tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226254732024-03-07T06:01:14.205-08:00shaping stoneskenfletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09096146686574129994noreply@blogger.comBlogger101125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22625473.post-72151959661692724002010-05-02T07:10:00.000-07:002010-05-02T10:58:23.309-07:00warm nests, dark flights...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIYQH4GifqMk_lojvd6-ICppGGCLel7Pwkhzx5GesxHEbf8G424S1wM_oJDoNZLnFT7sbD1jaj7u4uo-tifO21SSXhbfCgIwK88O0-koDpw1pkTTfmnJyoHP1FKpqU-um058JqIA/s1600/miken.jpg"><br /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnvNE89ckm5uT38iTz3LQVLUdnfJl5-gQ01sP_5TqkqZJbE7AJF9miH-RjCnmnhF-QhncpvfljjmH1eF9ewagADs9xBAvco1Dt6nW9muH2wBTQHzLy56m-O6J6OjQ_iXnvr8iO0Q/s1600/blocks_bricks_and_a_cat_named_magic.jpg"><br /></a><br /> <div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">"In life, change and forgetfulness may give the impression</span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" >that relationships are temporary and conditioned by the</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" >events of time, but to the soul, remembrance and</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" >eternal connectedness are more important."</span><br /></div><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:130%;">-<span style="font-size:85%;">thomas moore<br /><br /><br /></span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCZcBytiNT9J5Nm02cgOJNTQHh-hMoplmVUNXceXle8v0buJE_KnaH-W4EQueTOGpnvjQ22MteX2WDNCgDw2L9_vQYl31A3bJTbxiQ4VkjS-kQlt7-u5a6K63cvUHKN8eToqkQ5g/s1600/fands.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 277px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCZcBytiNT9J5Nm02cgOJNTQHh-hMoplmVUNXceXle8v0buJE_KnaH-W4EQueTOGpnvjQ22MteX2WDNCgDw2L9_vQYl31A3bJTbxiQ4VkjS-kQlt7-u5a6K63cvUHKN8eToqkQ5g/s400/fands.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466676846038896194" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">"The family and the family beyond family"<br />The family into which we were born leaves an indelible claim<br />upon us. The gravity of kinship carries and inevitable weight.<br />Asking the question, who are my brothers and sisters? opens<br />up the possibility of a family beyond the genealogical family.<br />A spiritual family, a universal family.<br />The mystical unity of humankind."<br /><br />Those words above written by my beautiful friend<br />Ron Atkinson<br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOKJzFKifTPTsS1jhqoqX0fpt4Xht-VEA7W58ibX3Hwel3K_9ik0S8hFqqHSMA9Bl6rTV10tXIhwI9YmfV0DjEYdqhoX8HbkuR_ayK9ZB33BSVM9Lbnjne4Jv9j-o75ArQmHsVJQ/s1600/randd.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 238px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOKJzFKifTPTsS1jhqoqX0fpt4Xht-VEA7W58ibX3Hwel3K_9ik0S8hFqqHSMA9Bl6rTV10tXIhwI9YmfV0DjEYdqhoX8HbkuR_ayK9ZB33BSVM9Lbnjne4Jv9j-o75ArQmHsVJQ/s400/randd.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466678151757359442" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:130%;">"I never saw the morning 'til l stayed up all night<br />I never saw the sunshine 'til you turned out the light<br />I never saw my hometown until l stayed away too long<br />I never heard the melody, until l needed a song"<br /><span style="font-size:85%;">-tom waits<br /><br /></span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3jkpZbo-kGOptyjTdJpYSjde7ZTLKj1jKTQONoJUIMz1Zmm-uyhJxIw7zZTjegjCEHlxEkwZu9ah4gqEkkZ6BTQlab0aLHK4IJO_SuXq2QRbXVO3_rTbL1MEZ_KM_AZSrvUUngA/s1600/threeboys1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 323px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3jkpZbo-kGOptyjTdJpYSjde7ZTLKj1jKTQONoJUIMz1Zmm-uyhJxIw7zZTjegjCEHlxEkwZu9ah4gqEkkZ6BTQlab0aLHK4IJO_SuXq2QRbXVO3_rTbL1MEZ_KM_AZSrvUUngA/s400/threeboys1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466679812957108258" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I remember my first friends, or rather that feeling of friendship.<br />That warmth and excitement of wanting to see someone.<br />Grade four, Port McNeil and we lived in a trailer down some<br />dusty logging road. They lived close by, two sisters, and l<br />remember them being tall, giants, they were like vikings.<br />We ran and played, it was like scenes from "the sound of<br />music", running through tall grass fields, if only we had sung.<br />We played games, re-enactments of "Gunsmoke" and once we<br />tried to smoke some hollow dried grass shoots, it didn't go so<br />well. I favoured one sister, the blond one, she had the longest<br />silkiest hair, and to me at that age, she was a goddess.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">"Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of rye<br />Hush-a bye my baby, no need to be crying.<br />You can burn the midnight oil with me as long as you will<br />Stare out at the moon upon the windowsill, and dream..."<br /><span style="font-size:85%;">-tom waits<br /><br /><br /></span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm-4-J9lnei9ceOylKgOkOU_nmjFaGJttpdsCs2cb9z9DGmEikJx1PcTqJI1kXj2MyhSqEbep3Tmw3Aqbi6tZYiTdhvS6kpBpueLO94B580-40JeXpH9Zwod6z8ZLeWdrlio3xZg/s1600/qualnight.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 374px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm-4-J9lnei9ceOylKgOkOU_nmjFaGJttpdsCs2cb9z9DGmEikJx1PcTqJI1kXj2MyhSqEbep3Tmw3Aqbi6tZYiTdhvS6kpBpueLO94B580-40JeXpH9Zwod6z8ZLeWdrlio3xZg/s400/qualnight.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466682888955885266" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">I've spent many years talking, meeting people on the street,<br />but it took a long time before l learned of "the family"<br />on the street.<br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuux08VyfDV2O__bpC51RgghWfIpBzO1Yn35SxcUX-lNOUWtgtC4XTSfPnf5Ck7dOxlpZ9VJ_Qtg12ZX5WZUatskSKHnC7RQiDrIvBS3xXb6_TD6ElCZgGU-sdzEsZuZYWVabDOQ/s1600/luminosa.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuux08VyfDV2O__bpC51RgghWfIpBzO1Yn35SxcUX-lNOUWtgtC4XTSfPnf5Ck7dOxlpZ9VJ_Qtg12ZX5WZUatskSKHnC7RQiDrIvBS3xXb6_TD6ElCZgGU-sdzEsZuZYWVabDOQ/s400/luminosa.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466684629475125218" border="0" /></a><br />I met these three one night, down a alley, behind a building,<br />two men, one boy, one dog, one cat.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnvNE89ckm5uT38iTz3LQVLUdnfJl5-gQ01sP_5TqkqZJbE7AJF9miH-RjCnmnhF-QhncpvfljjmH1eF9ewagADs9xBAvco1Dt6nW9muH2wBTQHzLy56m-O6J6OjQ_iXnvr8iO0Q/s1600/blocks_bricks_and_a_cat_named_magic.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 315px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnvNE89ckm5uT38iTz3LQVLUdnfJl5-gQ01sP_5TqkqZJbE7AJF9miH-RjCnmnhF-QhncpvfljjmH1eF9ewagADs9xBAvco1Dt6nW9muH2wBTQHzLy56m-O6J6OjQ_iXnvr8iO0Q/s400/blocks_bricks_and_a_cat_named_magic.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466684908766664162" border="0" /></a><br />Luminosa Obscura, they were sitting, resting, talking,<br />laughing, smoking, drinking, huddled together around a<br />invisible fire, the dog at the hearth, the cat nestled into the<br />boy's tummy. It was a family, it was a sense of belonging.<br />I came away feeling the glow and warmth of their shared fire.<br />---<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIYQH4GifqMk_lojvd6-ICppGGCLel7Pwkhzx5GesxHEbf8G424S1wM_oJDoNZLnFT7sbD1jaj7u4uo-tifO21SSXhbfCgIwK88O0-koDpw1pkTTfmnJyoHP1FKpqU-um058JqIA/s1600/miken.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 274px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIYQH4GifqMk_lojvd6-ICppGGCLel7Pwkhzx5GesxHEbf8G424S1wM_oJDoNZLnFT7sbD1jaj7u4uo-tifO21SSXhbfCgIwK88O0-koDpw1pkTTfmnJyoHP1FKpqU-um058JqIA/s400/miken.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466685694885856850" border="0" /></a><br />At the risk of sounding like l'm still in grade seven. Well,<br />Mike is my best friend. I've known him since college, over<br />twenty years now. Mike and l spent alot of time together over<br />the years. He was a year ahead of me in college, and every<br />friday we would go to the pub up on 16th ave in calgary, drink<br />beer with jimmy and some of the instructors, play pool, darts.<br />After college l convinced Mike to move to the island with me.<br />We raced to the island, him in his red rx7 and me in my yellow<br />Volkswagen bug. He didn't stay long that first time, but l<br />convinced him again years later to come back, l got him a<br />part time job where l worked and when l was fired, he ended<br />up taking my place. He was so much better at it. We did<br />alot of bike rides, most of vancouver island and then one<br />summer spent 13 days riding to calgary, well high river<br />actually, did you know there are four mountain ranges in<br />between vancouver and calgary.<br />The good, the bad, and the ugly, l could tell mike any of it<br />and he would never judge, never scorn, it was his presence,<br />his friendship, his love.<br />He was there helping my old friend <a href="http://rustystories.blogspot.com/search?q=my+father%2C+my+son">mike labrie</a> when he died,<br />and he sat with <a href="http://rustystories.blogspot.com/search?q=huey">huey</a> when he died.<br />He sat with his mom this year when she died.<br /><br />I hope that when l am dieing, Mike will come and sit with me...<br /><br /><br /><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/sILtO6LAEq8&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/sILtO6LAEq8&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object></div>kenfletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09096146686574129994noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22625473.post-1315473327321448722010-02-28T07:19:00.000-08:002010-02-28T08:02:53.849-08:00paperdolls...<div style="text-align: left;"> <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">"I always thought of photography as a naughty thing to do,</span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:130%;">that was one of my favorite things about it,<br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">and when l first did it,<br />l felt very perverse"<br />-<span style="font-size:85%;">diane arbus<br /><br /><br /></span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid8E-t2UbFNJi_COk0uVrQPnLHizhI2AxVbvjZ9Om8vpFtTLjStSVb46wHoP5CmduVSuCei6fx_poKSf2-zVnDjVnPBJO_DX_OCWkEAb04fZDjO41ajMqKxKHLLy2AakeDKFaXMQ/s1600-h/kidstrr.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 280px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid8E-t2UbFNJi_COk0uVrQPnLHizhI2AxVbvjZ9Om8vpFtTLjStSVb46wHoP5CmduVSuCei6fx_poKSf2-zVnDjVnPBJO_DX_OCWkEAb04fZDjO41ajMqKxKHLLy2AakeDKFaXMQ/s400/kidstrr.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443322093900309362" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Do you remember when your friend became your friend?<br /><br />I have been thinking of friendship, and wanted to tell a<br />story of friendship, of love but l will have to wait till<br />l return. I am off to Singapore.<br /><br /></span></span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-aBSe5dok-VIwXWJf4Y_CA0dm0fjK-8fOvFINBKSrNg_iTOslhpsHK4DRtKXnPM9OSj1WScrEbCtiKx18rYywRBoFfHcpEy4gTc_9KX5GeJKpR5lGE2e9NORoUmRG4xBPkZ0ZBg/s1600-h/the_belgian.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-aBSe5dok-VIwXWJf4Y_CA0dm0fjK-8fOvFINBKSrNg_iTOslhpsHK4DRtKXnPM9OSj1WScrEbCtiKx18rYywRBoFfHcpEy4gTc_9KX5GeJKpR5lGE2e9NORoUmRG4xBPkZ0ZBg/s400/the_belgian.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443318617118333746" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I have been busy the last couple of months, made three little men.<br />The one above is the Belgian.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJjHvwuawiz7OqjDFdrRpjbv0SF7mHJ46u6Abi-0xVVF62U5qUmCzsk1SiMemIGn5KC5A1i1sxaWrz0MUGrZR6LCflyWKQrSB8_bFGEDeh2B89Wsvtlvn3Ehsd9jEtFjZF2yPjIw/s1600-h/the_berliner.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJjHvwuawiz7OqjDFdrRpjbv0SF7mHJ46u6Abi-0xVVF62U5qUmCzsk1SiMemIGn5KC5A1i1sxaWrz0MUGrZR6LCflyWKQrSB8_bFGEDeh2B89Wsvtlvn3Ehsd9jEtFjZF2yPjIw/s400/the_berliner.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443318909983444114" border="0" /></a><br />...and this is the Berliner.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiVhscnxusQKBFY5owOiNj7ztDt4pzffI8EvZY_Y6cdlyxwQOkuCZ63XTDExt7OptOibdp1nOBWTeKdoVo47I6oLVWZUD6QhSwWmsyvCt38eWtFB-hlxyj2BdY0dr6Vhvk0RJ5YA/s1600-h/berliner.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiVhscnxusQKBFY5owOiNj7ztDt4pzffI8EvZY_Y6cdlyxwQOkuCZ63XTDExt7OptOibdp1nOBWTeKdoVo47I6oLVWZUD6QhSwWmsyvCt38eWtFB-hlxyj2BdY0dr6Vhvk0RJ5YA/s400/berliner.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443319131178623634" border="0" /></a><br /><br />and here is the Quiet One<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKju2pneT9NEApQL9hAao0sntO268KGJfWJllh0W3CaKW-6rwOyDK2hcsqbJgo92tmxbV019PWQYdgxy1CjbqJ7JlchUQCaXtaQar67d04mRy61gZX0z24Znh7CkAMK4IEaTUAsQ/s1600-h/quiet_one.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKju2pneT9NEApQL9hAao0sntO268KGJfWJllh0W3CaKW-6rwOyDK2hcsqbJgo92tmxbV019PWQYdgxy1CjbqJ7JlchUQCaXtaQar67d04mRy61gZX0z24Znh7CkAMK4IEaTUAsQ/s400/quiet_one.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443319332557867650" border="0" /></a><br />...he carry's a sword made from silver plated copper.<br /><br />I have also made a couple pieces for a valentines show,<br />some more embroidery and a mosaic using old floor lino.<br /><br />if you want to see you will have to go to my <a href="http://www.kenflett.com/ero.html">website</a> but<br />it is somewhat mature content.<br /><br />----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">This work of a child never,<br />fails to make appeal, to claim us,<br />because it is always honest and sincere,<br />always imbued with that magic certitude<br />born of direct, spontaneous approach.<br /><span style="font-size:85%;">-henry miller<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">So l have been invited to Singapore for two weeks to do a little<br />art project with many young children. I will be helping<br />them make little paper dolls from newspaper, and l will<br />decorate a wall with stencils and other debris.<br /><br />The interesting thing is the process, trying to come up with<br />something that is pleasing and something that young<br />children will wade through.<br /><br /><br /></span></span></span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ-TeoyV7GZG_L95YKod3WX8v3tMRbZZ9RjQSQkwk-OLxVX2XKQYnapknoZgO4iEJfy5ZIebYTS8GfteIpzm4a6oY95XZ7Yr2LxpDn7hEpgQxKPCX4paJlet-71UA53SISdwAOew/s1600-h/newsp.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ-TeoyV7GZG_L95YKod3WX8v3tMRbZZ9RjQSQkwk-OLxVX2XKQYnapknoZgO4iEJfy5ZIebYTS8GfteIpzm4a6oY95XZ7Yr2LxpDn7hEpgQxKPCX4paJlet-71UA53SISdwAOew/s400/newsp.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443322268301340994" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM-xKHBFCgtu7WvF8Ye_qdYmYEL3WDXu1Wk8stdREasSK4amFRIKmjgGXUWcfL_dGsHU07UMxbxUWHopJYOqN2wP1A1ScVup7KKv2brFs6wYm7yBcZRNOpwCHnTtK0Ded49emTHw/s1600-h/bearn.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 291px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM-xKHBFCgtu7WvF8Ye_qdYmYEL3WDXu1Wk8stdREasSK4amFRIKmjgGXUWcfL_dGsHU07UMxbxUWHopJYOqN2wP1A1ScVup7KKv2brFs6wYm7yBcZRNOpwCHnTtK0Ded49emTHw/s400/bearn.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443322368320144402" border="0" /></a><br />This is newspaper and l used linseed oil to push the ink around.<br />It sort of reinforces my echoing thoughts, that you don't<br />really need anything to make art, it is all at hand.<br />It brings out the bricoleur in me.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9PK4ozU0NkFyiexnyYrWcYvdAqe-Nv2xjqmd5h1tr-QZTAsWc-_MbEJDUgIRJTtPgPzqYqo4qRVogYsMPb0z9a9xjSUb-8usXr3lGmI2QCgbXRwiErIfvmrEN_Iyko8Ek22YYVQ/s1600-h/hag.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 277px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9PK4ozU0NkFyiexnyYrWcYvdAqe-Nv2xjqmd5h1tr-QZTAsWc-_MbEJDUgIRJTtPgPzqYqo4qRVogYsMPb0z9a9xjSUb-8usXr3lGmI2QCgbXRwiErIfvmrEN_Iyko8Ek22YYVQ/s400/hag.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443322440591369970" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRMlAiw9GE2FzmwNSAy7uBIpQwAwZi3G17w_VHQQfwCUkiQDpAaZFcUSq2Fg1zbCsNgkgThEEz9ItY5Uh5Y9T41JLBzLvW006VL1pWcPxpVVnN_2k0cAUQ_ZxgSsjacfGHEc28qA/s1600-h/paperdoll+%281%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 322px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRMlAiw9GE2FzmwNSAy7uBIpQwAwZi3G17w_VHQQfwCUkiQDpAaZFcUSq2Fg1zbCsNgkgThEEz9ItY5Uh5Y9T41JLBzLvW006VL1pWcPxpVVnN_2k0cAUQ_ZxgSsjacfGHEc28qA/s400/paperdoll+%281%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443322798104986322" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br /><br />l will leave you with another gem that l found at the thrift store,<br />Surrealistic Pillow by Jefferson Airplane, released in February 1967.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/WANNqr-vcx0&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/WANNqr-vcx0&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br /><br />goodbye<br /><br /><br /><br /></div>kenfletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09096146686574129994noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22625473.post-70787659175989761182010-01-10T07:00:00.000-08:002010-01-10T08:33:25.380-08:00this land...<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br />"Now as l was yound and easy<br />under the apple boughs.<br />About the lilting house and happy<br />as the grass was green."<br /><span style="font-size:85%;">-dylan thomas<br /><br /><br /></span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAQjC52p9yCxsKtBhV3TmWvwMgDAO5weSS6A5jI5wEOqFQG7KC5sFUjaOACletqUupPRv5tZCrspWM9YjwbxsIMXbILiTCYJeMTtAKYyfPPWZn9lTTqx_hcsGiC_Nc7PEJ15BHiA/s1600-h/bearfort.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAQjC52p9yCxsKtBhV3TmWvwMgDAO5weSS6A5jI5wEOqFQG7KC5sFUjaOACletqUupPRv5tZCrspWM9YjwbxsIMXbILiTCYJeMTtAKYyfPPWZn9lTTqx_hcsGiC_Nc7PEJ15BHiA/s400/bearfort.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425128935599131890" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:100%;">I built a fort...<br />We moved coast to coast a few months ago, Port Alberni, bc<br />to Bear River East, ns. When l arrived l built a fort.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:100%;">Choppity chop goes the axe in the woods<br />You gotta meet me by the fall down tree<br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:100%;">-tom waits<br /></span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:100%;">As a kid l built forts, l loved it, a home away from home,<br />a shelter, a place to sit, a place to imagine. Grade six<br />was my most prolific year. Maybe it was because of<br />the neighbor's kids, a brother and sister, Kerry and<br />Holly. A sacred trio, we explored the forest together, we<br />explored each other. Sometimes Holly and l would lay<br />together, flesh to flesh on the forest floor, our pants down<br />around our knees, lay there silent while Kerry chopped<br />trees in the background When our little bums got cold we<br />would get up and continue our fort building.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:100%;">There are unknown forces in nature;<br />when we give ourselves wholly to her<br />without reserve, she lends them to us;<br />she shows us these forms, which our<br />watching eyes do not see, which our<br />intelligence does not understand or suspect.<br />-</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:100%;">rodin</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Our best fort was a hut, the up turned roots of a giant fallen<br />tree, it had hallowed the ground and we built a roof, you<br />had to crawl to get inside, like a igloo. We found old bottles<br />and jars in the forest, some still had liquids and cremes in<br />them, we a built a shelf and placed them there like trophies<br />on the mantel. We had a old rusty canning pot that we put<br />rusty springs inside and covered with moss.<br />It was like Robinson Crusoe, like Journey to the Center of the<br />Earth, like The Lost World, like The Wind in the Willows.<br />It made me.<br /><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxfpxD-8VNmHKJcS6MptCwTDo4Jh20OOGqT9tQ07dALnXOcvLAAgATQaxrFQY0tk0zOY7RnqyzW_Tno4jg0XDY9vG6l9tnCQqvuN3KkEyNzIodX9eXRvtyGCk6ZdKoIdPZRJf1Zg/s1600-h/newbrun.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 273px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxfpxD-8VNmHKJcS6MptCwTDo4Jh20OOGqT9tQ07dALnXOcvLAAgATQaxrFQY0tk0zOY7RnqyzW_Tno4jg0XDY9vG6l9tnCQqvuN3KkEyNzIodX9eXRvtyGCk6ZdKoIdPZRJf1Zg/s400/newbrun.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425137429564432530" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfBVzC8t8HHG5S97C1orLEmRrdgf0XrCP-kDRzIBqRbG4B39eF0o4qdtnHpQaoLNysv1iHBCtY9PGwUsuU9jt4JTpR-i0btiMObK-Ocs6JbkERw5ZYTv_lLAHfclsNekv_zuLLYw/s1600-h/mexico.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 199px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfBVzC8t8HHG5S97C1orLEmRrdgf0XrCP-kDRzIBqRbG4B39eF0o4qdtnHpQaoLNysv1iHBCtY9PGwUsuU9jt4JTpR-i0btiMObK-Ocs6JbkERw5ZYTv_lLAHfclsNekv_zuLLYw/s400/mexico.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425137701244332930" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:100%;">A person is so far formed by his surrounding, that<br />his state of harmony depends entirely on his<br />harmony with his surroundings.<br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:100%;">-the timeless way of building<br /></span><br /></span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL03SH9Ij1nIXKmA7dA-jRV27zGeeNi_ldqSK2KKw1w0AzBJjc_qHAWxOXXsM6iRLW62koTbsbiC_TAWFpNmH_2ivYyAZTsHS-AHTpzny-YylHG-cC_j0TI9yDjsFxDw39UZhTwA/s1600-h/thegully.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL03SH9Ij1nIXKmA7dA-jRV27zGeeNi_ldqSK2KKw1w0AzBJjc_qHAWxOXXsM6iRLW62koTbsbiC_TAWFpNmH_2ivYyAZTsHS-AHTpzny-YylHG-cC_j0TI9yDjsFxDw39UZhTwA/s400/thegully.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425138655559282018" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPRJM20ezZ8bcoyGUpm38U2URmGvc6yeXSMr2i-QnNP5RQHGwhyphenhyphenq9ttYJ9PL098ag4dfDwRNXuro1srmBlSgR9rzooZV906xIoWw1iRRu5XCAxV9lIZSz8BY68NvV2mEi-2ID1oA/s1600-h/sticks_and_stones.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 308px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPRJM20ezZ8bcoyGUpm38U2URmGvc6yeXSMr2i-QnNP5RQHGwhyphenhyphenq9ttYJ9PL098ag4dfDwRNXuro1srmBlSgR9rzooZV906xIoWw1iRRu5XCAxV9lIZSz8BY68NvV2mEi-2ID1oA/s400/sticks_and_stones.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425138798649129458" border="0" /></a><br />...his fort was the bush<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAihDNmCQDc_CS3wqIftauz6VZAVfUBeJKKun_h9hx2sXhmxhRtvYk2Q-mwU1V7b0qDQDyaQW6M7R6enwznL7PCHPMz3G3oEJu4GinRlaM5bVHZURMYTyUm_0hgJMJ5eUb92_yEw/s1600-h/he_wished.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 322px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAihDNmCQDc_CS3wqIftauz6VZAVfUBeJKKun_h9hx2sXhmxhRtvYk2Q-mwU1V7b0qDQDyaQW6M7R6enwznL7PCHPMz3G3oEJu4GinRlaM5bVHZURMYTyUm_0hgJMJ5eUb92_yEw/s400/he_wished.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425139163563523522" border="0" /></a>...i don't know where his fort was, but he was so happy,<br />he was so nice, l don't think he needed a fort.<br />He was a fort.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3GecknSAHTHnkwRsPcgUTATg7dyS8yn_nv1zTxXFkYv2HTBU0xJqY37ZYJy6gslk_O8-c2dI7PHhlSpTctM3JCYsGVOLEgIbv04uCvZ-aeH9ijpp0BLpkTIVCdLvOPyBReIFPnQ/s1600-h/bearfort1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 315px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3GecknSAHTHnkwRsPcgUTATg7dyS8yn_nv1zTxXFkYv2HTBU0xJqY37ZYJy6gslk_O8-c2dI7PHhlSpTctM3JCYsGVOLEgIbv04uCvZ-aeH9ijpp0BLpkTIVCdLvOPyBReIFPnQ/s400/bearfort1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425140302318141234" border="0" /></a><br />go build a fort...<br /><br /><br />----------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">Because you're mine</span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:130%;">I walk the line<br /><span style="font-size:85%;">-j.cash<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:100%;">I am going to leave you with a little music...<br />I bought an old record player and l visit a second hand store<br />to buy records. It's like going to the doctor, such a personal<br />thing to buy records. Sometime l'm embarrassed by what<br />l buy, but it's a secret between me and the store owner. But,<br />l found a treasure, a 1972 tribute to woody guthrie. It has<br />richie havens, odetta, pete seger, peter fonda and more.<br /><br /><br /><a><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/XaI5IRuS2aE&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/XaI5IRuS2aE&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object></a><br /><br /><br />--------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /></span></span></span></span></span><br /><br /><br />This post never ends.<br />I have a lovehate relationship with artist trading cards but l<br />have suggested to the lovely sandra at <a href="http://newtimesarrived.blogspot.com/">New Times Arrived</a><br />that we exchange artistic post cards.<br />My friend Dale in victoria collects atc's, he has over two<br />thousand now, and he also sends out calls for <a href="http://mailmania4.blogspot.com/">mail art</a><br />he's a real nice guy, so send him some art, or if you want to<br />exchange visual matter with me, my address;<br />1119 mary jane riley rd, rr#1<br />bear river east, nova scotia, B0S 1B0<br />goodbye now<br /><br /><br /></div>kenfletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09096146686574129994noreply@blogger.com36tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22625473.post-20095399859444738122009-11-29T15:55:00.001-08:002009-11-29T16:02:26.894-08:00settling...<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /><br />"I see and taste<br />no sweat more honest<br />then the drops you have enjoyed<br />between your thighs..."<br /><span style="font-size:85%;">-woody guthrie<br /><br /><br /></span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5jNTLfv6MRysofCSuklFbsUnRIAlQ9hTRsUQXnCjO0_GEW-Dy_UPgPYscY2bWnlPCtjNxSYm1lsw6jDXTTZM0-FGZ-JGEf9K1uIJuvZ3yiW_UwF714bnR7Qtxw4mJsbQD-zpdtg/s1600/soft.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5jNTLfv6MRysofCSuklFbsUnRIAlQ9hTRsUQXnCjO0_GEW-Dy_UPgPYscY2bWnlPCtjNxSYm1lsw6jDXTTZM0-FGZ-JGEf9K1uIJuvZ3yiW_UwF714bnR7Qtxw4mJsbQD-zpdtg/s400/soft.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409679032043736930" border="0" /></a><br /><br />well...<br />did some embroidery, built a fort in the trees,<br />l am getting settled. Will post soon.<br /><br />Hope your all enjoying the coming of winter.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">"My body's naked now<br />and it was born naked."<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:85%;">-<span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">woody guthrie</span><br /></span></span><br /></span></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></span></span></div>kenfletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09096146686574129994noreply@blogger.com31tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22625473.post-39802924277770641342009-08-25T12:50:00.000-07:002009-08-25T14:25:46.627-07:00it always smelled of rain...<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" ><br /><br /><br />"Our mood was gone, a restless night, unfulfilled desires..</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">morning came clear and brilliant. I will do some heads<br />of you today Zinnia,. The mexican sun, l thought,<br />will reveal everything, something of the tragedy of our<br />present life may be captured. Nothing can be hidden<br />under this cloudless cruel sky. And so it was that she<br />leaned against a whitewashed wall, lips quivering nostrils<br />dilating, eyes heavy with gloom of unspent rainclouds.<br />I drew close. I whispered something and kissed her.<br />A tear rolled down her cheek and then l captured forever<br />the moment.<br />-<span style="font-size:85%;">edward weston photographing tina modotti 1926<br /><br /><br /></span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh87wC9erjO15v2Ok0LxwVGYGIbUkhzAbr4Nfbi-KJiDEPtHc64bUXaDoY4n2CCTRWaL3dMUcGbpVZTtTQkRFZMrdpH_kRiEtRIH33lzWoi1nVmBEcd4_fyfH2ih9HG2-LUmudyrA/s1600-h/nightmex.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 279px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh87wC9erjO15v2Ok0LxwVGYGIbUkhzAbr4Nfbi-KJiDEPtHc64bUXaDoY4n2CCTRWaL3dMUcGbpVZTtTQkRFZMrdpH_kRiEtRIH33lzWoi1nVmBEcd4_fyfH2ih9HG2-LUmudyrA/s400/nightmex.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373995662892252178" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">Mexico City...history built on history. I was given a canada council<br />grant in the nineties, travel to mexico city for two months. They<br /><a href="http://fonca.conaculta.gob.mx/">(Fondo)</a> gave me a home, some money and the rest was up to me.<br />It's hard to write of my trip there, so much, it's like a thousand souls<br />entered my body, like the Sahara, sands being whirled about, moving,<br />changing, coming together.<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNdafizcSgGPnE3jaI9XjuOH2VS0NO1kMoh3jAcKBINaepa-c8asEG3GoYCxXYS9MAM-Z0XcQOBDhMUBaLEIjcjWA3fqzF_EKROmfzKsy2YYjXrXB87E0ptvzMiSfc22PbVnS_Xg/s1600-h/fountaindog.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNdafizcSgGPnE3jaI9XjuOH2VS0NO1kMoh3jAcKBINaepa-c8asEG3GoYCxXYS9MAM-Z0XcQOBDhMUBaLEIjcjWA3fqzF_EKROmfzKsy2YYjXrXB87E0ptvzMiSfc22PbVnS_Xg/s400/fountaindog.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373998660559966514" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><br />My home was in the district of Cayoacan and l walked the streets<br />every day. The green tent, this was my treasure. I discovered a<br />big green tent on the sidewalk outside of a paper factory, tarps,<br />couches, tables, a stove, a light. The tent ladies, they had been on<br />strike for a year, and l visited with them every day.<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhamEtBo8cNeeDxYs5GpEL-WALjhQSwGtRz5m02jskZJ6aYckMt_jxaEH3EHAozwxiQNgLrw4vfIiX5YeuR5iNt9vy1T1A6zqGYpNGYgUDwn_KGZ2AaMU866bv1HFTB4zFhAr7adA/s1600-h/greentent.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 282px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhamEtBo8cNeeDxYs5GpEL-WALjhQSwGtRz5m02jskZJ6aYckMt_jxaEH3EHAozwxiQNgLrw4vfIiX5YeuR5iNt9vy1T1A6zqGYpNGYgUDwn_KGZ2AaMU866bv1HFTB4zFhAr7adA/s400/greentent.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373998370193764866" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWYqgoX0JVqhuVB8RNyoOWbfe24CHRVMal_6gj5-msrsZ5klRy2lyCkwyMd3mFjvLCsQ7URdHOvhbmHe8KNFGT2QrktwYVfmE6slYp8UFgzK5-FVPzDHt0cibo-HnHVxDvNJiEhw/s1600-h/grabriela.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 258px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWYqgoX0JVqhuVB8RNyoOWbfe24CHRVMal_6gj5-msrsZ5klRy2lyCkwyMd3mFjvLCsQ7URdHOvhbmHe8KNFGT2QrktwYVfmE6slYp8UFgzK5-FVPzDHt0cibo-HnHVxDvNJiEhw/s400/grabriela.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373999043746492946" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC38dxqRbidGzT5JcCAqCrXZoyH9hkbcUgPEcrFR5GAX0ioId4qQEaii9Fi2v38NQmvcZpUd9HlWk760RVQI74wrdhVMcYivWCpkAmfwhMpku0tklLZiuDd2c6uHaAZ2AXt1-JjQ/s1600-h/grechin.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 158px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC38dxqRbidGzT5JcCAqCrXZoyH9hkbcUgPEcrFR5GAX0ioId4qQEaii9Fi2v38NQmvcZpUd9HlWk760RVQI74wrdhVMcYivWCpkAmfwhMpku0tklLZiuDd2c6uHaAZ2AXt1-JjQ/s400/grechin.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373999340660163698" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I brought them goods, baked goods, pop, and a deck of cards.<br />We played rummy, they would make me hot corn drinks, none of<br />them spoke english, maybe a few words, "hello, goodbye, love"<br />But it didn't matter, we communicated through laughter, gesture,<br />doodles on a note pad, and just plain knowing.<br />It's like the "dancer in the dirt", when you are honest, sincere,<br />natural, and just "being", then we hear, we see, we feel.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUjraOPo7W8N2e-IcRkb_Uje3o1RASAfoKbBUsRBp5CljmZO5RK_rcYgKXSn1VmVTdrJrqdouT4QH5vHqznXn0ipCIg30tWdYrPXVapruiGPQ85GGa7U3l07kXv8kpxDiUUiRq4w/s1600-h/mexicnight.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 263px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUjraOPo7W8N2e-IcRkb_Uje3o1RASAfoKbBUsRBp5CljmZO5RK_rcYgKXSn1VmVTdrJrqdouT4QH5vHqznXn0ipCIg30tWdYrPXVapruiGPQ85GGa7U3l07kXv8kpxDiUUiRq4w/s400/mexicnight.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374001239750194354" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjc9lslHCbYKBDiCv23AC5bCsFzsItln0XdrhHP2CF82EHKuff4dQi2A0XFoFiyrw2Wc1WfzK4PcwcbBxQsXuw3e_IaPKgbdO2w1SZrFGUVaJiu-e7-Fi0IXUBW24aRrc4qb07Lw/s1600-h/mexico.firstnight.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjc9lslHCbYKBDiCv23AC5bCsFzsItln0XdrhHP2CF82EHKuff4dQi2A0XFoFiyrw2Wc1WfzK4PcwcbBxQsXuw3e_IaPKgbdO2w1SZrFGUVaJiu-e7-Fi0IXUBW24aRrc4qb07Lw/s400/mexico.firstnight.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374001437120085410" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-oaUOkNExM2Sx40Q20M3xwLqGbFQ6lhbPUZTFRjDCPUvKJgDNxf4Wht8b8ceNazAKPlq0FXmlFUOEQqMNMhJ_16aQqpEGhrQLV-gANoNbWmuntZ12pXJOs_PdJqsiG9safQCfWg/s1600-h/legs.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 269px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-oaUOkNExM2Sx40Q20M3xwLqGbFQ6lhbPUZTFRjDCPUvKJgDNxf4Wht8b8ceNazAKPlq0FXmlFUOEQqMNMhJ_16aQqpEGhrQLV-gANoNbWmuntZ12pXJOs_PdJqsiG9safQCfWg/s400/legs.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374001629932758962" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2LRXF3Wmf8Q-lAR1W9ZaHp-dKTcah1aRYRhZ8lEGqYBC7Ccl-WNbpDE2S3MGFo892bwqV7y1wMARqCU87PAUHUGQ184n-0edHuZzT35GARLpZ7aRsVSa2bBT6lYPeckSZtA5U-Q/s1600-h/makeup.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 258px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2LRXF3Wmf8Q-lAR1W9ZaHp-dKTcah1aRYRhZ8lEGqYBC7Ccl-WNbpDE2S3MGFo892bwqV7y1wMARqCU87PAUHUGQ184n-0edHuZzT35GARLpZ7aRsVSa2bBT6lYPeckSZtA5U-Q/s400/makeup.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374001831354356162" border="0" /></a><br />The tent ladies were always an enigma to me, l didn't understand<br />everything, like shadows that floated behind me, just catching a<br />glimpse of them but never able to grasp them.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXBqNhh6nBpePTdgp2HhSMK8uPhML7v2TqKrzKflL_WdXNwxlKIZC05RmJ-RAJayHJfJ7UB_uYf0rjwnVIJdi4VoC7j5dCj0PnRA8bzY8fKlsSjDtDhxXOboQeZuYUsZTMmUe8oA/s1600-h/graf.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 256px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXBqNhh6nBpePTdgp2HhSMK8uPhML7v2TqKrzKflL_WdXNwxlKIZC05RmJ-RAJayHJfJ7UB_uYf0rjwnVIJdi4VoC7j5dCj0PnRA8bzY8fKlsSjDtDhxXOboQeZuYUsZTMmUe8oA/s400/graf.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374002836447918338" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr0gTV62uKQWE_ed6ZqxA8kkE0_9ePTcc-7FQz06mLgivD_btEnooExru5-qZyuXCWGUxZ5OIy1t_3XFuH2NU8Z8CXv4XYv6lstSPErGdOQMgLisCc3u9oPELVjBxqWKePUX96BA/s1600-h/innngren.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 316px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr0gTV62uKQWE_ed6ZqxA8kkE0_9ePTcc-7FQz06mLgivD_btEnooExru5-qZyuXCWGUxZ5OIy1t_3XFuH2NU8Z8CXv4XYv6lstSPErGdOQMgLisCc3u9oPELVjBxqWKePUX96BA/s400/innngren.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374002955175479298" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgi4X_7mxgDwY_zhOrjaudg5fMn8sK9sDbrsQyjJ9H8aeefkqeP0-T3iHAF7Q4LL8Jh9RNel-l0u1Ko8LKJb_nqC5a9itvCiqj6kTV8cN58jfWalO67EiDnJtmqEbXsnYZgzUJfA/s1600-h/last.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 277px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgi4X_7mxgDwY_zhOrjaudg5fMn8sK9sDbrsQyjJ9H8aeefkqeP0-T3iHAF7Q4LL8Jh9RNel-l0u1Ko8LKJb_nqC5a9itvCiqj6kTV8cN58jfWalO67EiDnJtmqEbXsnYZgzUJfA/s400/last.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374003120370572962" border="0" /></a><br />----------------------------------------------<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeb0UrCKxhsMc3qnlHQwoQCPfOKjcsbO0GHMTpcH3aenj4j2YDFB5y8iHVvBDLMzBNkHaDyZVHxyfIz6iJ1tBAwYGPwsHsVvlG-yf4TkattqUjVJBjHJQBzTb-8Tl58RNQJZW1xw/s1600-h/alley.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 272px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeb0UrCKxhsMc3qnlHQwoQCPfOKjcsbO0GHMTpcH3aenj4j2YDFB5y8iHVvBDLMzBNkHaDyZVHxyfIz6iJ1tBAwYGPwsHsVvlG-yf4TkattqUjVJBjHJQBzTb-8Tl58RNQJZW1xw/s400/alley.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374003376571343698" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Jose - l met Jose in an alley, he and his wife lived in a tiny cement<br />room, a bed, a dresser, and walls filled with photographs, crosses,<br />and symbols of "the virgin of guadalupe". Jose and l would just chat<br />in the alley, share smokes, grasped at words that sounded familier.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Ayfu_Zcmz35_ICQ133QVz0Sx4F9BVCPw1sv1NSzn-x5cpgamkrX6fgK9pXvyT8GrgEQFysEbyBZPxGy54otcC0QvoXmDrUnIc6r058TGTVfZC_hcsWIOXmIQhyphenhyphen3nJn9WIeIdpw/s1600-h/josee.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Ayfu_Zcmz35_ICQ133QVz0Sx4F9BVCPw1sv1NSzn-x5cpgamkrX6fgK9pXvyT8GrgEQFysEbyBZPxGy54otcC0QvoXmDrUnIc6r058TGTVfZC_hcsWIOXmIQhyphenhyphen3nJn9WIeIdpw/s400/josee.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374004249303836402" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9uOE_9sIqHB8I7Imm40O1h-eyZ-SEhy1_qlWxom-u32C4Ydkgtsfu4B0Wx_QQ5HHbkVHkhKDa4yd8ATik1n_AoyxoKiCOGcaljqqr2-ZcKV23viH0GQ0UWgOsW5hkvl8oI7dIUg/s1600-h/mexico-j.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9uOE_9sIqHB8I7Imm40O1h-eyZ-SEhy1_qlWxom-u32C4Ydkgtsfu4B0Wx_QQ5HHbkVHkhKDa4yd8ATik1n_AoyxoKiCOGcaljqqr2-ZcKV23viH0GQ0UWgOsW5hkvl8oI7dIUg/s400/mexico-j.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374004419921101890" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRrzjy08zWt0C9hqqDJYqA9_XwMY_2rLSk3DA82B4g3jjEfpJ4PCsW7rvt4SMVzWuwKDkErNFIb3MfXc6JHnpK1vvkO-_o6CQvLBV_mXiSHms9eLbE5KXpZhH33fj4p8T6yi96HA/s1600-h/La_pura_verdad.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 372px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRrzjy08zWt0C9hqqDJYqA9_XwMY_2rLSk3DA82B4g3jjEfpJ4PCsW7rvt4SMVzWuwKDkErNFIb3MfXc6JHnpK1vvkO-_o6CQvLBV_mXiSHms9eLbE5KXpZhH33fj4p8T6yi96HA/s400/La_pura_verdad.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374004594432172322" border="0" /></a>La pura verdad<br /><br />-----------------------------------------------------<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZcKZKMvj14iuJaw5lK809cPSXo19H8LU35TvI3W3FRFS0le9aXikIHtvIpkfE_dUIytNbmmxW7qOU5dCoW4m4zbpDPHGK5bleIwHAPMwguoUSN5G11dtqonL706xofkdngu3MLg/s1600-h/icecream.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 274px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZcKZKMvj14iuJaw5lK809cPSXo19H8LU35TvI3W3FRFS0le9aXikIHtvIpkfE_dUIytNbmmxW7qOU5dCoW4m4zbpDPHGK5bleIwHAPMwguoUSN5G11dtqonL706xofkdngu3MLg/s400/icecream.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374004917324845394" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I met her in an ice cream shop, and in her stumbling english<br />she asked if l would teach her english, she would teach me<br />spanish. Sandra was different than the tent ladies, where<br />as the tent held a darkness, a sadness, Sandra was light,<br />joyfull, "Oh ken ken ken" she would say with laughter.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_ByJh50xP5Fuwzuu2H-gxu0pjf2UAnkiPvLXfAnywyM_IVM3mxwPUpR0rfOFDrQuAU5L0DFwvhP8P5mmux_yYIOiYU2TbEBiy4aa0xjhbT-26eGrIH50iKQGB1IvbegB1nWX_nA/s1600-h/sice.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 276px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_ByJh50xP5Fuwzuu2H-gxu0pjf2UAnkiPvLXfAnywyM_IVM3mxwPUpR0rfOFDrQuAU5L0DFwvhP8P5mmux_yYIOiYU2TbEBiy4aa0xjhbT-26eGrIH50iKQGB1IvbegB1nWX_nA/s400/sice.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374005545482067938" border="0" /></a><br /><br />She helped me navigate mexico city, took me places, even to<br />her home for dinner and to meet her parents. She was more<br />spanish then mexican. She was so lovely.<br /><br />-----------------------------------------<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9SfsLS-7ftTNKTKZeDAkNC8O5Z6cvuxb7bkQbRpgxoJmUslT9hH8C4DCKDcm1x31mHI6zMJi2sbWLGDDDTamdnaR8qjUZwlCbonZF3HxEBOfrWFa0Nl2SyHXkQd1OilCSs4hLjw/s1600-h/kids.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 256px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9SfsLS-7ftTNKTKZeDAkNC8O5Z6cvuxb7bkQbRpgxoJmUslT9hH8C4DCKDcm1x31mHI6zMJi2sbWLGDDDTamdnaR8qjUZwlCbonZF3HxEBOfrWFa0Nl2SyHXkQd1OilCSs4hLjw/s400/kids.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374008018414945570" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwuSL49qDsvaMLIpUOjMCy40PONvMIZaasmp1WyO7_8W-Ceo4_UFzrc7ASsuGnR_V8gEM922fDO3qODiOAlXX-UZg59CBOy7WOVbKZj6A3086_zK3p4tAdn8vN0K6v-p40hBRcfA/s1600-h/run.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 264px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwuSL49qDsvaMLIpUOjMCy40PONvMIZaasmp1WyO7_8W-Ceo4_UFzrc7ASsuGnR_V8gEM922fDO3qODiOAlXX-UZg59CBOy7WOVbKZj6A3086_zK3p4tAdn8vN0K6v-p40hBRcfA/s400/run.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374008157123049314" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaJHGK78RXcabNNJYFomyZrNLDtUL4lrDloXzuumIT1fpu856PrRbEVTgjQS2oIqTttoK-BurmjwG92RDYg4bxCFonbadHjTjlfbqHEXSmJgIK3gLnxgOSjZB0iIRhf3nt3aIr9w/s1600-h/visit.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 270px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaJHGK78RXcabNNJYFomyZrNLDtUL4lrDloXzuumIT1fpu856PrRbEVTgjQS2oIqTttoK-BurmjwG92RDYg4bxCFonbadHjTjlfbqHEXSmJgIK3gLnxgOSjZB0iIRhf3nt3aIr9w/s400/visit.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374008275219131250" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHzafLFdCIlBUyDPk_F2Ios1kSwoaTqQtkYphTqaiGhmIzfuIDi_MpWZDyVMzqlwuTUzpPmRX_xWjUZ1CFcwsSyZZdIYt86JemahaleJAuqv08EPxamOk5h9ofq3ChmIY26klL5w/s1600-h/rites_of_sanctuary+%28Medium%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 311px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHzafLFdCIlBUyDPk_F2Ios1kSwoaTqQtkYphTqaiGhmIzfuIDi_MpWZDyVMzqlwuTUzpPmRX_xWjUZ1CFcwsSyZZdIYt86JemahaleJAuqv08EPxamOk5h9ofq3ChmIY26klL5w/s400/rites_of_sanctuary+%28Medium%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374008473006673346" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4smVZ1lxgeI-48egVM_2q94W1j7R97BVunvPWZr7vmcM58YjT-971NWvfNnFInmVSlQpe9UBG45YQhsDlFHXxkd5kH3ZLq_UT8kGm-DlzzXyHIcmMBoYOBZJ151aA_9qVVlGiZg/s1600-h/the_seamstress.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 355px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4smVZ1lxgeI-48egVM_2q94W1j7R97BVunvPWZr7vmcM58YjT-971NWvfNnFInmVSlQpe9UBG45YQhsDlFHXxkd5kH3ZLq_UT8kGm-DlzzXyHIcmMBoYOBZJ151aA_9qVVlGiZg/s400/the_seamstress.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374008631769729874" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Lt0Nrw332H_Ea30BMC9V0WA_DpPjx_O_2tfLDVbCl6-N-7-jqcMvesnihLynu82GIeWMC6Jukd4lgjis1g7-09nPPSxfdvTIIk8e-xDjliEmnFX0WVYkB8rKmEuhR-uYsHOYAg/s1600-h/journ+%28Medium%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 277px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Lt0Nrw332H_Ea30BMC9V0WA_DpPjx_O_2tfLDVbCl6-N-7-jqcMvesnihLynu82GIeWMC6Jukd4lgjis1g7-09nPPSxfdvTIIk8e-xDjliEmnFX0WVYkB8rKmEuhR-uYsHOYAg/s400/journ+%28Medium%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374008782759111522" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVRZ2f0ku3nvHu1pxh1Lsu9KtmhzUljk6mz_l158OGUHp0vJmvnSpXD9sBPPYlvj9gEyjIG0kB5vQX9B7GoFcUEecuvIEfo-KJu7PsXiSnPtMNnf23lrEVNwM__Kw-_1lCRkk-RA/s1600-h/journalmex.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVRZ2f0ku3nvHu1pxh1Lsu9KtmhzUljk6mz_l158OGUHp0vJmvnSpXD9sBPPYlvj9gEyjIG0kB5vQX9B7GoFcUEecuvIEfo-KJu7PsXiSnPtMNnf23lrEVNwM__Kw-_1lCRkk-RA/s400/journalmex.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374009097737208050" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiopBpvWPaLGm9ObEAX9P5Bi4NYdeg68tbC8_iWtTnIYwckY75lPr412ryzVzW38EoUr2120IG-CMxPE4iNTBT8DLmRQmJKkxRzsqLqHQ88hK6zx5QB4wvMYAxFxmtoPI6SOwem7Q/s1600-h/mexjournal.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 288px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiopBpvWPaLGm9ObEAX9P5Bi4NYdeg68tbC8_iWtTnIYwckY75lPr412ryzVzW38EoUr2120IG-CMxPE4iNTBT8DLmRQmJKkxRzsqLqHQ88hK6zx5QB4wvMYAxFxmtoPI6SOwem7Q/s400/mexjournal.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374009267420475266" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfdrNqk6JEq-DDnU7aH9rshLKQQ9RrSdWmeiS8qC8UaiYsPUZmOYTXsxcekl-My1lRnnNDEhHIGV_hqvMczzLITcjRtrigZ4RggT-D-B8LGf6KC90CWmQ8s6a6gZx5965Sy78EOQ/s1600-h/rosa.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfdrNqk6JEq-DDnU7aH9rshLKQQ9RrSdWmeiS8qC8UaiYsPUZmOYTXsxcekl-My1lRnnNDEhHIGV_hqvMczzLITcjRtrigZ4RggT-D-B8LGf6KC90CWmQ8s6a6gZx5965Sy78EOQ/s400/rosa.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374009514290505330" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Rosa- it was Rosa that l attached myself to at the green tent.<br />She seemed to be in charge or perhaps just more respected, she<br />guided me as l guided her. We passed yellow notes back and<br />forth like kids in grade school. She was a dark chrystal.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmU-_RkndMSs0lWHqNJBXFwasQxQ_Amzx8v_wQAdtXjd2tdhDyUi_IuQmaLwDMN1TXhpA6nCtUJxIXBlLkxfhq1CLzFwySfPpECvpanGXzf3tHrAdRxuvXNkGIwjm4_Sm8e4EVGA/s1600-h/three_birds.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 177px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmU-_RkndMSs0lWHqNJBXFwasQxQ_Amzx8v_wQAdtXjd2tdhDyUi_IuQmaLwDMN1TXhpA6nCtUJxIXBlLkxfhq1CLzFwySfPpECvpanGXzf3tHrAdRxuvXNkGIwjm4_Sm8e4EVGA/s400/three_birds.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374010007462980722" border="0" /></a><br /><br />...l digress, this is a painting of rosa, of mexico, of my loves back<br />home, memory, past and present, roaming around in my<br />body, my soul, painting is always so much more, so many lives<br />go into a painting, so much history.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgFYyJvC_WY5Kcbv22ttwj4JnpnaXNu1h_vSmuh1pA72zmOQ77o17nI_AIXc_SfCLAYLZb_ZFliuCH8cJFTZglSDVri8ziW7QHKStmxHIfuNP3WXavJfG15Abw788uvnFBH4HpPQ/s1600-h/rain.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 390px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgFYyJvC_WY5Kcbv22ttwj4JnpnaXNu1h_vSmuh1pA72zmOQ77o17nI_AIXc_SfCLAYLZb_ZFliuCH8cJFTZglSDVri8ziW7QHKStmxHIfuNP3WXavJfG15Abw788uvnFBH4HpPQ/s400/rain.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374010660827377426" border="0" /></a>"it always smelled of rain"<br /><br />I would walk Rosa to the subway most nights, around<br />midnight and in that mile there were so many scents.<br />...close your eyes and smell what is around you.<br />It was assaulting, but in such a delicious way. It was like<br />the earth made love to you.<br /><br /><br />-------------------------------------------<br /><br /><br />...silence is how l should sum up my stay in mexico city.<br />My beautiful friend Ron wrote the following for me and<br />next to silence it says it all...<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzfPcARrLWYGF6Nr5h0OlliTepj_vTsfpiKFgF9jzr0RwahvTID8of51R7zx_SnopulSNDdx69TL7k4xdPZEp2zib-ON8k4saUBPILiE34OFApIeN0hbJh7TcAXAHOL47PtqGMYQ/s1600-h/mexico_turkey.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 262px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzfPcARrLWYGF6Nr5h0OlliTepj_vTsfpiKFgF9jzr0RwahvTID8of51R7zx_SnopulSNDdx69TL7k4xdPZEp2zib-ON8k4saUBPILiE34OFApIeN0hbJh7TcAXAHOL47PtqGMYQ/s400/mexico_turkey.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374011479476808098" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">"Aquaintance with a great white turkey sums up a wonder l feel.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">The ugly beauty of this abused bird speaks to a dark light in me.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">This unlikely creature confirms how utterly strange life is.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">It is a strangeness which shocks, amuses and comforts.</span> <span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><br />The white turkey of Cayoacan heals our alienation.</span> <span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><br />Suddenly, we smile in recognition of a greater belonging.</span> <span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><br />It is this amused earthy wholeness l would have us remember."</span><br /></span><br />-----------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgshxOLBCXQmHNYr1FamhQZE-g8yrj-7cVsBcPPqV10ALUKkWnN0yAGIfyrIxkA2iux4lOsFH92Ks6G5vxKgSumx0DL9SrHRAP5fCs76OhUE98wKJFq2gN32XM_Z99Wlb07Ct1k8A/s1600-h/leaving.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 359px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgshxOLBCXQmHNYr1FamhQZE-g8yrj-7cVsBcPPqV10ALUKkWnN0yAGIfyrIxkA2iux4lOsFH92Ks6G5vxKgSumx0DL9SrHRAP5fCs76OhUE98wKJFq2gN32XM_Z99Wlb07Ct1k8A/s400/leaving.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374012949849704642" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">...we are moving<br />from the shores of the west coast to the shores of the east coast,<br />close to bear river, nova scotia. I will be driving very soon, with<br />Cedar and a truck of belongings 6000k's.<br />I may not post for a couple three months, but l'll return.<br /><br />I was going to leave you with edith piaf but have chosen this<br />wonderful video of Small Faces (itchycoo park) as it just seems<br />like better driving music.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/VJzcF0v1eOE&hl=en&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/VJzcF0v1eOE&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />Goodbye<br /><br />------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br /></span><br /></div>kenfletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09096146686574129994noreply@blogger.com32tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22625473.post-31185474618176401422009-08-03T08:22:00.000-07:002009-08-03T16:43:52.291-07:00dancing in the dirt...<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /><br />well the road is out before me<br />and the moon is shining bright<br />what I want you to remember<br />as I disappear tonight<br />today is grey skies<br />tomorrow is tears<br />you'll have to wait til yesterday is here<br /><span style="font-size:85%;">-tom waits<br /><br /><br /></span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-jFDltOO_i4FWm2tC44yrb3qQDFNe8fcWsxPLH1fKWuBYRXcZt_yuF2CXwXDtPWyHG1Exg_aRUIA3jgjKRVASoqFKSjlSDqBj-dPwV-OrLX8fq8DbXqqFuGHr9uIPbHDb1gSYrg/s1600-h/grand.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 260px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-jFDltOO_i4FWm2tC44yrb3qQDFNe8fcWsxPLH1fKWuBYRXcZt_yuF2CXwXDtPWyHG1Exg_aRUIA3jgjKRVASoqFKSjlSDqBj-dPwV-OrLX8fq8DbXqqFuGHr9uIPbHDb1gSYrg/s400/grand.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365758617826357650" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);">...like a good carny player gone bad, my hands are empty.<br />No story, no post as l am off to the U.S. with my lovely family<br />for a week and a half. So l leave you again with a couple of snap<br />shots and a little running brook.<br /><br /><br /></span></span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsQNjtu73owBe2gn72FtF0RJq4PkXc0XDaKwR-EKbUCFtkagB6vmt_BpkB6kPHn223KnkPcgURvPZcX6vI1BGFnLRA6DO1KgW0pAGWGRIPPIh0NOWVLwiHokFOgO7EYoXeEadpAw/s1600-h/studio.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsQNjtu73owBe2gn72FtF0RJq4PkXc0XDaKwR-EKbUCFtkagB6vmt_BpkB6kPHn223KnkPcgURvPZcX6vI1BGFnLRA6DO1KgW0pAGWGRIPPIh0NOWVLwiHokFOgO7EYoXeEadpAw/s400/studio.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365760107882602994" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">...a long time ago, while drinking one night at the "rocking horse"<br />pub, l noticed something. There was a couple dancing.<br />She was pretty, wearing a nice country dress with flowers, she<br />was precise with her dance. He was roughly dressed, hair askew,<br />it's like someone just kicked him in the dirt like a stone. But his dance,<br />he dances like he has no secrets. He doesn't know how to dance like<br />her, he doesn't know how to dance at all, but he does. He dances<br />beautifully wild like he doesn't care...<br />It's like Christopher Alexander's book "the timeless way of building",<br />"Care but don't care"<br /><br />This is how we should build, how we should paint, how we should write,<br />how we should live and how we should love.<br /></span></span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdb9jmlBQKTvst5LatQhfbqdF0sId7J4nESRxHIGKqUOSrZfrO3Ez8t1erbKNzwEJ3ccXl-LFNTFD6D1_72B_3wkNR2zEdgkGxVniZBsjvdYcRcAS7wZZaQ3YfMNJxnhftqkQd2A/s1600-h/vic.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 304px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdb9jmlBQKTvst5LatQhfbqdF0sId7J4nESRxHIGKqUOSrZfrO3Ez8t1erbKNzwEJ3ccXl-LFNTFD6D1_72B_3wkNR2zEdgkGxVniZBsjvdYcRcAS7wZZaQ3YfMNJxnhftqkQd2A/s400/vic.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365760330018807074" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoYj8Zy5nQIbDabanXDVR7QtvZvv79WV6RN6XdKqbYneB5z3i8v2ORzMgx8nK3IGw2YpjJfNd36Uu4D70cnA6wIBPhZWQUXq8Tbzr83hBW73ZBTDqOCrDNcMflXpr3FEn-QLfWNg/s1600-h/springport.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 256px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoYj8Zy5nQIbDabanXDVR7QtvZvv79WV6RN6XdKqbYneB5z3i8v2ORzMgx8nK3IGw2YpjJfNd36Uu4D70cnA6wIBPhZWQUXq8Tbzr83hBW73ZBTDqOCrDNcMflXpr3FEn-QLfWNg/s400/springport.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365760429345963650" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">and her knees up on the glove compartment<br />took out her barrettes and her hair spilled out like rootbeer<br />and she popped her gum and arched her back</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">-tom waits</span></span><br /><br />--------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br />before l go<br />please take a look at <a href="http://apollinairestattoo.blogspot.com/">"apollinaires tattoo"</a><br />He works hard, he lives in Cape Breton and you have to work hard<br />to live there. There is a beautiful sadness to his blog, a loneness,<br />something deep, like the ocean, or like a endless field.<br /><br />goodbye<br /><br />------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></span></span></div>kenfletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09096146686574129994noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22625473.post-12211302600953117432009-07-22T20:29:00.000-07:002009-07-22T20:50:32.629-07:00a fallen crow...<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />"A photograph is a secret about a secret.<br />The more it tells you the less you know."<br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:85%;">-d. arbus</span><br /><br /><br /></span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbmpmKMYouXCRZshHJraPJtfdGzcApl95x7eyb1C8dmahPSwHpdYnvuvK2liUDmn2pQidu488khoyT806OTGlP-gP0lQe9DSjfx4ImXoymnSmEl4kj1hPVY76d3kVnIg3hZVcN4g/s1600-h/crow.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 286px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbmpmKMYouXCRZshHJraPJtfdGzcApl95x7eyb1C8dmahPSwHpdYnvuvK2liUDmn2pQidu488khoyT806OTGlP-gP0lQe9DSjfx4ImXoymnSmEl4kj1hPVY76d3kVnIg3hZVcN4g/s400/crow.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361493574917619570" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:100%;">You may never see a crow's nest.<br />I feel fortunate that the crow's built a nest in our trees.<br />But l'm sad that somehow the baby's ended up on the sidewalk<br />in front of our place, they died after a day or two, except one.<br />Now l generally don't interfere with nature, well there was that<br />once l help my <a href="http://rustystories.blogspot.com/search?q=rabbit">cat kill a rabbit</a>, oh and then there was that time<br />l had to shoot a wounded deer on the highway, but usually...<br /><br />A friend took the last sickened baby crow, but he didn't make it.</span><br /></span><br />----------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:85%;">"When beauty and Beauty meet<br />All naked, fair to fair,<br />The earth is crying-sweet,<br />And scattering-bright the air...</span><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:85%;">-rupert brooke<br /></span><br /><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP9O4V9zjOATo6nJyPyv33loWAKlIbouQ-ZWXaneCn19R4BrGjkXpnvnxU0zNpEQXEdnlmfUPLYixn8XjT15EwOgLH9qWObZVv5ox3VcRyYh8EOgyQaAuNzEIsLSr1AHbRrXjQdw/s1600-h/sleep.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 290px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP9O4V9zjOATo6nJyPyv33loWAKlIbouQ-ZWXaneCn19R4BrGjkXpnvnxU0zNpEQXEdnlmfUPLYixn8XjT15EwOgLH9qWObZVv5ox3VcRyYh8EOgyQaAuNzEIsLSr1AHbRrXjQdw/s400/sleep.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361495977324895986" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgllmfvbloDpjfGcL1930PUX10v0Eg-1_z_DMcf6RfdPJdNz4yZcoBSH7OKLhNeas8AdzJDZkyUyapI1PgVVEQlHuiF51e17t2RGvwS0wx_NYAttY_aIey40xbjjxqurZvsNIOVTg/s1600-h/roof.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgllmfvbloDpjfGcL1930PUX10v0Eg-1_z_DMcf6RfdPJdNz4yZcoBSH7OKLhNeas8AdzJDZkyUyapI1PgVVEQlHuiF51e17t2RGvwS0wx_NYAttY_aIey40xbjjxqurZvsNIOVTg/s400/roof.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361496284125795554" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">I am not a veteran of the heat.<br />I am a fall kind of guy, summer is complacent.<br />I am putting a new roof on this little home,<br />so no story this week, maybe you'll come back<br />late next week and l'll will show you something.<br /><br /></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWkQIKnoApQm2Ys-DWbFvmco0suEfu5uoGxJowWik9MrewGWuMwQ20zDB1WIhzYZS7pqUI8G7rSTo60F5qrp2Eq89AXfsRrs4vm38zKEwHksyljA5L0ziKCTej87L7DqjCiSIgsw/s1600-h/selfMosaic.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 306px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWkQIKnoApQm2Ys-DWbFvmco0suEfu5uoGxJowWik9MrewGWuMwQ20zDB1WIhzYZS7pqUI8G7rSTo60F5qrp2Eq89AXfsRrs4vm38zKEwHksyljA5L0ziKCTej87L7DqjCiSIgsw/s400/selfMosaic.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361496874946013762" border="0" /></a><br /><br />---------------goodbye<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>kenfletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09096146686574129994noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22625473.post-24912919782885422952009-06-29T11:27:00.001-07:002009-06-29T13:21:01.296-07:00a period of rest before the coming...<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> <br /><br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> When you walk in rhythm,</span></span><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">lovely with abandonment,</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">You seem to be swayed by a wand,</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">A dancing serpeant.</span> </span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">-Bouldaire</span></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><br /><br /></span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhVe87tH_7NL1WNPvKznz4XTTtnEaaN8RHEy00nmyr0xhj-XJ-D-_2Ywk9jdH3lk18IcFzAz37HGrLVRHmdaKhXVxxCPVg6M2rPvzCFpb6iTEGwST0tA7SuEMDaOTwYA3qLxhvLA/s1600-h/seanatmikes.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 277px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhVe87tH_7NL1WNPvKznz4XTTtnEaaN8RHEy00nmyr0xhj-XJ-D-_2Ywk9jdH3lk18IcFzAz37HGrLVRHmdaKhXVxxCPVg6M2rPvzCFpb6iTEGwST0tA7SuEMDaOTwYA3qLxhvLA/s400/seanatmikes.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352818280683615122" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);">...do you remember who taught you to frenchkiss.<br /><br />I am going to keep you in the nineties for awhile longer,<br />l have a few more stories to tell.<br /><br />I use to think that only the young and the old were worth talking to.<br />Those in between too busy, running around like a nosebleed<br />that won't stop. The young have a power, a magic mystical, untamed<br />and raw, ready to lick the blood from your neck.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" >"...when the story of the hero's wound is made part<br />of the story of desire, when the weaving activity of<br />the soul, the work of memory and imagination, the<br />weaving of one's story, is informed and suffused<br />with the hero's violent spiritual flame."<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">-eileen greagory(summoning the familiar)<br /><br /></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><br /></span></span></span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP4t5P3_Mi4XAYJ-3TwDQX8fm1zo9jyVfuXqKFXn79RfdR4LLKb4h26m2DB500DyAL_5-0bratFqObmjNh6ns8GUmu3rd0KvHmKKjtKOF_J1WJqKaPZ3KH1J7Kmvw8R-7Wi172Lw/s1600-h/basean.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP4t5P3_Mi4XAYJ-3TwDQX8fm1zo9jyVfuXqKFXn79RfdR4LLKb4h26m2DB500DyAL_5-0bratFqObmjNh6ns8GUmu3rd0KvHmKKjtKOF_J1WJqKaPZ3KH1J7Kmvw8R-7Wi172Lw/s400/basean.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352833312421802866" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);">I met Sean in the nineties, he came from a program for lost punks.<br />They asked if l would take him in my studio, mentor him l suppose.<br />He came to my studio, hung around, rambled poetic lyrics, and he<br />brought with him, his family. A family of hooded punks, black cloth,<br />spiked collars, with dreams of a fresh new world. I photographed<br />Sean one night, with his girl <a href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/seanclaire.jpg">Claire - here </a><br /><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDNqPjgpy-sDMFVy7xfGgh-8PQH1zwNFeu5nLK7Zoe7Jc_SIruqTcE3-vo-xRZ6xDLapYx7ivomNsJLsGF24aATXSqTg8HQHQBJ7p0vLp2yVTZv3iRHw73Z8o5QBMWtVgOXKMNZA/s1600-h/bsean.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 270px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDNqPjgpy-sDMFVy7xfGgh-8PQH1zwNFeu5nLK7Zoe7Jc_SIruqTcE3-vo-xRZ6xDLapYx7ivomNsJLsGF24aATXSqTg8HQHQBJ7p0vLp2yVTZv3iRHw73Z8o5QBMWtVgOXKMNZA/s400/bsean.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352834938809605266" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7FJf4mKmi8oc_0ge-zgIDI4iXN38Us4D7jeR0gNp6pi-ZFR3hgPdxWk4N8gOSrdiMBMI4XQhHspfuYqcvvq_gPHVKoY3rxI2MCxVjkHy29EN4BZSPI-z7pyui6YfH5eXbM8lQIg/s1600-h/kelly.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 287px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7FJf4mKmi8oc_0ge-zgIDI4iXN38Us4D7jeR0gNp6pi-ZFR3hgPdxWk4N8gOSrdiMBMI4XQhHspfuYqcvvq_gPHVKoY3rxI2MCxVjkHy29EN4BZSPI-z7pyui6YfH5eXbM8lQIg/s400/kelly.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352836048144235906" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"><br /></span></span></span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">and he says that he loves me</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> even though its not his baby</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> and he says that he'll raise him up</span> <span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><br />like he would his own son</span> <span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><br />and he gave me a ring</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> that was worn by his mother<br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">-tom waits<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);">Sam was pregnant. She was a tad older than the rest, and<br />with growth in her belly she was somewhat of a guide to them,<br />perhaps she glowed with a secret light.<br /><br /><br /></span></span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge_Qm-6evGwmndC2dfm4uShbXi_apPV6hSusbdYOioqU7ai_4J06XRCDulI2veW6vlIpePf5s3RgPQZzMdOrLRO-9_sgcly5wOlXk8OT9NvxtSxD2qmUFtmxJgvBtshryRC6Uq2g/s1600-h/samm.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 345px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge_Qm-6evGwmndC2dfm4uShbXi_apPV6hSusbdYOioqU7ai_4J06XRCDulI2veW6vlIpePf5s3RgPQZzMdOrLRO-9_sgcly5wOlXk8OT9NvxtSxD2qmUFtmxJgvBtshryRC6Uq2g/s400/samm.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352836343344953074" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzPHcErDtxJsQXGNyzliTaBqE5GWe9F-K_38VUkjzDhtcjWyEo_xnP22xf1-UQaPtOJKgmq4LhNnZUozIlNx7e1UAbwSCpylf7UtvNZ1b6DuwwkfTGLJxOeNcNgne6by6XiMY8GQ/s1600-h/sam.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 202px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzPHcErDtxJsQXGNyzliTaBqE5GWe9F-K_38VUkjzDhtcjWyEo_xnP22xf1-UQaPtOJKgmq4LhNnZUozIlNx7e1UAbwSCpylf7UtvNZ1b6DuwwkfTGLJxOeNcNgne6by6XiMY8GQ/s400/sam.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352836727881258226" border="0" /></a>...<span style="font-size:100%;">part of painting of sam</span><br /><br />-------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">Christie and Killie, two more beacons that danced quietly<br />through this time.<br /></span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji0zDCc8AEB3UyAjoJxgduu90QvxZyVmvWNme-5dXPMRwD8CjoDMMTjOCfayaWiLHgOng5T1pmyst1X9h_pmtbmn5d_6JkAzimEDnP1YKpNjGRSfPJYNVVvjl2_MmbZTqmdXmPUQ/s1600-h/achristieandkilie.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 385px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji0zDCc8AEB3UyAjoJxgduu90QvxZyVmvWNme-5dXPMRwD8CjoDMMTjOCfayaWiLHgOng5T1pmyst1X9h_pmtbmn5d_6JkAzimEDnP1YKpNjGRSfPJYNVVvjl2_MmbZTqmdXmPUQ/s400/achristieandkilie.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352837485490297538" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">Although they seem to carry a heaviness, they carried your concerns,<br />your burdens, your wishes, they carried what you lay in bed dreaming of.<br /><br /></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkq2tOQnnDGYEyEm4ON7ENhxvsqDUN0fN-sYM2T4TKh57I2eOww7iRy_-xInCMuaXXFGfPyeqrbbdAxFn4n1l3Inbr5fJUldxaWBu4ZStCWC0eWoIoOUvruwc9rfkkZHBOkhXFHA/s1600-h/achristie.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 397px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkq2tOQnnDGYEyEm4ON7ENhxvsqDUN0fN-sYM2T4TKh57I2eOww7iRy_-xInCMuaXXFGfPyeqrbbdAxFn4n1l3Inbr5fJUldxaWBu4ZStCWC0eWoIoOUvruwc9rfkkZHBOkhXFHA/s400/achristie.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352838026223759618" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqFUxTehcDNeSg_LCsnao4TyC7QPhHs-7J6ySp3xJVNxsHQnWsjgqfAuZUEu2xKGMRhzWcF5JKl562RJMIpDhetSqOKNsalB-gu5kOq-YFWEP4fykAm3KkufxiaZ2TlB-JPowMhA/s1600-h/before_the_coming.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 282px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqFUxTehcDNeSg_LCsnao4TyC7QPhHs-7J6ySp3xJVNxsHQnWsjgqfAuZUEu2xKGMRhzWcF5JKl562RJMIpDhetSqOKNsalB-gu5kOq-YFWEP4fykAm3KkufxiaZ2TlB-JPowMhA/s400/before_the_coming.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352838132230441122" border="0" /></a>"a period of rest before the coming"<br />----------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);">Willie Mae... makes me smile thinking of her.</span><br /><br /><br /></span></span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGK5RnuU5i41xvXxEIGitwBbi2ZoAo4zAx6A1NC_OBOa3u6eTIqupk4x4Ez8rViZxR72Gpmum_ZKncY4IoDXowOboVWqU8aheF4mghKMoLA2c6EDL3OtNPTb1TcA8PXjfjDd2CTQ/s1600-h/williemaeJena.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 392px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGK5RnuU5i41xvXxEIGitwBbi2ZoAo4zAx6A1NC_OBOa3u6eTIqupk4x4Ez8rViZxR72Gpmum_ZKncY4IoDXowOboVWqU8aheF4mghKMoLA2c6EDL3OtNPTb1TcA8PXjfjDd2CTQ/s400/williemaeJena.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352838565355979922" border="0" /></a><br /><br />She could make the world smile. An endless flame, a shinning star,<br />the drop of dew on a blade of grass. She had cancer, they took<br />her leg off at the knee.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhxCEWwneco5N0YZJKhby2ppNFPYkRPG6PopLtTxisitiZMQmiPxkb_OiwnPvkghY7hPAMsUvN5WRVq7n_YjA-APCmZyTx68ehA6sdNSFfw7X0EuTJJvrVpZN5hBHMCVNESzAZ7w/s1600-h/willie_mae.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhxCEWwneco5N0YZJKhby2ppNFPYkRPG6PopLtTxisitiZMQmiPxkb_OiwnPvkghY7hPAMsUvN5WRVq7n_YjA-APCmZyTx68ehA6sdNSFfw7X0EuTJJvrVpZN5hBHMCVNESzAZ7w/s400/willie_mae.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352838924726533298" border="0" /></a><br /><br />She would come to my studio now and then, help me with the<br />painting. I told her to write something on the painting. She<br />found a quote on my wall and wrote that;<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">"the ocean doesn't want me today,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">but l'll be back tomorrow to play"</span><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">-tom waits</span></span></span><br /><br />--------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br /><br />Char- I lived in a little shack in Parksville and beside that shack<br />was a wood shop of some sort. I would see her drive up on her<br />bike. Loud , maybe a harley, clad in the blackest leather. I didn't<br />know if she was boy or girl. I couldn't tell but l wanted to photograph<br />her. So one day l ran into her and with the flapping of wings in my<br />tummy l asked her. "Can l photograph you"<br />Slammed against the wall, one hand on my throat, a fist to the groin.<br />Well that is what l expected, but no, yes, out came this beautiful<br />sweetness, "why yes darling, that would be nice"<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBG6h3miS1ij3V46_d3UAM4FpUaI3FSwyjwBeXiR5db4qHtrpuOOadf0eHPZ8Md_WtLIHu3PS9EyKWYGH_RXO8FrXjM9WtNbtc3cCMFq1y7JmbZu696DgVQEcMDowYtuFvlN3p2A/s1600-h/harchar.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 371px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBG6h3miS1ij3V46_d3UAM4FpUaI3FSwyjwBeXiR5db4qHtrpuOOadf0eHPZ8Md_WtLIHu3PS9EyKWYGH_RXO8FrXjM9WtNbtc3cCMFq1y7JmbZu696DgVQEcMDowYtuFvlN3p2A/s400/harchar.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352840676507717810" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjihRjC7mn5cFdymMfq1Fnc1xvyuA-QAyE_YhCcqDJSdrrQLeYmYu8VHJuE5LjUuJFE_B4aLWrepJQjtCSWNdkh7vKdrqQ-SuMci59tkHod5f01HDucQnxwRj8GBCGlQa6tjsihdw/s1600-h/chhar.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 354px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjihRjC7mn5cFdymMfq1Fnc1xvyuA-QAyE_YhCcqDJSdrrQLeYmYu8VHJuE5LjUuJFE_B4aLWrepJQjtCSWNdkh7vKdrqQ-SuMci59tkHod5f01HDucQnxwRj8GBCGlQa6tjsihdw/s400/chhar.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352840830271610450" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I photographed her at night in my studio, we talked for hours.<br />Her life in a small town, it was hard for her, being gay in this town,<br />being inside a body that she wanted to change.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7pC1NQ1q7JaKs5eD7YOMUyzs6g9GRTZasTSyE5GRRVi7imNUhmZrfUKyod892mT4dx8tSBLIoLCvPpTAEdPbBS0OPVSEO9GH35tslN2g_PU4ro0Rp8bZZhaXBJ-f_YXTuSjwGbg/s1600-h/charinqualicum.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7pC1NQ1q7JaKs5eD7YOMUyzs6g9GRTZasTSyE5GRRVi7imNUhmZrfUKyod892mT4dx8tSBLIoLCvPpTAEdPbBS0OPVSEO9GH35tslN2g_PU4ro0Rp8bZZhaXBJ-f_YXTuSjwGbg/s400/charinqualicum.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352841191406528386" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC2asQeGkWbAY-RYILl_ovqMCTyZhKEriQge2eXZ6hFaqTB4IBbiGOlfUXPfBS5a6nl2SkH5EKYz2XMZ8Z7lUGOsV9Wfsve3Aorktvm03udwJVB8StBHrcFsKPz84jpdSbpp8ngw/s1600-h/blind_faith.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 292px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC2asQeGkWbAY-RYILl_ovqMCTyZhKEriQge2eXZ6hFaqTB4IBbiGOlfUXPfBS5a6nl2SkH5EKYz2XMZ8Z7lUGOsV9Wfsve3Aorktvm03udwJVB8StBHrcFsKPz84jpdSbpp8ngw/s400/blind_faith.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352841277510065762" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Am l lucky to have met these people, damn right.<br />They all burned, burned with a fire, a fire that was true and deep.<br /><br />But you know...it's there,<br />in you, in all of us.<br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" >"How many years ago<br />Were you and l unlettered lads<br />Mad as the mist and snow"<br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">-yeats</span></span><br /><br /><br />----------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br /><br />maybe check <a href="http://meinwelt-22.blogspot.com/">Fernandes</a><br />he has fire<br /><br />goodbye<br /><br />-<br /><br /><br /></div>kenfletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09096146686574129994noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22625473.post-70392402526756674302009-06-06T18:18:00.000-07:002009-06-07T13:36:11.002-07:00cap in hand...<div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> </span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" ><br /><br />There is a mystery too deep for words;<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" ><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">the silence of the dead comes nearer to it,</span><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" ><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">being wisest in the end. What word shall</span><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" ><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">hold the sorrow sitting at the heart of things.</span><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" ><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">The majesty and patience of the truth.</span><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" ><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">Silence will serve; it is an older tongue:</span><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" ><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">The empty room, the moonlight on the wall.</span><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" ><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">Speak for the unreturning traveller.</span><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" ><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:100%;">-john hall wheelock</span></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEUhacTENhv0uk_9Od1gd2Xgn-cbzfa6slgYiqZo6LNwRyEDFPp9kW8zrPhPtrRlFoGf9267B1N_TmT59o1Y2zQQSghyPZY3KrBp3h_TFC2ojZxiM8m1hBWSrZVIRPm0NdWUfRyQ/s1600-h/david_on_a_long_play.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 277px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEUhacTENhv0uk_9Od1gd2Xgn-cbzfa6slgYiqZo6LNwRyEDFPp9kW8zrPhPtrRlFoGf9267B1N_TmT59o1Y2zQQSghyPZY3KrBp3h_TFC2ojZxiM8m1hBWSrZVIRPm0NdWUfRyQ/s400/david_on_a_long_play.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344390545504694562" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">For a handful of years in the nineties l worked with people<br />who needed assistance. The first job was in a woodworking<br />day program. I loved that job. A group of men, a pile of tools,<br />we made picnic tables, doll houses, and little wooden nicknacks<br />that have probably ended up inthrift stores.</span> My favorite person<br />was Bob, Bob couldn'tspeak but knew a few signs. One of them<br />was "fish",which we all practiced because he could sort of say the<br />word. The sign was wiggling your hand back and forth,like a<br />snake, or like a belly dancer on her side.Then l worked in the<br />semi independant living program,these guys lived on their own<br />and l was there to offer assistance with, well you know, life skills.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcBqdpN_sqggisQPpjrS78kbxNuuodhdeGV0UJ189UmoLkSCjjnZBf3kXjvmKmsv_guQoRHKjG97X0ibgEEnEhs3gcGbeK6Rj9Zh6tGOq_VA-tBU0p-dpqgBXPSa4tuDuR9iSWBg/s1600-h/kevinn.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 397px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcBqdpN_sqggisQPpjrS78kbxNuuodhdeGV0UJ189UmoLkSCjjnZBf3kXjvmKmsv_guQoRHKjG97X0ibgEEnEhs3gcGbeK6Rj9Zh6tGOq_VA-tBU0p-dpqgBXPSa4tuDuR9iSWBg/s400/kevinn.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344392798287418866" border="0" /></a>Kevin...<br />I liked kevin, he was funny and he seemed to enjoy my company.<br />My boss always seemed more concerned about kevin's hygene, and<br />whether or not his dishes were done, but l kind of felt it more<br />important to go fishing. We would drive up the old northwest<br />bay logging road, a secret little lake that made you feel holy. We<br />would cast off of shore, worms and bobbins, catching fist size trout.<br />Keving was stubborn, when they discovered that he had diabetes,<br />well it was very rough on him. FIfty years of drinking soda pop and<br />licking dairy's cone and suddenly your suppose to eat like a bunny, it<br />was tough. A couple years later, riding his bike on a beautiful sunny<br />day, Kevin suffered a heart attack and died.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwG6lPC6RLhaZzwv-V-9C5d9lO3yrLK5zQWuoULri2bbFmzVbObWTxjgzjX-ms5hJpD-DHccJo5qPyL2IlVOmBZzP8QnaVprTu5rE8CfmziPoy8R_jaj07NZd12M4dp6TaOh7rkQ/s1600-h/lorrie2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwG6lPC6RLhaZzwv-V-9C5d9lO3yrLK5zQWuoULri2bbFmzVbObWTxjgzjX-ms5hJpD-DHccJo5qPyL2IlVOmBZzP8QnaVprTu5rE8CfmziPoy8R_jaj07NZd12M4dp6TaOh7rkQ/s400/lorrie2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344409898045144594" border="0" /></a>Lori...<br />Lori was tough, strong and would always help you if you needed.<br />He liked to collect things, lots of things, bikes, cars, radio's, tv's, any<br />thing you could take apart, he was like the guy from "back to the<br />future". Lori had an unkemptness to him that was appealing. One<br />year l offered him a shed in my yard, "a place to store a few things",<br />It didn't take long...he filled it to the roof, he circled the shed with<br />broken cars, and late at night, when even the owls close their eyes, l<br />would sometimes hear loud voices. I thought maybe Orson Welles was<br />right and it was the <a href="http://history1900s.about.com/od/1930s/a/warofworlds.htm">war of the worlds</a> but no it was just Lori and his<br />coat hanger wrapped cracklin radio.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgcwzPSmDcnuB6PcusR6SiySLiK5KB3UQz7eOBdMuhoY0arE9HeiPosTNqGo9ShsfTYGE4qq6xoz2M0tCN16T01rIQ-Um8MHeln3aX_ZQBpINnbozN3bZ-9V_48Ap8n1ORanadwQ/s1600-h/handmuriel.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 290px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgcwzPSmDcnuB6PcusR6SiySLiK5KB3UQz7eOBdMuhoY0arE9HeiPosTNqGo9ShsfTYGE4qq6xoz2M0tCN16T01rIQ-Um8MHeln3aX_ZQBpINnbozN3bZ-9V_48Ap8n1ORanadwQ/s400/handmuriel.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344416012822319682" border="0" /></a><br />I also worked with the beautiful Hugh and have written<br />about him before, <a href="http://rustystories.blogspot.com/search?q=huey">here...</a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><br /></span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXx9JnrbAooI7_gY2EVSq-YXqSTvNUZe6Cw0ieN5POvB5hJK0uKszPap9AfDr6QO3UYPZSsq-2lYM19nKzv71P3YjIgrHVJnB4IO2CRdrpVxWW4LF56lkNRKqnpTm47li5yEXFLg/s1600-h/john-o.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 255px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXx9JnrbAooI7_gY2EVSq-YXqSTvNUZe6Cw0ieN5POvB5hJK0uKszPap9AfDr6QO3UYPZSsq-2lYM19nKzv71P3YjIgrHVJnB4IO2CRdrpVxWW4LF56lkNRKqnpTm47li5yEXFLg/s400/john-o.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344416738816571218" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">I just want to feel "right as rain"</span></span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_JSZ1ELrGPnO96omUzcozqCGG7tznlXM4qOwGjV3ogVoSRSi3KatOq-JY97PFdI0JAI91Jxkct0lOwG6dCaejM-nUAdCwNGqsCbXOBmB7EHjenXmZ9vXTqHVMxE19vUrEcxq7qA/s1600-h/buddy_batman_buddy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 342px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_JSZ1ELrGPnO96omUzcozqCGG7tznlXM4qOwGjV3ogVoSRSi3KatOq-JY97PFdI0JAI91Jxkct0lOwG6dCaejM-nUAdCwNGqsCbXOBmB7EHjenXmZ9vXTqHVMxE19vUrEcxq7qA/s400/buddy_batman_buddy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344417258269400978" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:130%;">"Of course compassion condones suffering<br />in that it recognizes,<br />yes, suffering is life."<br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:85%;">-j campbell</span><br /><br /><br /></span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0L3hNJwtgJbvTncIr-J97bP_Ln2yFy1a2BL-0xLkWn5HWWgYtFCO7P3AhdnxMRslT8-S-PMUHMWl5F4ZXf6nzLMWjz-ZUWBmPryzLrosCVIz6rYWn_8hetNAi72uEielj0SN92A/s1600-h/fern.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 269px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0L3hNJwtgJbvTncIr-J97bP_Ln2yFy1a2BL-0xLkWn5HWWgYtFCO7P3AhdnxMRslT8-S-PMUHMWl5F4ZXf6nzLMWjz-ZUWBmPryzLrosCVIz6rYWn_8hetNAi72uEielj0SN92A/s400/fern.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344418671239522130" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);">fern and gary...<br /><br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqCAnWz2cFg8bm4ms4iZCQklqfj8HvVvoXlvud_1WJ-pQUjTInkZq6lfCKyfYpnN89zRa_nNfOcFsPJNUl1_1gToXysPxrjEkDyf2kYlTdm5gbYgtHz9DtHellMDaKZJqVrFO1kA/s1600-h/fergar.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqCAnWz2cFg8bm4ms4iZCQklqfj8HvVvoXlvud_1WJ-pQUjTInkZq6lfCKyfYpnN89zRa_nNfOcFsPJNUl1_1gToXysPxrjEkDyf2kYlTdm5gbYgtHz9DtHellMDaKZJqVrFO1kA/s400/fergar.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344418877992205090" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrP8aFK9Hz5qMzaO0zv2EovsqOEK-YYHWgqexzChi9XQI_Z1Fa4eHI0s3jYBtV6v6xy-tCVfWznhlB56QTF5Vti8HVh3sOsisB-P7-1yD86Ix-w3iIu6Aei5MTFFPFeOGE8VVgMg/s1600-h/ferngary.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 356px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrP8aFK9Hz5qMzaO0zv2EovsqOEK-YYHWgqexzChi9XQI_Z1Fa4eHI0s3jYBtV6v6xy-tCVfWznhlB56QTF5Vti8HVh3sOsisB-P7-1yD86Ix-w3iIu6Aei5MTFFPFeOGE8VVgMg/s400/ferngary.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344421765549268306" border="0" /></a>------------------------------<br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span></span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:100%;">"Sexual intimacy begins with acknowledgment of and respect for<br />the mystery and madness of the others sexuality, for it is only<br />in mystery and madness that soul is revealed."<br />-t.moore<br /></span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKusEBndBp-MEca7QDFoya9En0f_ZjzUZIL0R3lui_1GuDW7GDCsWq66iOARekh1vcLmVJuqKRYpJ8VUDLfOmZsrxZJ2bkdLMtZUnxbiijsB2sqyJKeh0HZcDak-GszgiozzwG2w/s1600-h/inthepark.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 275px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKusEBndBp-MEca7QDFoya9En0f_ZjzUZIL0R3lui_1GuDW7GDCsWq66iOARekh1vcLmVJuqKRYpJ8VUDLfOmZsrxZJ2bkdLMtZUnxbiijsB2sqyJKeh0HZcDak-GszgiozzwG2w/s400/inthepark.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344422685327144354" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;">Brenda and Alan...<br />Like two different flowers, on two different seasons, one open, one closed.<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKf8rlBNES_rqjTuCFtwa5lY8kQvazlBhUZRqj9R01d5H2JP8599bb3H_hlTwU9jK7D0Vfo_tqtfkP_amFmVBmYyFzEwdtD-C27Z4XQj7lePs0i2DGqfFMC5ezQXKhCVcEJaK79g/s1600-h/alport.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 291px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKf8rlBNES_rqjTuCFtwa5lY8kQvazlBhUZRqj9R01d5H2JP8599bb3H_hlTwU9jK7D0Vfo_tqtfkP_amFmVBmYyFzEwdtD-C27Z4XQj7lePs0i2DGqfFMC5ezQXKhCVcEJaK79g/s400/alport.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344423215560570834" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><br />Alan is fast, quick, they use to call him "speedy". He had spent<br />some time at <a href="http://www.cariboo.bc.ca/news/pastnov26/tranqll.html">Tranquille</a> before they closed down, and like any big<br />institution, it probably left a imprint. Brenda was softer, slower,<br />steadier perhaps, they made a good pair.<br /><br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf4CnxzLXGfVQ1g-7rxqCYZipAY5HSXUYvkIKNtvd-e-NYtKnYZIldanw9anRLq_JMIE8GJBUGbsZTBUPX0pNMtfhNgd-1NbQUR1nscf7XH3zEAk6n2OlxEio8UZ4f617KtGF_Bg/s1600-h/speak_to_me.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 287px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf4CnxzLXGfVQ1g-7rxqCYZipAY5HSXUYvkIKNtvd-e-NYtKnYZIldanw9anRLq_JMIE8GJBUGbsZTBUPX0pNMtfhNgd-1NbQUR1nscf7XH3zEAk6n2OlxEio8UZ4f617KtGF_Bg/s400/speak_to_me.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344425443415540626" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I photographed their wedding...<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvGXhvtWB06tMukjLxy9Ed7CdwmmXRvg8J9AGhAxp_YKAiqApxqqRHBbfq0VyIdAyUYIBEa5OwCNN7sFQxfRzffMsR30Wp5TdnxIDxVdP42ehBXjabimPooHKNt6Gh02UDZnYeIg/s1600-h/alan.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 303px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvGXhvtWB06tMukjLxy9Ed7CdwmmXRvg8J9AGhAxp_YKAiqApxqqRHBbfq0VyIdAyUYIBEa5OwCNN7sFQxfRzffMsR30Wp5TdnxIDxVdP42ehBXjabimPooHKNt6Gh02UDZnYeIg/s400/alan.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344425779417489266" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I took Alan and Brenda everywhere, camping, hotels in the<br />big city, art shows, walkabouts... I don't know what l was trying<br />to do, l guess l thought it was useful, important, real.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi68d7S22MA-igZJoTN9mvmHbalH0NEoPG_PDhAyYjO72tc8zHeMpOgXEZ81Wl-4VpZKHScoZLx_-WlhiAALBHqixrU1PGB2Cx6aoTbjwRvTKdVYdH9RXim9AP1X73QM2JWJpM2Sg/s1600-h/albrenb.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 274px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi68d7S22MA-igZJoTN9mvmHbalH0NEoPG_PDhAyYjO72tc8zHeMpOgXEZ81Wl-4VpZKHScoZLx_-WlhiAALBHqixrU1PGB2Cx6aoTbjwRvTKdVYdH9RXim9AP1X73QM2JWJpM2Sg/s400/albrenb.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344426226090243410" border="0" /></a><br /><br />This next image got me into a lot of trouble...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxYSvCnUThpsjL1PcrI1gb3358zmmhapy18m2SFTaQHV1o1tA5mkqZwNUj-qeMKRV-G7kJL3CDi4kntSTqA_kqtxOqsuFKqjsyXJS2HbUg6OMpbbYtbgxjyWz1N-oZBts3upfWUQ/s1600-h/brendaquit.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 275px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxYSvCnUThpsjL1PcrI1gb3358zmmhapy18m2SFTaQHV1o1tA5mkqZwNUj-qeMKRV-G7kJL3CDi4kntSTqA_kqtxOqsuFKqjsyXJS2HbUg6OMpbbYtbgxjyWz1N-oZBts3upfWUQ/s400/brendaquit.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344426575908495026" border="0" /></a><br />...now you can whip me or love me, l've battled it in my head,<br />but there is no right, no wrong.<br />Brenda and Alan trusted me, they invited me in, l wanted to<br />acknowledge this, to acknowledge their intimacy, their love...<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO1GJ9GPio1UMFCB0o61_xu2CgPZmbpWEE3gzzGJFlrawTlBmcjnrXhI19Gh4qElNA-RSaCZRUZN4yzV9fCfZTaxCxOHYy6z0ALZaIEvgPoy-vwW3MsptiYXffyXmIlM2LNFxMPg/s1600-h/brendalan.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 327px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO1GJ9GPio1UMFCB0o61_xu2CgPZmbpWEE3gzzGJFlrawTlBmcjnrXhI19Gh4qElNA-RSaCZRUZN4yzV9fCfZTaxCxOHYy6z0ALZaIEvgPoy-vwW3MsptiYXffyXmIlM2LNFxMPg/s400/brendalan.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344427785873129842" border="0" /></a><br /><br />---------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br />----------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" >a little extra time, check <a href="http://prophet-of-bloom.blogspot.com/">markmaker India Flint</a><br /><br />goodbye</span><br /><br /><br />------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /></div></div>kenfletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09096146686574129994noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22625473.post-90441209659899772222009-05-15T10:17:00.000-07:002009-05-15T15:22:31.704-07:00I spy...<div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" ><br /><br />"In this state of life, however, I remained some time, uncertain<br />what measures to take,and what course of life to lead. An irresistible<br />reluctance continued to going home;and as I stayed away a while,<br />the remembrance of the distress I had been in wore off,<br />and as that abated, the little motion I had in my desires to return<br />wore off with it,till at last I quite laid aside the thoughts of it,<br />and looked out for a voyage."</span><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">-(Robinson Crusoe - Daniel Defoe)</span><br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6oyA-54epRWVH5Pho-p6l0QaR1MeW0QUB2iMsXFNC0nFPt0YsWzP_UfmFBjmClXE3dIDlDTcHRWJoIcoJSC6OR9ng89fvWLQDsILVtKE3MdXDlESCunSsR6fQsS1d_LSkqXX_EQ/s1600-h/detcob+%28Medium%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6oyA-54epRWVH5Pho-p6l0QaR1MeW0QUB2iMsXFNC0nFPt0YsWzP_UfmFBjmClXE3dIDlDTcHRWJoIcoJSC6OR9ng89fvWLQDsILVtKE3MdXDlESCunSsR6fQsS1d_LSkqXX_EQ/s400/detcob+%28Medium%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336101511119569538" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"><br />As l mentioned, l'm in a group show at the <a href="http://www.evergreenculturalcentre.ca/ART+GALLERY/default.htm">Evergreen Cultural Centre</a></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);">Alternative Identities...we were to take on a different identity and well,<br />make some pieces with that in mind. You know, l fantasized of being a<br />spy when l was young, l would dream of wearing a long white overcoat,<br />having a little leather kit of tools, the kind that gets you into any locked<br />door. So l don't know why l didn't pick that identity, anyways l decided<br />on Robinson Crusoe...<br /><br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBTTn9o08pTDAPi7hOPEGkn_pXmIMjGzMd2fZZavAEoiOf6QbSKhGhrRMrolvNMEiZcUXOcL7eiw2_ARda94u5-FOWFInEn1BXNZn7rT2ING4613imyB8-steS5Y5bISICBVqGMg/s1600-h/obscura.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 270px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBTTn9o08pTDAPi7hOPEGkn_pXmIMjGzMd2fZZavAEoiOf6QbSKhGhrRMrolvNMEiZcUXOcL7eiw2_ARda94u5-FOWFInEn1BXNZn7rT2ING4613imyB8-steS5Y5bISICBVqGMg/s400/obscura.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336103264889178098" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);">This is a box l made with a large lens that you peek through and inside,<br />two figures, a man and his dog. Here is a little detail of what you see.<br /><br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT-u-oLIa_Z1PgPG6bSRIcnhRGloQ1YAFrgGRvS6eDFCxkkpB6O4ObzxRvrcJwo9M4MzCIw9uXIxYcOB_w_1dHXumsQEo3mCE9358XG8m8HPGx57-ffrAunU61JuhDOnuu5LbGtg/s1600-h/crusoe.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT-u-oLIa_Z1PgPG6bSRIcnhRGloQ1YAFrgGRvS6eDFCxkkpB6O4ObzxRvrcJwo9M4MzCIw9uXIxYcOB_w_1dHXumsQEo3mCE9358XG8m8HPGx57-ffrAunU61JuhDOnuu5LbGtg/s400/crusoe.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336103607431486242" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"><br />...and the painting l made<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5eCMxpeD40tOBOZ2E6uZkH1F2sOct7evcEMO1saadXBdyPXqnGbAC1S3MQ6hFyRxiHHo_dgV843iYiytA6t4jmuKmSDdMpZorF59Gjq9PS9-VXTu-_n5ShL72_s-tfV5fUjbiYg/s1600-h/compassofabear.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 329px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5eCMxpeD40tOBOZ2E6uZkH1F2sOct7evcEMO1saadXBdyPXqnGbAC1S3MQ6hFyRxiHHo_dgV843iYiytA6t4jmuKmSDdMpZorF59Gjq9PS9-VXTu-_n5ShL72_s-tfV5fUjbiYg/s400/compassofabear.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336103889561094898" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);">I tried to be Robinson Crusoe, or to feel, quiet, secluded, wandering alone<br />in my head. </span> <span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);">I tried to think of what l would miss... I worked quietly<br />with my hands, picking </span> <span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"> up things that laid around, stitching, little pieces<br />of wood, little frail pieces of </span> <span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);">fabric, building a memory.</span></span><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIqX2HBKy6d4LbKK86zU9Andw1OkhUy1c8QV-Y6tXc6uNZYQrg4aRUHgRpHsLRiEBGlZuhRJ1rSVTj-KAgZaGEGZ8JkL5d3Pg-_G9GHQef2a9t2T2vUglWuC5LVBrZbmKfCyLJzw/s1600-h/decob.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 308px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIqX2HBKy6d4LbKK86zU9Andw1OkhUy1c8QV-Y6tXc6uNZYQrg4aRUHgRpHsLRiEBGlZuhRJ1rSVTj-KAgZaGEGZ8JkL5d3Pg-_G9GHQef2a9t2T2vUglWuC5LVBrZbmKfCyLJzw/s400/decob.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336104436095585394" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" >La',tout n'est gu'ordre et beaute',<br />Luve, calme et volupte'.<br />(All in simply order and beauty<br />Generosity, calmness and sensuality)</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" >-baudelaire</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);">-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br /><br /></span></span><br /></div>kenfletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09096146686574129994noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22625473.post-37239936681846936952009-04-25T14:47:00.000-07:002009-04-25T19:59:52.245-07:00passionate punk...<div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" ><br /><br />“Music and rhythm find their way into the secret places</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" >of the soul”<br />-<span style="font-size:100%;"> Plato</span></span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq4XLH5y6RexBpux8amr77t5HwgJ2O8Ie0UBVVY_EKoISYAwWXTVSmURA8Gl4MEfwaRAy5SMJ9r_2vlhzkJYT-kSv9On9X6-wAl1ciLTf62_Ulo_BIbEDeLX5whdw-n0w5E6g7xw/s1600-h/mboy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 390px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq4XLH5y6RexBpux8amr77t5HwgJ2O8Ie0UBVVY_EKoISYAwWXTVSmURA8Gl4MEfwaRAy5SMJ9r_2vlhzkJYT-kSv9On9X6-wAl1ciLTf62_Ulo_BIbEDeLX5whdw-n0w5E6g7xw/s400/mboy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328764357514794578" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">music...it started in grade 7 for me, dancing with Nelly Kazenbroot to the<br />guess who's"american woman. At home l listened to 45's my parents had given<br />me, Johnny Horton,</span><span style="font-size:100%;">"Battle of New Orleans", Elvis, a song about someone<br />kissing dina in the kitchen, and my favorite "Mr.Bojangles" by Jerry jeff Walker.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" >He shook his head and as he shook his hea</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" >d I heard someone ask, please<br />Mister Bojangles<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" >Mister Bojangles<br />Mister Bojangles</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" >,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" >dance.</span><br /><br />l found a video of <a href="http://tr.youtube.com/watch?v=5voM2HExV_Q&feature=PlayList&p=D18C66C10AD0A2DC&index=16">Sammy Davis Jr. sing</a><a href="http://tr.youtube.com/watch?v=5voM2HExV_Q&feature=PlayList&p=D18C66C10AD0A2DC&index=16">ing Mr.Bojangles,</a> . I had<br />pants like sammy davis jr., slightly flared at the bottom, l loved<br />those pants, probably why nelly wanted to dance with me. But<br />here, you might want to watch/listen to don mclean singing "Vincent"<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/4h9ARdPHSBg&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/4h9ARdPHSBg&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />It's the passion, the passion in the singing that thrills me, that<br />inspires me. In my studio l listen to Jacque Brel, Nina Simon, Tom waits,<br />and thrown in there l have Johnny Horton's Battle of New Orleans,<br />Mr. Bojangles, Blinded by the Light by Manfred Mann. They<br />remind me of my childhood, passionate punk. They make me feel<br />good, it's funny how we are shaped by our childhood.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">"Friend, when l am </span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">dead</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">Make a cup of the clay l become.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">and, if you remember me, d</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">rink from it.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">Should your lips cling to the cup,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">It will be but my earthy kiss."</span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">-Mexican folk song</span><br /><br />When l finished college, l wandered back to the island, my home,<br />then l wandered back to calgary, then back to the island. I was like<br />a gerbil circling his cage, never realizing that the door was open.<br />I was my own worst nightmare. Finally l decided to be still,<br />physically and emotionally. I started painting...<br />photographs can sometimes be perfect, blameless, especially to<br />the purists, but l wanted more from my photographs, l wanted<br />to feel what l had photographed.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJVSSbit05FMuIIwsQMe-sKOO2mWMPrTA4sr3GBng-gnj0qXsGgnHpPTZRntOzLpgZpDhbn5SGP2fZZvL-X_AHYSB3jHkDr2oppNeQLLlLfXpUMyZUPFku7nZt1AQWciZAZP1ldA/s1600-h/mickeyandme.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 271px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJVSSbit05FMuIIwsQMe-sKOO2mWMPrTA4sr3GBng-gnj0qXsGgnHpPTZRntOzLpgZpDhbn5SGP2fZZvL-X_AHYSB3jHkDr2oppNeQLLlLfXpUMyZUPFku7nZt1AQWciZAZP1ldA/s400/mickeyandme.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328774474027563186" border="0" /></a><br />So l took a large one and started painting over it, gluing bits and<br />pieces on it, like a crow dropping nuts on the road.<br />Caring but not caring. It was the start to my bricolage (early 90's)<br />I used and still do, old tent canvas, it is cheap, strong and the smell<br />reminds me of my childhood. I glue the silver prints on with<br />archival glue, l use to have to get it from a library supplier in ontario,<br />but now it's like water, you can get it anywhere.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIiYcyF6hjo9m451Kb1APw7j3vyvO_IET_EsgnnrzmahjScMh-rsAvcDAfos2dgElORwBGQfMg9xlnELRCWDfmiCNBmruoBW5w1ZCPjgKIVQi_xlcIV16sS-hsDimFl5qL_hcvdg/s1600-h/wallys_story.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 271px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIiYcyF6hjo9m451Kb1APw7j3vyvO_IET_EsgnnrzmahjScMh-rsAvcDAfos2dgElORwBGQfMg9xlnELRCWDfmiCNBmruoBW5w1ZCPjgKIVQi_xlcIV16sS-hsDimFl5qL_hcvdg/s400/wallys_story.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328776751900741970" border="0" /></a><a href="http://rustystories.blogspot.com/search?q=wally+walter">Walter Skulsky</a><br /><br />For years I fought with myself, (a good fight) about what l was<br />doing, photographs, paint, really is it art, is it fair. But really<br />who cares, along as you do it with passion, with love ,<br />with your childhood.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZOnYMeDAU7k6kq0WUVESg2vbGLjp3-4yVAnSCtpmpFA8LSy5suCSEwFLufLT9qegad_EQasGMj1tlUD4LMAhV7DkDraoG9kbBwWRadb8a07IuJAa21-HtBN77vMauld-2A3l7pQ/s1600-h/colonel_belcher_corner.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 393px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZOnYMeDAU7k6kq0WUVESg2vbGLjp3-4yVAnSCtpmpFA8LSy5suCSEwFLufLT9qegad_EQasGMj1tlUD4LMAhV7DkDraoG9kbBwWRadb8a07IuJAa21-HtBN77vMauld-2A3l7pQ/s400/colonel_belcher_corner.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328777646454482418" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6C2yNGKvZRCtrR_zlVY41rs_v-PNq6jqt5tMmJC3lKxW0gaAVb1ogXSE5TBehl9WDORvD_ARRvI_ZSZohoCqi2_AjNo2Z1JgAxiEEGRrU7JO65jjhdEQdHeSMYxq-0MDruFxpQA/s1600-h/the_tinroom.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 284px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6C2yNGKvZRCtrR_zlVY41rs_v-PNq6jqt5tMmJC3lKxW0gaAVb1ogXSE5TBehl9WDORvD_ARRvI_ZSZohoCqi2_AjNo2Z1JgAxiEEGRrU7JO65jjhdEQdHeSMYxq-0MDruFxpQA/s400/the_tinroom.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328778063857512066" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnS1iAfbhpXNvFhVeZLlZQEwTwuTGTVq-BoJaiAKnF2wU7S_N04x6egX_UJeAPEzvf77tXTqNqGyyQQoV4t3S-45z4G_JeWP2W5BBxVdQVkGmNrMmzxvyjZDAkusKwHGfvzRpJGQ/s1600-h/ninthlysol.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnS1iAfbhpXNvFhVeZLlZQEwTwuTGTVq-BoJaiAKnF2wU7S_N04x6egX_UJeAPEzvf77tXTqNqGyyQQoV4t3S-45z4G_JeWP2W5BBxVdQVkGmNrMmzxvyjZDAkusKwHGfvzRpJGQ/s400/ninthlysol.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328778391381336850" border="0" /></a>ninth ave...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgReN2cC5CO1WoowlXShQNS4FLWvVaI8AtdBU_nKIgQFRcxOkljrH1cbSBtwcjCK5SIMgmoZpP7fEnG13iJaOFfy0sbzU8ZB5CuZk_9lmtGD1kQOyOgkOf8wDLAR0jIp3Ifejnbsw/s1600-h/rememberance.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 308px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgReN2cC5CO1WoowlXShQNS4FLWvVaI8AtdBU_nKIgQFRcxOkljrH1cbSBtwcjCK5SIMgmoZpP7fEnG13iJaOFfy0sbzU8ZB5CuZk_9lmtGD1kQOyOgkOf8wDLAR0jIp3Ifejnbsw/s400/rememberance.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328778550816068034" border="0" /></a><a href="http://rustystories.blogspot.com/search?q=mickey">Mickey McGrath at the colonel Belcher </a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnUS3n5_oQvXrNk4hUKR3FJM9ThWPlxQeyPq-oZ9Gov95ySGqYGnY2d1gDUMKbcs04DMWDfEBSGHt4eZPUWoX66JCML7PCnkFaaxw6f_e4wilOdlTrscd4btZosIcNSLNZXPqyMA/s1600-h/Halifax.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnUS3n5_oQvXrNk4hUKR3FJM9ThWPlxQeyPq-oZ9Gov95ySGqYGnY2d1gDUMKbcs04DMWDfEBSGHt4eZPUWoX66JCML7PCnkFaaxw6f_e4wilOdlTrscd4btZosIcNSLNZXPqyMA/s400/Halifax.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328778881224574098" border="0" /></a>halifax<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD8l1uMgBX7XI_Qrk_Ugk5mvXjpst_hnQDmXflz9ZtahXAm9NRrErNPnw1iE8oBdoVN99mpOVRy-dszXQviwAxPjKMbgk0SWjNz4vN2HMfwiYepNUbcS7vjbi35rizPQvisxwl5A/s1600-h/cbel.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 397px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD8l1uMgBX7XI_Qrk_Ugk5mvXjpst_hnQDmXflz9ZtahXAm9NRrErNPnw1iE8oBdoVN99mpOVRy-dszXQviwAxPjKMbgk0SWjNz4vN2HMfwiYepNUbcS7vjbi35rizPQvisxwl5A/s400/cbel.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328779467322949314" border="0" /></a>colonel belcher veteran's hospital (Calgary)<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC6xL0GLoodTTr5_aEJlvj-UHxwQVwyAog7Pk4izft05vFRqA3-odHMCjpPcykMYtzNUojyxCGzLxF6I_p_wQTp0SYKAP-V49dXrgJgssJqUZIkcUD4StbNl-bADZsbJv6u3amJg/s1600-h/spike&butch.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 313px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC6xL0GLoodTTr5_aEJlvj-UHxwQVwyAog7Pk4izft05vFRqA3-odHMCjpPcykMYtzNUojyxCGzLxF6I_p_wQTp0SYKAP-V49dXrgJgssJqUZIkcUD4StbNl-bADZsbJv6u3amJg/s400/spike&butch.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328779773452116898" border="0" /></a><a href="http://rustystories.blogspot.com/search?q=spike">spike and his dog butch</a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ3rnVoMlloK_Zj2Jp5Jd0yT2AMBonMohWw6msnevH4-hDbH10f_qaZjRgid0ecEBqqtLQRhUvpqjRdJSTF1Pm8eyxOQZPgzYNp_H_6uiZDvJcGVkBKXPFVl2FWYs2X67rp7zeSg/s1600-h/lust_and_loneness.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 285px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ3rnVoMlloK_Zj2Jp5Jd0yT2AMBonMohWw6msnevH4-hDbH10f_qaZjRgid0ecEBqqtLQRhUvpqjRdJSTF1Pm8eyxOQZPgzYNp_H_6uiZDvJcGVkBKXPFVl2FWYs2X67rp7zeSg/s400/lust_and_loneness.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328779922160824498" border="0" /></a>"lust and loneliness"<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">"This is a deep, permanent human condition</span> <span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><br />this need to be loved and to love"</span></span> <span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">-annie proulx</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);">I'm in a group show, at the <a href="http://www.evergreenculturalcentre.ca/ART+GALLERY/Upcoming+Exhibitions/default.htm">Evergreen Cultural Centre</a> in<br />Coquitlam, bc. It's a persona show, each of us taking a different<br />persona. Mine...robinson crusoe<br />here is a very small detail of what l'm working on for it.<br /><br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLQEtkThdt5P-_IAXkZ9MxDy4F4e2EkJ9mpGr2wBRa_iyUUMPcNGPUDKFHE968YIb22nox8UcHjnp60rR3Mutxdy_2aLxJKJ64d2mx4_CFlW6nnZJ-IlPE1IRO30vKtLoM9XEcbA/s1600-h/boat.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLQEtkThdt5P-_IAXkZ9MxDy4F4e2EkJ9mpGr2wBRa_iyUUMPcNGPUDKFHE968YIb22nox8UcHjnp60rR3Mutxdy_2aLxJKJ64d2mx4_CFlW6nnZJ-IlPE1IRO30vKtLoM9XEcbA/s400/boat.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328784636886491138" border="0" /></a><br /><br />...<br />okay, bye<br />one last thing though, maybe check out this blog, she is a young<br />photographer, poet, hell she probably can sing and dance...<br /><a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/01708386682912104078">Sarah</a><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"><br /></span></span><br /></div>kenfletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09096146686574129994noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22625473.post-85019194914894819552009-04-12T17:42:00.000-07:002009-04-12T17:52:39.472-07:00rescue dog...<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"><br />"A sight for sore eyes it's a long time no see</span> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"> Workin hard hardly workin, hey man you know me"<br /><span style="font-size:100%;">-t.waits<br /><br /></span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxRECwC6bsVhp7Bm8h-6yA2MRGYd9WhHC-sc2iD1B34Q98pegRO-ZEgPAED5Mv4nsn-miZ8w3pqb4tPx-RBSHwlZe_8AipGdwkh6fiVrbsrY3FBl7ic9PK6VWbI_qum4ypRFG2IQ/s1600-h/redcross.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 418px; height: 342px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxRECwC6bsVhp7Bm8h-6yA2MRGYd9WhHC-sc2iD1B34Q98pegRO-ZEgPAED5Mv4nsn-miZ8w3pqb4tPx-RBSHwlZe_8AipGdwkh6fiVrbsrY3FBl7ic9PK6VWbI_qum4ypRFG2IQ/s400/redcross.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323971167230541986" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;">I've been busy under the house, building a foundation, cementing,<br />lifting beams, eating bugs</span>. Well Cedar is kindof like those saint<br />bernard rescue dogs, you know, a barrel of grappa under their chins.<br />So l'm hoping that when the house falls on me, he'll be dragging me<br />out and tending my wounds. Anyways, l'll post something in a few days.<br /><br /><br /></div><blockquote></blockquote>kenfletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09096146686574129994noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22625473.post-861842594801418482009-03-25T16:59:00.001-07:002009-03-26T12:27:04.710-07:00summer camp...<center><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color:#990000;"><br>The power to make things beautiful lies in each<br />of us already. It is a core so simple and so<br />deep, that we are born with it.<br /><br />-C.Alexander<br /><br /></span></span>I use this quote at the beginning of every class. Photographic arts,<br />doll making, assemblage and bricolage, l'm like a traveling magic<br />show. It takes me a day to load my truck, old canvas, fabric, some<br />stained, some smelly, dirty rusty tin, banged up wood, blocks of<br />beeswax, needles and thread, and sometimes my sewing machine.<br /><br /><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/seam.jpg" width="400" height="300" /><br /><br />If it were the middle ages, l'd be tortured and hung up for my alchemist ways.<br />I taught a couple of two day workshops at the <a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.artsdenman.com/">Denman Island Arts Center</a>,<br />doll making and assemblage. l'm always scared when l go to denman island,<br />it's lawless you know. The people on denman don't just grow potatoes and corn<br />There are lots of artists there and they care. So l have to be prepared, l have to satisfy<br />them. If l don't, who knows, l'd probably wind up on the shore of the mainland, my<br />limbs sewn together, covered in beeswax, looking like a kewpie doll.<br /><br /><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/dface.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/dface.jpg" width="260" border="0" height="196" /></a> <a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/dsun.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/dsun.jpg" width="137" border="0" height="196" /></a><br />(to all of my students, sorry for the lack of names, if you have<br />a name or website, let me know and l'll post it.)<br /><br /><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/djude.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/djude.jpg" width="400" border="0" height="403" /></a><br /><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/dsword.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/dsword.jpg" width="400" border="0" height="190" /></a><br /><br />Wells, BC. - I've taught a few times at the <a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.imarts.com/artschool">Island Mountain Arts Center</a><br />I've also stayed a winter or two there, out in Stromville. In a cabin, woodstove<br />and lights powered by car batteries, sometimes l felt like a hairless dog curling<br />up tight to keep warm. Wells is a magical place and l like teaching there. Last time<br />l taught for five days, the first two days are the honeymoon, the third day,<br />it's over, people are sick of working eight hours stitching and sticking and listening<br />to my banter about the importance "of caring". Some even wished they had taken<br />the calligraphy class down the hall. I bribe them with cookies, fortune cookies<br />and chocolate cookies and if they make it to thursday, were okay.<br />The last day is the best, were all comfortable with each other,<br />things are just beginning to<br />develop, in fact that's<br />when the five days should really start.<br /><br /><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/edoll.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/edoll.jpg" width="400" border="0" height="328" /></a><br /><br />Doesn't matter what class you take with me, l get you to make a fabric doll.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color:#990000;">"If a child died, Ojibwa Indian women made a "doll of Misfortune"<br />creating it from feathers and placing it in a cradle, the mother cared for<br />the doll just as if it were a real baby. She would take it on journeys,<br />talk to it and give it presents for one year, until she considered the<br />baby old enough to reach paradise on its own."<br /><br /></span></span>Before making a doll, l ask the students to write for ten minutes non-stop<br />starting with words "I remember". This zen practice of writing is<br />borrowed/inspired from <a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.nataliegoldberg.com/">Natalie Goldberg</a><br />The students are brave, most read what they have written,<br />some tearfully, some with laughter, all with courage.<br /><br /><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/dollm.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/dollm.jpg" width="450" border="0" height="103" /></a><br /><br />Metchosin, BC - I taught a five day class last summer at the<br /><a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.missa.ca/">Metchosin International summer school of the arts</a>.<br />This place is beautiful, it's like summer camp without the bully's. You sleep<br />there, you eat there, and you create. I start this class by making pinhole<br />cameras out of old record covers. Self portraits, transfers, rusty tin figures,<br />fabric dolls, encaustic, and collage. The pinhole images are beautiful,<br /><br /><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/pino.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/pino.jpg" width="212" border="0" height="260" /></a> <a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/pino2.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/pino2.jpg" width="226" border="0" height="260" /></a><br /><br />it takes awhile to make the camera light proof. lots of black tape, lots of<br />frustration, but once done, it's like you just made friends with<br /><a rel="nofollow" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nic%C3%A9phore_Ni%C3%A9pce">Joseph Niepce</a>. The act of building this little crooked box. The act of<br />building, so important, working with your hands, feeling and fumbling.<br />Like peeing in a ditch, you can't miss. It's almost primitive, and very<br />real, you just want to dance naked around a big fire.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color:#990000;">And there's one thing you can't lose<br />And it's that feel<br />It's that feel<br />-t.waits<br /><br /></span></span>Red Deer, AB - I am teaching another five day class this summer at<br /><a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.rdc.ab.ca/future_students/continuing_education/visual_arts/series/index.html%20">Red Deer College</a>. Last summer l had a wonderful group...<br>even a couple who had returned second year in a row, l guess l didn't explain<br>myself clearly enough the first time. (Thank you <a rel="nofollow" href="http://paulboultbee.ca/">Paul</a> and Glynis, and<br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/gneg.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/gneg.jpg" border="0" height="239" width="400" /></a><br><br>of course thank you Erika and Gillian who always support me<br>and try to come to nearly all workshops.)<br><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/eandg.jpg" width="450" height="218"><br><br><font color=#990000><font size=3>And me and Molley Hoey drank Pruno and Koolaid and she had a<br>Tattoo gun made out of a cassette Motor and a guitar string and<br>She soaked a hanky in 3 Roses And rubbed it on the spot<br>And drew a rickety heart and A bent arrow and it hurt like hell<br>-t.waits<br><br></font></font><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/pandr.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/pandr.jpg" border="0" height="328" width="450" /></a><br><br><font size=3>A “bricoleur” is a kind of handyman who enjoys adroitly drawing upon all<br>sorts of everyday things - whatever is at hand<br>- to attend to those things that make the good life.<br><br></font><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/vdoll.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/vdoll.jpg" border="0" height="480" width="366" /></a><br><br><font size=3><font color=#990000>What has changed is my way of seeing,<br>l am learning how to look at pictures,<br>what has changed is my capacity of feeling.<br>Art opens the heart.<br>-j.winterson<br><br></font></font><hr size=8 width="90%"><br><br>Winter has passed...<br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/cpass.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/cpass.jpg" border="0" height="300" width="400" /></a><br>still a little cold...<br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/jkc.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/jkc.jpg" border="0" height="176" width="400" /></a><br>but were warm...<br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/spamy.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/spamy.jpg" border="0" height="533" width="350" /></a><br><br><hr size=8 width="90%"><br>I listen to him almost every day, and<br>because Renee at <a rel="nofollow" href="http://circlingmyhead.blogspot.com/">Circling My Head</a> needs<br>some wailin and moanin, here is <a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u1oX3bdIMqk">Jacque Brel</a><br><br></center>kenfletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09096146686574129994noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22625473.post-10649069380601527992009-03-11T20:41:00.000-07:002009-03-12T13:57:57.989-07:00wandering and wondering...<br><font color=#990000><font size=3><center>In life, change and forgetfulness may give the impression that relationships<br>are temporary and conditional by the events of time, but to the soul,<br>remembrance and eternal connectedness are more important.<br>-t.moore<br><br></font></font>continuing from my last post...<br><br>I took a trip - third year of college l won a 1000.dollar grant and l was<br>going to travel across Canada. I bought a 30 day via rail pass, could<br>get on and off when and where l wanted. I bought fourty rolls of black<br>and white film 400asa. My instructors told me that l was very <br>fortunate, the landscapes across canada they said. Little did they know.<br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/fifties.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/fifties.jpg" border="0" height="307" width="450" /></a><br><br>My first stop was Swift Current, Saskatchewan. I stayed at the Imperial $9.45,<br>a room, bath and washroom down the hall. Met Charlie Butcher- lived there all<br>his life, 74years old and had farmed grain for 36 yrs. Lives in town now,<br>his parents homesteaded in Swift Current.<br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/swcur.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/swcur.jpg" border="0" height="161" width="232" /></a> <a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/sc.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/sc.jpg" border="0" height="161" width="220" /></a><br><br>I met the mayor who instead of the key to the city gave me a swift current pin<br>and keychain. I gave my cheese buns and five dollars to Luis and Mercy who<br>were from New York, lost in swift current. Bob, Bunk, Erwin, Mrs Peters<br>then l met Floyd. He told me that he had been in "mental wards" three times<br>and his brother was in the kingston pen, "he was framed", says Floyd.<br>Floyd talked to me about "jerking off" and god. "People don't believe that they<br>can get back in their mother's womb you know." "My father choked to death,<br>my mother had a miscarriage." "Animals believe in god you know, everday down<br>at the zoo people are talking about god and the animals hear, you know."<br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/floyd.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/floyd.jpg" border="0" height="304" width="450" /></a><br><br>As l left to board the train, Floyd gave me a stubbly bearded kiss on the cheek.<br>There was a thunderstorm going on that night, maybe one in Floyd as well.<br>Arrived in Brandon, Manitoba early the next morning. Stayed at the Crystal<br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/edvia.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/edvia.jpg" border="0" height="304" width="450" /></a><br><br>motel for $18.00. Wandered Brandon, weary from the train. Took pics of Vern<br>in room #9 of my hotel. He's been there six years, 17 years in Brandon.<br>Moved from Winnipeg where he had a dry cleaning business which folded<br>when his wife left with the kids - "she got everything." Vern gave me a<br>polaroid of himself which a friend had taken and he was going to tear up.<br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/vern.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/vern.jpg" border="0" height="297" width="200" /></a> <a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/vernp.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/vernp.jpg" border="0" height="205" width="240" /></a><br><br><font size-3><font color=#990000>I lit a wooden match; I let it all burn down<br>I've broken every rule; I've wrecked it all down<br>There are no words in the wind, the trees are all bare<br>Life's mean as a needle; but why should I care?<br>-tom waits<br></font></font>Took pics of Jane who had on a "Smile - Pass it on" patch on her jacket.<br>Brandon was strange to me, hard, dry, but l recognized warmth there...<br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/brandon.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/brandon.jpg" border="0" height="328" width="220" /></a> <a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/branman.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/branman.jpg" border="0" height="328" width="203" /></a><br><br>On my way to Toronto where the train stops for a night. The actual train ride<br>was okay, slept in my seat, wandered to the bar car every now and then chatting<br>to people in my still and quiet way. I bought bagels or buns whenever<br>l stopped, and munched on them, scrunched in my seat like a raccoon<br>with a secret. Stayed at the youth hostel in Toronto for $14.00 and like the<br>other cities, wandered, shuffling along unsure of what l was really doing, peeking<br>here and there, down alleys, in churches, cafe's where l could get toast and<br>coffee. I had to be careful as l didn't have much money. Took pics at a church, built<br>in 1849. There was a strawberry luncheon going on in the back and in the front<br>l met Joe, Mike, and Frank. None of them had whip cream on their faces so<br>l guess they hadn't been invited.<br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/joe-1.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/joe-1.jpg" border="0" height="148" width="215" /></a> <a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/frchurch.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/frchurch.jpg" border="0" height="148" width="225" /></a><br><br>Frank was hungry and was checking out the donation box inside the church.<br>My journal from this trip is so embarrassing, l rant and rave about churches,<br>l whine and fight with myself over what l'm doing.<br><br><font size=3><font color=#990000>All your cryin don't do no good<br>Come on up to the house<br>Come down off the cross<br>We can use the wood<br>Come on up to the house<br>-tom waits<br></font></font>I met Private Smith, use to be in the army, seven years he told me<br>He'll be 60 in a week. He got to go to Copenhagen<br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/toro.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/toro.jpg" border="0" height="400" width="273" /></a><br><br>"where the girls and the booze where for the taking". He was such a nice man to<br>meet. I hung around union station like a lost traveler, i sat on benches, switching<br>every now and then so it didn't look like l was thinking. I met a wonderful man<br>name Bill which l wrote about early on in this blog...<a rel="nofollow" href="http://rustystories.blogspot.com/search?q=Down+by+the+Riverside+motel">Here</a><br>You know, one of the first things l learned, not long before this trip while l<br>ventured the alleys of Calgary, well it was that l could approach anyone. It<br>didn't matter if they looked hardcore, disturbingly cold, or disenchanted,<br>gruff or gross. There's this human inside of us all, no matter the ventures<br>we've taken, it's there and wants to be touched.<br>I traveled to Halifax after Toronto. Headed straight to Dartmouth when l<br>arrived. Met Douglas Mysers in a hallway of a rooming house, dark, a single<br>uncovered bulb hung over his head like a noose.<br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/silnight.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/silnight.jpg" border="0" height="400" width="264" /></a><br><br>It was unsettling, he was unsettling.<br>I stayed at the ymca for $16.50. The next day, traveled up to Sydney, stayed<br>at the Cliefden house hotel for $24.00. Wandered, wandered, wandered,<br>and wondered. Went into the Irish club, not many people, very dark, very quiet,<br>met Jimmy. Jimmy use to be on skid row in Montreal. "The french are great people."<br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/mafia.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/mafia.jpg" border="0" height="342" width="450" /></a><br><br>"I,m an alcoholic, use to fish out of Nanaimo, had my steam ticket, fuckin liquor,<br>lost it, but l knew my ships." Jimmy had a fantastic face, he should be in the mafia l thought.<br>Traveled to Digby, met Stacy Rogers on the train. 16 next week she tells me. Lives<br>with her mom who loves harley davidson's and Bob Dylan. Stacy ran away once to<br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/train.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/train.jpg" border="0" height="302" width="450" /></a><br><br>Halifax for three days. She wants to be a lawyer or a singer, she's been smoking<br>since she was 10. Arrived in Digby at 10pm, not much money so l stayed in a<br>all night pizza joint until the ferry to Saint John was to leave at 5am<br>Saint John , like a dusty old chest of drawers, clothes flung in, some dirty, some<br>stained, some even clean.<br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/michaelt.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/michaelt.jpg" border="0" height="136" width="450" /></a><br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/michael.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/michael.jpg" border="0" height="289" width="450" /></a><br><br>I passed through Toronto again, it's unavoidable. I decided l wanted to go to<br>Niagra Falls. I met the most wonderful couple having lunch there. They were<br>from a small town of 800 people just outside of London, ont. They came to the falls<br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/honeymoon.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/honeymoon.jpg" border="0" height="323" width="450" /></a><br><br>39 years ago on their honeymoon and have come back every year since.<br>Back in Toronto, "Have l begged from you before," he asked me. Pics of Lynda,<br>i was attracted by the gold glitter on her chest. She wore alot of crosses,<br>goes to three churches. "Have to pleae everyone," she tells me. When she<br>got out of the hospital as she had a bio chem breakdown, she started writing.<br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/toron.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/toron.jpg" border="0" height="400" width="268" /></a><br><br>She has certain powers and when they got too great<br>she had a breakdown but now can control them.<br>Back on the train heading to Edmonton. Bits of conversation float down <br>the aisle, breaking like bubbles over my head. "Stop it or l'll pull your dink,"<br>says a little girl to her brother. "Maybe l'm not fit to be a security<br>guard." says George to Marg.<br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/georgemarg.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/georgemarg.jpg" border="0" height="298" width="450" /></a><br><br>I drift, sleep, waking myself shouting my own dreamlike words "That's Nice"<br>Edmonton, Jasper, Prince Rupert where l sleep in the front seat of Chet's van.<br>My trip peters out in Princeton.<br>How do l end this- l guess l don't, it goes on, a walk through this fog,<br>grasping at what is human, trying to be human.<br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/bikec.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/bikec.jpg" border="0" height="295" width="450" /></a><br><br><font size=3><font color=#990000>Because of all these tears,<br>these eyes can't hope to see,<br>the beauty that surround them,<br>isn't it a pity.<br><br>-nina simon</font></font><hr width=100 size=10 noshade><br><br>any time left...check out this generous and beautiful blog<br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://everyphototellsastory.blogspot.com/">Every photo tells a story</a><br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/handknot.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/handknot.jpg" border="0" height="156" width="288" /></a><br><br></center>kenfletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09096146686574129994noreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22625473.post-10700411346443785552009-02-15T16:46:00.000-08:002009-02-15T18:14:24.746-08:00a punk...<br /><font size=3><font color=#990000><center>I have come home and l'm looking through the window...<br />I am looking back into a world gone forever. Thinking of a time that<br />will never return. A book of photographs is looking at me. 25 years<br />of looking for the right road. Postcards from everywhere. If there<br />are any answers. I have lost them.<br />-Robert Frank<br /><br /><br /><hr /><br /></font></font>I am scrapbooking, a hundred or more paintings, finding<br /> their images and stories. Bear with me...<br /><br />It started so many years ago now. I was a punk, my head and<br />body almost transcluscent. It was my first year at college and<br />l was listening to <a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ekta6EKhb2g&feature=PlayList&p=2C4528CD6406B331&index=1">Joe Cocker</a>. English 101 and we were told to do<br />a presentation - on anything. I decided l would do a piece on the<br />homeless, men on the streets. So one morning l borrowed a cheap<br />plastic camera and headed downtown (calgary) on my "excalibur".<br />Yes my ten speed was called excalibur, a canadian tire special,<br />gold in color, and l felt like a knight.<br /><br /><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/meitro.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/meitro.jpg" border="0" height="267" width="450" /></a><br /><br />It was was wintery cold, minus something, l bought a styrofoam coffee<br />and just stood on the street and waited.<br />Eye contact, cigarettes, l offered him a sip of my coffee. He was short, spoke<br />with an accent and his name was Meitro. I spent the day with Meitro, we had<br />bus station sandwiches and we walked and walked. He showed me the bins behind<br />safeway, lots of broccoli, not so green. He constantly checked telephone and<br />newspaper slots for spare coin. He showed me where to go and what to do.<br />Our day together was slow, meandering, and gentle. When l left Meitro that day,<br />l was filled with such joy, l had survived the round table.<br /><br /><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/calc.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/calc.jpg" border="0" height="330" width="209" /></a> <a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/joe.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/joe.jpg" border="0" height="330" width="216" /></a><br /><br />And so it went...My second year of college and l spent it taking pictures of people<br />on the street. I can't describe the feeliing, l was scared, l had butterflys in my<br />stomach, l was excited. Those feelings when you know you are truly alive.<br /><br /><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/calsle.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/calsle.jpg" border="0" height="294" width="450" /></a><br />I photographed everyone, l was on a binge, l bathed in it. I pimped my smokes<br />for hints of conversation. I was champagne in a bucket.<br /><br /><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/glenb.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/glenb.jpg" border="0" height="298" width="450" /></a><br /><br />I was still a punk, l was still transcluscent, but...<br /><br /><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/glenbow.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/glenbow.jpg" border="0" height="300" width="450" /></a><br /><br />I started to question myself.<br /><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/afra.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/afra.jpg" border="0" height="295" width="450" /></a><br /><br />Afraid to die alone, afraid to die unloved.<br />Maybe l needed to care and to be cared.<br />cont...<br /><font size=3><font color=#990000><br />When we are no longer children, we are already dead.<br />-Brancusi<br /><br /></font></font><hr size="3" width="80%" color="black"><br />I have to go climb scaffold for two weeks, till then...<br />Check <a rel="nofollow" href="http://pierreraby.blogspot.com/">A Painter's Room</a>, a sacred celebration.<br />and passion of earth; <a rel="nofollow" href="http://thewaxingmoon.blogspot.com/">The Waxing Moon</a><br /><hr size="3" width="80%" color="black"><br /><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/cknot1.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/cknot1.jpg" border="0" height="103" width="350" /></a><br /><br /></center>kenfletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09096146686574129994noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22625473.post-28853342458294733782009-02-06T16:12:00.000-08:002009-02-06T16:37:07.886-08:00the cold cold ground...<br /><font size=3><font color=#990000><center>Amid a place of stone,<br />Be secret and exult,<br />Because of all things known<br />That is most difficult<br /></font></font>-w.b.yeats<br /><br /><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/calf.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/calf.jpg" border="0" height="264" width="450" /></a><br /><br />The lamb that ate itself to death...<br />Years ago l spent a winter on a cattle farm in Rolla, bc. I lived in a cabin and<br />worked on a painting. The farmer and his wife were so gracious and so lovely.<br />I would help bring in calves when they were born. Frozen white<br />ground and wind that would rush through you tearing at your flesh as it left.<br />I remember having to pull a calf out of it's mother. I pulled so hard,<br />the farmer and l pulled and pulled, l thought l would turn the cow inside out.,<br /><br /><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/deadcalf.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/deadcalf.jpg" border="0" height="309" width="450" /></a><br /><br />I helped skin a dead calf, used a utility knife. We wrapped the hide around<br />another motherless calf in hopes the cow would smell her's and let it feed.<br />I drank beer in the rolla pub and listened to the farmer's sons sing,<br />sing, their music was like passion - ferocious.<br /><br /><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/crushedlamb.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/crushedlamb.jpg" border="0" height="295" width="450" /></a><br /><br />Huge round bales of hay stretched out on the farm, stacked two high.<br />One day l noticed a lamb eating at the bales, all alone, biting, chewing,<br />tearing, all day she ate. The next morning l found her, dead. She had eaten<br />way too much in one spot, in one sitting, and the top bale had fallen on her.<br />There was beauty on the farm.<br />You don't die when you live on a farm<br />you just become part of the earth's mystery and secrets.<br /><br /><font color=#990000><font size=3>when the road's washed out<br />they pass the bottle around<br />and wait in the arms<br />of the cold cold ground<br />cold cold ground</font></font><br />tom waits</center><br />kenfletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09096146686574129994noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22625473.post-41589732666553195852009-01-28T20:14:00.000-08:002009-01-29T12:34:53.191-08:00reverie...<br /><center><font size=3><font color=#990000>I"ve been ready to ka boom for a week<br>Put on your stockings and your powder and blush<br>Keep it all on the hush, hush, hush<br><br></font></font>-tomwaits<br /><br /><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/dsreturn.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/dsreturn.jpg" border="0" height="543" width="400" /></a><br /><br />I have a love/hate relationship with "The old school house art gallery.<br />...but if your looking for cheap art, it's the place to be feb 1st to the 6th.<br />They are having a become a art collector deal, only 250. for any of the work.<br />I am giving them this piece above "the dragonslayers return"<br />So take a trip to Qualicum, buy some cheap art,<br />it's really not a bad way to spend money.<br /><br /><font size=3><font color=#990000>"This beauty is within us at the bottom of memory.<br />It is the beauty of a flight which revives us,<br />which puts the dynamism of one of life's beauties within us.<br />In our childhood, reverie gave us freedom.<br />It is striking that the most favorable field for receiving<br />the consciousness of freedom is none other than reverie...<br />it is in reverie that we are free beings.<br />A potential childhood is within us."<br /><br />-Gaston Bachelard</font></font></center><br /><br /><font size=3><hr color="#993333" size="2" width="80%"> <br />...like a carrot still in the ground over winter, check <a rel="nofollow" href="http://permtran.blogspot.com/">fucoid</a><br /></font><hr color="#993333" size="2" width="80%"><br />kenfletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09096146686574129994noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22625473.post-12604929601378586572009-01-03T14:14:00.000-08:002009-01-03T14:15:04.204-08:00winter...<center><br><font size=3><font color=#990000>So close your eyes<br>Open your heart<br>To one who's dreaming of you<br>You can never hold back spring<br>Baby<br>-tom waits<br><br></font></font><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/amame.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/amame.jpg" border="0" height="295" width="450" /></a><br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/darkgul.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/darkgul.jpg" border="0" height="338" width="450" /></a><br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/wintgully.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/wintgully.jpg" border="0" height="314" width="450" /></a><br><font color=#990000><font size=3>The world is<br>not with us enough<br>O taste and see<br></font></font>-d.Levertov<br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/witergul.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/witergul.jpg" border="0" height="317" width="450" /></a><br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/fgul.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/fgul.jpg" border="0" height="242" width="450" /></a><br><br>There is no one sleeping in the forest right now...<br>These images -the forest, my family, it all connects...<br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/sleepbear.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/sleepbear.jpg" border="0" height="337" width="450" /></a><br><br></center>kenfletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09096146686574129994noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22625473.post-24466279918861412352008-12-18T19:45:00.000-08:002008-12-18T19:49:55.175-08:00a christmas story...<br><br><font size=3><font color=#990000><center>Memory open; memory close;<br>memory taught me to be a man.<br>It remembers everything.<br>It helps the little birds to sing.<br>It finds the honey for the bee.<br>It opens and closes,<br>opens and closes.<br><br>-harold monro<br><br></font></font><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/lyles.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/lyles.jpg" border="0" height="305" width="450" /></a><br><br>Lyle and l go way back, back to the beatles, back to styx and queen, back to<br>nazereth. We met on pym street, guess we were 15 or 16. The first thing he showed<br>me were the row of green mail boxes at the end of the street. We practiced picking<br>locks with bobby pins but no need to worry, we weren't really any good at it.<br>Cars were important, we bombed around in the bush. I had a 56 ford, my brother<br>had a 54 dodge and Lyle, well Lyle just navigated. But later,<br>Lyle got a 64 dodge polara, primer gray with bits of real red. He rebuilt the engine<br>but could never get it going after that. We even tried towing it down the bypass.<br>Tied to my mustang with a thick rope Lyle told me l needed to get up to 70 or 80 mph<br>because the polara was an automatic.<br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/mus.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/mus.jpg" border="0" height="439" width="450" /></a><br><br>We had a race once - Vancouver to Princeton. Me in my fiat (cereal box) and<br>Lyle in his chrysler (tank). Ya okay Lyle technically won, but it was so close.<br>It felt like the "Cannonball Run" and l really wanted to be like Dean Martin.<br>We both lived in Princeton that summer. I worked in the mill and Lyle wanted<br>to work in the mill, he just ended up getting kicked out of Princeton by the RCMP.<br>We both talked of joining the army that summer, even filled out the papers.<br>Lyle moved to Edmonton, "lots of work out there", he said, "come on".<br>So l loaded the camero and moved to Edmonton, it was winter.<br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/rodgun.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/rodgun.jpg" border="0" height="208" width="450" /></a><br><br>We lived outside of Edmonton, stayed with his Argentina friend Rod.<br>Rod was kindof funny. Lyle told me that he could only make out if he was drunk,<br>real drunk. Years later Rod disappeared, they found his wallet and truck in the<br>bush, searched for months but never did find him.<br>Lyle moved back to the island after a couple of months and l stayed.<br>I moved into a little basement suite downtown Edmonton and got a job with<br>a security company. I had to wear a uniform, it was pale and worn<br>like they had found it in someone's attic. and it came with this stupid hat<br>that felt like you were wearing a table on your head. I drove around at night,<br>the deep dear night, with a mopey german shepherd and the only good memory l have<br>is the memory of listening to Bruce Springsteen on the radio.<br>...singing "santa claus is coming to town".<br><br></center>kenfletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09096146686574129994noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22625473.post-40340547888482351472008-11-19T10:39:00.001-08:002008-11-19T10:39:38.546-08:00toymaker...<br><center><font size=3><font color=#990000>Come with me<br>together, we can take the long way home<br><br>-tomwaits<br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/fgirl.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/fgirl.jpg" border="0" height="450" width="316" /></a><br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/alcow.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/alcow.jpg" border="0" height="450" width="239" /></a><br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/fabear.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/fabear.jpg" border="0" height="450" width="340" /></a><br><br></font></font>I'll explain next week...<br><br></center>kenfletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09096146686574129994noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22625473.post-29473196838043185902008-10-12T18:06:00.001-07:002008-10-12T18:06:53.747-07:00my friend...<br><center><font size=3><font color=990000>Caress the Sleep of Mortals<br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/carsleep.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/carsleep.jpg" border="0" height="302" width="450" /></a><br><br>Bound to the Mast of Longing<br><br>Friend, tie me to the ship's mast<br>To ride to the rim of life.<br>Wounded at the ear's edge<br>Branded in burnt blood.<br><br>Friend, do not let me leap<br>From love's fierce sensual fire.<br>On dark horses of rising tide.<br>Brave breakers in beauty's risks.<br><br>Friend, if I am empty, embered.<br>Fill me with your wild cleansing.<br>Let your siren song of exile<br>Heal these stripes of wounded will.<br><br>-ron atkinson<br><br></center></font></font>kenfletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09096146686574129994noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22625473.post-45754567688401477552008-10-03T21:54:00.000-07:002008-10-03T21:57:57.150-07:00a smoldering fire...<br><center><font size=3><font color=#FF6666>There are really three gifts, simultaneous in their effect:<br>blind hope, fire, and craft (techne').They open up wonders-<br>and terrors-to human creatures, the wonders and terrors<br>of being fully cognizant and sensitive creatures of earth.<br><br>-eileen gregory (summoning the familiar)<br><br><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/firein.jpg" width="450" height="109"><br><br></font></font>I like the idea of knights, of cowboys, l like stories from<br>the great depression, l like the history of the gold rush.<br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/rfeet.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/rfeet.jpg" border="0" height="277" width="450" /></a><br><br>Rob has lived in the gully on and off since he was seven, he use to run away<br>from home and hide there, sleeping under the tree branches.<br>He knows how to keep dry...<br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/coldm.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/coldm.jpg" border="0" height="359" width="450" /></a><br><br>They change their camp every now and then, sometimes because of the city,<br>sometimes because of the cops, sometimes for a change of scenery.<br>Rob, Cindy, and Bobby, this was the core - everynow and then<br>someone else joins, another body curled up on the ground, the<br>disheveled head of hair sticking out like a scarecrow.<br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/blackc.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/blackc.jpg" border="0" height="372" width="450" /></a><br><br>Rob's a good person, like's my dog, tells me stories that l haven't heard before.<br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/rc.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/rc.jpg" border="0" height="381" width="450" /></a><br><br>I am welcomed when l visit their camp. On cold mornings and when there is<br> a smoldering fire we huddle around it, feels like a Louis L'Amour novel.<br>A sense of belonging, a sense of longing.<br>We need communities based on this...<br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/robcind.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/robcind.jpg" border="0" height="415" width="450" /></a><br><br><font size=3><font color=#FF6666>and the road was like a ribbon and the moon was like a bone<br>he didn't seem to be like any guy she'd ever known<br>-tw</font></font></center><br><br>kenfletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09096146686574129994noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22625473.post-11073071430903362972008-08-23T17:16:00.000-07:002008-08-23T17:21:23.370-07:00sugar and snails...<br><center><font color=#990033><font size=3>What are little girls made of?<br>Sugar and spice,<br>And everything nice,<br>That's what little girls are made of.<br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/gibo.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/gibo.jpg" border="0" height="209" width="450" /></a><br><br>What are little boys made of?<br>Snips and snails,<br>And puppy dog tails,<br>That's what little boys are made of.<br><br></font></font></center>kenfletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09096146686574129994noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22625473.post-20436418585852741022008-08-09T16:48:00.000-07:002008-08-09T16:49:09.823-07:00rat of a dog...<br><br><font size=3><font color=#991111><center>If I was a puppy dog in the early dawn<br>I'd make it to your house and sleep on your lawn<br>but I ain'ty no puppydog, you know my name<br>And the wind blows fortune, the wind blows pain<br>-tw<br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/mummyrat.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/mummyrat.jpg" border="0" height="160" width="450" /></a><br><br></font></font>l found the perfect mummified rat...dried skin, full skeleton, even had it's tail.<br>It is really the tail that is the rat's downfall, otherwise we'd be petting them.<br>Well Cedar ate him, l had washed the rat and left it out in the sun to dry.<br>Reminds me of the time l found the perfect bat skeleton, l buried it in<br>a secret place, so secret l didn't even know where... <br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/baddog.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/baddog.jpg" border="0" height="308" width="450" /></a><br><br></center><br><br>kenfletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09096146686574129994noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22625473.post-51570898634311505732008-07-31T13:43:00.000-07:002008-07-31T13:44:22.451-07:00gully gang...<br><center><font size=3><font color=#990033>Running through the graveyard<br>we laughed my friends and I<br>we swore we'd be together<br>until the day we died<br>until the day we died<br>-tw.<br><br><a rel="nofollow" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/gullygang.jpg"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/0603/bosun/gullygang.jpg" border="0" height="417" width="450" /></a><br><br></font></font>...rob cindy bobby, more later...<br><br></center>kenfletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09096146686574129994noreply@blogger.com0