kick ass love!

Native Jesus

2009-12-06T20:51:13Z

Native Jesus
Originally uploaded by honeymoontonight

automata @ 2009-02-15T16:17:00

2009-02-16T01:17:13Z

"They are also building schools for the Afghan children so that there is hope and opportunity in our neighboring country of Afghanistan." --Sarah Palin

automata @ 2008-03-08T08:28:00

2008-03-08T23:36:15Z

Birds dance outside my window.
My body cold and teeth tinkling like piano keys.
Morocco gives up antiques to folks with money.
Overalls dance with sweater vests.
Lentils throttle the piano mover's gut after a long day at work.
I give up the window for a meadow.
I pedal into the droplets big as birds.

X

2008-01-21T21:21:18Z

I'm interested in seeing the band X play in Portland at the end of March. It's their 31st anniversary tour.

Has anyone seen this band recently? I have a lot of their old recordings but I'm wondering how they sound live these days? The concert at the Crystal Ballroom features all the original band members and the tickets are 20 bucks.

What do you think?

I don't speak Japanese!

2007-12-25T23:48:33Z

automata @ 2007-12-06T17:57:00

2007-12-06T17:57:11Z

automata @ 2007-12-06T17:55:00

2007-12-06T17:56:16Z

automata @ 2007-12-06T17:51:00

2007-12-06T17:54:18Z

automata @ 2007-10-29T00:40:00

2007-10-29T08:41:06Z

automata @ 2007-10-29T00:39:00

2007-10-29T08:39:26Z

It's about time to go...

New Myspace Music Site!

2007-10-26T08:50:00Z

Dear Friends,

I started a music page on myspace with some newer recordings that I did this summer/spring.

Please check it out

http://www.myspace.com/patricehelmar

and if you live in the Portland/Oregon area let me know if you can get me a gig when I get back from Europe. I'll probably need to sing for my supper.

automata @ 2007-10-20T21:34:00

2007-10-21T05:36:54Z

We just bought tickets to see Wilco in Dublin in November.

I'm very excited to finally see one of my favorite bands.

I can't believe we're leaving so soon.

polaroid.

2007-08-19T13:40:39Z

My dad took passport photographs
he had a larger format polaroid
and film

that you could not open
until the clock hands
went around
a certain number
of times

Do you remember film?

He took it seriously
those passport photos

it was a one shot deal

the film was expensive
and he would shoot
and shoot
and shoot it
until he got it right

I stood there with him
plenty of times
waiting for hands to
make their way around
a yellow kodak clock

he would
tap his fingers on the counter
maybe go smoke a cigarette
out front

leave the customer
to pace the shop
waiting for an answer

I'd sit on the chair at the desk
or stand with him
or sit on the steps out front
and watch my dad do all this

when the time was right
he would peel the paper away
and watch
the person appear

Most of the time
he knew how
people wanted to look

he
kept trying
to
show me
how

automata @ 2007-08-07T10:10:00

2007-08-07T18:20:03Z

Last night a bear tried getting in the house.

It sounded like someone was drunk opening the door or trying to push the door in. Today was garbage day so the garbage can was in front of the door instead of in the drive way. The bear managed to open the front door about a half a foot. I jumped out of bed and pushed and locked the door on about a four year old/four to five hundred pound bear last night. Scared the fucking shit out of me. I think it scared the shit out of him too. He was just poking his nose in having a good sniff getting ready to come on in and get to work on the goodies in the plastic garbage can and maybe open up the fridge for a tasty midnight snack.

My whole body had a hard time shaking for a minute or two afterward. Sat on my couch and felt my heart in my chest for a bit. The fucker actually opened the front door. Bears are really pretty brilliant animals.

We moved the garbage away from the front door. It was a very good thing that the bear didn't get into the house. He would have torn this little cabin to shit. We saw this same bear walking by my house on Saturday right in front of the front door we had open while enjoying breakfast. I think he was casing the joint.

automata @ 2007-08-04T12:37:00

2007-08-04T20:39:58Z

Darren comes to Alaska in the summer to work at the bar and at a restaurant here in town. He is in love with limericks and talks with his hands. He helps with my radio show on KXLL 100.7 from time to time and likes to hula hoop for tourists. It works out pretty well. He likes to be called Daddy Fats and is always working an angle. I can admire that in a bartender.

automata @ 2007-08-04T12:34:00

2007-08-04T20:35:03Z

The Arctic bar window and Franklin/Front Street the other night.

automata @ 2007-08-04T12:25:00

2007-08-04T20:29:18Z

This is what I call a Mediterranean music mafia photograph.

This last month has been rich in music at the Alaskan. At the onlook of it all it was pretty lonesome seeming. I fall in love with Deering & Down a little more every time they come to town. This time they brought a couple of players from Memphis: one of the best drummers I've heard and the man in the far right of the photograph is an amazing mandolin/multi-insturmentalist. The Rev Neil Down is on my left and is a self-proclaimed 'guitard-o'. He is a magic man with many layers and a real showman/poet.

Hung out till the wee hours of the morning in 305 at the Alaskan trading songs. Jonathan walked me home Tuesday morning in the wee hours and it was still light out.My neighborhood was sleeping and lovely.

Radio Show on 102.7 FM

2007-07-25T18:57:13Z

You can listen to my motown/jazz/blues show right now

live on streaming radio

at http://www.ktoo.org

listen on 102.7 Rain Country Radio

automata @ 2007-07-20T05:01:00

2007-07-20T13:01:58Z

An Algonquin Legend

Big Blue Heron was standing in the marsh looking at his reflection in the water. He raised his black-crested head to listen.

Two little White Weasels had come along to the river. They were mother and son. When they saw Blue Heron, they stopped to look.

'What a beautiful big bird-person!' said the son.

'He is called Blue Heron. He carries his head high!'

'Yes, Mother, he is tall as a tree. Were I so tall, I could carry you across this swift river.'

Blue Heron was pleased to hear himself so praised. He liked to hear other say that he was big.

He bent down low and spoke to the two. 'I will help you go across. Come down to where you see that old tree lying in the stream. I will lie down in the water at the end and put my bill deep into the bank on the other side. You two run across the tree. Then use my body as a bridge and you will get to the other side.'

They all went to the old tree lying in the water. Blue Heron lay down in the water at the end and stuck his bill deep into the bank on the other side. Mother and son White Weasel ran lightly and quickly across the log, over Blue Heron, and were safe and dry on the other side. They thanked Blue Heron and said they would tell all the persons in the woods how fine Blue Heron was. Then they went on their way.

Old Wolf had been standing on the riverbank watching how the weasels had gotten across.

'What a fine way it would be for me to cross the river. I am old and my bones ache.'

When Blue Heron came back to the marsh, Wolf said to him, 'Now I know why you Blue Herons are in the marsh - so you can be a bridge for persons to cross the rive. I want to go across, but I am old and my bones hurt. Lie down in the water for me so I can cross.'

Blue Heron was angry. He didn't like being called a bridge. Old Wolf saw he had spoken foolish words and decided to use honeyed words.

'You are big and strong, Blue Heron, and that is why you body is such a fine bridge. You could carry me across like a feather.'

Blue Heron smiled at Wolf and said, 'Old Wolf, get on my back and I'll carry you across.

Wolf grinned from ear to ear thinking how easily he had tricked Blue Heron.

He jumped on the bird's back and Heron went into the rushing river. When he got to the middle, he stopped.

'Friend Wolf,' said Blue Heron, 'you made a mistake. I am not strong enough to carry you across. For that you need two herons. I can carry you only halfway. Now you must get another heron to carry you the rest of the way.'

He gave his body a strong twist and Wolf fell into the water.

'You wait here, Wolf, for another heron to come and carry you to the other side.' Then he flew into the marsh.

The water ran swiftly. No heron came, so where did Wolf go ? To the bottom of the river...

Since that day, no wolf has ever trusted a heron.

Mateo.

2007-07-20T12:32:53Z

There are so many things
that will change
just so you'll hear them

I want to tell you
the same thing
over and over again

you correct me
so gently
my beautiful lies

small white ones
like birds
the color that crows should be

these days seagulls
are attractive
they rarely seem to touch the ground

big blue ones
like the heron
they're lucky here
in Alaska it means
something when you see one
when there are two
it's an omen

listen to me
I may be lying
but doesn't that sound
good?

the part about herons
being lucky
together

the ravens here
thrive on our trash
create legends
like magpies and golden keys
but with popcorn, shit and piss

the lying is getting hard
there are times
where I don't look right at you

What I feel about you
is just a fraction of
who you are

First Girl Born

2007-07-18T11:48:50Z

automata @ 2007-06-25T21:48:00

2007-06-26T05:48:51Z

Seattle is full of ghosts for me. I miss my dad here. I recount his last days. It is never a settling place.

Today I rode the bus for hours and walked all over town. Bought a few things. I feel disconnected to everything and in a way it feels good but empty. I'm alone here tonight. It forces me to think things over.

I got up to the Avenue found a coffee shop. Thought about how everyone came here ten years ago. Thought about how Will died here. Thought about Jamie. I don't really know anyone in Seattle anymore. I remember coming here over and over. Usually just the airport.

Thought about my brother. Thought about heading on down to Oregon.

The guy that's working the espresso bar is playing horrible music. It's catchy 90's boy sad pop music and it actually makes me feel more settled. It's hard for me to get with the pace whenever I get off the boat. No matter what connections to popular culture I have it's just different in Alaska. Lately I haven't been hanging out with many folks at home either. I live in a small cabin and in a small apartment.

I'm listening to nerdy guys talk about writing science fiction novels. At least they're writing novels. They're talking about being artists and programmers and technology.

I read part of the New Yorker for the first time in months on the flight down. An article about literary archives in Austin, Texas. Made me want to write more. Made me want to read more.

On the bus tonight I couldn't help but look at everyone. Trying hard to avert my eyes. Trying hard not to stare at all the different people. Beautiful babies attached to new mothers, old men and women, crazy smelling men speaking in tongues, tired bus drivers, tired old women with shopping bags, young blonde women with painted on nails and espadrilles, families, children leaping moving skipping at each stop, commuters, business men, punks, and drunks.

The best part is I didn't know any of them. The worst part is I didn't know any of them.

Waiting at the bus stop on Broadway a man asks me if I speak Chinese. Asks me where I'm going. Asks me if I'm hungry. I realize I'm looking right at him spacing out and looking for someone to recognize. I look down at my belly. I'm not hungry. I shake my head and walk away. People are playing tennis in the courts next to the community college across the street. The sun goes down early here. There's no sunset or water. I can't hear float planes.

On the bus downtown a man with crazy eyes wrings dollar bills in his hands and swears at himself when he gets off the bus. The driver is calm and asks him to get off in such away that avoids direct communication or confrontation. The driver is a master of human handling and interaction. I wonder if the man put on the show to get out of having to pay bus fare. My heart races but the baby in the seat in front of me is sleeping soundly at her mother's breast.

I'm sleeping alone tonight for the first time in months.

automata @ 2007-06-18T17:02:00

2007-06-19T01:16:56Z

I don't know what to write on here lately.

I think about it sometimes how I rarely write openly on here anymore. How much things have changed for me in the past few years. How little I feel like sharing with people. How small this town is. How small this coast is.

So mostly it's been photographs and a few very heavily filtered posts.

Today it's lightly raining. It feels nice and it makes everything smell better too. The summer season is in full tilt. I miss most of it being out with the kids during the day. I live in the land of the valley during the work day. Sometimes it drives me crazy. I feel overwhelmed by all the people that swarm the downtown area during the day when I drive home from work.

This weekend was intense work wise. The week is also intense work wise. There are always new kids, new cutomers, things to repair, paperwork to complete. I need a break from people for awhile. I'm burned out.

I like the light right now. I like how I don't know the people walking by the window. I finally recognized someone. A few strung out, drunk, crazed locals in the euro-crew american-tourist mix. Perfection.

automata @ 2007-06-17T18:24:00

2007-06-18T02:24:35Z

automata @ 2007-06-17T18:22:00

2007-06-18T02:22:36Z