Running with Scissors
Since 1999



An e-journ
al documenting modern culture as it manifests on or near that hotspot on the surrealistic powergrid known as Spokane, WA and/or the known or unknown universe
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Speak to me

Stik Mann's
Past Writings

La Busca Homepage
Trip to Mexico
P
hotos/Stories

Project 2005 Setlist
Sarcastic Applause

TheOTHERSpokane
-- an e-zine

Prototype Project

Judy Roger's
Sarcastic Pantyraid 2000

E-Borne
StikArt

The Martyrdom
of Magoo
#1 - #2

My meeting with
Stacey
#1 - #2

RealDreams

Arp Xigar's
Malevolent Bovine

Paranoid-Critical
Letters

Correspondence

Stiklinks
_

Gooder Paper





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_______________ May 23, 2001
_________________________ Number Sixteen

Greetings, faithful readers, and welcome to this very special edition of Stik Mann's OtherSpokane. A very special edition, I say, because, after a prolonged absence, I, your humble narrator, once again walk the downtown streets of one of the most wonderful cities on Planet Earth.

To those naysayers who would exclude Spokane from that coveted collection of locations, I say, let them spend a few days on the back streets of Mexico City, as did I and my son, James.

Not many hours would pass before those anti-Spookalooans would long for the sweet smell of burning Idaho farmlands, instead of the noxious, black cloud of smog that rolls over that Mexican metropolis like the storms of the American Dustbowl.

How soon before they lust for a taste of honey from the Spokane aquifer -- to drink directly from a pipe in their own home -- fresh agua, devoid of brown goo and microscopic nasties that endow one with the ability to poop through screen doors.

How long before they desire to walk in a spring rain that doesn't burn their skin and leave their clothes streaked with soot, to plop their posterior on an ergonomically-correct toilet seat, to walk in the park without being randomly stopped and searched by teenage soldiers with machine guns.

Spokane, I kneel and kiss your lead-contaminated river shores; I yield to your politicians who probably have never had anyone killed; I salute your business leaders who may have cooked a book or two but never cooked a competitor in boiling burrito grease.

Mexico, I love your miles of secluded beaches, your ancient ruins and your colonial cities, your cobblestone streets, your steaming jungles, vast deserts, staggering vistas and your beautiful people. Into your brown arms I shall surely return -- Mexico, my mistress, my secret love...

But...Spokane -- you're my gal.

[Editor's note: Please click the above link to print out a copyrighted copy of your very own Stik Mann's OtherSpokane "Spokane -- you're my gal" promotion poster.]

Many thanks to those who wrote kind words about Issue 14 (or is it 15?), my story about our UFO sighting in the Yuma Desert, and how it metaphysically related, in a roundabout manner, to our excursion into Mexico.

What I've been doing since I've returned:

I've been working (though not very hard) on the La Busca homepage, where I'm collecting James' and my writings, artwork and photos from our southern journey and the Yuma Desert aftermath. New additions include The Border Crossing, as well as James' Dream, and Harold Republic, a story by James. I'll soon be posting "Encounter with Rebels," photos from Morelia, Michoacan, where we attended a rally hosted by none other then the famous (infamous?) Zapatista rebel leader/poet/surrealist Subcomandante Marcos. A story will follow if I can find my notes.

I've also included three chapters of a book I started writing about my trip to Mexico in the winter of '99. I stopped writing it because, well, I got interested in something else. But, I plan on using them in an upcoming project.

I experienced an unusual, two-week flurry of creative energy, where I constructed many art pieces from the boxes of treasure/junk I brought back from the excursion. One reader -- who had attended one of my earlier gallery shows -- asked why I don't sell my artwork from the website. Simply put, that would make this a commercial site, and would cost more. But, I suppose I could post photos of the work -- then, if anyone wants to "talk art" we could, maybe, have a cup of coffee or a beer or something.

When I turned thirty, I decided to be a writer. When I turned forty, I decided to be an artist. Now, with fifty a mere half-decade away, it's time to start thinking about my next questionable, major life move. Ever since the Judy Rogers' Sarcastic Pantyraid 2000, where I was severely inspired by the guitar playing of friends dEWD and Phopaw, I have dusted off the six-string left by an ex-girlfriend and have been spending many hours plucking the cat gut. Whether or not this will be the Fifties Twist, I don't know. But if so, its evolution will be documented on the Sarcastic Applause homepage.

And lastly, I immediately returned to my beloved, low paying job as cook at The Big Buffet Sign on Third Street. Wonderful co-workers, a fun atmosphere, beautiful young girls, food everywhere you look -- and still, there are those of you who would say I have no fringe benefits. (And, of course, let's not forget that they let me disappear for months at a time and still welcome me back with open arms.) Stop in sometime and say hello. No doggie bags, please.

Still hungry? Go to Stik Mann's WebFinds for Issue 16.

Next issue: Forth of July, perhaps?


Please read the OtherSpokane DISCLAIMER

Stik Mann's Other Spokane and all content within
Copyright 2001, Steven J. St.George
(unless otherwise noted or as obvious as a kick in the butt).