Bear was a white guy, with green eyes on the red path.
Counting Crows happened to be in the air at the shop and I remembered the evening of the concert. The street around Bimbo’s in SF was packed as we neared the club. Searching for a parking spot he began a mantra,  “…she stomps out of the diner… her runs after her… she says take me home angrily… he stomps off to the car…he revved the engine…. they pull out... there is still two bucks on the meter…” Inside a circus. A curious blond mop of hair eats the microphone. It had a great beat and you could dance I to it. I sat rolling cigarettes poorly, but still smokeable, wondering if the show on or off the stage was best.

I tend to personify everything.
Everything from lint to car engines.
A bit like listening to a foreign language and pulling out what sounds like English to understand it.
Not interested in drawing unless the subject breathes. I am no background story boarder. Another one of those, if I wake and am it, great. However, I would not want to study for years to be it.

The truth is in plain contradiction.
Like chasing a phantom, yeah,
So seemingly random, yeah.
The truth is not easily handled.
-Todd R

Too bad.
Not enough time.
Messages found written in the unfinished.

Honestly, is there any difference in a costumer and a bag lady?

Remember Jayne, do not get dead lining mixed with flat lining. -LH


  1. the truth is plain contradiction...nice really like that stanza...

  2. Seems like life is one long message found written in the unfinished, until it is.

  3. Bag ladie's treasures don't have to fit inflate-able egos.

  4. You bring up ....
    hugging inflate-able egos? ox

  5. bag ladies are costumiers of the highest form

  6. Or worse - doing a fitting of a pastry sack with dual inflatables!