Justin Stone's creekbed

songs, prayers, poetry, stories, art, photographs, moving pictures, fondnesses, tall-tales and meditations

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Location: missouri, el paso

The Anterior Insula and Hwy W

Thursday, April 20, 2006

glisten,
the sky is wet

The south, oh yes, the south, I wonder about the south in all its burden, brutality and brilliance, I wonder about courtroom dramas and insects, about vision being shone unto folks. Visions of Razorback! Great Spanish Galleons! Sharks swimming down from the sky amidst sheets of torrential rain and screaming winds! All of the buildings are to be torn down, their ghosts to be resurrected and inspired, and we will be inhabited, sad and beautiful. Oh yes, the south. You know what feels so good? Becoming stranded. Relief and abandon. As in creeks that tell story and hummingbird ballets and fountains speaking baths drawn in great tiled rooms. The ceiling fan whispers mosquito to me. I wander about, setting buckets in the rain and watching drops glide from leaves. I wonder about spending a lifetime in that lambent shimmer. I have gone back home, hung two lanterns on the porch and set myself down into the porchswing at this very moment tomorrow morning in light years and who calls that a year? And the sparse office of an old doctor who leans against his desk and scumbles, and he's filling out a prescription, is it meant for me? And he's gazing out the window laughing at a joke wholly internal and I am earthwhile confused as he moves floating to the medicine cabinet and the light changes abruptly and perspective and we are in long shot, long thin and suffocating, shooting the scene in short breaths, leaving untouched the front of the frame and so this space rests between our worlds and I am sitting on the edge of the bed, legs dangling, arms braced to either side and paper crinkles between me and the mattress in this country doctor's office that is shrinking with the thought, and I barely seem to be breathing, drenched in a thin, white t-shirt, a t-shirt clinging to my body by sweat, it is not the heat that will kill you it is the humidity. Fade to black. A radio plays, distant and close, the sound of a small portable radio you can just hear muffled in an adjacent room and we are listening to a ballad of small butterflies. Fade in. The morning following rain, and our world is saturated, awet, the sense is one of glistening and we are in medium close-up on a porchswing swinging empty framed by rich deep green forest in the background beyond a stretch of close-cut lawn, forest breathing and exuding, and we can just make out now the sound of a conversation rising into life, one-sided, a conversation into telephone just inside the house from the porch and we know it to be conversation though the words are unintelligible, understood language of foreign origin but we have little time to grasp this notion because the conversation fades and we hear only the world glistening beyond this porch and porchswing swinging empty strung from chain and then eventually that too fades.

dearest squirrel,

east the buffalo, south the tiny turtle, west the lizard and lizard tongue, southwestern turtlelizard--the guy just behind and a remembrance of dream, swan, as she knew what would happen, swan, dropping north into sleep--i can smell you from here, skunk, you done sprayed the land, you big bully--i'm awakened by senses, big medicine--we play medicine to our advantage?--walk tall, son, know patience, ants and planners like squirrel, that it will be provided for below,

in the hollow of old tree,
bearwhale

"que lindo es sonar despierto..."

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

“I thought he handled his assignment with class, integrity,” [President George W. Bush] said. “It’s going to be hard to replace Scott [McClellan, White House press secretary], but nevertheless he made the decision and I accepted it. One of these days, he and I are going to be rocking in chairs in Texas and talking about the good old days.”


it is sometimes easy to forget just how beautiful the times in which we live truly are.

Saturday, April 15, 2006

The Bird Sanctuary, Griffith Park, Los Angeles,
in conjunction with the
Rocky Mount Missouri Screen Actors Guild,
is proud to present


The 2006 Justin Stone Summer Lecture Series


Sign up now for one or more of the following discussions:

* 8 or 9 Habits of the Highly Remorseful Individual

* Stop Short of Success: What You are Doing that Works and How to Quit It

* Snatching Defeat from the Pointy Toothed Jaws of Victory

* Now You're Talking Shit!

* Zen and the Art of Underachievement

* Blow Hard: Things My Mother's Family's Ostracized Brother Always Told Me

* There Will Not Come a Day

* Tell Them Again About What You Did In High School

* Looking Bad and Believing It!!

* Couldn't Be a Better Day to Stay In Bed: Techniques On Calling In Sick and Cancelling Other Appointments

* Debt Schmebt: Say Goodbye To Credit

* The Grid and How to Get Off

* The Moon Is Full Only Once a Month, and Other Poems by Fu Lool: The Poetics of Resignation Through the Ages

* Men & Women are from Earth, You're From the Cold, Dead Eye of an Asteroid's Worm Fossil

* Less Than Those Before Me: Multi-Generational Tales of Giving In to the Nameless and the Faceless

* Let's Face It, You're Not Funny and Neither Is Your Friend

* Indolence is Magic? and Other Holy Follies of Youth

* Life is Good


Lectures are $5 individually, 2 for $10, or any 5 for $25. Payments accepted in cash only and are to be made prior to the lecture. Lectures range anywhere from 5 minutes to several days in length. Bring a sleeping bag. Lectures to take place in Justin Stone's kitchen and/or upon the sidewalk in front the New Beverly Cinema. For further information please email creek_bed (at) sbcglobal.net.

Thursday, April 13, 2006

Early Creekbed
(l to r) Justin, Lindsay & David Stone


One of a Great Many Stone Float Trips


May Every Day Be So Long


all my love to david stone,
poet, traveller, mystic & my father

"What led me to be an actor is that I have a strange something in me that can drastically change the way I appear to the world. Growing up, I couldn't understand why people would always have different ideas of me--but because of that I became aware of how you can manipulate your own ability to change. And then I learned to make a career of it." -- Zooey Deschanel

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

There is a nice little video clip from motel, glimpse now over at the motel, glimpse myspace page. The scene here is quite different than the one currently in the movie. A special treat. We'll call this one Wolverine in G & D. A little taste to whet your hearty appetite. I know you got one. I mean, I'm hurtin' inside.

Also on the page is Mi Cancion, one of the motel, glimpse musical themes, the credit sequence song, and one of my favorite songs of all time. The song is one of the humble masterworks by my good friend & fellow traveller Johnny Pfirman. Please listen. I have lived the course of several lifetimes to this song in different live situations, under many a moon and some suns. A waking dream.

Oh, and here's a picture of my mom:

Kathy Tennison
Yesteryear Images, ca. mid-1980s


My mom is awesome.

Monday, April 10, 2006


Chris Sivertson, Zach Passero and Justin Stone
Yesteryear Images, Lake of the Ozarks, MO, 1997
photograph by Don Roelofs

Sunday, April 09, 2006


turtle

there will rise a day, love, when all hidden things reveal themselves bold and clear. and together we will sit and share our story.

i long to see you in the morning light.

Thursday, April 06, 2006


For you, America, a most special treat. Right now the legions of Beret! storm your land. Go see these longtime friends of mine make soul-shattering musical thunder, and see them laugh casually about it, your devastated soul. Go see Beret!...

"Beret! is the notorious group of Americans that became so angry they had no American means of expression and were forced to be reborn by their hate into a world of moustache, wine, cigarette, and stripes. Proclaiming "only Americans need guitars," Beret! is bass, drums and screaming Frenchmen. The stripes, the smoke, the anger...va'ten coule."

The new Beret! album Une Tete Pour Deblier will be out soon on Self Core Records. Lose several days of your life on the officious Beret! website.

Travelling with these miscreants is one Cecil Otter, a favorite new person, Cecil Otter, an artist of great northern porportion, Cecil Otter, he of the brain creeping beats and rhymes, Cecil Otter, he of the legendary Minneapolis collective Doomtree, Cecil Otter, he has all the right words and sounds, and he is better than you are. Please check out the sweet Doomtree website. Listen to good stuff at the Doomtree media page.

Cecil Otter will show it to you.

Beret! and Cecil Otter are scheduled to invade the following cities:

Apr 9....7:00P....The Larimer Lounge, Denver, CO
Apr 13...8:00P....The Delta Lodge, Denton, TX
Apr 14...7:00P...El Torreon, Kansas City, MO
Apr 16...8:00P...Creepy Crawl, St. Louis, MO
Apr 18...8:00P...Top Cats, Cincinnati, OH
Apr 19...9:00P...The Sidebar, Baltimore, MD
Apr 20...8:00P...The Fire, Philadelphia, PA
Apr 22...8:00P...LP FEST, Providence, RI
Apr 23...8:00P...O'Brian's Pub, Boston, MA
Apr 24...8:00P...The Living Room, Providence, RI
Apr 25...8:00P...31st St. Pub, Pittsburgh, PA
May 6...8:00P...TBA Lima, OH

More shows to be announced. Follow breaking details (and destroy your soft fleshy ears) on the Beret! myspace page. Ask them to and they will stop in your town and play in your bedroom, or in your mom's boyfriend's garage. Do yourself a favor. Go see Beret! and Cecil Otter, and ask them to see the Monster Books. Buy them drinks and they will definitely take you to the van. Tell them that Stone sent you. See them. Hear them. Smell them. They are coming for your young.

Saturday, April 01, 2006

The Pleasure Chamber

Suspended weightless in the Pleasure Chamber--
Oh, tickled just screaming with intense, giddifying, ecstatic pleasure,
Oh, natural evolution of experience and sense,
The ultimate sensation!
Might I live to see this day?
Might I feel the surge of immaculate visceral joy?
Such would be tantamount to cure-all.
Oh, fantastic diversion,
Oh, conscious perversion,
To be everything at once--!!
Life floating unlimited across the mindscape, but this is not death.
This would be the sheer antithesis of death.
I can see and feel the Pleasure Chamber.

some kids, they just get ear infections.
some kids, they just get lice.
some kids, they scratch and ache and wear hand-me-down clothes.
we kids are carriers, crawling with critters.
and out come the special shampoos,
the ear-drops,
the excuses.
kids sent home from school, eyes rolled.

she would break down. she would just completely fall apart if she could but afford to. as is, she carries on in harried indignity, sick, clinched up in exhaustion and despair, listening to the clock tick in maddening tocks. the last time she went into the hospital the bills accumlated in the kind of exponential up-thrumming of nerves one experiences in nightmare. she stares out windows. she sits in her recliner, incapacitated in the evening, dreading tomorrow, dreading work, dreading the widening disparity between cause and effect, income and outcome. used to be she could get away for awhile, go out with friends, forget about daily concerns with social meandering, friendly wastes of time, but these days this act too, the act of letting go and enjoining seems impossible, impossible as everything else.

“I just can’t do it.”

“I just don’t know what to do in this.”

i must drive out to see you soon,
but i have talked that talk before and won’t talk much now.
“the way up is the way down.”
might i catch that you have?
or even have you?
if not for want i would have no way
and i will take my inspiration in waves
if not pools
and i will believe in myself believing.

it rained all day at the eldon turkey festival
and i found a great many bargains
in the packing up and the leaving of vendors.
they say it rains every year at the turkey festival,
but i have seen it not rain too.

the couch

this couch upon which lust hath spilt,
he asked me, “do you need a couch?”
because he was moving,
giving his away,
but one look at the couch and i knew i did not,
i did not need this couch.
twas the dirtied sort of couch,
reminiscent of dirtied rooms
wherein bodies doth squat in sloth,
fluids and foul are spilt, rumps plotted,
and smoke is insinuated,
day after day after day after day,
until every fibrous square inch of the couch
has come to be stained in one way or another.
nay, say I, i do not need such couch
for such couch do I most already own!

sparkle ann

show more!
why do you not show more?
you are a dazzle, ann,
you are dazzling!

(i am going to see you in the morning time.)
(until now I have been blind.)

you gather in light.
you walk the yard, gathering light.
you will be a firefly in the night.

no more, no more the darkling days,
i want to see the whole world a’sparkling!