4/30/12: Spring and Summer always had problems setting up business in Bellingham. Spring would always wait for Winter to pack up and give a graceful leave to move to the next portion of the Earth. Summer would come way too early but always left over other portions of land behind to attract attention for the next destination. That's when the conflict began.
5/1/12: Spring opens the room to Bellingham and feels the ice after chill when Winter left the apartment. The ground feels dry and numb to her hands as she throws in a heat generated gust. She slowly steps into the center of the room and looks down at the city. She gives a twirl and the trees shake and dance, they say with ruffling of their leaves. "About damn time."
5/2/12: The residents crawl out of their homes and many realize that the cold has more moist until it becomes warm gusts. As usual they crawl, walk, then run on the fields, signaling all the others its time to be tree huggers again. Spring makes her rounds everyday, setting up her gusts in key spots, memorize the spots that must ignite on certain days, making sure she throws a bone to weather analysts, and making sure there will always be a chill in the air. She dances as she moves from spot to spot, invisibly in the sky, having the tempting thoughts of knocking down power lines or safety hazards of art to fall down, though Fall may have a problem with that. "I'll think I'll take a nap," she said.
5/3/12: The heat wave is what wakes her up in the morning. She sees the sky bland and blue, nothing left to dim the sun's rays. "That bitch," said Spring seeing residents of Lake Whatcom jump into water all around the shore. "Summer," she yells, "Summer where are you?" Then she notices a massive concentration of heat in the cliche wheat fields. Summer, all in her naked hot form. Naked as proof of her nipples, half-asleep, and unable to detect Spring coming down like a meteor of gust.
5/4/12: Dry grass legs fly off by the wave of gust. It doesn't matter, Summer took away what little water they had left. Summer cover her nipples as Spring's wind tires to yank out her hair. A question doesn't need to come up. Spring just blast more gusts at Summer until she leaves, but she lays back on the ground and yawns. She is forced to wake up a week later from rain and starts to shrink in size and the wrinkles begin to show.
5/5/12: It rains, rains, rains, and still rains all over Bellingham each drop hitting a ground sends a message back to Spring, who now sits inside the largest cloud in the region. Her listen to every update, and she holds a piece of hot charcoal, squeezing it and smelling the smoking sizzle. Several downfall operations end with failure where none can find Summer in whatever hot spot corner to be considered. Reports of prayers and energy containing deeps huffing sighs bounce off her head. The rain continues and she bring the next set of directions to the next set of drop troops.
5/6/12: Summer hides inside anyone's mind who wants to close their eyes in the day and their skin begins to automatically burn within limbs. Her fragmented pieces get smaller with each one walking or running in the rain. She talks under every hoists mind thinking of doing all the freedoms in the hot skin bare season. The stability of progression fails and Spring's time is up, ordering the clouds to department to the next destination.
Monday, April 30, 2012
Monday, April 23, 2012
Week 5
4/23/12: The community image of anti-war protesters, tree hugging people, political corporate free territory is the perfect target for green politicians and green corporations. They set up their business signs and put "Caring for sale," in big letters. People follow the lure and listen to their proposition. After saying big artsy words, the clerks tell the customers how much they owe. The customers think, but remember they're for the green.
4/24/12: Sometimes I don't know why the Mother is rude to me. I make sure she is with me when it is feeding time or loving time. I've been practicing my singing yesterday, they tell me to quit meowing but I reached the Son at least. He's the only fan who will scratch my cheeks and play with my fur. He always changes the name for me, but I am me. I don't need to be called a anything or categorized as Cat.
4/25/12: The cherry blossoms bloom, Japanese fest has begun. Quickly, grab a bag of green tea and start a fire under the tree. Next buy a large batch of whatever fish and a rice cooker. Then brew tea, make a grill and make 60 rolls of sushi. Then eat and drink until your belly wants to crack open its shell.
4/26/12: Bellingham is a pilgrim's journey for monks. The path starts for whoever walk away from civilizations and walk up to the hills. There at the top of any hill, one must take everything they see within a second and draw it out from memory. They those who look at the view down below become guardians, but then the fun of living the town brings them back down.
4/27/12: The frequency feels weak these days , the creative blog here is shifting its schedule like factories with huge heat stoves and every person standing in one part of the row, putting part a - 82k then repeat again and again. The curse for such yearnings is from the spirits being released from their physical corpses of industry by the Bellingham bay. They command standardized order and encourage students to support the practice of ST tests. Predicting for us to remain predictable.
4/28/12: The soul burns to where there is no fuse. The gas energies are re-shifted into a crystallized tree branch. The soul simply wants power to be fleshy again. Run anywhere at great speed, and feel the burdens of being alone.
4/29/12: Once upon a time, Victorians journeyed to Bellingham and each said: "I say, tis a wonderful place to build houses." One eventually came to place a high-yet low quality flag on a hill and said. "I declare this land as the New United Kingdom of America." Then some drunk lard shot the flag stamper's pig and started a war between English and American citizens, or that's what the Tongue Waggler said.
4/24/12: Sometimes I don't know why the Mother is rude to me. I make sure she is with me when it is feeding time or loving time. I've been practicing my singing yesterday, they tell me to quit meowing but I reached the Son at least. He's the only fan who will scratch my cheeks and play with my fur. He always changes the name for me, but I am me. I don't need to be called a anything or categorized as Cat.
4/25/12: The cherry blossoms bloom, Japanese fest has begun. Quickly, grab a bag of green tea and start a fire under the tree. Next buy a large batch of whatever fish and a rice cooker. Then brew tea, make a grill and make 60 rolls of sushi. Then eat and drink until your belly wants to crack open its shell.
4/26/12: Bellingham is a pilgrim's journey for monks. The path starts for whoever walk away from civilizations and walk up to the hills. There at the top of any hill, one must take everything they see within a second and draw it out from memory. They those who look at the view down below become guardians, but then the fun of living the town brings them back down.
4/27/12: The frequency feels weak these days , the creative blog here is shifting its schedule like factories with huge heat stoves and every person standing in one part of the row, putting part a - 82k then repeat again and again. The curse for such yearnings is from the spirits being released from their physical corpses of industry by the Bellingham bay. They command standardized order and encourage students to support the practice of ST tests. Predicting for us to remain predictable.
4/28/12: The soul burns to where there is no fuse. The gas energies are re-shifted into a crystallized tree branch. The soul simply wants power to be fleshy again. Run anywhere at great speed, and feel the burdens of being alone.
4/29/12: Once upon a time, Victorians journeyed to Bellingham and each said: "I say, tis a wonderful place to build houses." One eventually came to place a high-yet low quality flag on a hill and said. "I declare this land as the New United Kingdom of America." Then some drunk lard shot the flag stamper's pig and started a war between English and American citizens, or that's what the Tongue Waggler said.
Monday, April 16, 2012
Week 4
4/16/12: The rain comes but it isn't cold. It encourages the heat with a sizzling passion to evaporate when the sun comes out. Then come down from the sky to feel the rush. Soaking the ground wet to feel its own watery high.
4/17/12: On sunrise mornings, the sea tries to be as silent along with the mist. The boat folk wait for the first seagull to scream before hoisting up the anchors and setting sail.
4/18/12: I thought everyday I would have a task that metaphorically weighed 100 pounds, but today, someone switched the dumbbell.
4/19/12: The misty haze dawn shows you a bread crumb trail to head for the hills and try to look down alone. See if the life of the hermit is not as bad as that.
4/20/12: Sun turns on, sun turns off. Clouds becomes puffy, clouds become haze. Sprinkle, sprinkle, 6-hour distributing downpour. Now the moon doesn't even bother to show its face. Creep.
4/21/12: Saturday becomes a busy day, full of farmers and Victorian, blue-grass, and preaching musicals shape the gathering of community folk. Every vendor hides in a tent and draw out maps to raise their promotions. The happiness of common folk is a farce under the eyes who see dollar bill markings.
4/22/12: The Sunday comes, but the log entry must be denied in the name of laziness and quiet. All church folk gather to say hello to God in versions 1.2, 1.7, and 2.9. The latest version though always has the biggest crop.
4/17/12: On sunrise mornings, the sea tries to be as silent along with the mist. The boat folk wait for the first seagull to scream before hoisting up the anchors and setting sail.
4/18/12: I thought everyday I would have a task that metaphorically weighed 100 pounds, but today, someone switched the dumbbell.
4/19/12: The misty haze dawn shows you a bread crumb trail to head for the hills and try to look down alone. See if the life of the hermit is not as bad as that.
4/20/12: Sun turns on, sun turns off. Clouds becomes puffy, clouds become haze. Sprinkle, sprinkle, 6-hour distributing downpour. Now the moon doesn't even bother to show its face. Creep.
4/21/12: Saturday becomes a busy day, full of farmers and Victorian, blue-grass, and preaching musicals shape the gathering of community folk. Every vendor hides in a tent and draw out maps to raise their promotions. The happiness of common folk is a farce under the eyes who see dollar bill markings.
4/22/12: The Sunday comes, but the log entry must be denied in the name of laziness and quiet. All church folk gather to say hello to God in versions 1.2, 1.7, and 2.9. The latest version though always has the biggest crop.
Monday, April 9, 2012
Week 3
4/9/12: The days get brighter in Bellingham and the mountain lay down so that everyone can see the ocean and demand we become sailors, not farm folk. The ocean mirror accepts the invitation of the orange favored pick of the season sky. The waters can only pretend to be the sky, but only if they allow it.
4/10/12: Whatcom County contains the essence of so many mountain secrets where temples from ancient times could've have hidden at the top of Mt. Baker. One with purpose to train the body and have your voice shout down the mountain and have power over others. But now people fear too much about their voice giving destruction and the fear allows them to be swayed from the voice of nature, until someone reaches the top of the mountain again.
4/11/12: Down the street of Holly, there is a nerve cluster of the forgotten or brains that have been taken away by the repo folk. They should've seen this coming, but they couldn't remember of seeing this coming. They're the toughest sobs or dobs out there. They can sleep on cement, survive with only coins, and can get around almost anywhere. I want to help them come back to living behind walls, but then I stop when I remember they go around almost anywhere.
4/12/12: The haze of an April morning has a small enviousness moment of being its winter haze again. That the misery of winter with a golden glow of hope is what brings excitement for Bellingham. To know we are fighting the gloom and feel we have something to protect, but a sunny day would do the same as well.
4/13/12: Now that you've been walking around Bellingham for a few days, you'll notice that the daytime is devoid of most human activities and its more active at night. From what we hear of our local scientists, there is some pheromone in the air that makes people feel sleepy in the afternoon, but at night, they are all alive and ready to work. Here work just means having fun, since the Bellingham public thought "We already have shelter. Why not party and make beer?"
4/14/12: Bellingham contradicts the feeling for people wishing to live in this college town forever. The name sounds funny, like a pig who wished to be a sailor for the seas. A pig sensitive of other people's comments or anyone who touched his belly. Bellingham should be the name for a talking pig, nothing more.
4/15/12: The old buildings down town still stand to show Bellingham's former glory of old life. We wish we could stay in time where town a forest could learn to co-exist, but dominance mixed with business wishes to build safe docile environments in an artificial realm. Promoting us to keep active instead of the forest lazily grow and sloth with drowsiness.
4/10/12: Whatcom County contains the essence of so many mountain secrets where temples from ancient times could've have hidden at the top of Mt. Baker. One with purpose to train the body and have your voice shout down the mountain and have power over others. But now people fear too much about their voice giving destruction and the fear allows them to be swayed from the voice of nature, until someone reaches the top of the mountain again.
4/11/12: Down the street of Holly, there is a nerve cluster of the forgotten or brains that have been taken away by the repo folk. They should've seen this coming, but they couldn't remember of seeing this coming. They're the toughest sobs or dobs out there. They can sleep on cement, survive with only coins, and can get around almost anywhere. I want to help them come back to living behind walls, but then I stop when I remember they go around almost anywhere.
4/12/12: The haze of an April morning has a small enviousness moment of being its winter haze again. That the misery of winter with a golden glow of hope is what brings excitement for Bellingham. To know we are fighting the gloom and feel we have something to protect, but a sunny day would do the same as well.
4/13/12: Now that you've been walking around Bellingham for a few days, you'll notice that the daytime is devoid of most human activities and its more active at night. From what we hear of our local scientists, there is some pheromone in the air that makes people feel sleepy in the afternoon, but at night, they are all alive and ready to work. Here work just means having fun, since the Bellingham public thought "We already have shelter. Why not party and make beer?"
4/14/12: Bellingham contradicts the feeling for people wishing to live in this college town forever. The name sounds funny, like a pig who wished to be a sailor for the seas. A pig sensitive of other people's comments or anyone who touched his belly. Bellingham should be the name for a talking pig, nothing more.
4/15/12: The old buildings down town still stand to show Bellingham's former glory of old life. We wish we could stay in time where town a forest could learn to co-exist, but dominance mixed with business wishes to build safe docile environments in an artificial realm. Promoting us to keep active instead of the forest lazily grow and sloth with drowsiness.
Monday, April 2, 2012
Week 2
4/2/12: They say Bellingham is the Canada of America. The last transition before going deep into the territory of what some call America Jr. I know there will be a time before Canada invaded our territory through purchase, but they seem to build settlements around our gas stations. You're welcome BC.
4/3/12: Fairhaven always to try to build a portal linking to Old Victorian England, but that didn't work out so they did the next best thing. Simulation. Remember when you're walking through Fairhaven, you'll believe you're speaking and acting like a English, but its just your reaction to tasty fried salmon and chips.
4/4/12: In Bellingham, the transformation between bay to lake is equal to twenty year-old computer's loading speed. Every spot feels old and forgotten yet relativity new at the same time. Its a strange land where I wish to live and don't feel I should belong to this mysterious artificial construction.
4/5/12: As new house models rise and spread throughout the city, the Victorians still hold ground. Each house full of pride of old natural wood decorations. If one looks closely at this battle of reconstruction, it simply follows the pattern of natural vs artificial.
4/6/12: WWU looks like some castle built by a long forgotten civilization and now rediscovered and re-purposed for education services. Yet I wonder if something more goes on underneath the bricks. Secrets forgotten and artistic monuments are the only link to the real complex of WWU.
4/7/12: The real April Fools Joke is when you wake up in the morning, you still see frost in the spring.
4/8/12: You know you're lazy when you read and you can't help but look of a window in Bellingham and then go back to sleep. I wonder if there is a coffee Easter egg.
4/3/12: Fairhaven always to try to build a portal linking to Old Victorian England, but that didn't work out so they did the next best thing. Simulation. Remember when you're walking through Fairhaven, you'll believe you're speaking and acting like a English, but its just your reaction to tasty fried salmon and chips.
4/4/12: In Bellingham, the transformation between bay to lake is equal to twenty year-old computer's loading speed. Every spot feels old and forgotten yet relativity new at the same time. Its a strange land where I wish to live and don't feel I should belong to this mysterious artificial construction.
4/5/12: As new house models rise and spread throughout the city, the Victorians still hold ground. Each house full of pride of old natural wood decorations. If one looks closely at this battle of reconstruction, it simply follows the pattern of natural vs artificial.
4/6/12: WWU looks like some castle built by a long forgotten civilization and now rediscovered and re-purposed for education services. Yet I wonder if something more goes on underneath the bricks. Secrets forgotten and artistic monuments are the only link to the real complex of WWU.
4/7/12: The real April Fools Joke is when you wake up in the morning, you still see frost in the spring.
4/8/12: You know you're lazy when you read and you can't help but look of a window in Bellingham and then go back to sleep. I wonder if there is a coffee Easter egg.
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