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Recipe: Smoked one small corn cob of a mugwort blend containing mullein, kinnick kinnick, yarrow, elephant’s head.

Drank one cup of mugwort tea right before bed.

Smoked yet another corn cob of mostly mugwort & a little bit of peppermint.

The tea tastes great – familiar. The smoking blend with peppermint was better than the herbalist blend. Smoking peppermint is where it’s at!!!

My aim for the night was to try and contact Artemis, so I read a bit up on her on wikipedia and such. It wasn’t until 1 oclock that I actually turned out the lights – which is strange because I swore it was like two hours earlier. Time seemed to pass quickly.

The first bit of my sleep did not feel fully engaged. Sometimes this will happen to me – I’ll be sleep but also sort of present with the fact that I’m asleep. You may be familiar with this feeling like when you were a little kid on xmas eve?

I did have one fully registered dream – I was a woman allowed to enter the Oval office and communicate with President Obama. I told him about the Occupy Wall Street movement and his ability to use this gathering storm to make a bunch of important social changes. He did not say anything, but wrote down on an index card: “I am the %2″. I took the card and was a bit speechless – I took the meaning to be: “There are people more powerful than me. I am powerful, but not 1% powerful”

I would not take that for an answer – it felt like a cop-out and the product of his fear, not reality. I told him he was in a unique moment in history where he had the power to make radical unprecedented changes. That it may cost him life, limb – he may in this time be looked at as crazy or a failure. But that it would be the ultimate right thing to do.

This dream is interesting to me for two reasons:

a) I recently read in ‘Ayahuasca In My Blood’, and have a vague memory of folks taking ayahuasca who actively seek out politicians in the spirit world in order to influence them. Perhaps this is where the idea came from or perhaps that’s what I was doing?

b) As I wrote this post, I had a thought. At first it was a disappointment to have set out to meet Artemis and end up with Obama. But perhaps I WAS ARTEMIS? I was distinctly female in the dream.

I did have some other dreams – one of which was lucid and involved some interesting color swirls / fireworks (like when you close your eyes) but more vivid. There were other fuzzy dreams involving me being a warrior and taking out the trash, unfortunately shadowed by the Obama dream.

Will try again.

America Online

This is a serious course of action;
manifestos manifesting great arcs of being, the whole
“I was just born” deal, as if to say – something a little
comes along alot this way.

I forgive my parents and thy trespasses. I don’t believe in
the passing of the old guard
or passwords for that matter,
and we are matter, and you don’t matter,
and I am madder than hell.

The United States has turned into Friendster.
A buddy system. A civilization of social netowrks,
two barrel pork bottom of the believe when I say
you don’t deserve the dollars you made today.

I am your milkman. I am your coal miners daughter.
There is a fire burning beneath Centralia,
and it’s been burning for 40 years.

I want to walk out into the desert and never be seen again.
There are coyotes in my eyes
and my mouth is made of lizards.

Feeling the soft touch undertow of forgiving.
Beckoning the bright northern star.
Abandon all drive thrus. Take the long way to get there.
Sorting through riffs for the perfect catch phrase.


Emoting emoticons of grizzle face plant head desk dumb shit shoulder pad office
space fuck this place pc load letter grid lock bumper to bumper 405 I5 eye hate
to drive and i’ve got a mine’s eye to mind lie do or die out to dry drop dop druid
drink the blood of an Englishman

Fe fi fo fum (fuck you)

tumbling down into swordplay tribal play greek theatre and I’m a jersey shore whore
home come to guido your gummy bears and breathe new life into the sand bags
holding up the dock, sitting on a lotus leaf and tarting out these trifling titty tumbles,
breaking bottles in bedlam breakfast eggbeat I can’t believe it’s not butter sausage grill
holding down the fort until I’ve found my way,

everyday I make a new commmotion

Only I’m looking over my shoulder and finding out the hardway.
When i gaze out into the sky line helicopters buzzing overhead, the rattle of a muffler,
the times, the times i’ve almost been hit by cars,

this is a daily assault. This isn’t my fault. This is the way things hafta be.

On the clock and I spend my days in socks and sweats and make out like a bandit
hiding from the law
when I haven’t done anything wrong

One Christmas my mom made a garden stepping stone that had my name on it with the word “writer” beneath it. For a short time I wore a ring I had made in Tijuana that said “POET”.

I’ve felt guilty for a long time that I haven’t maintained that role.

But recently I’ve been reinvigorated to go back through my poems and curate the best ones. I also want to get back into the habit of just plain writing again. I know everyone fucking says that. Fuck it.

For a long time I was doing these “nonsense” poems where I would just spill out words in a comfortable flow, a random string of associations that “sounded” good but maybe didn’t mean anything. I think nostalgically on this time in my life because I felt like I was really connected to a part of myself that was completely mysterious and would constantly amaze me. Occasionally in the course of this blathering on I would strike against one line that would actually seem to say something.

I think one of the problems that had me give it up is that I always had trouble trying to extract those good parts – they always felt too attached to all the shit around it and never seemed good enough to stand on their own. I’m not sure if I want to stick with this approach to writing any longer, but I know that the feeling of just typing manic on a keyboard has always been very positive for me. A feeling I first noticed with this poem: Verano.

I went looking for it today, just randomly searching the internet to see if I had it on one of my old abandoned blogs and found it “published” (or whatever) on this website: Stirring. I don’t remember ever submitting this. The email address listed here is one I had temporarily but only remember vaguely: The HD stood for hairdresser, not high definition.

I wrote the poem in High School; it’s always stuck with me because I woke up in the middle of the night and scribbled it all down still in a dream-like state. Only in the morning did I take the time to try to decipher my handwriting and figure out what I meant by it all. Still clueless all these years:

Garrett Patrick Kelly

Date of Birth: 02/07/81
Location: Arcata, California


I saw you working at Rod’s Hickory Pit
Gnawing on your fingernails
And lime green tic-tac mints.
Thigh-high shoulders, I hated the wait
I found a leap year in my hamburger
and 25c worth of hate.
Fishing tackle, dripping from
an eyesocket
that once was my sexual outlet.
Cigarettes, ashtrays, fine party gifts.
I can’t help getting pregnant at the most
shallow of times.
You never knew me

Acid Rain – new Seattle Power Violence band from Garrett Kelly on Vimeo.

Esther C. Morgan, veteran Seattle music scene hipster, is fresh on the warpath w/ new Power Violence band Acid Rain.
Although currently entertaining record deals from the likes of SubPop, Barsuk, and Thrill Jockey, Acid Rain will always be a champion of DIY. Here, Esther shares one of her bedroom recordings w/ an impromptu brutal drone set.

Acid Rain plays the High Dive on April 2nd w/ the Head and the Heart.

Merry Christmas to me! I’ve got a new iPhone App to add to my slowly incrementing list of secular software to misuse for mystical purposes.

Some of you may remember my post about Dragon Dictation, a speech-to-text iPhone application which I used in order to create algorithmically inspired poetry. (For that one, instead of speaking normal English into the microphone as originally intended, I spoke complete gibbersh – glossolalia if you will – and had the application return the ‘channeled’ message back to me).

Here’s an example of how to use Dragon Dictation in this new way:

“Sound File Of Garrett Making Weird Noises And Annoying His Roommates”

And here is a typical ‘inspired’ response:

“Shannon home today
and I can’t know God
bless us to kick some Zune cool
as you can see mom went to ask him
she moaned hello
Micah’s status on that check
on the class
is yet”

Well, I’ve found a new iPhone app to pair with Dragon Dictation. This one allows you to create surrealist artwork and read hidden signs and symbols hidden in the ordinary world. This app is called Word Lens, and its intended purpose is pretty spectacular in and of itself. Check out the video below for a primer:

So this augmented reality application is supposed to take text from the outside world and ‘translate’ it into a new language using their downloadable dictionaries. Which is badass.

But then a funny thing happened…

When I was riding the Light Rail home from the airport the other day, I noticed that when I had my camera facing my bag it thought it could read words in the lines and textures. I snapped a few pictures and wondered to myself – wow, I wonder if this could be used to divine some hidden meanings?

One of the early ones on my book bag that got me curious about the wordlens technology.
An Early Prototype

I tried for a really long time to get it recognize words by using the creases in my palm – thinking an unintended palm reader would be too good to be true – but alas, I could not get it to work.

'Chili' - picture of sister and me. #wordlens
‘Chili’ showing up in an old picture of my sister and me

However, by setting the dictionary from Spanish to English and pointing it at natural surroundings around my house and out and about while Christmas shopping, I was able to capture stills from these fascinating/random software glitches.

'Gone' - at the bus stop. #wordlens
‘Gone’ next to a man waiting for the bus

Browse my flickr set here to see more examples of Word Lens in action!

Word Lens Photo Set

Sent to me via email. Thought I would share:

  • 1. Volume is your friend, rely on it to play the instrument for you when you can’t think of anything,
  • 2. Feedback is cooler if the instrument is in direct contact with the amp,
  • 3. Use at least 2 distortion boxes, more is cool. (quantity > quality),
  • 4. Short scale bass is easier to play and you can really stre-e-e-tch the strings to get cool sounds,
  • 5. Don’t hesitate to bang on the instrument,
  • 6. You can get some cool sounds by violently pushing, mashing or jabbing the strings straight into the fretboard,
  • 7. Get wasted first,
  • 8. Never write songs, they will only inhibit free expression

    Amber says I am going through my ‘art’ phase now.

    “Ice water in restaurants”.

    “That pain in your jaw when you blow up too many birthday balloons”

    “The moment in the morning when you wake up and your ego thinking takes control”

    What can you come up with on your list?

    Always been struck by this ‘vision’ I had and whatever it was that compelled me to put this image in my journal:


    “Magic carpet elephant with Buddha’s on back”.

    Digging through my old college journals, I found a series of drawings that I did where I claimed to have invented
    new types of musical instruments.

    Later in the day, I ended up completely taking apart an old trumpet and reforging it into a messed up looking bugle-thing.