i tense up
at the thought of school letting out.
I hover above the parking lot, gazing down at the ocean of black burning, and the orange lines.
over and over
i finally realize it
there is a choreographed ritual to it
its like one of those toys in the 80;s
yeah, its called a spirograph,
and again the dance ensues
in and out , in and out
until it produces an image
that image is
desperation

Another sunset falls on a mid western american 7 11. the slurpees have all been sold. at night its a whole nother type of customer. the vapor cigarettes the hipsters fashion are stocked and waiting for young, bright lips. when you come in to 711 after hours you are looking for a different sort of item. there is no benefiting here, no long term. everything is for the immediate satisfaction. do you honestly think a "big bomb beef and cheese red hot" burrito is going to get you into tomorrow, no its a short term survival mentality. The meth addicts stroll in, they think everyone knows they are high. is it the facial scabs, the dodgy eye motion, its like they are in REM sleep with their freaking eyes open. they pass the coffee, thats for damn sure. twinkis, check. What i find most compelling are the pasteries, excuse me i forgot where i was. the donuts. these little cakes are put away like a parent tucks their kid in at night on christmas eve. all lined up, sorted by genre, color, type. let me tell you the berry fritters are the royality of the lot. they know they out weigh and out perform. the beef jerky are the forgotten fossils of the store. stacked in this plastic box. they have lived off of their own atmosphere for so long they dont know if their a meat, a vegetable a rock or something in between. I dont imagine they have any illusions of grandure, who knows where on the horse they come from. But the star of the show, the drink fountain. Born in the streets of rome, borroring from the aqueduct tradition this kraken spills forth what seems endless amounts of liquid pump juice. who doesnt worship it pay homage to it. and when it gets low on a certain syrup in the back of the store, it makes this deafing clapping noise, I know youve heard it. that means you get the hell down there, a place where no one is really sure of, in the civilian scetor. will the sun ever rise again, who cares, weve got ho hos

I was driving down 400 w in salt lake with my wife nat and friend peter from denmark. We were killing time before the off show and all of a sudden my eye is taken to the right. The sun was creating a lsd induced tapestry of light coming through the trees and surrounded by cheribum  there is mr keith morris, founder of black flag and the infamous circle jerks, walking, rather parading himself down the crusted pavement. Mabye it was the fact that this was a shitty neighborhood to be walking alone in or just that he was unawares of the fact but he just knew himself and carried himself as a fully realized being that had no concern for the world around him. It didnt matter. He was complete in himself. The type of self awarness only created through years of practice. The world formed around him as he walked. I told peter to high tail it around the block to intercept him.  I cautiously approached the guru, "DO you have time to say hi?" What I received - a fist bump, and he walked away. But seroiusly, what was there more to say than that. I was humbled

I used to live in this distressed apartment in the avenues of salt lake. If you climbed on the roof you could see all the way to west valley. one time I came home to see a fellow resident named Eric being compleatly confused at the functioning of the screen door leading to the roof. He was tottaly insane and on lsd at the time. we used to sit in front of the mall where teh punks hung out and he used to tell me stories of when he was in the salt lake valley watching Brigham Young and the pioneers come down immigration valley for the first time. He saw them settle and begin to form a community. I one asked Eric what the strangest thing he ever saw and he said, I saw somebody lie." I don't think he was crazy at that moment, rather without prejudice. One day eric decided to move out of the building and was shouting with his brother about how they wouldn't be able to pay rent if eric wasn't there to sign the checks. Eric's brother broke open the coin box on the washing machine in the basement for cigarette money. I had to do my laundry further in to the avenues at a laundry mat where the machines fought you every step of the way, coin in coin out. It was a toss up whether you would actually leave with clean clothes or what you ever had in mind of how things normally operate in a laundromat.

this is what they have driven me to.