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

Monday, February 25, 2019

"Write a little every day, vacillating wildly between between hope and despair."

— Justin D. Stone

Wednesday, February 20, 2019

Neorealist X-Men reinvention — Professor X is an adjunct professor? Adjunct Professor X? Substitute Teacher X? Next-Gen Scoring Software X? Nobody has any power? The School for Gifted Youngsters has been subsumed by a multinational corporation, transformed into a test-taking factory for lower-order thinking skills, preparation for a life of minimum wage jobs and addiction to numbing, labyrinthine entertainments and ingestables—fleeting delusions of power? Meanwhile, students, parents, and teachers—all mired in poverty—are scapegoated for society's escalating problems, and increasingly disciplined and punished?

Sunday, February 17, 2019


Does anyone know where we can get these Bright Starts Automatic Bouncer tracks on vinyl? Where we can hear the dust and feel the light? We already miss these sweet, melancholy, sun-limned days. Being and dreaming. Like a narrative universe in Miranda July’s mind. Me and you and everyone we do not know. Our old beds and worn rockers. Our bright woodsheds and unread stories. The unwritten. Play me the one that says I love you. I love you.

Friday, February 15, 2019

Friday for an American Asshole

1. Refuse back pay for low wage contract workers
2. Declare racist "national emergency"
3. Jet to personal resort, golfing
4. Watch Fox News
5. Tweet
6. Masturbate with the Devil

Monday, February 11, 2019

The Entertainment, The Man (or, Every-
time I Turn Around I Found I'm Shot)




























Source: 
Kerr, Walter. The Silent Clowns. New York: Da Capo, 1980.

Saturday, February 09, 2019

U.S. corporation: "Hey, thank you, thank you so much for all this work you're doing! We really appreciate it! We could not be here without you! We won't forget your contribution! And you will be rewarded! Very soon! We promise! We will do everything we can for you!"

Rest of your life: Vertiginous midnight silence, frustration, fear, pain, falling, reaching, falling, reaching, death of everything you hold dear, death.

Thursday, February 07, 2019

Shel Silverstein (1974) way out past the curve















Where the Sidewalk Ends

Tuesday, February 05, 2019




















Today in shit memes:

1) "Illegal" isn't a noun, racist. No human being is illegal.
1-A) Real life human beings are killed and otherwise terribly violated over this rhetoric.
1-B) All of this land is stolen, desecrated.
2) The right wing oligarchy is doing nothing for "homeless veterans" or "citizens".
2-A) I realize this is like shooting fish in a barrel (a cliché dumb and meaningless as anything in these memes, or graphic texts, the vapid recycled language which has also become our public discourse), but the recurring "homeless veterans" trope in these right wing memes is ridiculous. One, there is no scarcity of resources. The constructed competition between "us" and "them" is bullshit; we are all oppressed by global capitalism. Two, one of the right wing oligarchy's greatest successes is, in fact, the continual creation of more and more people who are homeless, refugees, and/or veterans, if not dead.
3) According to my friends who are friends with him, Sam Elliott is not a dumb asshole.
4) "Cupcake"? Really? How repressed are you? How gross?
5) Reading "I don't think so cupcake" with its missing comma makes perfect declamation.
6) A woman's life and body is hers, King Crapcake.
7) Please read a text, any text, without graphics and more than 20 inane words.
8) "morals"

Saturday, February 02, 2019

I guess I should start out by telling you I'm four months old. I'm coming to appreciate the practice of critical re-reading. Just like writing's in the re-vision and learning's in the listen, reading's in the careful re-read. A thing can be both overvalued and undervalued, if you know what I mean. Both too read and misread. Take for example the whole goddamn world. Most of the guys I know are a first draft, half glance, clumsy-tongued gang of liars.

My old man's not really the worst guy in the world. He's just a little wet in the shoes, you could say. A bit battered about the ears.

Every time I think I figured anything out I haven't. I guess the thing is I wish for others even more than myself. That we can sleep and dream and be in the world all at the same time.


Friday, February 01, 2019

"She just put her arms around me and said, 'It's okay, you're okay. Sorrow is nothing but worn-out joy.'"

Old Joy

Hollywood — A side-eyed pack of chortling rich boys who can't read, write, or empathize their way out of their designer shirts come to position as the arbiters and gatekeepers of story.