Relatives revile their flesh and blood,
Their object;
Grinding teeth tightly locked.

Although I remain in silence, my body is screaming!
Ah! Juice is helping. I'm almost out.
Pale thin women with short red hair and wearing space suits carried their helmets on their hands.
I feel much better now.
I have to position myself in certain ways in order to keep the pain from creeping into my head, teeth, eyes, the bones around my eyes, my nasal passages, etc.
Kim is making signs.
The video folks from the Stark Club were here. This caused me to focus my attention even more on the environment. I feel fine.
The airplane stretches my soul into space.
Hare Krishna.
My pants are infested and smell awful.
There's still garbage in my head.
Dinner time. One hearty cup of apple juice. The juice tastes almost too sweet. Kim's drinking beer. That would taste pretty good right now.
The juice is too sweet and my headache's back. I may just go to straight water from now on. I'll need some more since I'm sharing it with Jim. I hope Tim comes by before we run out.
I recovered from the apple juice. The bad feeling passed just like a sunset. Steel girders bloom at my door. I swing on them and make curves to the floor with threads of light, while mosquitoes do the same thing on my body lying in the dust.
The devil stands patiently at the door while Krishna comforts my body.
Christ's cross is in the girders and the Muse sleeps in my penis.
The Mockingbird is gone but sometimes haunts me. Kim is the Mockingbird stapling up his signs.
Tom would have enjoyed this experience.
Kim has been working like mad on the signs. They look great. Chad loaned my his bug spray.
To be honest, I don't really feel like I'm living alone.
A mosquito sings in my ear and I can enjoy it because I know that all she really wants are my feet, and they're poisoned!
Such a sweet mournful song.
I must have crossed some barrier. I'm feeling pretty good. Better stay off the juice.
The sun's under the clouds. I'd love a good rain.
Trucks gurgle.
"I can't be a mediocre imitator of other's styles," says the Mockingbird.
Kim's footsteps sound like the crunching of yummy food!
It's sprinkling some. I enjoyed peeing in it. There's a cool breeze moving through the place.
It's pouring! Jim's been in it.
It's cool and I enjoy listening to it.
I should take this opportunity to wash my pants. I was too late. The downpour is over.
Here it comes again!!
I'm sopping wet but my pants still aren't clean. Jim's building a fire.
We celebrated by getting high.
Jim hit the gong and we went our separate ways again.
Just listen and travel with what you hear.
There's some comfort for you.
So many crisscrosses under flashing light.
Gifts from God.
Long black out. Off. On.
I feel GOOD . . .The darkness made the space beautiful. I felt a chilled comfort. Jim is arranging a sculpture. I'm enjoying being the observer while the environment performs.
Jaye is our angel of mercy.
The discomfort was gone and, Boom! All this pleasure came out of nowhere.
The space is taking shape. I found my spot.
Someone needs to go to the bathroom.
I drank a can of tomato juice that was like a hearty meal. Thank God for Jaye!
I'm resting on my crazy quilt in the performance space now. I was incubating in the Shipping and Receiving box until the rain set me free like a flower blooming. How many times have I been born again now? I've realized that I am no more or less alone out here than I was in the box. When I space out, I'm completely alone, and not . . .
Another corny paradox and a self-conscious statement about it. Its takes a while to become empty for a long time. Writing slows my thoughts down. I prefer to watch them flicker a bit and then go out like the fire that Jim built. For some reason that sounds primitive.
Sat at Chad's trap set perched way up high. It's a great place for checking out the composition of the space.

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