we_like_sheep cr0wl maybe you've seen me before. i'm the one that sits cross-legged at the gas station/convenience store next to route 76, chain smoking budget cigarettes down until they burn my calloused fingertips. and oh yeah, i rock back and forth like one of those garden pendulums set into motion by wind or water. now you know me, don't you? i can't help it. i know what you're thinking. what can't i help? that i smoke? what else am i going to do? that i have this tic thing? it just happens. do you ever catch yourself not breathing and then just gasp for air like a fish out of water? i go there to watch it all happen. and believe me it happens. especially there. people that go there aren't from around here. they're on their way to somewhere else. they walk out of their cars all stiff like birds trying to walk. they should be flying. why do they try to walk? they look up at the sky like it doesn't belong to them. which ones you're thinking, the people or the birds? both. they go into the store and come back out like they had been to church and they throw their trash on the ground because they'll never be there again and they don't care because they don't live around here. all they want is salt in their mouths and sugar in their brain. i try to sit far enough away from them but i see how they look at me and when i look at them they turn away like they're in trouble. we're all in trouble, but it doesn't really matter. the earth is just a marble god never picked up. 090601 ... unhinged i think i may have passed by that store on my way to harrisburg. i believe 76 dead ends into youngstown. a lot of highways do actually. turnpikes. the ones where people are just passing through on their way to bigger better things. (funny part is those highways don't show you youngstown really. you have to get off the turnpike and on 680 or 422 to really see that valley; not that i'm recommending it) that was one of our last adventures. we found out he really was in harrisburg and stopped at a gas station and got a map and just went. south on 680 until it turns into 76 if i remember right and then 76 goes south through pittsburgh and then west til you get to the ocean. we stopped before the ocean though in one of the many little burgs around harrisburg. i counted the burg(h)s along 76. i used to have a list of them. i can only remember three now. pittsburgh, mechanicsburg, harrisburg. but i know there are a lot more than that. i have a fondness for that road. and where it took me. 090601 ... unhinged (you know, i think i could get from philadelphia to chicago without a map....) 090602 ... cr0wl i see a lot of crazy shit. once this shiny, new car rolled right over the large hose running from the tanker truck that was refilling the underground gasoline reservoir. then it pulls up to the nearby pump and out steps some rich lady in high heels smoking a cigarette and yapping on her cell phone. she flicks the butt to the ground a few feet from the tanker and the guy filling it yells at her. she stops and goes, "what?" like he has the audacity to interrupt her call. he points at the tanker and extends his arms out to his sides and doesn't say anything because it's so fucking obvious he doesn't have to. 090602 ... Andrew Bird Studies have shown that we like sheep are prone To sure fatal doses of malcontent through osmosis But don't be sympathetic, just pass the anaesthetic 'Cuz sheep are benign and on the young we will dine Burn her pale blue shroud, and tread on her bones The din of the boys club crowd, reveals we've always been clones Oh this being true you know there's more than just two In the cards are four aces so turn and shoot at twelve paces Studies have shown that we like sheep are prone To sure fatal doses of malcontent through osmosis But don't be sympathetic, just pass the antisthetic 'Cuz sheep are benign and on the young we will dine Burn her pale blue shroud, and tread on her bones The din of the boys club crowd, reveals we've always been clones Oh this being true you know there's more than just two So tie up your laces for the gene pool race of races 090603 ... unhinged he took amazing bootleg video of andrew bird in chicago, always recommended him to me because of the violin. andrew bird = him. once things become entangled in my mind, there is very little hope of ever escaping the association. 090603 ... cr0wl i went on bobbing up and down, smoking my own cigarettes, and watched the tanker driver drop his hands as he followed the woman with his eyes. she shunned him and sauntered into the store, gabbing away. he was shaking his head and muttering something. i think i could see his lips forming the word bitch, or maybe that was just what i was thinking. i never flick my butts on the ground. i save them as tributes to pele, goddess of fire. it's the only thing i can control. i hate people that litter, those motherfuckers. they're like slum dogs that crap on the ground. why can't that country provide toilets for their undesirables? 090603 ... cr0wl i found a dead raven once with its wing feathers all ragged like the force of the traffic had ravaged it. it was all dried up with its eyes nothing but holes and sitting against the curb of the road as i was walking from the gas station back to the home. i know what you're thinking. i live in one of those places for the "mentally challenged." don't call me a retard right? i wanted to pick that raven up and take it home but i didn't. i forgot about it and then the next day it was gone. somebody else must have taken it. i don't blame them. i like to watch dead things decompose down to bones. i was going to do it with a rabbit but some other animal must have come and taken it. i know what you're thinking. that's ok. you're always thinking about death in some capacity. everybody is. like how am i going to die? i also found this little folded up piece of paper that looked like a square. it had fancy writing on it that said, "bright shining thing," and a drawing of a sun. i thought the raven would have liked it. would you have picked it up? i did. then i opened it since it looked like something somebody was supposed to open if they found it. the first line said: "hey. it's cool that you found this." and it was like for the first time i felt like there was a reason i was coming to this place everyday to smoke and rock back and forth like a lunatic. 090604 ... cr0wl the grasscutter was cutting the lawn on the day i saw the pick-up full of sheep. it was one of the most horrific things i have ever seen. they weren't even secured. they were wild-eyed and bumping into each other and just trying to stand. it was pathetic and i wanted to kick the ass of the farmer who was sipping his mcdonalds coffee and driving. there was a sign on his truck that said lamb chop farm, the idiot. sometimes i think i'm in the back of that truck. a couple minutes later, the grasscutter came up to me as i was smoking. i stopped rocking because i figured it would make him nervous. he asked me if i saw the truck full of sheep. i think it was bothering him because he had this look in his eye like he saw something terrible and unfair and really sad. i didn't tell him i saw it. i just looked at him for one second to see what he was made of. i think he was made of copper and cinnamon and turquoise. i had a few tics. i couldn't help it because i wanted to talk to him but i was just too fucking scared, no not scared, embarrassed. he didn't look at me anymore, which relieved me, but he kept talking about the sheep and how unbelievable it was the way they were being transported without any restraint. i kept seeing myself in the back of the truck with them with my arms around them trying to calm them down. the grasscutter kept itching at his arm while he talked like he was distracted by his thoughts and they wouldn't let him alone. i wanted to tell him i was in that truck with the sheep but i didn't. i'm not crazy. 090605 what's it to you? who go blather from