Built on dust

Captain Tremor the tremendous here again with an update from the zone of grieving Chinese parents and lost lives. Kinda like one of them there reality shows where Big Brother wraps barb wire around piles of collapsed dusty schools to prevent parents from getting their kids out.

So much for educational corruption in a brave new world.
Say hello to Tin A Man square in dusty Beijing. The ghosts of June 4th are free.

If you want to play you gotta pay.

Roman wall, roaming cloud.

Ah, new brighter lighter images for your visual feast.
Visit the young master and intensity.

Peace.

Bo Diddley 1929-2008

Greetings,

Rock n' Roll, nothing but the blues, get down and shake your thing baby.

The Big Bo has passed on.

His name came from "diddley bow" an original instrument developed in the South by using a single strand of wire between two nails on a board.

Here's a fine NYT tribute to the man who played his guitar like a violin.

"His original style of rhythm and blues influenced generations of musicians. And his Bo Diddley syncopated beat — three strokes/rest/two strokes — became a stock rhythm of rock ’n’ roll."

The Rolling Stones, The Who, Bruce Springsteen, U2, learned from a legend.

Peace.

Pandas Saved!

Greetings Little Travelers,

Dr. Captain Tremor here.

It's plural. It's in Technicolor. It's live and it's available for downloading through Fear and Anxiety.com.

Famous forgotten Chinese mamba-pandas secure their doors before doing laundry down a long black hallway filled with demons and ghosts on the eternal and everlasting "spin" cycle of a long lost existence.

Pandas always talk-speak about "The Past" an elegant city in China where they failed to make the team. Where they were judged by the size of their treehouse, their choice of mobile leaves. Where they struggled to make it. Where they tried to frame their point of reference which, unfortunately wasn't stable. It was entropy, the 2nd law of thermonuclear physics.

Where they expected other pandas to be responsible for their happiness. It doesn't work that way.

This is why Dr. Tremor is happy to report that, while we lost approximately 80,000 humans in the shaker quaker, we managed to rescue two (2) yes! two pandas who wandered away and were found swimming in a new lake testing aquatic gear.

The pandas are fine and are scheduled to begin procreating any moment. The female has resumed her laundry chores and the male is sleeping.

Peace.

Rolling smoke

Greetings and good evening kiddies. This is Captain Tremor and a little story time. Relax.

It's really exciting honest and true to report that everyone here in the big "T" is healthy and happy, well adjusted, fully employed, well fed and content with their lot in life and so forth. Made in the shade, cool baby.

This is to say with precise clarity they have the confidence to speak, they are never "tired" or afraid and they really enjoy the clear ink sky at night pulsating with energetic stars. They take amazing risks especially when it comes down to the moment.

They photograph the universe. They rent vacation apartments in a black hole sucking matter into the void. They write unintelligible sentences and disappear into their phospho-recent television monitors where they absorb reality shows to go ya.

Here's some images to prove it.

Peace.

Huge time

(a, an, the, old article man in the coffeehouse is reading three verbs in today’s sad newspaper whispering the words softly out loud to himself as if praying to newsparing print, stories and politics, fashion and football results)

and then, the air force became too strong, too sudden, too careful in its way through, seeking lower faster soil and plains across old Roman thermal bath waters plumping mist
up into rain’s marriage so it reached back,
circling it’s prey without saying anything happy to join new relatives,
strangers arriving with the street,
the moisture captured from seas far away and they all danced like children,
circling, spinning out from nothing, evolving from the center of their stillness,
caressing bark, long extended sinlight sunlight
flaying onion skinned paper inside a black book

where people don’t listen
don’t really listen
don’t really care
sleeping with their eyes wide
open
struggling with anxiety
swallowing daily happy pills
wearing huge magnificent time watch
this machine on thin wrists

hand-me-down my walking stick

Peace.