These are the final shots from Dan's photo essays entitled "Drinking Pabst in Alstead: A look into the soul of three young men on a mission from Jebus". Enjoy!


A well accomplished man

Enjoying a job well done


Wow! That beer was Fucking Fantastic!

Off the hook

Good one Tim.
I dig your clock.

As of 12:03 today I am done with my first semester as a full time teacher. Damn that was hard.
I'd appologize for corresponding poorly if it were not such a cliche. Very physched for New Years. Good invite, not the best, but good.
I'm having difficulty with posting a picture. I'll get back to that.
In the mean time here is one of my new favorite poems:

Bar Dance in BoiseSaturday night,
the restaurant packed—
a stormy-eyed woman leaps onto the mahogany bar,
kicks over bowls of hardboiled quail eggs and rock salt,
commandeers a knife just used
to make a lemon twist for a blues martini,
slits the front of her dress down to her navel,
grabs her left breast, threatens to slice her
nipple off while screaming
life is hell—

The bartender and busboy wrestle
her off the bar as she tries to hack
at her nipple. Within moments after she's carried
out of the restaurant, diners return
to their slices of roasted pork loin, leg of lamb,
rosemary chicken. We don't quite look
at each other for a while.
Each witness and this woman are now part of some
strange tribe. Years down the line, she will
come to mind when life becomes hell for us.
Some will think about the woman,
know that life continues
to be degrading for her as it's been for them—
stop themselves from slipping
into the place she'd gone to.
Some will lie back and imagine her
in the arms of a lover in a houseboat floating
on Lake Dal in Shirinigar asking to have her breast kissed.
Some will remember her
as the woman who strutted the bar top,
breast in hand, mad
in that way that makes us human.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------Deborah Byrne lives in Boston with her cat Emily D.


-Ryan's latest:

In this world my friends
only a slight breeze pulls through the garments of my mind
as years pass the shores of my emotions are molded.
resignation, cynicism, fear, undulate with scattered sunlight.
In this world I reject
leaden rocks tear at the streams of memories
as they roll by, the stone points round but won’t join their water.
grayed peace warms my belly as fire water
In this world I am so very tired.

My Designs

If anybody is interested in seeing things I'm creating, I'll be posting them on my personal blog every so often. timroth.blogspot.com I just posted three projects I completed at various points over the last few months.

The Boys 

Welcome Boys

So, I don't know if anybody else thinks this is a good idea, but I do. An easy way for all of us to post random thoughts, pictures, etc. If you want to read it you can, but you don't have to, so it's less intrusive than email. Come on, give it a try.