I Like To Guess At Things Instead Of Looking Them Up. And I Guess It Shows.

Secret form of wheat music. Be on my list for REAL information. And this is as much a motto as it is a personal greeting.

In the factory where I work, it’s really loud, hard to hear or understand what people are saying through the noise and through the respirators that they wear. “Mmmfff—air’s ilk—ferted?” He said to me. “What?” I said. “It sounded like you asked if people still drink fermented mare’s milk to get drunk.” “Yeah, that’s right. DO they?” But he said that a little later, so it was out of context with what we were later talking about.

When I was little, my mom also baby sat a little girl who came from a sort of rich hippy parent. We always ate baloney at lunch. When the mom came to pick up her kid one afternoon, the little girl told her, “Mommy mommy, we had a baloney sandwich at lunch!” And she had liked it, I guess. But at hearing this, the mother lost the color in her face, “Baloney??” She asked, in a high pitched voice, looking at the wall. “Oh. Dear. God…how MUCH baloney, dear?” “Two, mommy, two pieces of baloney.” “Well, we do NOT EAT baloney in our home.” She told my mom. And that’s where the embellished memory trails off in my mind.

I don’t know if these are my own words. But I found them written in my handwriting in a box of stuff. I keep all my stuff in boxes. “You can tell a lot about a town by its public restrooms. No doors, two-way mirrors, comic machines, joke machines.”

“Wash the city from the city” I say, as I wake up.

I like the expressions on their faces.

I’m having kimchi for breakfast.

Playing a tiny keyboard at my desk.

Wearing tennis shoes, but no tennis.

There’s a sugar bear staring at me.

Heart, Jesse H.

I got a secret life. I work six days a week in silence at the Teflon factory. I think I might be the weird guy. I don’t talk, drink or smoke, and I make my own lunches and I eat them in my car, I am faster and better than the company robot. There ought to be a folk song about me. I make quick drawings, Polaroids and tapes. Nobody ever sees them, but I make them. Most of the stuff I create and hold as thought bubbles while I work in silence, but quickly, speedily, then on a “bathroom break” I write it all down behind the shower curtain which conceals me. So when you call, whenever you call, I’m ready for my next assignment. I have the outfits, I have the dance moves, I have a great recipe for garlic dip. Love, Jesse Parks Hilliard

Woah that was a good catch. Thank God for this stuff in my system.

My dog Ginny goes crazy when she hears the early 70’s jazz of Chick Corea.