h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Actually I misspoke...Johmsons Crossing is on Mile Marker 836 of The Alcan Highway...It's a gas station, RV Park, Laundomat, Cafe combination. They are know to have the World's best Cinammon Buns...British Columbia

PS. They really don't have physical mile markers on the Alcan...it's just a concept...besides the Canadians do everything in kilometers. The mile markers are like virtual friends (kind of an abstraction)...

To confuse things more the road has been straightened and shortened in places so you have to be cognizant of both historical and current miles markers in both miles an kilometers...

There's a sign forest along the way that an Army Guy statred in 1942...It currently has 67,871 signs...One says "Vacaville - 5 Miles"...I took a picture for Steve...

Three legged stool of religion? My own started like Hyp's in a small rural Methodist Church that was more liberal than most of the Protestant Churches in the area. We moved to Kansas and I joined my husband's church--a small rural Christian/Congregational church that was much like the Methodist Church at home. In the late 1970's, this church changed and became more evagelical and radical. I quit going and now commune with nature. I feel more at peace in a garden or the woods than any other place on earth!

Going to the wilds of Missouri this week end to see Mother and Hyp. Gonna be a fun time!

The Gnostic symbol is a circle with crosshairs.

State songs...I'll have to let that germinate.

Or German-ate, so's our Governator can sing along.

Cali song, first couplet:

Is it true, what they say,
This is where the children play?....

By the sea, on the sand,
And on San Francisco Bay.

How's that?!

We're getting there!

.....

hey peoples and pilgrims and interstate cosmopolitan musers .....when these state songs finally get written I am expecting a signed copy of the collected works .....I'm first in line ....

(with an enclosed map, because knowing you guys, you will have redefined all the borderlines ... geographical or verbal .. the Cosmopolitan Tribe are on the razzle .. ....



<<<>>>

that's so beautiful what you said Lady C .....you have chosen a much more reliable church I would say ...

who wrote

<>>

just checking here ... ohmigod .. how could I forget .....William Wordsworth ..

hi William ... (big cheezy grovelly grin)



I had spiral daydreams today ....after all the magic talks we've been having .. .. I like spiral daydreams, even though they can get strange .. the Monkeyman has been flying in spirals around the room, in the guise of a demented bird, whispering rhymes at me ....kinda like this ......

The Story of DaveyDiaz

Now DaveyDiaz was a wild-kid
As charmed as a kite in the wind
His dance was a spiral of wonder
Then the judges agreed that he'd sinned

They demanded his guilty confession
And chased him through spirals of shame
They tangled his dance with a kite-string
His high-flying spirit to tame

Now DaveyDiaz was a madman
As he paced through the maze of his cell
Around and around in a frenzy
As he spiralled his way down to hell

One night in the sweat of his fever
He carved a design on his arm
A map in the shape of a spiral
A work of mysterious charm

And he covered this map with a bandage
To hide it from those who destroy
To the heart of this spiral he journeyed
To search for the seed of his joy

Now DaveyDiaz is a dreamer
As wild as a bright-burning star
Some say that he knows of a secret
On his arm is a spiral-shaped scar

hmmmm

right ....

better have a sherry then - and watch out for low flying spiralling imaginary friends and interstate shamans ..

H

The Califonia Song...By Phred

There were strange songs sung, in the bright glowing sun,
By bands with psychedelic power;
The Angels from Hell guarded them well
From a perch on the sound truck tower.
Jerry was there with long kinky hair;
And he played like a man possessed.
We sat on the grass and felt the time pass;
No reason to feel that distressed.
LSD was the thing and we had some to bring
So we felt everything get pretty weird.
We went to the park as a summertime lark;
The man singing up there had a beard.
A kid with no clothes gave us a rose;
With flowers in hand, we painted our faces
We thought life would last, but it passes so fast
Leaving only the memory traces.

(Inspired by the Ballad of Blasphemous Bill)

Phred for the win!

It's 11 pm and the sun is still up in Skagway..the campground is full of young people playing ZZ Top music and their barking dogs...I remember campground drinking games where Ann-Marie threw up through her nose at 2 am and Steve became a human fireball though the injudicious use of gasoline to nudge the campfire ...these kids are relatively tame so far...no sign of Wild Turkey bottles...it's time for bed now with the early morning ferry to Juneau... its 8 am in England... Goodnight Gracie...Goodnight George...

<<>>>>>

check it, Daktyl .. the Tribe-Scribes are at it again ....



ZZ Top and barking dogs .. sun still up at 11 pm ...

what a strange curious tribe-scribe world ..



where nothing is all or nothing or black and white

.... ahem ....

apart from pandas ... and magpies .. and chessboards .. and zebras ...

hmm .. edit ......



yellowflowers custard

(definitions of yellow-grafix)

.... go away .. you're an orangefish ....

OK you can stay ..



talking of edits ... please assume edits in most of what I write here in the Dakytl .. in fact in all of what I write here in the Daktyl ..

perhaps I could avoid the whole process ... s'cuse me while I open the hatch in the top of my head and let all the word-birds out .... so they can fly away and then sort of faze out from there on ....

free the word birds ! ......

trouble with an ongoing art process is that everything comes out .. not just my light bright white delight night-flight insight but also all my flaws and claws and sores and wounded paws and creaky doors

but its just human innit ...all in the raw uncut mix ......

nothing is all or nothing, black and white .......

exit pursued by a lot of s and a small horse that's pretending to be a zebra for the occasion ....



oh happy days .... (as all the wordbirds fly back in, 'cos they were like wordbird homing pigeons .. oh no ....)

H

dear Daktyl

ways to survive interminable rain and the fact that your country on maximum security alert ...



drink a couple of s and walk around the room intoning Phred's California Song and the Ballad of Blasphemous Bill with a strange rhythmic sonic backing supplied by spouse and spirits in the atmosphere ....



devote your life to the sonic performance of rhyme for evermore and see where it takes you ..

print a lot of dragons .........


eat a lot of salad and squashy stawberries ...

and Mash that Muse and Mash that Muse

through flaws and claws and creaking doors
to melody in C
from urbanfox and ticking clocks
to mystery of thee



from tiny spark and singing lark
from doom to knotted rope
from crazy lazy minstrel days
to urgent acts of hope



the dog does growl at moonlight owl
the graveyard ghoul does groan
it prowls through deep uncertainty
and calls me on the phone



through changing seasons dying reasons
picnics in the void
through manic panic leaps of faith
when all does seem destroyed



from thoughts in pink to smudgy ink
from idiot to sage
from perfect rhyme and symmetry
to chaos on the page



from ant and rant and hierophant
to masterpiece in green
with dots and spots and streaky bits
and fiction in between



let's think again and risk the pain
let's spin that carousel
the jester dances upside down
to broken beats from hell



I'll love you true I'll love you new
I'll love you old and deep
I'll love you when you dent my soul
and kiss me in my sleep ................................


yada yada yada yada yada yada yada yada yada
happy days

Happy Christmas .....

and July 4th ......

and some other things ......

July 4th again already...memories of bearded cousins and potato cannons...the Iranian Kurds in Britain seem like a hopelessly inept lot of louts...we had a group here in America called "the gang who couldn't shoot straight"...Haines should be safe enough...our Coast Guard is a branch of our military that now falls under The Department of Homeland Security...they have new toys...I saw two red rubber boats here with new twin 225 HP Evinrudes and bow mounted brand new M-60 machines guns with a 500 round boxes of ammo...Rambo would drool...they all had shaved heads and black flak jackets...I pity any Kurds who show their faces in Skagway...

Rubber boats with all that hardware? Mind-boggling.

I think WW2-style PT boats would be a better idea. That way they can mount chain guns and rockets as well as torpedos.

4th of July...

Heh-heh-heh...BOOM!

Will be missing the bearded cousins celebration this year.

Next year may provide a better opportunity since the fourth falls on Friday!

Wordsworth--my favorite wordsmith.........besides you, Helen, of course.

Wordsworth .... my fave lines are

<>>>>>>>>>> And I have felt
A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man;
A motion and a spirit, that impels
All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
And rolls through all things.>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

from 'Tintern Abbey' ...

these lines make me want to retire to a lowly cave (with sauna, jacuzzi, TV, and neon spotlights) and eat baked beans and roast parsnips .. for evermore ..

???????????

Wordsworth...a personal fave of mine too. My English Lit professor in college instilled a great love and respect for his poetry. I need to buy a volume of his works.

Everything the power of the World does is done in a circle. The sky is round and I have heard that the earth is round like a ball and so are the stars. The wind, in its greatest power, whirls. Birds make their nest in circles, for theirs is the same religion as ours. The sun comes forth and goes down again in a circle. The moon does the same and both are round. Even the seasons form a great circle and come back again to where they were. The life of a man is a circle from childhood to childhood. And so it is in everything where power moves.

Black Elk (1863-1950)

A long time ago my father told me what his father had told him, that there was once a Lakota holy man, called "Drinks Water", who dreamed what was to be... He dreamed that the four-leggeds were going back to the Earth, and that a strange race would weave a web all around the Lakotas. He said, "You shall live in square gray houses, in a barren land..." Sometimes dreams are wiser than waking.

- Black Elk