massive prosurrection

I live downtown in San Diego, I have a mechanical typewriter, some paint and a garden... I ride a bicycle and eat quinoa and kale all day, no nightshades.... I am waiting right now for the man to come back from the United States Postal Service with my OIL PRESS so I can protinue making nice things... Like spritzers and soap...

How does anything die? I don't suppose the massive can die, only world bridge like the mayan's say...

How are you Millz, are you well? Burning Man was disgraceful this year, maybe like any other.. All the energy spent on things that don't last, but what lasts? Rome? Towers of Babel fall... I think I'll keep making sand mandalas and blowing them away as long as I can.

Proplacing words is fun, I don't like the con prefix, proversations proclusions... et cetera...


I know your woman makes jewelry and you print cut and paste amongst your other finer modes of expression.. How is that going? Why doesn't she post her creations on the Massive, either?

Soon this space will be finished, polished and insured, then we can have classes and get togethers, we can make paper worth printing on, and maybe someone will benefit from that.

San Diego is nothing like I would have expected after meeting you, but then again, you make a lot more sense now, not enough-- but a lot more than before...

I love you superstar, the massive is too dapper to let go of this easy, keep killin' it.