunder of a helicopter was raining down almost deafening you. The sound of a taser was crackling again and again as its electricity radiated all over your body. The crack of wood hitting the pavement and then your bones pierced the thunder and crackling again and again and again and again. The thump of a shoe against your skull again and again drove you further to the ground. The lights coming at you from all sides blinded you from knowing or seeing what was coming next or happening this way or that. The voices surrounding you, screaming at you with conflicting directions fueled by hate and fear made anything you did only prolong the beating. Then finally, your body gave up. You collapsed in unimaginable pain as a swarm of strangers with guns rolled you onto your stomach and tied you like a hog after breaking 11 bones at the base of your skull, breaking your leg, and fracturing your cheekbone. The strangers with guns then finally all stopped as they walked away, momentarily leaving you completely alone tied in knots lying on the pavement. There, lying where that road meets the dirt, still all alone – you rolled your body over onto your back and were left looking up towards the stars in the sky trying to find any comfort you could.

Far away in the dark there was a forever machine no one involved knew was there, watching, because in this moment…

There was nothing else that forever machine could do.

 
 
RODNEY KING
 
 

On March 3, 1991, in Los Angeles, a high-speed chase was initiated by California Highway Patrol officer Melanie Singer after motorist Rodney King was observed behind the wheel of a 1988 white Hyundai Excel allegedly traveling at a high speed. The chase ended on the right shoulder of Foothill Boulevard. Koon and four other officers (Laurence Powell, Timothy Wind, Theodore Briseño and Rolando Solano) attempted to arrest King. The officers stated that King resisted arrest and Officers Powell, Wind and Briseño had to use force to subdue him. The incident was videotaped by a nearby resident, George Holliday, who gave it to local TV station KTLA. The station aired parts of the video and CNN aired it the next day. The police officers were tried for the use of excessive force in state court in Simi Valley in 1992 and acquitted on April 29 that year. Later the same day the 1992 Los Angeles riots erupted, which went on to claim the lives of fifty-three people. In 1993, the four officers were tried in a federal court in Los Angeles; Koon and Powell were convicted of violating King’s civil rights and sentenced to 30 months in prison.

– Wikipedia®

 

 
 
– – –
 

SOUTHWEST CORNER OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

 
 
Ouch
 
 

 
 
I Want A Home On Your Grave
 
 

 
 
The Only True Love I Have Felt, Was That Of An Older Woman
 
 

 
 
That Girl In The Bag
 
 

 
 
The Woman You Do Everything For Will Not Love You For It
 
 

 
 
She May Live In Your Home, It Doesn’t Mean She Is Yours
 
 

 
 
When I Actually Met This Coolest Man, He Really Was That Fucking Cool
 
 

 
 
The Woman You Do Everything For Will Not Love You For It
 
 

 
 
I Never Want The Dead To Leave Me
 
 

 
 
Love Me Like Your Wife Does Me
 
 

POLARIS X – v.C

 
 
From My Cliff I Can See Your Castle
 
 

3.67 % OF A 24 HOUR DAY

– – –

( The Sound Of A Woman I Love, I No Longer Know & Question, Reading Me A Letter To Her, From A Man Who Had Loved Her, Too )

25 JAN 2010, 23:00:21 / 15 MAR 2016, 19:48:31 \ 26 JAN 2010, 19:33:30

 
– – –
 

One Day Apart I Took This Red Line To & From A Place, That Same One Day Apart I Heard The Same Sound

2,241 Days Later, I Took This Red Line Again To An Almost Same Place

I Heard Nothing & I Am Still Broken For My Law

* – Richter

Ginsberg / O’Bedlam

Deep

Poe / Halloway

Dirty

Bukowski / O’Bedlam

Demon

Poe / Rathbone

Deliver

Matthew / Burroughs

Delight

Bukowski / O’Bedlam

Die

Bukowski

Damn

Auden

 
 
Jared Leto Climbing A Rock
 
 

 
 
Listen & Read
 
 

 
 
Your Bruise Matches Your Eye Shadow

 

 
 
– – –

In The Shadow Of A Real False Mars,
At The Gate Of A Real False Hell,
On An Actual Eve.

–

 
 
34º 12’ 4.709” N 118º 10’ 17.019” W

–

TWO HUNDRED MINUTES
 
 
8×8 inches, 24 pages, 20 photographs
 
 

 

 
 
 
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Shepherd Of The Hills
– – –
Jonathan Saunders
 
 

 
 
8×10 inches, 104 pages, 85 photographs / i am king edward, for martha
 
 

 

The North Star
 
 

 
 
Fly & Burst

 
 
THE NORTH STAR
 
 

 
 
THE SILENT SEA, THIS KING RED WOOD NUMBER THREE

 
I Once Screamed A Specific Name Twenty Times In A Specific Place
 
It Was Answered By A Stranger
 
With That Specific Name
 
 
– – –
 
 

 
 
Fly Tower Eclipse Orange
 
 

 
 
Nearby, In This Place, Up In The Sky
 
 

 

 
 
HEXAGON 1000 – I Was There 69 Days – I Mapped 1,165,755 Sq Ft – I Made 13,987 Photographs – A Preview
 
 

All My Love, V

 

 
 
She Signed Her Note – All My Love, V & Then I Told 18 Short Stories
 
 
– – –
 
 
Your Will Finally Let You Leap… For 18 Stories & A Handful Of Seconds, V Could Fly
 
 

 

 
 
DIES IOVIS XI JULIUS MMXIII
 
 

Every July 11, I make a book of photographs. This book is year number seven. I went to the woods and stared at a clock, waiting in the dark for midnight so I could begin. When the day began in the middle of night, I moved among the trees I found.

Later this day in the sunlight, I found a dark place and I stayed there waiting. I had made an open request to photograph all the women I knew as well as a request on the Internet to any that would agree. In this dark place, I photographed each woman that answered these calls the exact same way, twice.

When the outside became dark again, I found another area made of wood and began photographing the trees I found there as well. I did this until the clock again struck midnight.

 
 
– – –
 
 

 
 
DIES MERCURII XI JULIUS MMXII
 
 

Every July 11, I make a book of photographs. This book is year number six.

 

 
 
Dream Lot Here, This Place Was Made For You To Believe

Sunset Dawn

 

 
 
On The Day I Was Born I Took My Gift To Give Away & I Risked The Nature Of My Blood
 
 

The Hour I Was Deaf

 

 
 
On 13 April 2010, I Was Given A Scar – This Is What It Looked Like 7:30PM-8:30PM

 

 
 
“________ Had A ________ Last Week” – At 22 Weeks
My Parents Married Each Other, 45 Years Ago
1 Nude Woman Played Me The Cello
And 8 Strangers Let Me Hear Them Cry Out
 
 
– – –
 
 
 

 
 
7 Days & 7 Nights

 

 
 
Christmas Eve
 
 
 

 
 
Christmas Day

What I Saw, This 4th Day, Of This 5th Month, That Year

When I turned 18, America forcibly taught me my life was less valuable than a woman’s. I don’t know where you’re from. I don’t know what you learned. I don’t know how you learned it. I know I didn’t invite you here. I know I didn’t ask you anything. I know I didn’t say anything to you. I don’t know what you want from me. I don’t know if you want my money. I don’t know if you want my attention. You just appeared here all on your own, a MAPS spelled backwards, deaf, mute and blind to any real me, seeing you. I waited for you to leave, as is my nature, but my source of energy died.

So how did you know how old I almost was? How do you know I shave my head? How did you know it’s hard to be me? How did you know I cannot catch on? How do you know I don’t know what I am doing? How did you know I am an asshole? How did you know I am terrified of you? Do you really think I am fine?

Do you really want to thank me?

“ They Don’t Get Life The Way I Get It “

Dead Man Circle

 

 
 
I Travelled To The Place Of A Powerful Dead Man & I Looked In Every Direction At Once

 

 
 
Air Force Airman 1st Class Corey C. Owens
 

– – –

 

 
 
” Battalion 18, Lifeforce 92, Patient DOA, Notify Arson ”
 
 
– – –
 
 

 
 

It felt like an emergency, so I wanted to call 911

 
This Is White Oak

– – –

DIES SATURNI XI JULIUS MMXV

[ anteludium ]

THE NORTH STAR

 

 
 
 
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Baron, The Warrior
 
– – –
 
21 JUN 2015

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I Am Her Well Of Everything

 

 
 
DIES IOVIS XI JULIUS MMXIII
 
– – –
 
All Photographs 11 July 2013
 
 

Every July 11, I make a book of photographs. This book is year number seven. I went to the woods and stared at a clock, waiting in the dark for midnight so I could begin. When the day began in the middle of night, I moved among the trees I found.

Later this day in the sunlight, I found a dark place and I stayed there waiting. I had made an open request to photograph all the women I knew as well as a request on the Internet to any that would agree. In this dark place, I photographed each woman that answered these calls the exact same way, twice.

When the outside became dark again, I found another area made of wood and began photographing the trees I found there as well. I did this until the clock again struck midnight.

 
 
ACQUIRE
 
 

 
 
PRAELUDIUM
 
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XI JULIUS | Ten Books | Ten Years | 2007 – 2016

 
 
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” Breathe Me & Drink Me “
 
 

 
 
“ That’s Because You’re Insane ”
 
 

 
 
d.     19 October 2014
 
 
You Never Once Said No, To Any Place I Asked You To Go
 
 

 
 
On 12 December 2010, I Drove In A Short Circle & I Made 5 Photographs
 
 
On 12 December 2010, A Man Named Wayne, Unknown To Me & Somewhere Out There, Took His Own Life
 
 



 
 
A Handful Of Years Later, Hours After Meeting His Widow & Slow Dancing With Her Where I Stay, She Asked When I Was Born
 
 
When I Told Her, She Pulled Back & I Saw Her Cry
 
 

 
 
Wayne & I, Were Born The Same Day
 
 

 
 
Before She Left, She Let Me Photograph Where Her Heart Lives
 
 

The man exhausted everything he had finding her, over and over. The man followed the trail she left for only him, over and over. She wanted to run, she wanted to be chased, she wanted to be found and she was – all these things. She wanted to see him bang on that glass with all his might screaming her name twenty times and when she did see this, she looked at him with all her awe…. Then behind that glass, this very glass right here in only this place on earth, she screamed his name back without fear. This happen because it was a movie.

I exhausted everything, over and over. I followed the trail left for only me, over and over. She wanted to run, she wanted to be chased, she wanted to be found and she was – all these things. I banged on this glass you see here with all my might and when she did see this, she looked at me with awe… I know this as I photographed her do so over and over. I listened for my name but it never came, only parts of me scattered and reflected back in her fear set on fire. A fire so hot I stopped looking. I don’t know when she married him, before I was there or during or after. I just know what I was shown: trail after trail, crumb by crumb, over and over, fragments of what you see on this glass here, forever reflecting from all the places I was involuntarily taken.

I Walked Up To This Locked Glass

I Stood Here & I Screamed A Name Twenty Times Just Like That Man Had

I Shut My Eyes & I Listened

 
– – –
 

In The Sound Of Silence, I Walked A Circle Around Only This Place On Earth, Saying All The Names I Wish I Screamed

A Ride On A Vessel

I parked my chariot and walked to the ramp. I wanted to take this vessel all the way one way and then all the back, right back to where I started. I wanted to ride this circle. I had no idea how long this journey would take. Tonight, this night, details like that, well, they just didn’t matter. So this is exactly what I did. It was already late, already dark when I arrived. Everyone else, almost everyone else, was in a vehicle. I was almost the only one on foot.

It was night and the sky above was now all black.

Tonight on this way out, there were five others also on foot. A woman with her new child and no father in sight. Another woman with her new child and no father in sight, either. And a lone man, a typical good natured Texas young man. I talked to these women, I asked for their permission to record what they look liked to me this night. They said, “Yes.” I talked to this lone man, too. He was here as well because he had no where else better to be in this, his state of Texas, after a long journey away. He had been farther north than I had on mine. A farther true north where it was his task to rebuild that line through a place. Now he was here, on this vessel, looking for some new thing, just like me.

As he and I parted ways, I saw he had a symbol of death scribed forever where his spine connects to his brain and where he himself cannot directly see it, even if he were to try. So I asked him, “Can I record it?” He said, “Yes.” I pointed my machine right at it and my machine burst its fake lightning all over it. Because of this false lightning, I can, I will, see it forever even when I look directly at it. Maybe this idea of death he cannot see or want to see, when he looks for it, like a woman I once saw couldn’t see the lightning when she tried.

I made my way to a private place on the outside of this vessel where no one could see me. I wanted to be alone and I put my forever machine away. I stepped up really close to the steel of this vessel. I rested my face against the steel of this vessel. I put my face inside a crack of this steel vessel. I stuck my tongue out, into this crack of this steel vessel. This steel vessel did not taste like what my memory can.

This Was The One Time I Had Actually Been On This Vessel, But I Had Been Taken Aboard Before

I Walked Towards The Door, I Stopped, I Shut My Eyes, I Took A Photograph Of Myself And I Hoped

– – –

370 days ago a gift was purchased for me at this truck stop in Louisiana. In the story I was told, and delightfully also printed on the receipt, this gift was purchased from a woman named Crystal. This Crystal was remembered and spoken of in high regard. I liked this story, I liked this gift.

After hearing this story, I decided then that if I ever found myself along this road in Louisiana, I would take a portrait of this Crystal, at this truck stop.

I found myself on this road racing towards Texas. It was almost midnight on a day that had already been too long. In the dark I approached an exit and it was not until I saw the name of this little town that I remembered this desire in myself. I almost missed it, I almost drove right by. The road was taking it’s toll on my mind more than I wanted to admit. I did not have the receipt with the address on me nor had I written it down. I went towards the brightest place in all that dark, tried to remember every detail I could and assumed this must be the place. It had to be the place. I stopped, I filled my borrowed chariot with gas and I looked at the clock, it was almost midnight. I wanted it to be the next day as soon as possible.

I walked towards the door, I stopped, I shut my eyes, I took a photograph of myself and I hoped that I was about to meet this Crystal.

I walked by the register, there stood two women, both with their name tags covered by other shirts or jackets and a tingle ran through my body, which one could it be? I found myself something to buy and approached the register. The man with the gun guarding the door was looking directly at me and my big ridiculous forever machine. I was almost the only one in there and I would be suspicious of me too.

I made my purchase, slowly counted my change and then explained my story. The two women looked at me up and down, then back at one another and then back at me. “Oh, yes, I remember Crystal. She moved to [this place].” We continued chatting for a moment or two, I thanked them repeatedly and explained to them that if I ever happen to find myself here again, maybe I would try to take their portrait. Tonight our story wasn’t complete, for we had only just met.

As I walked out the door, that man with the gun standing guard, he said quietly to me almost too low to hear, “You have a good night.” I told him to, “Keep this place safe,” and I stepped outside just in time to watch it become a new day in the middle of the night. I then made photographs for the Crystal I could not find, wherever she happen to be this night, knowing it is entirely possible that I will never meet her or see her beauty with my own eyes.

I pretended I had met this Crystal, I pretended I had heard from the woman that gave me the gift Crystal sold her and I started walking back towards my borrowed chariot knowing my best efforts had not been enough.

So I made another photograph of myself with my eyes closed.

– – –

My forever machine had been slung around up onto my shoulder and was dangling aimlessly as I walked between the cars. I had walked too far from my borrowed chariot, still sitting at the gas pump from before I walked into the store. As I walked between the cars, I heard her voice before I saw her. “What are you doing?” she asked me. I assumed she saw me pointing that ridiculous machine at myself under the light. “Taking some photographs of myself so I can tell a story later,” I told her.

“Do you make any money doing that?”

“No, not really.”

Then she told me she was on her way to New Orleans so I told her I was on my way to Texas. Then she told me about some troubles she had and how hard life was for her and her babies. So I told her about my troubles and how hard my life was too sometimes although I had no babies. We talked a minute or two more, I thought we were getting to know one another as people do when they first meet over these tales of our shared woe. Eventually she asked me:

“Is there anything I can help you with so you can help me?”

I didn’t really understand the question and thought about it for a moment.

“Where is your truck parked?”

I turned and pointed towards the pumps in the distance, wondering why she thought I drove a truck.

“It’s over there, still at the pumps by all those cars, I wandered off.”

She told me another story about more of her troubles and that she only had $6. I thought about her question some more. I knew I had $10 left in my pocket from my purchase in the store trying to find Crystal.

“Can I take your portrait smoking that cigarette before you light it, I can pay you $10 for ten minutes of portrait time, how does that sound?”

She laughed and asked why would I want a photograph of her smoking. I told her I just like to photograph people smoking and had my whole life. She kept laughing and said:

“Okay, just stand here and smoke?”

“Yes.”

She lit her cigarette and I started photographing her. I did this for one minute and twenty-one seconds, thirty photographs. My memory card became full. I reached for my pocket where the other one lives. It was not there.

“We are done, thank you.” I gave her the $10 I promised.

“That’s it?”

“Yes, it was really nice to meet you.”

We shook hands and she stomped out her cigarette and I started off towards my borrowed chariot and she went back towards her small, red, dented, two door. As I got close under that canopy of lights, something started hitting me. Softly, but hard, with force, randomly all over my body as I got towards my door, desperately trying to remember her name. It was unique and I realized I had forgotten it. At that same moment I realized I was being pelted by insects attracted to all those lights overhead. They were insects like I had never seen, even after 13 years in New York City. These were like roaches but different colors, had wings and were as big as a babies fist. I jumped into my borrowed chariot as fast I could only to realize I had left the moon roof open.

I jumped out, knocked off all the insects in a panic and started walking back to get her name. Standing there outside my borrowed chariot having a panic knocking insect after insect off me, I saw that dented little red two door of hers go flying by me, windows down with her voice carrying outward as her tires squealed out over the insects littering the parking lot.

I had not noticed all these beautiful creatures when I arrived so shortly ago.

– – –

The moon roof now closed, the bugs all knocked off and a new memory card loaded, I sat at the fork exiting the truck stop. Left back to the highway, right to the hotel and food. I wanted, I needed to stop, yet it was clear to me in this moment, I needed to get to that Texas line. It was still many more miles away than I should be driving, I just wasn’t yet ready to hit that highway, not yet. I went right, right to the Waffle House®.

I pulled up and there were no cars in the lot but the lights were on and there were two women sitting on the curb out front, directly in front of the door wearing Waffle House® attire. I pulled up next to them, put my window down,

“Are you open?”

“Yeah, we open, why everyone keep asking us that?”

“Because it looks closed,” I told her politely laughing. She laughed too and we all sat there talking for some time, me in the borrowed chariot, window down, the two women sitting there smoking. It took serious effort to understand each word, the accents had such specific beauty, I wanted to be sure I savored it. I didn’t really want to go inside. I got out of the borrowed chariot, ridiculous machine still swinging from my shoulder. We kept talking.

A man boy arrived out of nowhere, taller than me (I am six foot one), taller than me by a great deal and skinny as a rail. He said something to me I swear wasn’t even English and started laughing at his own comment instantly. I never got him to repeat it. Then it was the four of us, standing outside the door of the Waffle House® telling one another stories. I could have stood there hours.

A group arrived next to us in a car, put their window down,

“Ya’ll open?”

The two women looked at me and started laughing while they went inside. I stayed outside for a moment, watching the new car unload four twenty-somethings that looked fresh out of Brooklyn, but had likely never left Louisiana, all walk by me as if I wasn’t there and go inside. The tall skinny rail was still outside too, thumbing around a burnt out cigarette and looking for more on the asphalt. I asked him if I could take his photograph smoking:

“Helya no you caint.”

He then went inside as fast as he could. I stood there a minute, wondering why, only as he had a minute ago been so curious. My hunger made me forget this and I walked inside. I stood inside the door, the Brooklyn kids were at the counter, no non-awkward spot was to be had there. There were three booths lining the front window, one was empty and dirty, the middle one had a young woman sitting there alone, head to toe in green and the last booth was also empty, but one woman who had been outside and friendly a minute ago, was sitting on the last stool directly next to it now glaring at me. There was no non-awkward spot to choose. I chose to head towards the one clean booth and to go ahead and face the girl in all green, head to toe all green, even if it meant we’d be staring at one another over the empty side of her booth and the empty side of mine.

Just as I started towards my seat, skinny rail jumped up from the counter where he had taken a perch next to the Brooklyn kids,

“Dooode, ya got a craze giant bug on you!!!!!!”

As he said this, the Brooklyn kids all jumped from their seats and ran towards the booths away from me, the waitresses ran away from the center of the restaurant and even the cook I only now noticed ran back from me. There I was, in the middle of this Waffle House® just after midnight, spinning in a circle with my ridiculous machine flying outward on its strap, slapping my body randomly to knock off a giant insect I had not yet seen, still on me from the truck stop. I stopped spinning and asked the skinny rail,

“Did I get it!?!”

“Naugh maaan, ya arm pit, ya armpit!”

I had practically ripped my shirt off in the middle of this Waffle House®, big ridiculous machine bouncing all around, when I finally saw a large, giant black beetle or roach or whatever fall to the ground. I kicked it over and over toward the door, opened the door, kicked it through and then turned towards the inside of the Waffle House®. The entire place was as far from me as it could be. I arranged my shirt back into place, placed my big ridiculous machine back under my arm and asked the skinny rail, “Anymore?” He just shook his head no and sat down. I stared at my feet, walked to my awkward spot in the corner booth and sat down. The woman who had been friendly outside and only glared at me inside, got up from her spot nearby at the counter, walked to other side of the counter and sat back down. I ordered and waited. The green girl across from my booth never once looked up at me or away from her phone. She had on a green bandanna of sorts high up in her dark hair, a green shirt with a giant frog on it and green stockings. She looked as if she was dressed for a rave and this girl was not kidding around about it. She was ready for her close up in a movie, here, in Waffle House®, after midnight, in nowhere Louisiana. It was wonderful and I couldn’t stop staring. I was the sweaty, odd, old guy in the room who had just brought in a giant beetle. Everyone was done talking to me.

I ate my food and waited for the check. Everyone else had left by the time it came. The woman who brought this check was the first woman who had spoken to me outside and laughed when I asked her if they were open. She was really sweet when she brought it and told me to have a safe drive. I told her to have a safe night and looked down at the check. Her name was Karen, just like my mother.

As I was going through the door, looking for the insect I had kicked out earlier, tall skinny rail was there. He made a point to jump out of the way and avoid me but more oddly, the downward facing lens line of the big ridiculous machine still dangling from my shoulder. I asked him why so scared of a forever machine and his response was that a man was holding it. If I had been a woman, he’d have been posing away for me.

I had only been stopped in Louisiana 66 minutes.

– – –

I was on the highway now. Not staying in Louisiana was becoming more and more of a good idea, at least for this night. I had started off on this journey so long ago and it was now just after one in the morning. I wanted that Texas line and it was not going to be easy. The moment that thought entered my mind is when I saw it. On the side of the road, coming up on my right, the only lights around in the perfect dark, was a U-Haul truck pulling a trailer and a car, all filled and bursting with extra items tied to them where there really shouldn’t be. It was sitting there idle with a man standing out of the drivers door, high beams lighting up the road in front. There, just on the edge of the high beams and the edge of the asphalt, was a woman in a pink house dress, holding the hand of a small boy with his pants around his ankles, urinating out into the wild.

If that little boy can do that in a moment like this as fearless as he seemed, surely I can make Texas.

I put the windows down, I opened that moon roof back up and turned up the music.

– – –

I made that Texas line. I again almost missed noticing it in the dark. I started looking for a place to stop. I have crossed this east Texas line twice now this year, both times felt the same and it wasn’t the joy I hoped for, both times a total surprise of things I had desired so greatly going so wrong.

I ended up stopping in the one town I didn’t want to, almost to spite myself. I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I checked into a hotel and went to the room leaving everything in the borrowed chariot, minus the machines. I took off all my clothes, laid down and thought the sleep would wash over me like a pleasant wave. The moment my head hit the pillow I was no longer tired. I was ready to start the day all over again.

I had been awake almost 24 hours, I had made 1,493 photographs and 77 videos in 15 hours 1 minute total trip time, 8 hours 44 minutes driving time, 6 hours 16 minutes stopped time, averaged 61.9 MPH and traveled 541 miles across 5 states.

I laid there a few hours, shut my eyes and pretended to sleep. I stayed in the hotel as late as I could, ignoring the call of the road to get out of this town. I packed my gear and went to check out, I had received no receipt under my door. At the counter there was a woman who politely helped me. For reasons I still don’t know, it took over twenty minutes to check me out of the room I did not sleep in. We chatted, I made jokes, she laughed, she smiled and I told her stories. I didn’t want to leave that counter, please have a more difficult time checking me out. I asked her if I could take her photograph and she simply replied that she hated having her photograph made. Yet there I was, making one anyway, as the machine sat on the counter not quietly making an image. Her eyes charmingly rolling and rolling at me.

Then I was on the road again. It was no longer an adventure, it was an errand. I pulled over before the town line, the one town I never wanted to be in. I pulled into an abandon looking driveway and I called that hotel in which I did not sleep. The same woman I photographed answered just as I had hoped. I asked her to have lunch with me and I could hear her eyes rolling at me again as she politely declined.

I got back on the road.

Tracy / Sharpe – A True Story, is available exclusively at – Arcana: Books On The Arts
 
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“Th_re / is / st_ll / th_s / p_ge.”

&

“S_ge”

 
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Seventeen

 

 
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Eighteen

 

 
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Nineteen

 

 
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I sat on the orange couch next to her. Having never touched her before, and wanting to, I put my arm around her, around the small of her back and just past her hip. My hand fell on her thigh. I left it there. Time passed and I was not asked to remove it. I moved my hand slowly and found a tear, a rip, a hole that fashion had placed on her jeans on the top of her thigh. I suddenly felt bare skin. I liked it. I caressed it. Time passed. I kept caressing. The world had stopped while I felt her flesh for the very first time. Suddenly without warning, she stood, she said something I cannot recall, she hit me, I saw a tear well and then she was gone…

I went back to my room of dark and sat in there, not seeing anything at all but more dark.

I never saw her again, I never spoke with her again and I never heard anything about her, again.

Then out of the clear blue sky, I noticed she had seen me electronically in a place from afar.

So I sat down and I wrote her, described to her, and apologized to her for what I had done, felt and recalled.

From the moment I first felt her flesh to when I wrote this letter of apology, was exactly twenty years.

She wrote me back in exactly 30 days telling me she had no recollection.

Seven months later I found myself in a place not far from where she was.

So I blindly invited her to meet me for a moment, a photograph, a something, an anything.

She accepted.

I bought her dinner and we told stories until our hours in that place expired. She invited me into her chariot without a ceiling and she floored it into the desert. We bounced in our seats through the wind as we stared up at the dark waiting and wondering when and where we’d see the stars overhead. There was an eclipse this very night and the moons brightness was hiding so many of those stars. The shadow of the mountains grew larger as all unnatural light faded, leaving us in the glow of reflected sunlight about to be extinguished by the shadow the earth makes. A shadow we can only see on a night only like this one. She pulled over turning up the heat as we sat in her chariot without a ceiling and as she stared upwards I stared at the sunlight bouncing off the moon bouncing off of her and all around. I put my hand back on her thigh where I once again believed it was suppose be. She looked at me, smiled, hit me again, only now she laughed and then looked back upwards. I kept my hand right where it was and I squeezed, hard, over and over and over and never wanted to let go. I told her exactly this.

She turned up the music and never stopped looking up or out for the stars.

I never stopped staring at the sunlight reflecting off the moon reflecting off of her.

In these moments, only here, only now, I didn’t let go of that thigh.

When she returned me to my chariot and before I exited hers, she gifted me my first forever machine looks at her.

I made one of that thigh with her hand on it right where mine had just been and told her, repeatedly, thank you and may I make more?

Forty-eight hours later she met me in the desert again only this time, in the blaring, direct, no longer reflecting sunlight.

She wanted me to teach her how to break things so I taught her, quite well.

When breaking things was over, I gifted her a present so she could always walk around lost in stars and they would never again be out of her sight. All she would have to do is look down at her own feet in most any kind of light, and that reflected light from below would show her what she wanted the night of the eclipse I couldn’t give her.

She let me forever machine this gift too then she had to go.

I kissed her thigh farewell and I stayed right where I was when she left.

I spent this time looking at that sky up there going its orange above her as she got further away.

Then I stayed in this place even longer looking down at the earth until it was once again dark all around me.

These twenty years may as well have been twenty seconds, only I am no longer sorry about anything.

An Eclipse I Didn’t Actually See Nor Believe Actually Happened

Exactly Seven Days Ago, This Very Second

I Am The Me I Was

 
 
An Idea Glorious Only In Nature & Ambivalence
 
 




 
 
I Did Something I Never Thought I’d Do
 
 




 
 
I Shut My Eyes, Had All The Hope In The World, & I Awaited An Unknowable
 
 

SUBJECT:

Hello

BODY:

Hi, I wanted to check how you feel today?

@2:06PM | @5:22PM | @7:47PM

 

 

 
All I Knew She Wanted, I Gave Her
 

 

Bukowski

Damn

Auden

Deep

Poe / Halloway

Dirty

Bukowski / Bedlam

Demon

Poe / Rathbone

Deliver

Matthew / Burroughs

Delight

Bukowski / Bedlam

 

 
I Love You, [Darla]
 

“Like Saying Goodbye All Over“

For 18 Stories & A Handful Of Seconds, V Could Fly

– – –

 
 
When You Land, Go All The Way Down, Then One Story By One Story, Look Up

 
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– – –
 
 
 

 
 
 
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– – –
 

 
– – –
 

 
– – –
 


 
– – –
 

 

 
 
 
– – –
 
 

I Have Run Out Of Words To Tell You

DIES VENERIS XI JULIUS MMXIV

[ anteludium ]

 

 
 
 
– – –
 
 

I Have Run Out Of Words To Tell You

3h, 3m, 32s. That is how long I had been on the phone. I hadn’t been on the phone for this long since I don’t know when, a year, maybe many? I had never even met the person on the other end, it was a hope for new.

The note and the photographs I received sent to me the fastest way one can, had come somewhere in the middle of this conversation and I hadn’t heard them arrive. I just saw the notice when the call ended and then I checked. I knew who they were from, but not as well as I wished. One photograph, a note and another photograph – in just that order. The first image, a cropped, close up of this someone I knew, a pretty image really, blown up too much and a weird color from some weird light. The note, asking me to maybe record this feeling they were having that I too have felt too much was almost a dare, so it seemed.

Then the final image, a wrist, their own wrist, bubbling blood in the same direction the vein runs.

I stared at it. I put it away and tried to not think about it. After a few seconds, I looked again, I saw blood drops on the floor under their arm. I noticed the time it had arrived, it was over an hour ago. I sent a note as fast as technology allows, STOP IT. I waited, I waited, I waited. I sent another note. Then another. I called. Then I called again. Then I called again. Then I sat down and tried to not think about it. Then, I got in my car and I drove to where the note, the images, came from. Then I stood in front of the place. Just shy of the dark, no lights on place through a gate and up some stairs. I called, I called, I sent a note, I sent a note. Nothing. I walked in a circle, trying to see in windows. Nothing. I sent a note. I called.

Nothing

Poe / Halloway

Dirty

Bukowski / Bedlam

Demon

Poe / Rathbone

Deliver

Matthew / Burroughs

Delight

Bukowski / Bedlam

SUBJECT:

I can’t believe I’m finally telling you this

BODY:

this is sooo nerve wracking but i have to reveal how i feel. your so cool and i just want too date you and lol this is so wierd but i hope you’ll feel the same way too so here it is! xxoo

SUBJECT:

Re: Wish u were here.

BODY:

Oh, Jonathan, I see I might have given you an h in your name where an h did not belong.

SUBJECT:

Friday

BODY:

…I admit it’s not fair that this is the first you’re hearing of another man…

When I Think Of How Much I Love You, All I Can Hear Is Your Breathing, In Place Of My Own

 

 
 
Forgiveness Is A Falling Leaf
&
The Wind In Her Hair
&
I Thought It Just Might Be You
 
 

 

 
 
I Saw This Man Sing… My Son.
 
But All I Heard Was “What Have I Done”

– – –

The Woman To My Right Was Wrapped In Aquamarine

A Few Minutes Later

So Was The Man To My Left

All The Birds I Could Not See Nor Count, All At Once

It was night and the sky above was all black…

I stuck my tongue out, into this crack of this…

I Put My Face All The Way Into That Fold & All The Cracks Of This Earth Of Mine Got Closer

I Wanted To Kill An Antelope For My Love

1097 Days Without A Single View (3 Years)

147 Pieces Of Evidence Recorded, On That Day Long Ago

Today, On Anniversary Three, This Earth Of Mine Cracked – This Was The Third Crack Noted

Today, I Felt This Crack Under My Feet So Strongly, It Woke Me From A Dream

I Want To Return To The Dream

“Open The Door“

Christmas Eve – 10:10 PM

 
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17 Days In A January

VISIBILITY VALUE VELOCITY – DDJC CONTRACTOR #015000534

 
My government gave me this photograph of the Earth and my government gave me this fake of the Moon.
It took several governments to give me this photograph of another 173 million objects in the sky.

Of all the places my government could have sent me, they sent me here to this town.
A town named TRACY. Not accepting this 17 day mission #8 was not an option.
At this time I had already been in a condition RED – DELTA for 937 days.

It was during this time here I was part of two additional attacks.
One I only witnessed the aftermath and the clean up
while the other I couldn’t see as I was involved.

I do not know which side I was on.

 
DELTA is usually declared as a localized condition and is not intended to be sustained for substantial periods.

#Tracy, #Fire, #Brother, #Security, #Prostitution, #PTSD, #Attack, #Fight, #Hotel, #ER, #Blood, #Piss, #Tooth, #Stripper, #Semen, #Eureka, #Yosemite, #Cash, #Stolen, #Tongue, #292, #310, #Oil, #Glock, #Joy, #Condom, #Chair, #Tai-Chi, #Tears, #Laughter, #Ink, #Breast, #Silicone, #Saline, #Moon, #Earth, #Lovely-Loops, #Milky-Way, #Alpha, #Bravo, #Charlie, #Delta, #DDJC, #Visibility, #Value, #Velocity, #Sky, #Mission, #January, #Gifts, #Jonathan, #Contractor, #015000534, #Arabs, #KillWomenAndChildren, #ATM, #Decoration, #Drunk, #Fake, #173Million, #Buffet, #1/14, #(365)

 
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14 January

I had not been to this place in many many many years even if I sometimes wished I could enter once a month or once a day or once an hour or more. I paid the man with the stupid tie so he let me in. It was more than it should be and I hated him for it. It is never quite like I remember it, this time, tonight, it seemed smaller than ever before too. It was more unkempt, more dirty in the ways I wished it wasn’t, it was darker and it no longer possessed an impressive majesty. This night it was not busy, there was no one in my way to get to where I was going inside. There were no workers milling about to peek at like there always had been before. I missed that.

I went to the seat, my very seat I had last sat in here so long ago. Chosen with purpose, with the intent it would yet again serve as my hope designed. I waited and while I did I watched a her, dancing in and out of the light in beat with the music I cannot recall nor likely noticed hearing anyway. She was the kind of woman I cannot meet but want to, the kind of woman I wish I could say I have had but have not. She knows this, it is why I would assume this her is here for me to give my money to. This her at which I was staring however, she would not get my money this night. The song was about to end as I wondered what her face looked like when they applied her ink scars, that’s when it happen and it hadn’t even taken a single song.

“Would you like some company?” Was whispered in my ear so closely I could almost feel her lips. “Yes,” I said, without even looking at her. I wanted to be targeted and chosen, not choose myself. I wanted to know what it felt like to be a customer today, this particular day. So I was, just like that, so I let it begin just like she desired or designed. I took her offered hand and she led the way, when I finally looked at her, well, she looked just like you, to terrifying detail. Only this her, her skin was the opposite color and her hair was absent of any at all………… [continued]

 
– – –
 

 
– – –
 

 

Profile View Of Solar Flare Eruption Loops The Size Of Several Earths – On January 15

I didn’t know anything about Tracy, so I looked on the internet and the internet taught me Tracy is most known for a fire.
 

On August 7, 1998 a fire began at a tire disposal facility in Tracy, California that was illegally storing approximately 7 million tires. Determined too dangerous and polluting to the groundwater to attempt to extinguish, this fire was allowed to burn itself out. Initial reports said it could burn for as long as two weeks.

 
This Tracy fire would go on to continuously burn for well over two years and the groundwater was polluted anyway.

 

 
Fifty Feet Downwind Of:

121 Degrees 25’ 05” W, 37 Degrees 41’ 12” N – On January 15
 

“Now, nearly 13 years after the fire broke out Aug. 7, 1998, the possible health impact of the black smoke from the burning tires is centered on one family’s eyes.

A mother, her teenage daughter and a 4-year-old daughter living near or downwind from the fire all went blind, and medical researchers suspect the combination of the smoke and a little-known genetic disease could be the cause.”

There, just past the brush, low berm, poles and no dumping sign, is the large pit that was the previous site of S.F. Royster’s Tire Disposal Facility. The fire started the day after Royster lost his final appeal with the waste management board over fire safety concerns.

 
On August 14, 1998 just 7 days after the fire started, Royster was indicted on bankruptcy fraud charges.

On August 18, 1998 just 11 days after the fire started, Royster died of lung and throat cancer.
 
– – –
 

 

I had already been to the Happiest Place On Earth® not far from here.

I did not find it joyful.

So I decided to go to where I had been told was the most beautiful place on earth instead. It also was not far.
When I got there it was very cold and soon snow began to fall all around me. There was a thick mist hovering in the sky just out of reach.

I could not see what I came to and everywhere I could see looked like it had just been on fire.

 


 
– – –
 

 
– – –
 

 

26 January

[more] – I said, “That is a human tooth in your hand, you need to go to the Emergency Room.” – [continued]

 

 
– – –
 

 
 
– – –
 
 

All My Love, V – Fly For 18 Stories

 
Go All The Way Down, Then Try To Come Back Up
 

Last Night Of A Year

– – –

– – –

I saw a few images of her someplace. I saw a few sentences she wrote in this same place too. So I sent her a letter and I wished.

Because of a single sentence I shared, without looking at my image or reading the rest of my letter, she wrote me in return.

Three days later she came to the place I stay from a place far away. She even brought me a present.
 

Because It Was Christmas, Day

please press play

– – –

We Told Each Other Stories All Night And We Made A New One

Every Time I Touched Her, Everything Went Black

When I Let Go, I Saw Colors

When She Went Away, She Never Returned

A Christmas Story

– – –

Christmas Eve
&
A Second Sliver Of Green

– – –

For The Second Time In My Life, I Met A Woman Named Wood

We met briefly once 20 days prior and it wasn’t to be. On the Eve of Christmas, I wished for the gift of a look.

It was granted.

please press play

– – –

Book (Preview) – Part One Of Two

Half To Be Me, Half To Be You

ONLY ON THIS DAY DID MY SOURCE BEGIN
 
– – –
 
21 DECEMBER 2012

 










 
– – –
 

FROM THIS PLACE ONLY HERE I CAN ALMOST HEAR SPACE MEN
 
– – –
 
17 DECEMBER 2012

– – –

 
In This Only Here
 























 
Simply Another Swarm
 

Bukowski

Poe

Matthew

Bukowski

“Whenever I drive by a tall building now, I find myself counting the stories.”

1:07 am – A Place In Los Angeles

You found the perfect place, the place with all the details you needed, just like you had always wanted, your will finally let you leap.

– – –

For 18 Stories & A Handful Of Seconds, V Could Fly