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...and they lived happily ever after. Smith & Lady: poets, artists, photographers & adventurers.
Our relationship was forged to the soundtrack of Yoko Ono's magic,
frenetic, love-laden song, "Walking On Thin Ice." ( play song )
 
   
 
 

Archive for March, 2007

If I were God I would use Google

Monday, March 26th, 2007

Steve has our Shakespeare book and glass and lighter and needle and the little chunk of fun stuck on the needle. He sets the flame under it, and it catches on fire. He lets it burn for five seconds, then blows on it to encourage it to smoke. Then puts the glass on it and we wait.

“You’ve been creating all over the place,” Smith says. “All kinds of genres. Photo collage, found object, poems, blogging, our conversations, pbase, myspace…”

The smoke fills the glass, sinking down into itself in luscious curtains. He hands it to me.

“Yeah, I’ve been letting my hair down. I’ve come to some sort of realization recently. I’m not getting too intimidated by others thinking I’m too exuberant.” I lift up the glass and drink a cup of smoke.

He sighs. “You can’t please everybody no matter what you do. So you might as well be what you are and be appreciated or hated for what you are:

IT’S AN INTERESTING LIFE

I can be Steven B Smith
I can’t be Steven Smith
I can’t be Steve Smith
I can’t be Steve.

Smith can’t be Steven.

But if yr interested,
there are 327 million Smiths
there are 84 million Steve Smiths
there are 36 million Steven Smiths
and
there are 64 million Steven B. Smiths
I make # 2 on that.

The others – I don’t even make
the first page.

There are 1.6 million agents of chaos,
of which
I

am number one.

I’m gonna have a lotta minions.”

“You are?” I ask.

“Yep. For all the unpleasant stuff. I ain’t doin any of it.”

We both zone into some private hash dream.

Now Smith asks, “Does cyber pseudopod god monster want sunshine?”

I ignore him.

“In the old days, in the pre-cyber days, when I would ask a question like that? I would get answer.”

“Oh, I can’t answer you without consulting.” I type away.

“Nowadays my question gets inserted on screen. I get no answer…”

* * *

I say, “Your shirt’s floating again.”

Smith says, “Wait till later. It’ll become enigmatic. Then it’ll really be mysterious.”

* * *

“If I were god, I would use Google,” I comment lazily.

“There are 393 millions Gods on Google,” Smith says. “Wikipedia gets Number One.”

“Oh,” I say. “That means we should use Wikipedia as the number one authority on god.” And I think of this emerging mass consciousness. The global hive mind. We’ll all be connected, and as soon as it sees itself in the mirror, it’s a toad in water.

Steve browses some of the titles of God sites in Google. “God com… does God exist?

I think, “I’m realizing how banal God sounds.”

“I think if God created us, he’d better damn well take care of us,” he says.

“No – he just spreads his seed and leaves,” I say.

“That’s rather irresponsible for a God, isn’t it? I always like the trickster Gods.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because they play fair. I read a book of trickster myths. Coyote god does things like tell Mrs. Badger he’ll watch her kids, then he cooks and eats them while she’s gone. He’s always bringing his penis out — sometimes hundreds of feet of penis — at one point, he inhabited a woman’s skin to have sex with some other person. They’re always lying. Can’t be trusted. Gotta respect somebody like that.”

“Oh, are you a trickster god?” I ask.

“You have nothing to fear from me except ill health and the thought police.”

He thinks I’ve zoned out but I focus on him. He says, “Sometimes your test subject catches you when you’re turning out the lights. You have to adjust things. Change the controls…”

“What did you say?”

“Ope. Never mind. Right. Forget I said that.”

* * *

Then later, he says, “ah, so this is what the brains agreed upon.” He points around the room, at the videos on the shelves, the music collection, indicates in a wide sweep that the brains are allowing us to be in the south of France.

“Yes, this is what they agreed upon for their reality, you know?”

“And the thing is, it doesn’t have to BE like this. This is the agreed-upon local area construct.

What happens is strong mind people come through who DON’T believe all this. If they talk the right way, the can also convince some of the others not to believe in the local construct, and it will waver and change.

You just got to get enough people believing your reality and it’ll change. If you you get people not believing in the old reality, but change to believing in your reality, it can change. You can seed reality changes.”

“So this is all about visualizing peace, is that what you’re getting at?”

“Oh no. If you do it right, you could walk through walls,” he scoffs.

“You could walk through walls if you could get enough people together to believe you could walk through walls.”

I tell him, “So what I’m imagining now is this kinda 3D soulscape where everything depends on each soul’s perspective.”

“Yes,” he says. “And of course if radars could pick this up then little parasites could feed off it.”

* * *

“You know, we could buy a hookah, a jar with water and little tubes to cool the smoke.” We’ve just sucked some more smoke under the glass.

“Oh yeah,” I say. “These different type of products that are available, that’s good. That’s like, independent organized action.”

“This ain’t a one-way world any more, you know?”

“Oha, I know,” I say

“Once you could be just wise. Just one thing. All one thing. But nowadays you gotta be quick and wise, sneaky and wise, all those double things, maybe a couple and more… Otherwise they creep up on ya, if ya go one weird way for too long.”

He gets up, pulls and shakes his pants. “I’m gonna go loose my lizard…”

 

here there be dragons

Monday, March 26th, 2007

collage by smith

Lady K added this blurb to my myspace base….

“Born in Bitterroot, raised on Paradise Prairie. Farm boy, car thief, Naval Academy, expelled for dope, high society marriage, armed robbery, jail, escaping the cops, illegal loft dweller, ArtCrimes, rat attacks, overdose, overdose, overdose, celibate, remarried, expat…”

most wives wouldn’t collect this particular set of facts to advertise her husband to others.

collage by lady k

ikipedian names of gods – Abba – Allah – Yahweh – Elohim – Holy Trinity – Deus – Igzi’abihier – Jah – Ngai – Mi’kmaq – the One God – Bhagavan – Brahman – Paramatma – Ishvara – Vishnu – Shiva – Supreme Cosmic Spirit – Krishna – Baquan – Waheguru – Anami Purush – Radha Swami – Bahá – Mwari – Musikavanhu – Ahura Mazda – The Great Spirit – SUGMAD – HU – Shang Ti – Khoda – there’s more, but that’s already too many gods for now.

painting of smith by ken motz

soap opera synopra past year point five:

18 months ago, i read my dead mom stories at Borders. lady poet followed me home, asked if i could keep her. told her no. she moved in 4 weeks after anyway. week later we decide to marry, sell studio, dispose possessions, live in europe. ex-lover threatens to kidnap her, kill me – or worse. we discover my throat cancer, which takes our minds off our stalker. throat surgery. my 8 weeks radiation brings out her bulimia. marry. publish ArtCrimes 21. 3 art shows. multiple poetry readings. 6 articles in press. discover polyps fill my nose from eyeball to brain pan. more surgery. root canal. sell place. pronounced cancer free.

8 months ago we leave america, wander through england, amsterdam, krakow, croatia, italy to south of france. we’ve left a series of cyber tracks, assorted oddities in word and play along the way. in two weeks we train, 2 days barcelona, train, 2 days madrid, plane, few months morocco. after that, not even The Shadow knows.

i’m in a place i’ve never been and never thought to be. fairy tale lurks ahead in secret keeping. we’re on a map where tomorrow’s big red letters saying “Here there be Dragons !”

collage by smith

 

Does cyber pseudopod god monster want sunshine?

Sunday, March 25th, 2007
collage by Lady

Smith and Nehru, 1948

 

BACK TO THE SALAD AGAIN

Sunday, March 25th, 2007
Lady, March 24 2007...
Lady K, March 2007

BACK TO THE SALAD AGAIN

“You got a lotta different looks, you know that?”

“Um hmm,” I hum.

He says, “I got myself all the movie heroines rolled into one. A complete set.”

Steve grins a toothy crazy bloodshot grin at me, and notices me noticing his face, and then makes like he’s Smith.

“And you,” I say. “You’re casual about your intelligence.”

“Yeah, I got it in the department store. Blue light special.”

“My my,” he exclaims. “We’re moving right along, keeping the adventure going. Giving you something to take photos of and me something to write and you something to write and me something to take photos of. I tend to be a ‘completist’, you know.”

“It’s been better since we got up early to look at the stars. Reality’s rewarding us for priming the pump,” I say.

( Meanwhile, I’m thinking,

1.
One friend says she’s losing weight
the other that she’s gaining
2
Problems
are all this monkey head

Reality
in our wake

3 My own name acclaim
this boxing ring plane
framed by who attends…

4
I say
“We’re not off task, we’re on task.
We haven’t lost our drummer.”

“Our drummer?” he asks…

“Well, sometimes he
skips
beats.”

5 now that I’ve come back to the salad, it’s totally delicious… )

“Do u whish a pipe or do you not
wish a pipe?” he asks.

“Or would you like to mainly mingle?

Well, we seem to get together well.
It’s been a year. We collaborate.
Where do I rate you on the computer?”

“You go to maximum setting,” I say.
“Whatever the limit is, that’s
where you rate me.”

“Oh yeah?
MAXIMUM SETTING,”

he says

“That’s gonna be the name of my dance club…”

 

serendipity doo da

Saturday, March 24th, 2007

foto by smith

i collaged 32 years of mug shots of Lady K – – 1974-2007 on Agent Of Chaos. trouble is, once other flux look at these photographs, everyone will want a Kathy of their own. maybe i could rent her out on time lease buy serial share contracts.

kathy says i hum quietly to myself often. started listening to myself. sometimes i hum “It’s Howdy Doody Time.” other times it’s Beethoven’s Fifth, Frank Sinatra’s “Young At Heart,” or the “go to sleep” children lullaby. most times it’s a tuneless aimless aural doodle. it is the soundtrack to my movie. i can’t afford musicians, so i have to make the noises myself. i also make “whack” and “kapow” sound effects at semi-appropriate times.

a lot of the lessons we’ve learned on our 8 month european journey lie in kathy’s head alone. she’s the one who researches where and how, orders tickets, handles our finances. i could do all this stuff, but it’d be more last-chance-after-the-fact-free-flow-let’s-see-what-happens-now kind of journey. both philosophies have their special sweetness.

on our last hour bicycle ride to pezenas, i disappeared inside my head where i started writing a poem. once i begin to return to reality, i start wondering where i am, what’s going on – then see the highway, hear the cars whizzing by and say “oh, yes, here, now.”

this last week my arm and face skin turned thru red to rouged brown. never been this color before. time and meridian changing me.

past few weeks have registered a change in us also. we’re beginning to get used to being us, doing this, getting used to no known knowns.

got married 12 months ago. had no idea then where we’d be now. now know not where 12 months more will bring. know the next 3 weeks tho – 2 weeks abeilhan, france… train, two days barcelona… train, two days madrid… fly to marrakech morocco. unknown wonder wander from there.

serendipity doo da serendipity ay
my o my what a wonderful way
plenty of sunshine coming to stay
serendipity do da serendipity day

we have a ticket to ride, on the marrakesh express.

life is strange.

foto by smith

 

the kindess of strangers

Saturday, March 24th, 2007

foto by smith

we finally scored . walked up to alternative looking strangers on the street and ask where we could buy hash. they had some. bused back home to no lighter – it broke during our pagan nightfire out back. go to tobacco shop up hill down alley. woman behind counter silently watches me systematically search her tobacco section until i see her lighters and exclaim “AHA ! ! !,” pointing. she says a french number word. i shrug my eyebrows, non-understanding. she holds up 3 fingers. i give her 3 euros. we smile at each other.

then no pipe – you don’t want to carry paraphenalia across borders – so we did it the old beatnik way – push a sewing needle through shakespeare’s As You Like It. put a chunk on the end of the needle. light it. put a water glass upside down over it. pass book and glass back and forth sipping shakespeare soaked smoke.

also have The Tempest, but figure As You Like It has more metaphoric play.

to go with the smoke, kathy creates a plate of sliced soft yellow pear, gold red plum, fruite du haut doubs & le gruyere cheese, village sourdough bread, and hot cups of sweet orange tea. nice way to break our 5 month herbal fast.

we noticed our smokey strangers our first time in town. the 1st time we were curious. the second siting we were pretty sure of the situation. third time we were too chicken to ask. fourth time we had no time. yesterday we forced ourselves to overcome our shyness. it took both of our egging each the other on.

in london we asked – and read our poetry to strangers. in krakow we asked – and joined the rock underground scene. here we asked – and found hash. we are learning how to walk among strangers without trepidation.

best to practice getting stoned here before we hit our 3 days in barcelona and madrid spain where it’s legal but has a lot of people – and morocco, where it could be dangerous to be thick-headed.

foto by smith

 

Smoke Free Until Tonight

Friday, March 23rd, 2007
collage by Lady photo by smith xerox by lady

Princess Mononoke. Collage by Lady.
Photo of Lady by Smith. Scan of Lady by Lady.

“Well we did it,” Smith says. “We went out and read to strangers, we got into a rock scene, and we bought our own dope.?

“Yes, we’re becoming adults now,” I say.

“No, I’ll never become an adult. I can fake it, tho.”

I think that maybe there aren’t any adults. “I tell Smith: There’s like, the ‘myth’ of the adult.”

“And the ‘myth-ter’, too,” he replies. Then, “Do you want more, or have you had enough?”

“I don’t know,” I cry.

“Well, then
you haven’t had enough,”
he says.

“When you don’t know
if you don’t have
enough

“if it’s right
away
you can wait a
while
and see.

“But if it’s after
a while
it’s not

enough.

* * *

We’ve been smoke free for five months, until tonight.

“Boy, I can do anything now,” I say. “I can walk up to people I don’t know, I barely speak their language, yet I ask for drugs! I can do anything!”

He asks, “You gonna put that on yr resume?”

Then, “You’re sitting against me, suckin up my heat. I’m your sea lamprey. You’re a heat lamp ray.”

“Would your sea lamb play my he ram lay?” I say.

* * *

“Tonight’s shake-down street,” says Smith.

“I’m proud of us. We can do anything.”

“I’m happy,” he says. “We manifested something for ourselves. You see, magic doesn’t have to be potions and potent charms. Magic can be made to happen…. sometimes.”

I get up on my hands and knees, crawl over, dump a warm kiss onto him.

“Hello, Lady,” he says.

“Hello…” I fade.

“Happy South of France.”

* * *

Smith tells me a story:

There was an 18 year old artist in my Pockets notebook, his ink drawing of Marilyn Monroe. In the drawing she looks like Jane Russell.

I put it in Pockets as the cover of a double-diptych. The cover was my outlaw face on brown cloth. You open that up, swing that out, and there’s a repro of the Marilyn Monroe nude calendar from the 50s – the famous one – her nude against red satin.

When she got famous, press asked her if she didn’t have anything on. She replied, “the radio was on.”

So I have this notebook. And sitting on the sofa across from me, I have this artist who drew Jane Russell Marilyn Monroe. I was always into speed. He was into downs because he was hyper. Took medicines back then from the doctors, to keep him human.

So one night at the place I had with Robin, we all dropped acid. He got where he had to be taken home. He was too hyper. It wasn’t a problem, but he was just too hyper. He had to go home. So we put him in Robin’s bug, in the back seat, and I started driving him home through the night.

On a divided four lane urban highway next to the Sears shopping center, around midnight, we have to pull over because fire trucks are racing through the night, our way.

So I pull off, and we watch these fire engines slowly leave their side of the road at high speed and come heading straight for our stopped car. Two fire engines.

Fire engine ten feet away, straight at us, when there’s this tight quiet strained desperate voice in the back says Oh my god, they’re coming for us!

Eight feet in front of the car, they keep turning and turn into the Sears parking lot. So it swooshes by and then the next fire truck heads for us.

I never saw that artist again once we took him home.

It makes no sense. Your brain says, This can’t be happening. And it keeps happening! And your brain keeps saying, This is not logical. You don’t have time to start to figure out what you’re going to have to do, not if they don’t stop. You just sit there, saying, This is not logical.

Fortunately, the situation quickly resolves itself, because there’s no way you’re going to resolve it. (Actually, this applies to a lot of life’s situations.)

 

bad bizniss

Friday, March 23rd, 2007

foto by smith

you gotta go where the go flows

i’ve heard of bad business philosophies, but selling a product that kills your customer after one serving doesn’t seem to be financially viable – at least the cigarette companies take decades to kill their customers so they can keep selling their poison to the same saps. but Menu Foods Income Fund, the continent’s largest maker of private label wet pet food, has been killing their customer’s cats and dogs for more than a month now. and they knew about their poisoned pet food, yet kept quiet and kept selling it – even though they ran their own tests which killed 6 dogs in early march.

what is wrong with these people? i mean we all know corporate CEOs are crooked bottom dwelling scum buckets, just as well as we know our own government is equally evil – the question is, how can they all be so inept and stupid in their attempts to get away with their crimes?

the last crimes the cheney rove bush beast actually pulled off was stealing the 2000 and 2004 elections – and they didn’t even do that very well because they got caught – their minions are being convicted in ohio and sent to jail as we speak.

since then, they’ve screwed up the war they started with the wrong country… they’ve destroyed new orleans… they’ve been convicted of lying to the fbi,…they’ve mistreated our military by not equipping them with what they need to fight, and then not taking care of them when they come back home damaged… they’ve been caught giving away money to their friends – they can’t even fire federal prosecutors and put in their own lackeys without getting caught.

cheney and company have raised incompetence to a whole new level. this would be fascinating if so many people weren’t being hurt and killed. not only is this the most evil and corrupt regime we’ve ever had in washington, it’s also the most stupid and inept.

my english professor always said evil was banal – cheney proves it.

and now, since winning the last election, the spineless democrats are accessories after the fact to the 30,000 americans killed or wounded in iraq and the half-trillion dollars spent on the war because they’re not doing anything to stop it.

according to the nuremberg war crimes trials, if one goes along with evil, one is guilty of evil. we have a house of representatives and a senate filled with go-alongers – good germans, house slaves, and corporate lackeys – who are either encouraging or going along with this senseless slaughter.

welcome to the new nazis, same as the old nazis. we’ve been fooled again, and again, and again. you’d think the electorate would wake up and learn. it’s our fault, because we get the politicians we deserve. we put them in there, so it’s up to us to take them out.

i foresee the future – and you’re NOT going to like it.

foto by smith

 

GLOW IN THE DARK EYE BALLS

Thursday, March 22nd, 2007

“US scientists have genetically engineered mosquitoes with eyes that glow in the dark and do not carry malaria that have a better survival rate than their wild counterparts.”

GLOW IN THE DARK EYE BALLS

gonna go mosquito hunting,
collect their eyeballs,
make me a teenie weeny
glow in the dark bug eyeball
necklace to read by

i’ll use it as my night light

can’t wait to sit out back
wearing it, watch tiny flying
glowing insect eyeballs
flit about me in the dark

when I squish em
they’ll leave glowing patches
on my skin, or the walls

squish enough of them
and light my room

the bugs who eat them
will begin to glow as well –
flies, spiders, dust mites, tom waits
will all glow in the dark

it’s an interesting world

smith and lady k

the duo

 

Nixon in the Oven

Thursday, March 22nd, 2007

“Hmm, why is there a 16 day gap here?”

Smith’s morning news browse is like a conversation. He feeds me tidbits.

I ask, “what 16-day gap?”

“Congress House and Senate Judiciary Committe subpoenaed White House e-mails to investigate the attorney firings. Sixteen days of e-mail are missing.”

I think it’s the little technical things that are going to trip this administration up. They’re tripping over their own shoelaces.

“Harrumf,” I say. “Shades of Nixon but worse.”

“Yeah, much much worse.” He coughs soberly, then clears his throat.

“You know I’ve learned how to do a lot of things with my voice after having had cancer of the larynx.” He considers this a minute then growls, “I’m gonna grease yr grill…”

“Yeah?” I coo.

“I’m gonna grease yr grill, ya little oven lovin muffin…”

 

 
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