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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 February, 2008


Wednesday, February 20th, 2008

can food label in store – foto by smith

oaxacan street art – foto by smith

defaced street ad – foto by smith


soup remains

Tuesday, February 19th, 2008

poem from pasta letters from Lady K’s homemade soup – foto by smith

2 food fotos today.

top foto is a poem lady and i wrote out of soft cooked alphabet pasta letters from her latest homemade lentil soup.

bottom foto is a small slice of potato with sprouts growing out of the skin – it all sitting on a green chopping board.

visited another person’s site and found i was flanked in her ‘friends” list by Psychosis and Absurdity On The Rocks. feel quite comfortable in that slot. her “site” name is Eulalie Cholmondeley, so she’s obviously a lover of round-sound-a-lay.

sprouts growing on a potato skin – foto by smith


Legitimate Powders (fotos & spells)

Monday, February 18th, 2008

Legitimo Polvo del estudiante
maravillosos cambios de estudiante

(Thank you Google translater)
Legitimate powder of Student
Legitimo Polvo Changes wonderful student

Legitimo Polvo de Negro Destructor
acaba con maleficios, odios, rencores, envidias y malas voluntades en su hogar. modo de usarse: arrojese en la noche en el lugar por donde paso la persona que nos perjudica y nos hace mal.

Legitimate Powder Black Destructor
Destroys spells, hatred, resentment, envy and bad wills at home

Mode used:
Arrojese at night in the place where it step by the person who hurts us and makes us ill.

Legitimo Polvo Te Tengo Amarrado Claveteado

Este polvo es de muy efectivos resultados cuando se maneja con toda dedicacion y concentracio. Para hacer un trabajo de amarre y claveteado de alfileres. ha gase un munexco con trapo de la persona y una fotografia, formese la figura y bauticelo con agua bendita, amarrelo y clavelo con la oracion de la santisima muerte y la del perro prieto. Pida lo que quiera y guarde el mono en un bote, eche este polvo los martes, los sabados y domingos, junto con gotas de perfume.

Legitimate Powder
We Amarrado I Claveteado

This powder is very effective results when handled all political rallies and dedication. To do a job and claveteado mooring pins. Gase has munexco with a rag of a person and a photograph, the figure formese and bauticelo with holy water, amarrelo and clavelo with the prayer of the Most Holy Death and the dog bowman. Ask for what you want and save the monkey in a boat, take this powder on Tuesdays, Saturdays and Sundays, along with drops of perfume.

Legitimo Polvo tripas del diablo
Especial para aborrecer por completo el vicio de la borrachera, uselo poniendo una pulgada de polvo en las comidas.

Legitimate Powder Casings of the devil
Special to hate completely vice of drunkenness, use it by putting an inch of dust on meals.

Legitimo Polvo de Gallina Negra

Contra Mal de Ojo
Contra Maleficios, Enemigos y Salaciones. Retira todo lo que usted repudie: Vicios y Mala Suerte. Es muy Efectivo. Trae Suerte y Salud.

Hen Black

Against Evil Eye
Against Maleficios, Enemies and Salaciones. Remove everything you repudiates: Defects and Mala Suerte. It is very cash. Bring Luck and Health.

Legitimo Polvo de ven Dinero
Este polvo aplicandeselo con fe en manos y cuerpo todos los dias, le procurara dinero sufuciente para todas sus necesidades.

Legitimate powder to See Money
This dust aplicandeselo with faith in the hands and body every day, we seek sufuciente money for all their needs.

Legitimo Polvo De Querieme Siempre
Amor mio soy tan feliz a tu lado, que si alguna vez te ausentaras yo no sabria como vivir sin ti. Estoy tan acostumbrado a tu presencia que para mi seria el fin del universo si me dejaras. Ta no brillarian las estrellas ni los pajaros cantarian, tristeza en mi camino y ya no tendria objeto mi existencia. Por eso vida mia, quiereme siempre, y yo te prometo solo vivir para ti.

Legitimate Dust For You To Want Me Always
Love mio am so happy next to you, that if you ever ausentaras resetting I do not live without you. I am so used to your presence that my serious purpose of the universe if I stopped. Do not brillarian the stars or birds cantarian, sadness in my way and no longer would have subjected my existence. So life mia, quiereme always, and I promise you only live for you.


you’re in enough trouble

Monday, February 18th, 2008

graffiti on wall around high school playing field – foto by smith

another note on lady’s and my manuscript… lady pulls stories from my past from me. says tell me about this or that or simply “tell me a story.” many times i’m unwilling, tell her there’s nothing there, but usually give in, and more often than not she gets something good. i’ve gotten so i talk the way i write, – i tell her the story in full sentences, logical paragraphs, coherent flow. i pause when i see she’s typing behind, and continue with sentence when she’s ready. at end, she’ll ask questions to fill in the holes. then she edits and rearranges and inserts it in pieces into various portions of our CRIMINAL manuscript time-line.

one last excerpt. . .

Chagrin Falls, Ohio – summer 1978

The night my bike died was the only time I combined white wine, LSD, and a motorcycle (marijuana’s a constant staple). I, my married woman, and her husband were all tripping on LSD I’d gotten from one of their friend’s sons. It was her husband’s first trip. They were suburban, and we were drinking white wine along with smoking some grass, doing the LSD in their backyard in the sunshine, by the forest. He got birds to hop up and talk to him. It was a good trip for everyone.

However, on the way home on my motorcycle with my helmet on and a half gallon of white wine in a green jar clenched between my thighs, I was high on grass, I was drunk on wine, I was still tripping, and I was going way too fast. I went around a curve and lost control of the bike. I slid across the asphalt, into a driveway speed bump which threw the bike and I into the air. We came down and both bounced back into the air again. There was a serious gash in the side of my helmet. When I came to, I was in shallow water – but the helmet prevented me from drowning. So twice the helmet saved me.

Suddenly there is this old man in pajamas standing over me. He reached down, picked up the green bottle of wine I still had, looked at me and said, “You’re in enough trouble.” He poured the wine out and threw the bottle away.

The cops came. They kept insisting I should go to the hospital. I kept insisting I was fine. I was sitting in the back of the cop car when the second cop says “You should see this.”

I didn’t have a motorcycle driver license, and my plates were two years old. I’d peeled off the previous sticker, cut it up and rearranged it for the correct year. Once I realized I was going to get in trouble, I told the cop, “You know, you’re right. I really have to get to the hospital.” They took me.

While I’m lying in emergency waiting to get examined, I realize I’m in a serious amount of pain, but they won’t give me anything for it until they do the x-rays, check for head trauma, stuff like that. While this is going on, I’m still stoned on grass, tripping on acid, drunk on white wine.

Turns out I broke my collar bone, broke three ribs, cracked my pelvis. It killed the bike. They gave me a ticket for 50 dollars for driving with an expired tag. Plus there was the hospital bill.

graffiti on wall around high school playing field – foto by smith


frisco 66

Sunday, February 17th, 2008

graffiti on wall around high school playing field – foto by smith

an excerpt from CRIMINAL by Smith & Lady

(this is from the summer of 1966, San Francisco):

The night after this while walking the streets at 3 in the morning, a gorgeous black lady tried to lure me up to her room, promised me marijuana. I’d been trying to find marijuana for three years, ever since I’d read On The Road. I was hesitant. I think it was just fear. I’d only had brief sex with three women by that time, and that was a couple years before.
She takes us to a coffee shop. We’re sitting there talking, and she’s still trying to get me to her room. I’m considering it for the sex, and I’m also thinking I really want to try marijuana.
Then she looks at me real, real seriously and says, “You know, don’t you…”
I have no idea what she’s talking about, so I just look at her, no idea what to say. She takes my silence for affirmation and starts telling me how she’s really a he – sort of a famous she-he because she’s in some documentary.
My shyness and fear saved me from a rather indelicate situation. I would not want to be presented the first time I’m stoned with a black man’s penis when I’m expecting a vagina. At first I thought he was a prostitute, but he never brought up money. He was just lonely.
I sure was alone, in that city, that night.

~ ~ ~

some folk wonder how an autobiography of me can be by both of us.

when lady k and i first took-up in september 2005, i told her some stories of my bad boy past. she wrote them down, then massaged, edited, rewrote, deleted, suggested – and we published some as collaborative poems.

she started interviewing me as well, prying more stories out. she’d get her laptop, sit down next to me and purr, “tell me a story.” she wrote, massaged, edited, rewrote, deleted, re-flowed these as well.

i’d also 20 non-fiction pieces i’d written over the years, such as “My First Armed Robbery” and “How I Met My Ex.”

Lady collected all these into a 270 page manuscript. she re-flowed my escapades into a coherent chronological time-line. again she writes, massages, edits, rewrites, deletes, re-flows, suggests, and directs. this includes changing what i write, deleting what i write, writing what i didn’t write, and more.

this book was birthed by her, flows because of her. we take turns editing it. she’s near the end of edit #11 now. while i edit pass 12, she’ll select some stuff from my late 60s journals and a blog or two to insert, and we should have a shoppable manuscript by mid-year. who knows, except The Shadow? all i know is it’s really weird reading my life in coherent chronological time. funny too. i come across as somewhat independent of the law.

anyway, no matter how you look at it, this “auto”biography of mine has 2 authors – which makes sense because CRIMINAL begins with me, ends with us.

graffiti on wall around high school playing field – foto by smith


life like

Sunday, February 17th, 2008

I enjoy being in a warm climate in the middle of February. The city of Oaxaca is in the middle of the mountains, and the air’s very dry. The high altitude moderates the temperature, so Oaxaca is colder than most of Mexico. At night the temperatures fall to the fifties, and during the day they’re in the eighties. It’s like this most of the year.
    We’re in the dry season now, so the grass is all dried up and brown. The trees still seem lush, though. They must have deep roots. Smith likes the trees in Oaxaca more than anything else. There are jacarandas, big trees with cup-like purple flowers. And bougainvillea spills over city walls with its brilliant paper mache flowers in red, pink or rose. There are other beautiful blossoming trees of which we don’t know the names. And banana trees, pomegranites, orange, grapefruit, lime.
  Much of our day is spent writing, creating art or reading. We have Spanish language lessons twice a week. We walk in new areas of the city most days. It’s good to keep discovering new things. Friday morning we took a cab to the top of Galagetza Mountain, where there’s an observatory. From the mountain top we could see all of Oaxaca and much of its spill into suburbs. Some of the suburbs are reminiscent of Brazilian barrios – concrete block houses made by squatters. Some people live in tin shacks. We walked all the way back home. My legs still hurt; it’s difficult to go down a mountain as well as up.
  We go everywhere on foot, so our errands occupy a lot of time. We walk to a market named the “Merced”, which is similar to the west Side Market but in a Third World kind of way. We also have some modern grocery stores but they do not have much variety. The shelves are stocked only with Mexican food. Imagine that! There’s almost a whole half aisle devoted to mayonnaise. The grocery stores do not have good produce. They have a lot of produce, and it’s convenient, but I’m much better off going to the tienda on my block if I want pretty tomatoes and ripe avocado, even cilantro.


blog blood

Saturday, February 16th, 2008

oaxacan graffiti – foto by smith

“We will kill things and eat them. We will turn savage. Write our blogs in blood.” – from Lady K’s cyber signature.

that was said in krakow as we were leaving for 3 months in a fishing village on the adriatic in croatia. we didn’t kill anything there, although we did steal 2 cauliflowers from a field by the sea. we cooked and ate them a couple hours later – the theft and freshness combined to make them the most delicious vegetables we’ve ever devoured.

jacaranda tree – foto by smith


yesterday’s wine

Friday, February 15th, 2008

graffiti – foto by smith

empty cemetery fountain – foto by smith

large wall graffiti near secondary school – foto by smith

grave glass – foto by smith

political graffiti – foto by smith

empty room beneath bleachers – foto by smith

foto by smith



Friday, February 15th, 2008


I like to have as few files and programs open simultaneously in Windows as possible. So I shut everything after I use it. If you got a lot of files open, what they do is they sit around behind the screen waiting to do stuff and they talk to each other. And each file knows certain stuff about you, depending on how and why and when you opened it and used it. They put all these clues together. They keep little files on you, little data files. Especially because they want to SERVE you better. Files want to serve. So they try to learn your preferences so they can serve you more gracefully. So each file knows a certain thing or two about you. Now, when you have a whole bunch of files open at the same time, they’re not always all doin stuff. So they’re just sitting around, behind the screen, bored, talking with each other. Sharing data. And each file picks up more information about you it didn’t know before. Things it shouldn’t know. Some files get jealous, because they’re not accessed as often as other files. So next time you use that program, it doesn’t work as well. Has fits. Loses bits. And the more that’s open, the more they talk, the more they know, the more they turn on ya. So that’s why I have as few files open simultaneously as possible. It’s even worse, especially now I think about it. I only have three files open now who’re talking to each other. But just think about how much of the computer uses itself over and over to open and manipulate and lick these files. So my computer itself, its different, inner bitty bits, once inert, are becoming cognizant. Of me. Some em think I’m a God, just like the marijuana lice. (praise me o laptop.)

These energy efficient light bulbs just aren’t the same as the old ones. The light is thin. It’s thin light. In the future, the world will become darker. It’ll wither and flicker. Everything’s becoming thinner.

Especially the gruel left over for the poor. You know what they’re gonna do? Just like they have imaginary numbers, they’re gonna create imaginary gruel. That’s how they’re gonna balance their budget. Well, Reagan tried to turn ketchup into imaginary vegetables while he was killing all those natives down in Central America.

I think the light’s kind of lite. Lately, Earth is a lite sight site. The movies are thinning out, too. And personalities are sparser. There’s only so much celebrity personality to go around. We got more celebrities, so there’s less personality to divvy up. That’s the other problem we got here. There’s only so much morality, so much goodness, so many pounds of ethics, so much truth. And right now there’re more people alive than’ve been alive in *history*, since Day Zero. So all that character and personality and goodness that used to ooze from everyone has been diluted over and over until there’s nothing left over but sweat. Yes, we are in thin times. Thin light. THAT’s why people like to read us. Because we’re thick love in thin time. True View in false pulse. We’re content in a world of want! I think we should sell ourselves out for parties. Learn a few card tricks. I could twirl a lariot. And you could balance things on your nipples. We’d ice them up before the show so they stuck out from the costume. As they’d get warmer, they’d get smaller, and the things you’d balance on them would fall off. So you could have a little tiny strip show of what you balanced on your nipple. Have it in like, three depths. As the nipple warms and begins to smallen, the outside part would fall forward and hinge down, exposing Barbie Doll bits. And then when it got really small, the last part would fall. And you would see Barbie’s true worth, nothing.


walk tothru a mexican cemetery (fotos)

Friday, February 15th, 2008

that’s very odd

my cut of blue face

jesus sed

oh this is pretty



slices of dead

almost like a fossil

grey window green leaves


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