HELLO, YELLOW BRICK ROAD

they say "dont sweat the small stuff"  and to make some feel better, the rest goes (quietly) "...and its all small stuff!" [ we might just want to talk to john holms and see how he feels about that!] all i know is that by god, i got stuff !  "stuff" is so much nicer to my mind than saying "shit"...never mind, to many, my stuff is (my) shit! hey, i (can and do) own what i have...i have for so long (right?) - its just that i dont like when another is judging  what i have as shit !  ( to this point, i dont like when another is judging my art, either!) [ which some have called shit!] i started out as a collector, ( maybe even as being an artist then too) going through mrs henn's garbage can when i was 4, and i am just putting the breaks on my up till now passion at 64!  so believe me when i say i have found stuff, and created stuff ...and if i never found what i was looking for for one of my creations,  i have this gift ,thank you jesus,where by i just imagine it in hand and usually it will manifest within three days...on the streets! i've been working on heaven on earth, since i got here.

besides the earth being in major clean out mode...talk about "shift"...i am looking with my love to be moving to tasmania in "the near future" - that is if ascension doesnt come first! and this means come shift or high water, i too will have a lot of shit to shift, unless i lighten my load!  by god, i am up for that now. one must ask for it, call it, be ready for it...and know the joy that will come, like the mother of all climaxes!

this now is the beginning of  my "verblog diary (ahhh)"...about  the meaning of stuff, the challenges of releasing stuff, and  following the yellow brick road to be finding home.  man, if i could just find those ruby red slippers of dorothy today, to get down under while the getting is good, no doubt, i'd get off tomorrow! ( and shit, if i am lucky, i might even get off tonight!)

 for the record, i just today have thrown out a shit load that was stilled stored in my old apartment on 48th st. [i will however keep the art in apartment as well as the mania in tasmania...no matter how small each one is! ] a fan, a coat stand, a mirror, a lamp, a kitchen cabinet from the 40s, a carpet sweeper from the 50s, 2 boxes of ny times book reviews from 1992- 3,  a clothes rack, an old grate , plus a lot of shit! did i mention the parachute?
5 flights up and down...times how many trips; i am not counting. the hardest item that i did let go of was a fairly large wrought iron vine that hung over the door way to the "shed" (which was once part of the hall way, that got closed off) to which i had attached a big "D"...because what was behind there was all coming from the D-vine!
i kept the place when i moved into my love's, which was just down the block, after we realized our oneness . before that i would move back and forth between here and there daily, using it for my studio, and it was handy when guests would be visiting from Oz or nj! because it was rent stabilized, i kept it ( rented to a doctor  first, then a dutch photographer, and now a friend ...all "room mates") until  the landlord discovered last month by a sneaky if not illegal trap that it was not my primary residence. never mind, its the universe's way of saying, "its time to let go of your shit!"

flash backs to moving out of there "for good" after we bought an old livery stable in the poconos for a weekend retreat (that had been converted into a home back in 1945) in 1995 ...times how many trips, i am not counting! i always thought i'd return for my baths in that old too small tub between the stove and the sink in the kitchen in that railroad set up...with my penthouse window that looked into the air shaft, but from which i could see the stars in the early morn as i would be immersed in the water and writing my poems (often being perved by the neighbor across the shaft, pointing to his shaft!)...but that never seemed to work out (returning for baths...the neighbor trick did!) and so quiet... it was where i could meditate all day as if in a monastery; never mind some who found it hard to handle all the male erotica about, named it in jest the phallus palace!

before i (mostly) moved out, i did offer the whole contents to the met for one of their period rooms, "hippie pad (c 1970)" but they were not interested, period!

and love you got   (glenn of trees)