this is a story about a reality star and a swimsuit model

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ENA7Po58uGQ&eurl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.google.com%2Fnews%3Fq%3Dryan%2Bjenkins%26sourceid%3Dnavclient-ff%26ie%3DUTF-8%26rlz%3D1B3GGGL_enUS309US309&feature=player_embedded

here are some things. i never know about the order. one is a bridge with some ashbery on it. it's in minneapolis. you can walk across the bridge and read ashbery and see the sky and everything goes together so well. the other thing from minneapolis that i've included are some books on the shelf at ikea, but i don't think they're for sale. and then my bathroom ceiling fell onto the floor. and then i gave my rocks a bath. and then i went to the circus.

rb, again

here is something he wrote when he was 17:

i am
not particular.

i like whatever
the sky happens
to be doing at the time.

performance of rodrigo toscano's cpt

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gW9txrq0JCg&eurl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.poetryfoundation.org%2Fjournal%2Farticle.html%3Fid%3D237392&feature=player_embedded#t=51

oh

and one picture of the ocean that rb got to see right before he died

rb: one story and one poem

since i've been back, i've been finding out some very nice things about richard brautigan. one thing i found out was that he did something funny:

after a reading, several people came up and asked him to sign books for a man called beef, who was a big fan but couldn't be there because he was at work. he signs the books and a few months later he gets a letter from beef with beef's appreciation and telephone number. richard calls him--"turns out, literary folks in lincoln are having a party at beef's apartment. beef thinks it is a practical joke but is finally convinced that richard's voice is the original article, and asks r. to talk to others at the party which he does for an hour on his own dime, portraying beef as an old friend, genius,a nd all around great guy."

and then i remembered this poem of rb's i made into a terrible painting when i was very young:

insane asylum
part 8

baudelaire went
to the insane asylum
disguised as a
psychiatrist.
he stayed there
for two months
and when he left,
the insane asylum
loved him so much
that it followed
him all over
california,
and baudelaire
laughed when the
insane asylum
rubbed itself
up against his
leg like a
strange cat.

miles and miles

so we've been in a car, mostly, for sixteen days. we'll be home soon. not sure how that will feel. something happens when you get used to driving around constantly. i'm scared to be still. here are 5 of the 1600 photos i've taken.

fort collins

yesterday, i went to fort collins, which was kind of lame, but from there to the cache la poudre river, which was great. here are some things i saw while i was away (including gnome soap and my lunch):

from denver to golden on clear creek trail (or to arvada, at least)

m and i tried to ride to golden today. we ended up in arvada. here are some pictures about it.

incredibly, beckett

and it came back also to my mind, as sleep stole over it again, that my nights were moonless and the moon foreign, to my nights, so that i had never seen, drifting past the window, carrying me back to other nights, other moons, this moon i had just seen, i had forgotten who i was (excusably) and spoken of myself as i would have of another, if i had been compelled to speak of another. yes it sometimes happens and will sometimes happen again that i forget who i am and strut before my eyes, like a stranger. then i see the sky different from what it is and the earth too takes on false colours. it looks like rest, it is not, i vanish happy in that alien light, which must have once been mine, i am willing to believe it, then the anguish of return, i won't say where, i can't, to absence perhaps, you must return, that's all i know, it's misery to stay, misery to go.

molloy