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" ..The Web itself is infinite
in every direction, changing beyond the borders. This is
paradox, and it is in this paradox that all things find a
unification upon the Web. The Web is the collection of
the Intersection of Possibilities. Where the threads
embrace, a Thing is created. Where it is sundered,
No-Thing." - Chaos Tools Adobe Acrobat allows me to use my art and publishing programs, color, fonts, etc., to distribute Syd's Journal in electronic format on the Web, disk, or email attachment. All someone needs is Acrobat Reader, which is free, installed on their machine and they can view and print these documents and they look just like the 30 megabyte masters, except that the file size is reduced to about 300K. Below are links to my three favorite editions of Syd's Journal in Acrobat Portable Document File format. Of course, this is no way to make money on creative writing, but it doesn't cost me any, either. |
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Syd's
Journal Volume 11
I have come to understand that the act of recording, be it the
written word, image, sound or video is an important and valuable thing
in itself. I have gigabytes of still pictures and I don’t regret
shooting a single one. I only regret the pictures I didn’t take and the
journal entries I was too busy to write. The funny thing about my mind
is that I’m really pretty smart when it comes to understanding things,
but my memory isn’t worth a damn. If I don’t shoot a picture, jot down a
journal entry or something, Topics: Singular Vision, Remembering and Recording, Dying, Mt. Carmel, Doug's Spurs, Inner Fires, I want to go moose hunting with Sarah Palin, Heaven Bends Close, Thinking about the Beats, Art, Graphics, Photography, Poetry |
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![]() Winter Trees, The Divine Topography, Hunter Thompson, Trash's Version of the Philadelphia Experiment, Train Whistle |
Syd's Journal Volume 10 I hear a train whistle blowing out in the night. That’s a sound I love. It’s a lonesome sound, but it’s solitary and strong too. It’s a sound I have heard all of my life. I know that when I was an infant in my crib in Texas, back oh so long ago, I heard the freight train whistles in the night. Sounds like that have a special power: they can take you back; they can take you away. I like that. |
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Also "Notes to my clone," "The God Bear and the Fire Witch," "Seeing Allen Ginsberg," and a bunch of other stuff that you could probably safely live your entire life without reading. |
Syd's Journal Volume 9 How does a bug, even a big-ass bug, stay in the ground for seventeen years? How do they know that seventeen years have passed? Why do they all come out on the same year? Did they have a great cicada convention and all decide to go into the ground at the same time and come out seventeen years later? What do they do in the ground for seventeen years? Do they dream? Do they count the minutes for seventeen years? These things bother me. |
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| Adobe Portable Document Files |
Syd's Journal Volume 6 |
Syd's Journal, Volume 7 |
Syd's Journal Volume 8 |
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Adobe Acrobat
Reader is way-cool, free and can be downloaded here. |
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Finally, the dreaming begins. |
There will always be a dog barking at the moOn. |
Machine
Gun
Street,Cosmic
Mother, |
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| Subjects: The Alley, Racism, Sex, Base 5, Stevie Ray Vaughn, Walking, Infidelity, Star Wars, Whaling. | Subjects: War, Naked Desire, Wizardry, Women Who Walk Like Indians, Sex and the Ozone Layer, Love Goddesses, Moby Dick. | Subjects: War, Fantasies of the Comatose, The Battle of the Coral Sea, Cosmic Perversity and Self Defense. |
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Syd's Journal
Volume 5 |
Syd's Journal
Volume 4 |
Syd's Journal
Volume 3 |
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Windows It's 2:30 in the morning. I go downstairs for a package of cigarettes. For me, none of this is unusual. Downstairs I notice that all the lights are on and the shades are up in the apartment next door. |
On the Importance of Listening to Small Persons It's the morning of the Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year. I'm taking a bath--one of the few peaceful moments I find during the day--and Daniel comes into the bathroom, something he's been warned stringently not to do unless it's a matter of profound importance. He says, "Daddy, I'm sad." "Why, Daniel?" |
Everything's perfect in the yuppie gulag. The houses stand sanitary and new against the flawless Ohio sky. This is a different world. I haven't seen a single strip mine. I've seen no one living in an abandoned school bus. | |
All material contained in SYD'S JOURNAL is copyrighted and can only be reproduced by permission of the authors.
VIOLATIONS OF COPYRIGHT WILL PROBABLY RESULT IN MY COMING OVER TO YOUR HOUSE VERY LATE AT NIGHT AND READING MY POETRY UNDER YOUR BEDROOM WINDOW.
© 1998,
1999, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004 Syd Weedon.
All Rights Reserved