Keepitrail

Right!? I wanna see some flicks of that dude who dissed UH getting the front of his cranium split open by the butterfly bee sting User-man. You know what I heard?.... I heard there was a rumble.... A rumble that had beengrowing - nay, gestating in the womb. Some might say, the womb of a bovine creature.... The word 'beef' rang in the air, was whispered, was sighed. It was almost visible. You would think they were praying to it... When bone met bone, an almost imperceptible awe poured out from the onlookers. The defeated lay in a shimmering, Claret Wine pool of his own viscous discharge When the victor stood, in the warm twilight of the Tennessee sunshine, All that was heard was a half-human, half-wolf growl... "You just got USED son..."

Roadkill, using common sense (not bloated or smelling too bad, limbs still move-able), can be a very free and very organic meal. Seriously.... I know it seems wack for people with money, but there's some feeling you get... like if your homie looked at you and was like "awww you fuckin gross B thats wack you forreal eatin some shit off the road ughhh", you'd just stare into his eyes like on some internal patriotic bald eagle not-caring-about-shit mentality until he just looked back with serious, understanding eyes and said "yo..lemme get some" ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- He admits to trying a range of meats including kangaroo (he is licenced as a researcher to do so), pig, rabbits, snakes as well as a variety of birds, but says nothing beats blackbird cooked in aluminium foil mixed with garlic, oil and red wine. "After cooking it with the feathers, pull back the skin with feathers and all - it's just beautiful," he says. "Rabbit is also great because it is organic so doesn't contain antibiotics and is free of chemicals and has a wonderful gamey flavour to it." Wondering what to do next time you come across a fresh hare carcass? Mr Zell suggests wrapping it in foil with some garlic, onion, red wine and even some veggies and popping it near your car engine which will cook it slowly. By the time you've reached your destination you've got a meal. Read more: http://www.news.com.au/lifestyle/food/scientist-len-zell-eats-road-kill-and-isn8217t-afraid-to-admit-it/story-fneuz8wn-1226702832523#ixzz2cr6soXf1

here ya go bud

So.... 2013, eight years after this thread was started. Who's going this year? I've never been. Considering buying a ticket and hitch-hiking there. Or driving. Who's been recently - has it gone the way of the giant festival? Or is it still quality?

AKA Go the fuck outside tonight. I'm going up to the summit of Mt. Tamalpais to watch. 100 meteors (shooting stars) per hour. Side note: Good news, the guy who works at the little convenience store/deli next to our boat dock just gave me a steak sandwich for no reason. Bad news, I have poison oak on my nutsack. this particular (annual) meteor shower has been recorded in print for over 2,000 years . Which is to say, Jesus watched this particular meteor shower. And all his homies. So my friends, I do say - join me, Jesus, and my girlfriend (who has poison oak on her chin - not kidding) for a night of golden showers in the north eastern sky. http://gizmodo.com/nasa-will-stream-the-perseid-meteor-shower-live-until-3-1093920662

Tubbs walls is great. Don't expect it to last 1-2 days though. Hey my friend from the internet graffiti website said you were cool and to tell you he said "hi" Really, who's that? "N0W0N" HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAH! But, it's ... it's funny, cause.. his internet moniker is... no.. i The mountain or the beer? I hiked a lot of Ranier and it was incredible. Beer is eh

^^ Useraeli, Tobias, Goproes, & Racoon "Who so findethawife, findeth a goodthing & obtain fovor of the Lorb" -Archie Im so spr4yded rite no br0 dame

all the lighting in those space houses is incandescent bulbs. That's nonsense. when were those painted edit: http://www.donaldedavis.com/

She did her arrows just right – not too pointy, not too much barb, but just enough to whip your eyes around each letter.

You better read the bottom part of this cause it took me fifteen minutes to find it in this goddamn book I've been skipping around in. Same boat with social skills. In my case I can do fine socially, but I just don't care. Taking those things makes me super interested and intrigued, loving, about anything someone is talking about. I was into smoking for a while as a kid, like, super into it. Then I started drinking and couldn't do both. Now I smoke to prevent myself from drinking too much. The key is smoking just a little little bit. I have a super low tolerance for weed, as I assume you do too, and a blunt is just fucking retarted. My advice, get yourself a one hitter, and an eighth. When you feel like V's or drinking, just take one hit and go find a spot that has no trace of humans in it and chill there for a minute. Edward Abbey, Desert Solitaire: There are lonely hours. How can I deny it? there are times when solitaire becomes solitary, an entirely different game, a prison term, and hte inside of the skull as confining and unbearable as the intereor of a housetrailer on a hot day. To escape both, I live more and more in the out-of=doors. ~~~ The housetrailer serves now chiefly as a storage place and kitchen. Although I sometimes cook a t the fireplace outside, it is certainly easier to use the gas stove in the trailer, despite the heat. When the meal is ready I carry it out on to the picnic table under the ramada and eat it there. The refrigerator, too, is a useful machine. ~~~ Raised in the backwoods of the Allegheny Mountains, i remember clearly how we used to chop blocks of ice out of Crooked Creek, haul them up with team and wagon about a mile up the hill to the farmhouse and store them away in sawdust for the summer. Every time I drop a couople of ice cubes now into a tumbler I think with favor all the iron and coal miners, bargemen~~~ and retailers who have combined their labors to provide me with this simple but pleasant convenience, without which the highball or the cuba libre would be a poor thing indeed. Once the drink is mixed, however, I always go outside, out int he light and the air and the space and the breeze, to enjoy it. ~~~~ There is nobody, nobody at all on the other side of the table when i sit down to eat. Alone-ness became loneliness and the sensation was strong enough to remind me that the only thing better than solitude, the only thing, is society. By society I do not mean the roar of the city streets or the cultured an dcultural tlak of the schoolmen or human life ingeral. Just the society of frienda or a good friendly good looking woman. Strange as it may seem, I found that eating my supper in the open made a difference. Inside the tralier, surrounded by the artifacture of America, I was reminded insistently of all that I had, for a season, left behind; the plywood walls and the udusty venetian blinds an the light bulbs and the smell of butane made me think of Albuquerque. But taking my meal outside by the burning juniper in the fire pit with more desert and mountains than i could explore in a lifetime open to view, I was invited to contemplate a far larger would, one which extends into a past and into a future without any limits known to the human kind. By taking off my shoes and digging my toes in the sand I made contact with that larger world- an exhilerating feeling which leads to equanimity. Certainly I was still by myself so to speak - there were no other people around and there still are none- but in the midst of sucha grand tableau it was impossible to give full and serious consideration to the "city". All that is human melted into the sky and faded out beyond the mountains and I felt, as I feel - is it a paradox? that a man can never find or need better companionship than that of himself. As for the "solitary confinement of the mind," my theory is that solipsism, like other absurdities of the professional philosopher, is a product of too much time wasted in library stacks between the covers of a boook, in smoke-filled coffeehouses, and conversation-clogged seminars. To refute the solipsist or the metaphysical idealist all you ahv to do is take him out and throw a rock at his head; if he ducks he's a liar. His logic may be airtight but his argument, far from revealing the delusions of living experience, only exposes the suffocation of logic. """""" Anyway, that shit really stuck home for me. Take from it what you will.

I informed a relatively unstable violent man that I was the one who was holding him back from beating another man to death about six months ago, today - while he gave me some headphones in a parking lot

A small studio with enough room for a typewriter, a drawing desk, and a wall, with a lot of paint. I like to do bad things cause is fun

This is what I have tonight. cause my gril bought if for me [the link to the picture said "$3 pbr wedsdays!" ....cmon.. said she got me a "variety pack" .. ... Lord take me back to Fist666's refridergater

(its true)

http://thepiratebay.sx/torrent/7225112/ADOBE_PHOTOSHOP_CS6_EXTENDED_EDITION_%5Bthethingy%5D_ In Dubai, in order to be charged, a rapist must confess his crime or be witnessed doing the raping by no less than four practicing Muslim men.

you know what it's like to have the hook of rime saying "do da mushrums" from that art basel vimeo in your head for three days... razorblade.

I know right... I just pretend I'm an anthropologist, and my job is to study these people without passing judgement or participating in their lunacy. It makes it much more enjoyable that way.

The homie Chet, our new host on the island. He put us to work immediately, saying "Whatever you can do, build, plant, make paths, anything helps. I'll bring food out to the island twice a week and you just work as much as you want. The main thing I want is for you two to enjoy yourselves and learn from Santiago (the indigenous Mayan who lived there most of the year by himself)" Santiago's tent, which he inexplicably placed on the concrete flooring and slept with no matress. The best part of staying there, a SHIT TON of crabs all along the beach. They were so big that when you ran up on one with a stick, it would raise up its big claw to fight, and immediately topple over backwards from the weight. Super easy catches, hold em down, pick em up, and bucket. There was one other dude there, Ben, who was chill as fuck and left his home in Maine to bounce around Central America for no reason. Daily catch Ben patching up Santiago after he stepped on a nail. The hammock after my girl thought it would be funny to surprise me and jump on while I was in it. Gathering special rope wood vines to make hats and fans with. Neighbors down the river. Every day these two old people would go out at five AM and throw out a mile of net into the river, then haul it up at noon and ride to town with whatever they caught. We dug a well for them at some point but it got contaminated with dead fish water (?). Conch view from our tent

The next day, I went to their house on the way to the bus stop and told them they owed us ninety bucks for all their books and shit we brought them, to which she throws some english pounds on the floor and says "There, fair and legal tender" "What is this? How much is this?" "It's the most powerful money in the world. You're clever, figure it out." We took the bus into Punta Gorda, and hooked up at a hostel where we met a chill as fuck old guy who immediately recruited us to work on his little jungle house on an island thirty minutes by boat away. That night, we were sitting in the little common area with some Aussies playing chess when we heard what sounded like a wet timing belt. We all shut up, and then a blood-murder scream erupted, "HELLP ME! HELP!" .01 seconds later Me and the Aussie dude were out the door running down the street towards a small group of girls screaming and pointing into the woods. "He went that way!" Robbers! We took chase to the woods, pitch black, weaving through houses and overgrown alleys, each with a 2x4 ready to smash up some belizian bad guys. Barefoot, we crashed through some trees and saw the guy take off down the road. In a minute, we lost him, but another guy had driven up and pointed out the robber's house. Apparently he lived like three blocks away. We ran to his house and this dude fuckin smashes down the dudes door with one kick. He was gone. The town was small enough the guy wasn't getting away anytime soon so we went back to the hostel and kicked it till we caught a boat ride to the spot on the island the next day.

We said peace to the only other person who was there, a rural English dude with half his face shave and half the other side of his head shaved. He was making a bottle labyrinth. He said "boop" endlessly and had some sort of manifesto regarding it. They seemed to keep him around to have backing to whatever argument they were pushing. He stuck around for the food and place to stay, plus he had zero dollars. Apparently he walked from Florida to CA once. He was pretty legit. I found his youtube account worth a peek. http://www.youtube.com/user/twatrick Anyway, we said peace to him and started packing up our shit, it was dark as fuck and in the middle of the jungle. The ruins were about a mile down the road, (where they "found" the crystal skull of Mayan lore) so we figured we'd camp there. We had a little bottle of rum and some beers in their kitchen, so I returned to get them, fending off Alisa with a well timed "shut up dumb cunt" and then drinking all the liquor and beer we had. Everything was straight and we were putting on pants for the jungle trek when I was struck in the knee with a baseball bat coated in hornets and anthrax. Fuck that. Within a few minutes my leg was entirely numb, except for horrific pain in my knee. Drunk and limpy, we wandered off into the darkness, English curses at our heels.

In the end, a week into our 6-week journey, it finally got too much. We were supposed to be gone that night, but we ended up coming back early. We noticed that on the one night we were supposed to be gone they had made duck pate. "If you don't know how to appreciate pate, don't just eat it anyway or push it aside, give it to us, it's a very complicated taste." Another memorable quote: "Back in Spain, ya? We had pyramids of fois gras. Lit-rally pyramids." We were discussing how "Americans" celebrate holidays and I mentioned that for Christmas one year, I told my family instead of gifts, to give to this cleft palette foundation to fix kids grills. "That's so American, ya? Why don't you do that every year, uh? It's so incredibly selfish." "I'm selfish? What about you? Why don't you house some of your Mayan workers that live in dirt shacks and eat nothing but corn and rice? You have empty houses sitting here and you're eating duck pate, drinking liquor I brought halfway across the continent for you." At this point, it descends into madness. The wife, Alisa, begins screaming at me, "You don't know what it's like! They're better off than us! How dare you!" Then the man, Richard. "You have no idea how the world works do you? You're lit-rally the most ignorant person I've evah met. Totally fucking charmless. The steupidest person I've evah met." "You don't go back home much do you?" "The fuck does that mean?" At this point, I tell him we're going to be leaving, that they're incredibly dysfunctional. The woman starts screaming, and Richard picks up the other end of the bench I'm on, shouting British obscenities. Then he walks across the table and gets up in my face, to which I bring one index finger to his face and tell him that he had best be very careful the next thing he does. He backs down, but his wife rears up, "YEWWW don't tell him to be careful! Git the fuck out of my house! Go-on!" My girl's already out of the house, crying and packing our bags. I walk out, followed by the wife, who is literally screaming at the top of her lungs. I'm laughing my ass off, trying not to collapse. "got ya knickas in a twist, ya?"

The next few days were mostly a blur... rising early, working my ass off, and meeting the family only for meals. There were five in total, father, mother, and three kids - two young girls and a teenage boy. The boy pestered me incessantly to play chess with him, which I did, in between oven-ish sun sessions shoveling sand and clearing land for the ever expanding garden of shitty little cacao plants. [ Their "Earthship", made of concrete and used plastic & glass bottles. Most Earthships are made to be self-sustainable and benefit their environment. This one will be something of a trap for tourists who visit the Lubantuun ruins and need refreshments. ] They were (and acted like) British upper-middle class rejects who flew from their homeland to a place where their pestulent snobbishness would be feared, if not tolerated. Constant was I told something I did was "so .. American". I have to say though, Their Earthship was pretty sick. It would have been a real trip to work on it had they not been complete assholes 24 hours a day. To give a brief example, take a verbatum exchange between me and the father of the family, Richard. The scene is such: Enter KIR, having just finished mixing concrete in the sun for five hours in 104 degree heat, emerges from the back of the house, having washed his face in a creek. He goes to his small cabana and grabs a blanket hanging from the porch, and dries his face. It's noon. KIR (aside): Whoooo, fuck me. That feels good. Enter Richard, the father, having just emerged from his hammock. Richard: EY! At's not a fuckin' toul, ya? 's a fuckin blanke'. KIR (looks up): What? Richard: Aye said it's not a fuckin toul, ya? is a blanke'. You don't wipe your fayce onnit. KIR: Oh, I'm so, so sorry, Richard! Tell me, what do you Earthlings do with this... "blanket"?

(continuing) I made good friends with one of the workers, Benedito, and was invited to his home, a small shack on a hillside about a mile into the jungle. There was a dirt path which led uphill off of the dirt road, winding up through the forest to a hill where his 3-walled thatch roof shack sat upon. He had maybe a dozen banana trees, three scraggly chickens, two near death dogs, a plumpish brown wife, and two very young children. There was no running water, save for the creek which (most of the time) flowed a quarter mile downhill from his house, which all his water came from. No electricity, no stove, no bed, just hammocks and a fire pit. The first thing the guy offers me is a blunt rolled in corn husk. After that, his wife comes out with (creek) coffee, and chicken-neck oil soup. In perspective, the host family's wasn't exactly a resort, it had some electricity, running water, cinder block houses, a kitchen, flocks of chickens, a car, etc. Even with all they, they rarely cooked us meat. So to be treated with that was pretty impressive, coming from this family that lives on almost nothing. We talked for a while, smoked, and ate chicken necks and tortillas till the sun set. He moved out to the jungle from the Belize City, a terrifically awful place to live. He said he was basically a robber and gangbanger, but he got sick of always going to jail and his wife being killed helped him decide to move out of the shit. When the conversation lulled, I naively asked "so, what are you doing tonight?" He just looked at me plainly and smiled. This is what he's doing tonight. Sitting in his shack waiting for dark, then sleeping. Having the same conversation with his wife and kids every night, without light, without water, without heat.Without a real meal. No drinks save boiled creek water. He gave me an eighth, that he grew himself, and said keep it, thank you for coming over, and working with us. I gave him (US$20), because fuck man... he's in a shack, and he said no, I persisted, and he said, thank you -but it must go to my wife. It is commonplace that money goes to the woman of the house, lest the man spend it all on booze.

thanks, man. on it. check your phone! ha, sorry about that... who was it over? Must have been many moons ago. Pinchy would have wanted it that way...

Fuck yes, good flick. At the end of the trip, in Maine. With Vane, Coke & Link on some abandoned military battery island. More to come on that later..