the art of kEith ::: 'E' on everything

9.11.12

i awake
raw sound
electric Eel (no) but yes.
sound of disney land. homecoming

Sometimes I dream you’re still that hairy man
drowning in a lake.

i think the apocolypse

may involve a vacuum cleaner

strength in Vulnerability
Find me a new illusion

how to win at the art game.
act like you are in a war. imagine it.

transcend all past IMPRINTS on the mind

there is a loving way to do things
patiently it all gets done.
the courage it takes to do this
i hear the ticker-tape in heaven

asheville, before i lived there. with alcohol

– This is my gravestone, this park table, in West Asheville. Here lies Keith Kimmel, he tried. To be a junky or not being a junky?… I shall attempt the worst life I can muster.

– I went further one last time; I guess because somebody had to. The wind, more of a steady breeze, began. There I stood on a rock by a river, like a captain of some spiritual ship, having no choice but to steer. Golden crystal present then did what it’s always been doing and that’s when I knew the destiny that is simple clear now perception without fault or blame. Sea fish squandered, sirens bellow, I think have been rejected in every language; they all chase the light it’s the only reasonable pursuit a man can muster; but I digress, how many different types of bugs can there be? I only want what’s best for you!

– There’s a river that runs through this park, Jimi Hendrix. He used to bellow how nobody could force him to create anything. Planes fly over head and birds (pleasant ones and crows) call. Here I am in mystical present with no job no possible way to function ever adjoined to some fantastic yes! And the beatitudes of Christ ring as true as my iPhone. Boing Boing Boing as I write myself right out of the market.

this means the gov’t could barely know what a sexual offense is .. excluding the obvious (illegal) ones.

musings on Dandelion
– Roy was the hand maid for Teddy, Goldy’s uncle. They lived off of 74 somewhere between Asheville and Chimney Rock.

– All I ever was doing was trying to write the answer… you know, to every modern vagabonds dilemma . It certainly wasn’t a mystery that the cat was out of the bag and all was exactly as it wasn’t. This idea of freedom in ever present light reality so obviously necessary to pursue . Was there any choice? It was post 2010 or something. I mean really the time had come for the answer.

– Sparkling waves of rolling grass. Rivers still rolling like forgotten soil on some mystery persuasion

– Be not afraid of nothing. Sparkle vision ever present all of creation on a nickel or a dime.