potsdam days

right about now i'm thinking about how much, if you were in love with me, you would not want to read about me flirting with the girls. i am thinking about how, if you were my family, you would not want to read about me drinking the beers, smoking reefer and cigarettes. i think about how i've spent years of my life afraid to write about it, because of imaginary censors living in my head, not wanting to self incriminate and document the craziness that i'm going thru, for the sake of a few people. at the expense of many, potentially many readers. so dear reader, i feel i owe it to myself, and others, to preserve some kind of record of this madness, because if i don't do it i'll feel stupid later, parents and lost loves be damned. little brothers, shield your eyes. children, go to bed early. broken hearted widows of the traveling poet who lives and dies a new life in a new town every other week, avert thy gaze. yours is a love that i need, that i want certainly, but i won't stop this typing because you live in my head. i live in yours too, if that's any comfort.

it's been more than a few days since we last spoke. i wrote my last entry on tuesday, after a strange evening previous. a girl living with jill and jack in the cabin, we'll call her annie, annie had a visit from a lover of hers, a woman who arrived late at night on monday. around the same time, another girl showed up, a poet, going to grad school for education, and asked jill if she could spend half a week with us. then even later than that, a fierce and amazing scary woman, tall and attractive, into pills and partially strung out, showed up and i heard whispers in our group about the destruction that was caused in various intervals of the life in this north west, over these years, while these people have been living and knowing each other and much stories that i don't know about, while i was staking out turf in california perhaps.

there is a self portrait of her in the guest room, with snake-like green hair, like medusa. medusa used to live here last summer, leo is telling me. and she would cook man, she would cook. he's telling me about how he'd wake up and she's say, "what do you want for breakfast?" and she'd make it. i can't imagine what sort of insanity went down in those days, but everything is slightly more low key now.

darius and myself tend to the firepit in the dark, in that night, earlier this week, when the three women showed up. i'd made something of a joke of it the whole time i was in potsdam, saying, "country maidens! we need country maidens! bring us country madiens!" and now jill was poking me in the ribs, telling me look around, aren't you happy now, you got your wish, for these three girls have arrived. only problem is, she's saying, is that one's practically married and the others are lesbians. you gotta be more specific next time, she's saying to me. say, "i want SINGLE country maidens!"

well i just laugh and say, "yeah, that's okay, i mean, i really rather enjoy the company of women, regardless of their marital status you know, i just like to be around them, i've always related to them better than men, ever since i was growing up...." and we sit around the fire and drink many cheep beers, loathing/loving it.

all the menfolk, save for myself, have retired. the grad student poet woman, has to be up early for school at 8 am. that leaves me and jill, now trashed, and the lesbian and her girlfriend, and medusa, to entertain ourselves. dar left to go sleep, confident that the fire would burn out on it's own, and everything is so wet outside that nothing is going to burn down anyway, what with the amount of trouble we took just to get these wet logs going in the first place.

it's been raining a lot up here, wacky weather according to the locals, maybe. global warming kinda stuff.

so we drunkenly drive jill's truck (on jill's own property) down the path to the camp by the river now, because the girls have somehow become obsessed with hula-hooping and all the hoops are down there by the camp. blasting the radio, jill behind the wheel, medusa between us, putting her legs over mine to stay clear of the stick shifter. it was some cheap ploy, on my part, i told her, to get close to her. flirting. we made it down to the camp site with annie and her part time girlfriend riding on the tail gate, bumping away, god knows how they didn't fall off or get whipped in the face by snapping branches, we made it down to the camp site and the radio is blaring 80's rock and the girls are hooping now, hula hooping away and the lovebirds are checking out a tent, nesting, setting up their love nest for the evening so they can get their special time in, the whole reason why she came out in the first place to see her girl, beautiful thing really and i'm very jealous. after watching the girls hoop for a while, and all of us taking our turns urinating in the forest, me against a tree and the girls leaning against the truck, me and jill and medusa decide to leave the women lovers in the tent in the forest, under the pretense that we left the tobacco up there, back at the house, after we all ran out of cigarettes and we're down to that last pack of bugler that medusa brought with her from wherever she's from, coming from a couple hours away at least, to see us and visit.

earlier in the day, when i wrote my last blog entry at the coffeeshop, i'd received a myspace message from the woman that this medusa figure is photographed with, living with, in love with probably i'm sure, practically married to and i should probably stay away, that kind of stuff. i'd received a note from her telling me that hey, it's crazy that you're in potsdam, wish i could be there, could you ask leo to call us later after 9 pm? and there was a phone number. i saved it on my computer to pass it along later. then that night i told leo and he said, "okay i'm on it" and thats when i began hearing these whispers about these girls, and what path of havoc they've left, or something, you know, about how great they are but how they're in a weird place right now, and the situation has to be handled deftly, lightly. kids gloves. and jill is saying, "oh yeah, lance likes drugs, he should meet this one..." and leo is saying, "no, bad influence on him!" which of course piques my interest. i'm thinking, "i want to go on a crazy adventure, and get into fucked up shit with cool girls!" but leo is protective and sort of like, "not yet buddy."

then later on that night the 3 different girls showed up, and jill and i ended up talking to medusa all night long. she and jill used to live together a while back, in terrible tiny small upstate new york towns full of prostitutes and crack addicts, and i heard them recount incredible stories of how the neighbors used to just kick in their door, and walk into their kitchen and start eating all their food, or how medusa got trapped by a crazy girl in their bathroom, who made her smoke crack and tried to stick her tongue down her throat, or the night that jill was wearing a see thru dress and nobody told her all evening, except to say that they liked her dress and the next day she goes "no wonder why everybody liked my dress" or the time that they kicked a big hole in the wall, gave themselves permission, but then everybody had to move out just a week or two later and jill was all by herself moving 3 peoples stuff into a storage van and her parents are still wondering what they're going to do with all that stuff.

jill and medusa keep going back and forth to her car, to grab cds to listen to, and reminisce i assume, about other things, and i'm sitting alone on the couch. they come back, and then jill says, "hey you know drugs can you identify these pills i have?" and pulls out this bag, full of orange polygons, and blue and green circles, and medusa tells her the oranges are muscle relaxers and the others are valiums, and then she promptly grabs a few, and eats them, not before handing me one. jill is upset by that, on some "i can't even trust you to not steal my valium" trip. rightfully so i guess, with the history that they have together, and jill saying that medusa is looking so much healthier than when she saw her last.

but in the drunken haze all is forgotten and forgiven. and after a few minutes i start feeling spacey, and good. euphoric. in little private moments, i succeed in talking to this medusa woman character, tall and fast talking, attitude, all talking about beating and branding rapists, and scoring heroin, reminding me of insane fast living girls i remember from portland, old friends i want to see again, reminding me of my dead exgirlfriend, friend and compatriot who OD"d on heroin in new york a couple years ago almost now come this halloween. reminding me of great people and i ask her, if she'll kidnap me, and steal me away for a while, and she's receptive, yeah she'd do that she says. i like the idea because i know that leo will be mad, and everyone will be worried, and that would be hilarious, and after all i am supposed to be on this crazy adventure right? and shouldn't strange wild things be happening to me? it's a good idea i think, and for a minute while we are alone, i get to hug and hold this woman, on a couch, and press my face against her neck (but that is all, dear reader. please don't be jealous).

but for hard up for it poets that's a major victory. hooray! lance got to hold someone for 3 minutes!

medusa and jill go back outside, to go to her car again, and its morning now and the sun is out, and jill's poet friend is waking up to go to school, asking me where every one is and didn't she just hear jill's voice earlier? and i say yeah, they're up at the car i think, but she's just trying to figure out how to use the shower, and she manages to accomplish that without any help after all.

in my beer/valium/up all night stupor, i pass out, on the couch, before being able to get kidnapped by medusa, who has to leave before 10 am to handle family business and get back to her girlfriend. while i'm sleeping, leo is telling her that she can't take me, and she's saying that she should and it would be fun, but i am not awake to sneak off with her, and when i do wake up she's already gone.




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new day, tuesday, open mic day at a different coffee shop. when i wake up, and medusa is gone and everyone is buzzing and stirring and i'm like the last guy to wake up all day, there's a friend from in town visiting annie, we'll call her cherish, cherish lives in a neat big house divided up into a bunch of apartments and has her paintings all around her house, we hung out on her porch the other day, me and jack and annie and dari us, well cherish is going back into town soon, like right now, and i see the opportunity to move so i said can i come with you? and would you take me to the internet cafe... and she says sure, but i gotta go, and i say okay let me grab my things. scrambling to put my computer in my bag, and collect myself, and she comes back inside and says, "i really have to meet someone for a business thing, it's important..." and leo says "hurry up slacker she's gotta go!" and we jump in the car and take off.

i'm talking to her about my whole deal, and how it's good for me to get out on the town myself without these people that i already know, how i always need to be meeting new people all the time, and explaining how i need to write journals and stay in touch and update my webpage and use the internet. well no promises of a ride back home from her, but i told her that i didn't need one anyway because i'm going to walk to the open mic later tonight and meet everyone there anyway.

i wrote my last blog update at that coffee shop. i didn't really try to talk about what was happening, just jotted down more diary entry type thoughts. i just finished the novel i was reading, and was feeling inspired by the poetic prose style of tom robins. "another roadside attraction" ending with a fantastic debate on the history and moral merits of christianity, and speculation about the evolution of a new religion of mankind. finishing a good book gives you all this energy, and as someone who claims to enjoy writing i was feeling all ready to start a new whirlwind of literary creation.

i decided to get some smokes, and get off the computer for a while, and get something to eat. it was raining again. i saw a license plate that started with "DXM" so i decided to take it as a sign that i should pick up a bottle of vicks formula 44.

jill came to pick me up from the coffee shop. it was raining, i bought an umbrella from down the street, a small collapsable one that was really slick, from a walgreens a couple stores away. she took me to the library, where leo had been doing internetly things on the public terminals. i read computer magazines. jill and leo wanted to go back home before we were supposed to go out to an open mic down the street. they let me walk to the coffee shop where it was to be taking place and said they would meet me later.

in the coffee shop, not really prepared for an open mic, there was hardly anyone there. when i arrived there was nothing going on, so i asked the barista if i could plug in the PA and microphones, and check them out and say, "check one two, this is lance robotson, welcome to tuesday night open mic..." i asked if i could be the host and she said sure, if you want. a couple musicians showed up to be playing too, and they clued me in to the fact that there isn't ever a host on this night, and it's sort of a free for all.

annie and radius and jack were there, and we decided that we had time to step out for a minute before things were going to get started, so we left the coffee shop for a short while to gather the troops, pick up cherish at her house, not before sitting on porches, getting stoned. i told the guitarists at the coffee shop that we'd be right back, that we were leaving to "get inspired" and he says, "i've been there before i know what you're talking about." like in a sort of "when i was your age" kind of way.

after our safety meeting on friend porches we return to the open mic and leo and jill are there now and the guitarists are still the only other act to have signed up on the free for all, so after they break in their set, i step up to the mic, without any notes, and nervously run thru a few different poems, remember 75 percent of each one, making mistakes in each of them, not having it so well memorized that it'll all just come out perfectly. maybe it was being stoned, that made me fumble with my words. maybe it was all those friends of mine, a low turn out and my close personal friends made me that much more self conscious. it's easier to do it in from of a stranger. all casual like in front of all my friends, threw me off, lots of pressure, you wouldn't think so but it was. the guitarist guy who was playing before me was eager to hear my stuff, "you got any more?" he'd say and i'd do some more. i'd make some stuff up when i couldn't remember the words right and then when i would give up on the poem and say that i couldn't remember it he'd say, "you could have some notes, to refer to..." and then i says, "oh yes, my notes, i've forgotten my notes..."

it was hot as hell in that coffee shop. no AC. humid. i stepped off the stage sweating, to get some fresh air and cool down, and smoke cigarettes, which is what i always do after a poetry reading. i made an effort to sort of stand in the door way and listen to the other guy play, but it just got too hot. couldn't do it anymore. when i stood outside leo came out and said, "you fail!" and laughed, and i him and darius about how them being there made me nervous, and he says "why!" incredulously. i asked them if they were going to decide the fate of my career based on this performance, like american idol, and we talked about how it would be funny to stage our own american idol show, put it on youtube, him and darius would be the mean judges and jill could be the nice girl who likes everything. they thought that i had everything memorized all slick, which is my fault because i told them that i did, but i was unprepared for the situation and i faltered.

later on, when some more people showed up, i read some more poems, this time with the aid of the notebooks and papers that they were written and printed out on. it went well, i even ran over the pieces i did earlier but messed up, because some of the new comers didn't hear them. some other musicians, stepped up to play some songs, a guy played the house piano while a girl sang, and later they told me that they were going to be doing a show here on friday and would i like to come do some poetry with them that day, do i like reading with music, can i jam with a band, and i'm saying yes of course that's my favorite thing to do. so i had a decent reading, not a big turn out, but got an invitation to read further again some time, so consider it a success. the guy who invited me told me that he liked my delivery, that he liked my steady flow as he put it, and that it was refreshing because he didn't see much of that.

everyone mulling about in the front of the shop and we're all going to make our way home eventually. i'm seeing this flyer for another open mic the next day, taking place in a park, under a gazebo, with an open call for artists of all sorts, and that is exciting and exactly the kind of scene we're looking for and seeking to create.

people that jill knows are coming and going, a girl comes up to say hi to her, and starts introducing herself to everybody. very assertive, professional. rheann, i'll call her. we're just down the street from the movie theater, and i'm talking about how i saw die hard, and rheann is standing there, young and blonde, well spoken, and she's saying how the last thing she would want to do would be to pay money to watch a movie like die hard. in fact, she was saying, "in fact, i would pay seven dollars to NOT see die hard."

i can appreciate the sentiment of somebody saying that they like good films more than hollywood pop entertainment popcorn movie chewing gum for the eyes candy, but at the same time, i took issue with what she was saying. to me it reeked of this sort of elitist intellectual posturing, stuffy and academic, and what sort of person who, even if they appreciate good high art, can't get down here and low brow with us here in the gutter every now and then? i talked to her about this, employing this line of reasoning. she was nice, and smart, and i was drawn to her and i thought it was sort of funny that i was trying to win her over with an argument as an introduction. probably i was being just as snobby trying to argue with her about how she shouldn't be an art snob, probably i was being a hypocrite but i thought it was sort of amusing to be that hypocrite so i continued, about how it was like people who looked down on you for watching TV, and how much i enjoyed watching TV when i got the chance because i didn't own one and that there's nothing wrong with it. she said she liked "films" rather than "movies" and i said i loved a good pop movie, i even liked "videos" i said, and finally i basically had to just leave it at "there's no accounting for taste." she told me that it came down to your upbringing, and i mentioned something about how i'd met this girl once whose parents only ever played her 50's music and now that was pretty much all that she listened to. or like christian music kids who never listened to secular music. we were able to agree about that point and move on with our lives.

leo made a motion to start heading toward the gazebo in the park across the street, where we could hang out, and check out the scene of the open mic event tomorrow, a preview, told me i could practice, and i said we could do the american idol bit, and a whole little crew of people were there with us, myself, darius and leo and jill and jack, annie, rheann, and the graduate student poet girl who i'll call carrie because i'm tired of typing out "graduate student poet girl." carrie and rheann sat and talked with each other about their eduations, and the rest of us clustered in little sets of people having seperate conversations. eventually we all started to move back to the cars, carrie had one, and darius was driving his van, and annie had her car too, so we all broke out, and i chatted with rheann and it seemed that she was going to come back with us tonight, which made me happy and excited (still pining for country maidens), her and jill went with carrie who drove rheann to her house so she could grab some creature comforts for the evening, while darius pulled the van around and idled in a dangerous no parking area behind a parked car, right off of a curved road where people turned right onto the street, having to weave around the van. a police car drove by. someone honked. i ran and jumped in, and we made our get away clean.

back at the house, all of the sudden it was like a big party, sort of, a couple other guys from town drove in, carrying cheap cases of beer and drinking and laughing. this one guy introduced himself by saying, "merry christmas" and i said, "everyday is christmas!" and he basically said, "hell yeah!" and i talked about every day being a holiday, every day being saturday, every day being your birthday. very merry unbirthday. the rest of us shared wine from a half gallon jug, conservatively drinking small glasses. rheann drank from a little juice jar, which was mostly spherical, and she was talking about how a sphere is the most efficient shape for holding volume with a minimum of materials.

while people drank and listened to music inside and out, i sat and worked on laying out a poem, scheming on the idea of printing two booklets in one set of doublesided pages, cutting them in two and having two separate nonstandard sized booklets, a small one to give away, and a larger one to work into a cd case booklet to sell. rheann asked me what i was doing, so i told her i was laying out the poetry for a new book, and she said are you writing? and i said well i'm just worried about the page-ation of how this poem is going to work now, and she says, "you mean pagination?" and i said yeah, whatever, you know, the effect of the text extending over multiple pages. i talked to her a bit about my thinking process for how i want the text to be displayed in the book, and she suggested that it should just be on a scroll, get rid of that nasty multiple pages problem, "yeah like kerouac and on the road" i said, and then i said that a stock ticker tape sort of roll would be even better because i love the long line and use it a lot in my poems, some pieces are sort of like just one long line. she asked to read the poem and i said well i'm still breaking up where the page breaks are gonna be, but she didn't mind and she read the peice, probably a 6 minute chunk of text the way i would read it, and she commented on things where i'd make a ridiculous series of puns (she liked puns) and where i'd spelled things ambiguously to convey multiple mixed meanings and did you mean it that way or this way? and i said, "i just spell it that way to make you think about what i meant" and she said, well i did so it worked. i was very greatful that she took the time to look over my work, i like sharing it with people during the development process of making things, it keeps me interested. and of course a megalomaniac like myself, i'm always pleased when someone takes interest in something that i do.

we talked about a lot of things that night. she talked about how in sicko, michael moore goes to a british pharmacy and asks if he can buy toilet paper and shampoo and things, and the pharmacist says no, and moore keeps asking him all these silly things about what can i get at the pharmacy, like in america like walgreens or duane reede or CVS or what have you, and he says, "no i didn't go to school for 8 years to sell shampoo." we talked about our models and theories of relationships, she told me she didn't like the idea of monogamous relationships and i told her about how, when i first started dating i was sure that i had to fit in to the normal way of doing things, and how i was no good at it, a terrible womanizer and cheat, and that i was talking to my aunt about it, and she basically said to me, "you know, the relationships that are advertised in the magazines and movies and tv and stuff, that doesn't necessarily work for everyone." and i talked to rheann about how that conversation wtih an adult in my life that i respected, something of an authority figure in my life, how that gave me permission to experiment with different models, things i'd read about when i was a newbie teenager just getting on the internet, reading strange articles about anarchy and polyamory and various other alternative belief systems, information i'd gained earlier but was never able to put into practice. she told me other things too, i think of them sometimes when people remind me, she told me about how people evolved to like kissing because early humans used to chew up food for their babies and pass it thru their mouths. she also told me that it takes 28 days of making yourself do something every day to start a new habit, and it takes 8 days of going without doing it to break it.

i drank my formula 44, and ambled around the crowd vibing on everyone sitting on the porch, girls hula hooping, everyone having a good time. rheann worked it out that she would stay the night, she'd brought a sleeping bag, had to go in to work at 8 am in town but she could get a ride with carrie who would be going to school. carrie was talking about playing rugby, and the stereotype of the lesbian women's rugby player, but really she was into it because the guys who played rugby were so hot, and how she wasn't ashamed to say it. it was funny.

after everyone settled down a bit, and most of the people had gone to sleep, me and jack and jill and rheann were still up, talking, and she said she was going to go to bed. i was feeling pretty awake from everything i'd injested that evening, and i sort of waited for a moment and walked in to go interface with her. i wanted to tell her about my notion of "multple long term friends with benefits" which doesn't work for everyone, but seems to be appropriate for some weirdos, like me. she got up again, and sat on the couch, and jack and jill came in and moved the table in the living room area into the kitchen to make a bed on the floor, and i layed down there on the floor with them, with jill between jack and i, and rheann on the couch next to me on the floor. we put on a movie, watched mission impossible three, which in my state was entirely riveting and thrilling. i was the only one who stayed awake thru the whole thing.

carrie woke up and got ready to go to school. i asked her if i could go into town with her and rheann, i asked rheann to, if i could tag along, and she said i could wait in her living room while she took a shower before she went to work. we got into town early, and had some time to kill, so she took me around her neighborhood, told me about the local potsdam lore and history of different buildings we walked by, about how potsdam is kind of nervous since they'd had two suicides and two murders in the last 6 months and how that was a big deal in a small town. she told me about how the funeral home family got started out a long time ago, real old now, but the man didn't have a lot of money and the wife said, "i love you but you need to figure out how to support our children, i don't want them to be poor" and they were driving thru a town and the first sign he saw was for a funeral home, and he said, "we're starting a funeral home!" and they're probably the happiest most satisfied people she'd ever met.

she advised me to try to discover the mysteries of potsdam on that day, and when she went to work, i went out on to the town to explore on my own. i had goals, i wanted to print out some more cd covers on cardstock at the copy shop, use the internet, and so forth. i had to wait for the library to open to print out the designs which i uploaded to the internet from my laptop, then used their computers to do the printing. then the copy shop staff was friendly, i made enough prints to put together seven books, because i already had some copies of the inside booklet ready to go from my last print job, extras that i never made covers for. jack called me while i was making the copies and i hooked up with him and annie at the library. they sat around using the internet, and i took a nap on the couch, still tired from the last night.

we went back home and i got to take a nap. i didn't bother assembling my new booklets because i still had a few older ones left. when i woke up again, it was time to go to the gazebo open mic. we brought wine, and cups, for ourselves, that jack bought for us that day. i drank, we stood around in the park, waiting for the function to start. all these local kids that my friends who'd been here before knew stood around and talked with each other, and i ran from crowd to crowd watching. the host of the event played a few songs on guitar, and a poet read a speech on tolerance he'd delivered at some kind of college ceremony, and he read a couple poems. he had an angry slam poet cadence. after he was done the host asked who wanted to go next, and i said, "have we got time and patience for more poetry?" and everyone said, "yeah! we need more of that around here." i read a couple pieces that i hadn't done at the other open mic the day before, and was very well received. i sold a book to an older guy who farmed, and had pedal push powered boats, he called me "neobeatnik" which i thought was great because thats what i call myself in one of my books, and said he liked how i talked about modern technology in my work. the host also bought a book, gave me an extra tip and i gave him a package with a cd and a booklet, and a print of one of my robotson icon robots holding a spear, that a girl from minneapolis made out of one of my pictures of a drawing i'd done. an original archival quality print that an artist friend of mine had made, and given me a few of. my friends that i'd come with told me i did a good job, guess i redeemed myself. some more musicians played, and as it was getting dark someone closed out the night by reading an old famous speach about being in nazi germany and watching the changes, crying out against the common tyranny in man, not saying anything about the evil you witness.

we got another jug of wine, i chipped in on it for once, feeling good having made some money. another jug of wine for the home. we were leaving. i wanted rheann (who'd played flute at the open mic, she's going to school for music) to come with us, she was leaving to go see her cousin who just got into town, hadn't seen him in years, i understood. she said she might call me later, asked me if i knew how to drive, said she was going out to her camp later that night, which was close to our little cabin village in the woods, maybe she'd need someone to drive a car for her. gave me her numher and i called hers so she'd have it. i felt excited about that, the thought that she might call later.

after the open mic we went over to a house we'd partied at before, local friends of the crew. darius sat on the front porch, smoking the whole time. the open mic host showed up later, and we talked about our various road life experiences. he was living in his car, telling me he was going to get a place in the winter and do the art show open mic out of there, and try to get traveling artists to come and do paid shows and stuff, he'd been on the road doing music for 14 months when he was 18, older now, but still traveling a lot, he had a lot of good ideas for supporting the kind of community that encourages people like us. he's good stuff. jill went home with jack, and some other people, got a ride from friends. me and darius and leo stayed later, i tried to not get drunk in case rheann called, but i'd already been having wine, and was getting late, so after a while i broke down and started having beers.

we left after a while, darius keeping the van in between the lines on the road, inadvertently stranding annie there, we thought she'd already left with jack and jill. she was fine though, friends with those people and welcome to crash, get a ride out later. when we got back there was a movie on, jack and jill were in the couch together. it was late. we all turned in. i took a mattress in a middle room.

slept in again, for thursday. we'd been talking about it for a while, and today we were determined to go see transformers. leo asked me before when i told him i saw die hard on my layover in syracuse on the way up here, "why didn't you see transformers?' and i said because i wanted to see it with all you guys! and he thought that was a good reason. all these kids around town had been telling us it was good.

it was also the start of some kind of in town festival, summer days, or something. i call it potsdam days. there was a big fireman brass band playing on the main stage set up in the middle of a blocked off main street USA kind of scene. vendors, cotton candy, burgers, fried bread, hot dogs. leo took me into an alley with some graffiti that he'd liked, i took some pictures. jack and annie had been riding around on bicycles all day. jill and darius and leo and myself, we wandered around together. it rained a lot and was sort of miserable. darius didn't want to watch transformers with us, he drove us home so he could sit it out. jill needed to get some cash because the theater didn't take cards, so we went to a dollar store in her truck,, where they would let her get cash back. i got myself a giant bag of sunflower seeds, and a pair of socks.

jack met us at the theater, me and jill and leo. we got our tickets, and watched another hollywood pop fest. after it let out, we rolled cigarettes, and discussed what we liked and disliked about the movie, jack went to a house down the street to pedal his bike home, the rest of us piled into the front of jill's pickup.


put on a chinese movie, due back the next day to the rental store. everyone fell asleep, but leo and i watched most of it. it was neat, called "travelers and magicians," about a goverment officer in a little village in china trying to make his way down the road to get into a town and take a rare opportunity to immigrate to america. he's all modern, with a boombox, resentful of the boring village life, gets stuck listening to a monk tell him stories, travelers telling stories about travelers to each other. leo and i talk about how i eat so many sunflower seeds, says, "you live on these?" and i tell him that deshelling them takes time, makes you feel like you're eating for a longer period of time, keeps you busy, occupied. "eating seeds is a past time activity." leo fell asleep on the couch before the movie finished. i turned off the TV. took the mattress. everyone sleeps.

on friday darius and i were to leave the village of potsdam, to make our way to the villiage of cape vincent. there we would meet up with a guy we'd traveled around with before, the three of us, the first time i'd come to new york a few years ago. he was in this town of cape vincent, darius promised it would be fun, there was a festival going on called "french fest", we'd be well taken care of by friends out there, free drinks, a guy who owns a bar that our friend was close with. the works. after the weekend we'd drive down to new york city for a few days, and come back up before the next weekend.

i sat in the cabin in potsdam and spent the afternoon assembling poetry cd booklets, cutting and folding, and glueing, and binding with needle and dental floss for lack of a long arm stapler, and burning cds. i'd made seven copies of my latest cd booklet. packed up my things, into the back of the van, darius had been packing, and cleaning it out. i gathered all my things, except my umbrella. couldn't find my umbrella. i hope they found it after i left. save it for me! i love my umbrella. "it might not rain at all when you're in new york" leo said to me. everyone helped me look but to no avail. we were pushing it if we wanted to catch this local band that was playing in town, and i got tired of looking so we took off, jill and leo with us, but me and darius ready to not come back for a week or so.

in town, the videographers, darius and leo, taped the band playing. a bunch of the guys we'd been hanging out with in town were on the main stage, a big ensemble, i was happy to see rheann up there playing the flute. at the open mic on tuesday i'd got invited to the coffee shop again to do poetry with a jazz group playing there tonight at seven. darius was eager to get on the road, i told him we should stay so i could do poetry, and try to sell more books. i did manage to sell a few books, to some strangers, and a couple people who'd seen me around and saw me read. it was a pretty fun day. i drank whisky out of a gatorade bottle that the gazebo open mic host passed me. we watched bands in town, saw a photo show in a gallery in town, and went to another art show in a gallery on the campus. ate some free food there. smoked cigarettes outside in the rain, missing my umbrella.

after 7 we got back to the coffee shop, and the band was setting up, and when they got started they shouted out the members, and people in the house that they would call up to jam with, and included me in there! a few sets in, they asked me to read, so i pulled out some print outs of strange san francisco poetry i'd written a while ago, couple years now i think, been a while, but fresh for these people, hadn't read it in town yet. the band leader asked me if the tempo's good, if there's any breaks in the stuff, tells me give them some space to play some solos between verses so i read one that sort of has breaks in it. i'm good at delivery over random music, and it was well received, everyone enjoyed it, people told me that i did a great job. made me feel like a real beatnik. i said my goodbyes to people, told them we'd come back in a week,

darius and i took off for cape vincent. i played music in the tape deck thru my laptop hooked up with tape adapter until it ran out of apple juice.