S3LF-M4NVF4CTVR3D 1C0NS...

self-manufactured icons 
of saintly encouragement 
work like guardian angels 

41N'T TH4T H4RD T0 F1ND B34VTY...

ain’t that hard to find beauty 
if you half bother trying; 
plenty folks just stay hating 

C3L3BR4T1NG SVRV1V4L...

celebrating survival 
of the undeclared struggles 
which permeate existence 

D34D B4TT3R13S C4N'T B3 JVMP3D...

dead batteries can’t be jumped… 
there’s lessons to be found all 
around the rural compound 

R4GG3DY 4R0VND 3DG3S...

raggedy around edges, 
but my essence is golden 
so I clean up pretty good 

R3MN4NTS 0F TH3 R04D TR4V3LL3D...

remnants of the roads travelled 
stains cellular memories; 
new practice takes time to take 

P0W3R 0F L0VNG3 M34NS HVM4N...

Power of Lounge means “human” 
and “nature” aren’t opposites 
(civilized egos run wild) 

R3PVRP0S1NG D3TR1TVS...

repurposing detritus, 
the fool bedazzles his home 
(as this is the place I’ll die) 

SVBTL3 L4NGV4G3 0F N4TVR3...

subtle language of nature… 
never codified legally 
despite its obvious rule 

TH3 L1N3 B3TW33N T00 MVCH L0VNG3...

the line between too much lounge 
and lethargy of spirit ain’t 
all that easy to define 

TH3 B4S1C P0W3R 0F L0VNG3...

the basic power of lounge 
guides me through complicated 
channels I’m forced to follow 

4TT3MPT1NG T0 B34VT1FY...

attempting to beautify 
life by scattering wild arts 
as easy as possible 

SONG OF THE DAY: Gumbo'! 4 tha Folks, Hold On

My clankyjangers in the yard need some maintenance. I had put screw glue on the main fulcrum screw, so that they didn’t spin out of their holder. But some of the clamp screws spun their way out recently, due to high winds, and this has left the clankyjangers in disrepair. Out of five in the six in the yard, only two are fully functional, with a third at about 2/3 functionality. This is unacceptable. But also the daffodils haven’t bloomed yet, so I’m waiting to know when’s the right time to not only get these noisy industrial yard flowers cranking again, but to put up the other ten or so I’ve got all the parts laying around to do. And then when it’s windy, it’s gonna be the most obnoxious yard around (except for the guys down in the bottom who burn trash all the time and sometimes accidentally set a camper on fire and also there’s gunshots now and then). Clankyjangers are just a poor man who’s done come up’s camper fire, to be honest.

1NDVSTR14L D3TR1TVS...

industrial detritus 
decorates this haphazard 
labyrinth which I call home 

SONG OF THE DAY: Shackin' Up

I got an old truck now, with a sub-woofer, which mostly sits at my girlfriend’s compound, because she uses it for farm chores more than my sitting down working remotely ass would need, other than dump runs. I tried to start it yesterday, just to blast some music, but it wouldn’t turn – old ass battery in the cold. My girlfriend was complaining because the door wouldn’t shut anymore, but I knew what was up, because that had happened to me too. I fixed the door to at least shut, the way it does where it barely catches, then still has a gap like it’s open, but it ain’t. You can push it and see. Songs like this are perfect for jump starting your old ass farm use truck, because you don’t really wanna buy a new battery for it right now, cranking up some old ass jam like this one, and taking a load of assorted detritus to the dump, leaving the truck running the whole time because you don’t feel like jumping it again, even if you have to get gas, and then coming back with a barrel, some bottles, a stack of old National Geographics for collages, and a couple other things you ain’t have when you left. That’s the perfect day for an old truck, to be honest.

4T L34ST 1'V3 F1N4LLY F0VND...

at least I’ve finally found 
a place that feels like home, where 
I can smile without pretense 

1 C4N'T C0NTR0L H0W 0TH3RS...

I can’t control how others 
regard me - their own filters 
distort in good or bad light 

F0R B3TT3R 0R W0RS3, 4LW4YS...

for better or worse, always 
found comfort in the margins 
between the light and darkness 

SONG OF THE DAY: Troubles of the World

 

Neighbors on both sides pay this ol’ boy to cut their grass, and so did the people that owned this one before I got it last fall. I ain’t paying to get my grass cut, sorry, it’s not that big a yard. So I got a push mower, but I ain’t cut it all yet. Fuck it, it’s just grass. I’d rather blast funk gospel, watch the kittens dive into the air trying to catch butterflies, watch the redbuds turn pinker at the edge of the woods, and just sit there in my MY GRASS IS TALL t-shirt, stacking quartz rocks on old giant metal springs I found at the railroad tracks. As long as I keep the springs upright and the quartz above the tallest grass, I’m doing good. Who the fuck heard of having grass you pay somebody to cut instead of a bunch of junk springs with giant rocks on top? What kinda fuckin’ world is this we’ve made?

CVLT4V4T1NG 4 C0MP0VND...

cultivating a compound 
of purpose isn't easy; 
it might take generations