the water.

trees and a creek.

a park beyond that.

 a 22 in the woods.

and pumpkins and yellow.

the night comes on fast.

and I can hear the highway.

I wish I'd left on that highway.

supper's calling. sven.

blue.

the swallows of columbus.

space house.

beautiful space house on the great highway. san francisco california. may 2013.


if you live in a space house everything can be beautiful.

led zepplinz.

guten morgen.

the folk artist sven.

sand castle.

your mind may be blown.
your hair may be tossed.
one thing I know.
you give what you can and keep the rest.

your mind may be blown.
but the wind will blow and the stars will fade.
like moss on the north side of a tree.
will keep coming home.   sven.

old finn town.

I remember that night at the helsinki bar...

it's hot out. and it feels like something's wrong.

she tells me not to worry.

the sun sets. and mist is everywhere.

somewhere a child cries from the heat...

sven.

(helsinki bar. old finn town. butte montana. 1970's. aaer no. mt 35-23)

furry animals.

though you may work hard.

and your back may break.

though your mind may play tricks on you.

and you've run out of things to say.

may the air you breathe smell of scotch pine.

and your coffee stay hot.

may your ears hear good music.

and summer last forever in your mind.

sven.

desitively bonnaroo.

lauren, reggie, cc

   before he left for bonnaroo my son and I were watching some videos of last year's festival together. and we watched a couple  with reggie watts. I was joking around about not liking the look of this fellow and forbade him from hanging out with him, that was my only rule. one far fetched - impossible to break rule... you only had one rule for bonnaroo and you break it? that's very funny - happy father's day indeed.

air.

like the air we breathe.

you dare me to catch you. 

remember when we walked to bass lake and got caught in the rain?

how his gto sounded, and the way the back yard smelled sometimes?

while she waits in the rain she cries.

the telephone rings I know it's bad news.

remember, bring your toys in from the yard.

and never bring them out there again. 

the air smells like something I don't know.

the sky outside is green.

there is not one sound coming from upstairs or any memories.

in the basement: a knife, cardboard boxes and some masking tape.

sven.

look for me in the mountains.

you know there'll be no end to it.

a sarah and a jim.

jim worked at a mill. 

sarah worked in their garden and took care of the little ones.

there was never enough. I suppose that's what started it. 

though it's no excuse. 

on saturday night take me into town.

on the way back the car finally gives out.

all the money is gone.

it's sunday now, what'll we do?

can't you hear it? it sounds close.

woman, you'll drive me mad.

sven.

johnny taylor and the ultimates.

   johnny taylor and the ultimates do a tasty rendition of the doors' 'light my fire' one lovely san francisco afternoon. I could have stayed all day, instead for a few brief but sublime moments I find myself floating along - aboard some astral ship bound for who knows where? I know I don't have to worry, I trust johnny and the boys. I know it and they know I know it. right now we can't stay...  don't they know what me and johnny know?
 

   guess that's just how we communicate, johnny and me, though I don't even know him. music is just one of the most important forms of communicating I think. I don't know much about johnny, but I know one of the languages he speaks... I speak it too. so we must have something in common, right? I especially love the language itself, so ambiguous, yet so pure some how.

   oh by the way, the aforementioned group name is just what I would advise them to be called if I were their manager 'cause I've no idea who they were, only that they were excellent.  I hope I get to see them again sometime, if I do this time I'll simply insist we stay much longer, for something so important: a few peaceful moments groovin' with johnny.

sven.

chinatown.

   here are some photos of  a recent visit to chinatown in san francisco california. it was a nice afternoon and perfect weather to be 'shopping'. it's always good to start at the chinatown gate and that's where we do start our visit.

   the 1st several photos are taken inside a shop at the 'gate'. there's probably 3.7 things in the whole giant shop that I find attractive, but the shear spectacle of the place was alluring in a decadent sort of way. and it's amusing to try and imagine who buys and decorates their home with the stuff inside (just my taste) 

   outside the shop a policeman chatted with a couple of gents casually smoking a joint. inside the owner's son told me that his family (not chinese by the way?) had owned the shop and building and the one across the street (and on the other side of the 'chinatown gate') for 35 years and were in the process of turning upper floors into condos. I wish I was the owner's son! oh well, I'm somebody's son. anyway, it was your usual stroll through the funny chinese owned shops along grant street and it was a nice day, so no complaints.

sorry Ihab, the most beautiful thing in this shop just walked in the front door and will be walking out shortly!

east meets west.

a tranquil spot to catch some z's, sleep tight fella!

   our visit to chinatown was mercifully brief as my lovely wife accomplished her gift buying goals quickly. sorry, the tourist stuff holds no interest for me, I hope someday I can really experience chinatown. what's that in the alley? what's behind this door? what's down these stairs? that's a chinatown (the real chinatown) I have yet to visit... still, as I've already stated, no complaints!

lucky.

   rosie and me went out to see if anything had changed on our favorite roads the other day. I'm glad we did, one of our favorite roads says: bridge closed june 10, wish they'd tell you when it's gonna reopen. I have nearly always stopped to admire the view at this spot. it's just a small bridge crossing the sunrise river in carlos avery, outside of stacy minnesota, but it's really nice. an endless vista on both sides of the road and ever present swallows diving and swooping everywhere. for some reason the road is much more traveled now and the bridge has lost some of it's charm as a stop due to the big rigs roaring by and there being no shoulder now, otherwise it's quite lovely.

   as I ride life's troubles seem to ebb and flow in my mind, sometimes pain sometimes relief. the bike is usually somewhat therapeutic, and other times just really fun to ride. today it's just beautiful and I make my own luck on the roads. I wander through minnesota farm country, small minnesota towns and cross the st. croix river and head into wisconsin. I travel north out of st. croix falls and stop here and there as something weird or beautiful catches my eye - like a giant snapping turtle who quickly disappeared before I could capture him on film (or 1's and 0's or whatever)

   I have spent more time on my bike alone than riding with others, this ride being the usual solo ride. you know it's nice to be with people, but I really like the freedom of coming and going when and where I please. and the bike is all about freedom. and there's rosie, she's not much of a conversationalist  but I know she cares, we're in this together after all. if anything ever happens, hope we go together rose, I'd hate to think of someone else riding you, we've been through so much together. how 'bout if some smart person makes you into art and hangs you on the wall? wait stop, sorry I said that rosie.

   I dive off the main highway onto side roads named 'z' or 'o'. these roads are often rougher, and rosie and me both love smooth highways, but here's where 'old weird america' lies (g. marcus) if anywhere. it is this old weird america that I love, it is this old weird america that has so much meaning for me. of course I know that much of what I think and feel about it is only in my head, but it doesn't matter. 

   as I drive by trade lake and past weird little cabins that I long to be inside of, I rue the day they will be rebuilt by some rich morons who will then do their best to drive the working class folk out with taxes and codes and death and pretty. a couple giant pretty / ugly monsters already encroach on this forgotten wisconsin lake shore. I guess the rest of my life is gonna be one long sigh...  in case I die before I say it: goodbye old weird america.

   I drive on to luck wisconsin and on a whim I call a friend who's girl has a cabin in the area, wow they are at the cabin. he meets me 'downtown' and three minutes later I'm...  'up at the lake'.  the cabin is nice but still exhibits the necessary funky charm needed to win me over. 

   our hostess brings us cold ones, and me and the dane sit on a porch swing to talk like a couple of old weird workin' men (I guess he's not so weird, so I'll have to make up for both of us) it's real quiet here, not much built on the lake as far as I can see. some hill people starting to build next door threaten to squelch the perfect private buzz of this place in the future, and maybe that's bad for these guys, I hope 

not. 

   as we sit and gaze at the lake canadian geese fly by in their perfect formation, nice. when suddenly a huge bald eagle hits the lake, was it a success? I can't tell, I do my best to capture the event for you my most wonderful fans. I catch the beauty as he flies by after the strike, but the iphone and my ever shaking hands render the results so-so. thought I'd share them anyway, you know in honor of 'old weird america'.

   the dane is a weather fanatic and informs me rain's coming, I have not prepared for this, guess we're flying by the seat of our pants, right rose? so I say my warmest goodbyes and we race toward the storm front, hoping to beat it. we arrive back in columbus warm and dry and the ride is pronounced a complete and utter success. and that's how you do it in old weird america. (we made it rosie)

sven.

p.s. reminder: kids, make sure and click and toggle the photos to blow them up, they are created with that in mind and really lose their intended effect otherwise.