I was going to write something EPIC

but i just started sneezing

Walking around in my backyard...

Looking up at the chemtrail Kanjii in the sky.

Time's passing.
You are too.
All of you.
In and out, back and forth.
Sometimes here for a while.
Sometimes never to be heard from again.
I'm still here.

I think.

Every Night For Years. Written By Kevin Malone. Filmed by Evan Schiefelbine.

About 3 years ago I bought this Tomaso Albinoni record that skipped on a five count halfway through a song. I liked the idea of something that looped...organically?

So I'd been wanting to use it for a couple years but couldn't find the right place for it. So I had this lil' idea that I put together as an experiment of sorts to explore the repetition in skateboarding - trying the same thing over and over and over...and how that relates to some things....

--- Evan Schiefelbine

All we ever heard was the same record playing over and over again. Was it the little old lady who played it or the rarely-seen, dumpy-looking son? Every night, exactly at 8:30. A skip in-between to flip the record over and then the music continued. Every night for years.

One night, there was no music. We checked our watches, glanced up at our clocks. The neighborhood slowly trickled out into the street. Murmurs, whispers, nervous glances. Why wasn’t the music playing? The front door opened. The dumpy-looking son walked out, wiped his eyes, shut the door quietly and shuffled down the street.

We never saw him or heard that record again.

--- Kevin Malone

Fat Free Milk A

Another day or
Another year
Another beat of the heart is 
A-Okay
A bad relationship
A working relationship
An unfathomably-hard-to-believe-how-good-it-is relationship
A certain amount of
Ak-ruh-moh-nee-uhs NESS makes sense
And I hope to continue to make more sense of this nonsense before my
Absence...
...
..
.

noAymanhhDUHbiekirno

“I will not try to convince you to love me, to respect me, to commit to me. I deserve better than that; I AM BETTER THAN THAT...Goodbye.” 

― Steve Maraboli, Unapologetically You: Reflections on Life and the Human Experience

THE HOUSE DOWN THE STREET - - -

All we ever heard was the same record playing over and over again. Was it the little old lady who played it or the rarely-seen, dumpy-looking son? Every night, exactly at 8:30. A skip in-between to flip the record over and then the music continued. Every night for years.

One night, there was no music. We checked our watches, glanced up at our clocks. The neighborhood slowly trickled out into the street. Murmurs, whispers, nervous glances. Why wasn’t the music playing? The front door opened. The dumpy-looking son walked out, wiped his eyes, shut the door quietly and shuffled down the street.

We never saw him or heard that record again.

DIPS - - -

Fall. Stumble. Run. Walk. Crawl. Skip. Hop. Jump. Fast. Slow. Stand. Sit. Stop. Go. Through life’s Up and Downs.

BUDDHA WALKS INTO A BAR - - -

HEYHOWYA’DOIN’CANIGETCHASUMTHIN’?

Buddha remained silent.

WHADYAWANTAJACKANDCOKEMAYBEABEER?

Buddha closed his eyes.

C’MONYAJACKASSENLIGHTENME!

TIMEOUT - - -

My Mother ended up getting very old. Retirement homes are expensive. Locks are not.

FRED - - -

He knew that he was different. But he didn’t care. Sure, maybe he couldn’t walk as fast as the rest of them and maybe he sometimes got stuck and needed help but…a handicap is what you make of it.