Porcupine out back.

Big porcupine out back, at the edge of the lawn.

Please note that Jason got to mowing before June this year!
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My Friend Doing A Natural Death Sentence

This is the bio entry my friend Sean Coney has put on the art for redemption website:

Art for Redemption

“Postcard” – William Sean Coney
Regular price$75.00 USD
Currently incarcerated in Colorado.
 Description
 Artist’s bio
My painting began to convey what words could not. I remember a badly abused stainless steel table, it displayed six cups of syrupy, separated color and a handmade brush. A killer and a cat burglar consult me on the anatomy of Pikachu, the shot caller of the Pokemons. My pigments are stripped from M&M’s, so the experts take payment in soggy chocolate covered tailings. I became an artist that day. Pikachu was the most important piece I ever rendered. The critics were my life, my universe, my everything. Sofia was still in pull-ups, so Dylan, only 18 months older, spoke for them. He delivered a pragmatic request on the precipice of tears. The children are reaching for me. Their tiny obstructed hand prints lie side by side on a window slightly larger than an envelope on end. While looking back at them I was looking at life. My last microgram of strength is summoned to exemplify composure, and accept the commission. I learned that day how art could say more than words, especially to preschoolers. My critics also schooled me on the finer points of mixing my time and treasure with color and love to make it all worth more than I realize. I try to keep the same formula in my composition today. I have recently begun juxtaposing juvenile animals with life’s lessons. I hope to compile a children’s book that reveals what I’ve learned from my critics and my mistakes. The work I created for the “Redemption Art” show is about intergenerational institutionalism as an affront to nature. Thank you for listening to what I paint..

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Sailing trip from Portland to Hermit Island

May first marked by riding along with friend on his migration from Portland to Hermit Island — see graphic. We cast off from the old port slip around 11am and motor sailed past Diamond Island — a place to which I’ve taken a water taxi for a water treatment system job — then between Peak’s and Cushing Islands to the “open” ocean.
The red arrow indicates the end of shoal of low rocks called: “Junk of Pork.”. The wind was also from that direction. We turned there and sailed east-north-east on a starboard tack; past halfway rock lighthouse and to off-shore of Hermit Island. There we turned to a down wind and sailed in to a good place to take in the sails and motor to the inside of the island.
It was a good experience for getting a different perspective of the land and scope of everything in general. Although we made good headway it is a slower pace than motorized life on land.

Map view or route from Portland to Hermit Island
Route from Okd Port section of Portland to the inside harbor at Hermit Island
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April showers and sleeping at Near Reach

Thursday April 14th 2022
So this week I have finally spent nights in the shelter pictured in the last entry. I’m there now typing this to the thrum of April showers. There is a platform (8’x12’) at the back 2/5ths of the shelter, on a scaffolding about 4’ off the ground. I’m sitting in the back seat from my car, as an ersatz sofa, typing in the mostly dark. The keyboard is unlit and I’m using a headlamp to see it — but with dying batteries have just turned it off and am really pulling in my darkness tactility. [band, album, or song name: darkness tactility?] I am also running a propane lantern at my feet, but for heat more than light and I’m not elevating that hotbox off of the floor. [full disclosure: I’m tipping the screen down to illuminate the keys when I cannot find something ;-)]
The process has been to add something each night. e.g. first night just test out matress, blankets, pillows etc. and haul ass back to the house at 5:30am to get ready for work. Second (colder) night run the propane heater from 4-5 to take chill off, before getting up. Third night oatmeal in the morning. Tomorrow morning is oatmeal AND coffee. Yeay. OK enough darkness tactility typing. More this weekend…with pictures.

Saturday April 30th 2022
The romantic idea of typing at the shelter [Near Reach] is a fail. I left the laptop out there one day, in it’s shoulder bag, and realized it was just plain clumsy. Even with comfortable seats from the back of the car and a comfortable bed with a headboard typing in the cold with dim light is fruitless. It’s a great crash pad and o.k. to watch something on a tablet…that’s all. Hopefully the floor area will become a construction production area.
Peace, Jason

Link to the 82MB video of Near Reach shelter last November

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Post test from phone.

If I can reliably blog here from phone I will do so. Frequent short posts from the phone and longer posts from the workstation.

Let’s try a picture.

Sharpest, by a quantum jump, knife that I’ve ever used.

Well o.k. I’ll upload some photos of Near Reach and the pending entry on the laptop; which is out there at Near Reach. I’ve spent the past 5 nights out there and am migrating stuff out there from the house. If I catch drinkable rain water I’ll reside there through September.

TTFN, Justin Free ?

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Spring coming…?

shelter in the woods
This is getting through the first winter at Near Reach.

Since no one clicks links to look at a photo gallery I’ll post one inline. This is it though! Y’all can click on a link to see a photo gallery (which admittedly needs updating, but what for if no one is seeing it?).

Peace out, Justin Free

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Open Letter to Vladimir “spread the fear” Putin; and cat pictures

Open letter to Vlad Putin:

What the fuck do you want? You tyrannical shitbags always get legacy crazy in old age…like you’re fucking Achilles and want to be remembered for a thousand years. Fuck you. You’re a Joe Stalin knockoff trying to match his body count [20 million!] in your final alzheimer years.
So, if you want to keep people guessing…act unpredictable. Everything about you is specious. I picture you as a squirrel with its head on backwards that knows everything because no other being can share it’s perspective. Let the guessing begin of what goes on in a backwards squirrel head: you’re just a simple sadistic prick (like your god/king Stalin), and all you want is to impose suffering. Oh, but you have this legacy kink whereby spreading suffering and leaving a bigger death footprint than Stalin has become your addled obsession.
It has become unfashionable to starve, maim, and kill your own citizens, so you take the Stalin 2 show on the road: Georgia in 2008, Crimea 2016, now and always Ukraine. Control, dominate, impose suffering…all the Soviet hits, that played from Lenin to Brezhnev. So, let’s drill down a layer.
All this three generation old Soviet nostalgia that you want to impose – on oh, let’s say one third minimum; if not the whole world! – makes you a reincarnated, tyrant, fuck stick. Caligula, Genghis Khan, Saudi oil sheikh…oh you rotten, jealous bitch.
How to talk sense to such a pathetic, twisted fuck as you? Like trying to talk chastity to a child molester…forget it! This can only suffice as an evaluation: subject is incorrigible whore-beast; a demon of sadistic zealotry; willfully ignorant of norms, mores, and logic; addicted to deception and perversion of norms, mores, and logic to the exclusion of any other interaction.

—-End of attempted communication.

—-This portion is to U.S. DoD/military.
How to deal with anachronistic, Caligula imposters: take what they care about…what makes them what they are. In this case territory and personal (stashed) assets.
Here’s the solution: take the russian far east (region across from Alaska) and Sakhalin Island. Run Sakhalin as a joint territory with the Chinese and Japanese – they need some forced bonding and it establishes a north pacific (ASEAN) style alliance; a co-operative trading alliance; and security/stability of that maritime region.
This twisted, venomous, bitch nigger of a tyrant is narrowly obsessed: in this case with dominating intermediate, buffer spaces between mother rooskiya and European/Mediterranean countries. The far east is already foreign to rooskiya (and the tyrant mind). Easy to use exactly the same words of the taking of Crimea to say: the eastern region of rooskiya is to be returned to the native peoples…it was never culturally russian and now returns to it’s native culture…liberated by the U.S., in co-operation with the Chinese and Japanese – true racially and culturally interested countries.
I am available to coordinate the management of the joint territory. Please give me 48 hours notice to deploy.
Justin Free

P.S. – Too busy packing to upload cat pictures. Peace out.

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Will spring be dome construction time?

Three pictures of where the dome foundation is going. I’ve stood a fourteen foot plank up, at the center point, to indicate the height at the center of dome — one foot above grade of foundation exposure and thirteen feet height at the center of the dome. The diameter is eleven feet; which is the distance from the center pole to: the edge of the burn barrel at the left, and the blue pick axe (actually a ‘grub hoe’) at the left rear.
Now to figure out how to excavate (maybe blast some ledge) and pour concrete!
Pictures to follow of that process 😉

Picture one. Picture two. Picture three.

Kaligula Rap…forgotten text from 2016

Wrote this anti-Kaligula rap around 2016…summer before the stolen election in the the U.S. It is from the perspective of a general Kaligula (corporate shot caller, species traitor) with traces of the Kaligula. If you’re offended by this perspective of humans by our slave masters (residents of Elysium) then do something to disenslave from the corporate dictatorship; to which we have been beholden for …oh, lets say seven generatons.


Round and round we go; politician, corporate C.E.O

Work and work until you can’t; pay your retirement I shan’t.

Buy and sell the people’s future; I need more gold and high couture.

Drop dead your last day of work; on your grave I stand and twerk.

Kill yourselves urban niggers; honky Trump feels only biggers.

Shut up poor and sickly;I’m bringing U.S. back bigly.

Corporate treasure chests busting soon; U.S. fools slave labor, bosses boon.

Voter suckers have gone insane; poor tax burden a bigger bane.

So now we work for our extinction; government, corporation: no distinction.

Dead oceans, fish all gone; natural resources sold for a song.

Thanks for water laced with acetone; My McJob, you threw me a bone.

Double shift over a grease fryer; living wage—you fucking liar.

Yeah, whatever. You’re too late; Electoral College sealed your fate.

Must go pray and spend at the county fair; celebrate grand life, no health care. ———————————————————

A taut financial tight rope; gives extra balance and hope.

You’re welcome for that healthy stress; let me tell you always what is best.

Whitehouse I consummate with Ivanka; never feels like incest when I bonk her.

Putting Barron in her was a race; look at that precious mutant face.

Have you met the killers in the band; no question where we all stand.

You’re too dumb for our level of thought; just stay between our feet when we squat.

Now you know what the facts is;go to work and pay my eighteen years back taxes!

Copyright 2016 Justin Pettrucci—Permission to use granted