OK: narrative isn’t going to work here, even in poetic form. I am against censorship, and oppose it at most costs, but unfortunately litigious realities in our modern America being what they are, and out of respect for a friend’s potential custody battle - this media is gonna have to tell your inquiring mind it doesn’t have a right to shit. If you know me, you might get the skinny some day. If you’re a good little monkey, I might even let you see the footage. Besides, entirely linear narrative is contrived. In other words, I’m skipping around and there may appear to be holes in the story as you know it.

This morning I was in a dirty ‘73 Maverick riding down a state highway in southern Pennsylvania after an insanely long all-nighter and compounded sleep deprivation when I spied an amazing bookstore in a barn built in 1821. We pulled over and I went in with the camera to get some footage. It was about 10:30 in the morning. I walked in and there were two nicely dressed gentlemen, one seated in a rocking chair, the other standing, surrounded by stacks, in fact 5 stories, of antiquarian volumes. His first words were,
“Welcome! Are you camping?”
Perhaps it was paranoia induced by my lack of sleep, or his general quaffed appearance, but I misunderstood where he was coming from and launched into a neurotic cautious schpeal.
“Well…we are camping some on this trip…but you see, some friends and I used to own a bookstore…and I’m working on this crazy project with this other friend of mine now…and we’re driving around the country visiting tattoo shops…and like, bookstores because this place seems so amazing, that I was just wondering if it would be OK if I walked around a second with my camera…and the benefit to you might be…”
“Young man”, said Tom politely to silence me. “I’m trying to ask if you’d like to camp out in the six acre yard there.”
And then the top of my head came off and a huge wave of universal positivity flooded my weary, corrupted and cynical soul.

We’ll be staying here for a while.

“Now don’t be put off when you meet my friend gentlemen, he has some tattoos…”