Book Reading and Book Sale.

 Below is an aborted kick starter  because I don’t want to be involved with it anymore. But I deleted this video, and it’s the only place I can find it on the web, and so I thought I should share it with you, again. My books are cheap right now, six dollars until after the holidays. Cool. Click West Vine Press link in header to buy books. Click on picture below to actually link to watch the old video. Words that I’m reading under. Peace. That is all. 

“I’ll start with the simple. I was reading a book. I read a quote: “The world is so beautiful. The World is so terrifying. The World is just some kinda blue cosmic apple, and it’s overflowing with all of these noises and these smells of oranges on hands and the taste of lemons, and all of this is in love with life, and all of this is afraid with life, just a life, a life that man oh man a life such as the one I’m now livin’; a life that’s just a’ breathin’ and bein’ and wandering amongst these strange ol’ human creatures.” He said “no time. Absolutely no time for readin’ my fellow traveling companion.” He then grabbed the book and gave it to a homeless man and said, “you’re only homeless cause you want a home”. I thought that sounded smart, but was an awful rude thing to say. I mean, how the hell did he know that the man did or did not want a home. And He walks out of the coffee shop. “How’d it go” he says. “I did nothing.” He just laughs and we walk away toward the University’s campus. Both seemingly invisible to the townies on an island that just weeks ago was so romantic, and now is just another city distinguished by the moods I swing so hesitantly by. And people were walking and windows were open, swung open and paint dripping off of flowers, and people were laughing and I saw you there, you had an evening gown on, and I was sleepy and my hands were nicotine carved pumpkin pies, and the sun was seeding with spinners around the circles of other people’s excitement or boredom or however their body moved with whatever they were feeling, those thoughts that you and they had that reflected from your eyes and lashes, and the local bands were warming up, wondering what the night, the year, the hours would hold, time keepers that would turn every night from here on out until the end of time. But as soon as they began, as soon as the band would begin playing its local tunes, the night would be going and it started with the swingers from the country and catholic and the college and army reserves of football players, and it started with low brow from all those troops from all those wars coming home with drugs, coming home with thoughts, and the touch, the words, the laugh that is this, and that laugh of the streets, that laugh that bounces off from the icy moon and the karma and nights and foots, and that laugh that is so cynical and asks “where did these baboons come from?”



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