Off to da U.P.  


And what a bunch of travelers I will have with me. I'm giving transport to Deb and her 6 pets!

She is making a new home for herself in Ironwood MI. and I'll pull her her U-Haul 1300 miles.

My first big drive in a month. Where's Willie to play me out...

Mobile post sent by iLiveInMyTruckDOTcom using Utterlireply-count Replies.  mp3

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Is the Universe Actually Made of Math?  


A recent read...Is the Universe Actually Made of Math?

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I live in a helicopter  


I live in a helicopter
Video sent by iLiveInMyTruck

Previously on A quick visit in a military chopper

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Fourth Dimensional Mathematics  


Stumbled across this when on Synchropocolypse. Here's the first two parts.

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My Dinner with Andre  


I just finished watching this film. I'll watch it again. Just mesmerizing to me. Wonderfully relevant and quite a lot of insight into the human experience. I highly recommend it. Here's a little clip. Do yourself a favor and watch the whole thing sometime.

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Two flat tires, a new paint job and some logs  


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From Between Both Worlds
Monday, August 25, 2008

The Wanderers - do you feel like one?

Familiar with the term of wanderer? Ever felt a little distanced from the world, or a little uneasiness when in the presence of people?

Wanderers are those souls/spirits who have incarnated here on planet Earth at this time in order to assist in the shift from 3rd - 4th density energies. Often such arrivals are from space/time of a differing vibration, hence the slight unease at having to manifest within the present Earth vibrations.

More in these words:

The role of the wanderers in these latter days, beginning perhaps fifty years ago now and coming to this present moment, has been to accelerate the speed at which the consciousness of Planet Earth was lightened and was lifted from the darkness of oppressive and repressive thinking, which focused upon early third-density behavior, such as defense and aggression when resources were considered desirable.

The new paradigm is that in which entities share and share alike, in which entities love each other, become harmonious with each other, and create one world of peace and prosperity. That kind of prosperity does not create huge differences in estate but rather tends toward that happy situation of there being enough of the resources that are needed for all entities.

It is not that this new paradigm can be put into effect and a new fourth-density planet be created in third density. That is not what we are saying. What we are saying is that in third density, the focus in terms of the purpose of third density is upon each emerging self-aware spirit or soul becoming able to make the free-will choice between the polarity of service to others and the polarity of service to self through faith alone.

The role of the wanderers, then, has been bravely and courageously to dare to enter into third-density incarnation, to come through the veil of forgetting, and then to count on their own awakening in time for them to join the lightening of Planet Earth in terms of where they put their energy and their love. Many are those wanderers who have waited until late to awaken, and so as each wanderer does awaken, it makes it ever more possible for other wanderers to awaken. And as the great bulk of wanderers begin to awaken, that makes it possible for the planetary population as a whole to awaken. So there really is a tipping point within the tipping point in terms of the awakening of the planet to love itself.

(Extract from L/L Research)

For more information read - If you feel you are a wanderer

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My stint on stilts  


That's me on the right. Remind me later to tell you how I got a black eye the day before.

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Update from VOTE Across America  


The account below is from a travel partner and fellow visual based artist, press photographer Nick...who shared my truck, along with political graffiti artist, Clark as we drove it from Brooklyn, New York to Denver, Colorado. Clark is the one pictured above in my current banner, by the way.

And, if you're counting...that makes two different groups of people I know who got arrested for taking pictures.

- Dallas


I never saw the policeman that shot me, neither did I feel it directly -- what I felt were the pieces of my camera that exploded in my face when the 40mm crowd-control round struck it.

I am a freelance photojournalist. Last Monday, I was in St. Paul, Minnesota, covering the Republican National Convention for Atlas Press Photo, an international photographic agency. Through Atlas, I was credentialed to cover the proceedings from inside the convention hall. But Monday was the “Day of Action,” as various protest groups called it, and I, along with most of the media assembled in St. Paul, felt that the true newsworthy events of the day would occur not inside the convention hall, but on the streets outside of it.

So as the sun rose I found myself on the calm, clean streets of what seemed to me to be one of the more welcoming of the cluster of mid-sized cities that dot the center of the country. At ‘round ten o’clock the action began. A car was parked in the middle of an intersection with people chained inside, forming a blockade. Nearby, a group of people sat down on an interstate off-ramp and chained their arms together inside PVC piping, forming another blockade. Blocks from this, police detained twenty or thirty masked, black-clothed protestors.

Then the real action began. A “Black Block” -- as such loose assemblages of protesting anarchists are called -- of roughly 500 people began running through the streets of downtown St. Paul doing what anarchists do. They smashed windows of all kind, they took 4-pound hammers to police cars, they rolled heavy objects into the street to slow down police, they through smoke bombs and block-busters, they freed fellow black-clad travelers from the hands of police. They yelled, they chanted: “Whose streets? Our fucking streets!” Then, when cops closed in, they ran.


The streets were calm for a moment, as both protesters and police caught their collective breaths and re-grouped. I went to a coffee shop to edit and transmit the pictures I had shot. When my task was complete, back to the battlefield I went.

The streets that had been riotous in the morning were calmer in the afternoon. Instead of smashing windows and blocking intersections, the group I encountered simply marched around shouting slogans. No property was damaged, and no streets were blockaded. It was so tame, in fact, that I wanted to leave and find some more animated anarchists. But when I (and another photographer) tried to walk away, a line of riot policemen appeared. We tried to let them pass us and pursue the group, but their leader commanded us to move forward.

A minute later the shooting started. The crowd, numbering roughly 100, tried to turn a corner. When they did, they came face-to-face with armored police on horseback and a tactical team firing riot guns at them. “BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!” the guns sounded, as the horses charged the scattering crowd. From across the street I watched as the police advanced, firing their 40mm riot guns at will. Some people, blinded by tear-gas or hit by the projectiles, stumbled and fell into police custody. Others continued running, up to the next corner and down the block toward a parking lot.

I followed, capturing images of detained protesters and police as I moved. I was not shot at, let alone told to leave or threatened with arrest as I moved and took pictures. My press credentials swayed from my neck as I moved, and the officers seemed to recognize the fact that I was a working, professional journalist, as opposed to some drama-junkie with a camera. They let me do my job, and I thanked them for letting me do it whenever they were close enough to hear.

Then a skirmish line of roughly 100 riot police charged the remainder of the crowd, which they had trapped in a parking lot bounded by the walls of three buildings. Knowing to stay out of their way as they worked, I glued myself to the side of one of the buildings and shot. A group of officers had just taken down a protester, with one of the officers driving his billy-club between the cheeks of the young man, forcing him face-down into the ground. I was switching cameras, going from the one with the long glass to the one with the short glass, when it happened.

The camera exploded in my face and I was trying to figure out exactly what happened when a group of the black-clad cops ran at me from all directions, trapping me against the wall. Using their sticks, they pushed me to the ground where, with their boots, they pinned me. One cop took his stick and poked me repeatedly in the genitals. Another punched me in the face. The entire time I was yelling “PRESS! PRESS! PRESS!” but it didn’t stop them. They flipped me over, and handcuffed me behind my back so tight that my hands were numb in minutes.

I tasted blood in my mouth, and spit it out.

I kept repeating the words “PRESS! PRESS! PRESS!” over and over. Finally, a Secret Service agent appeared and ripped the credentials from my neck. He took my phone, called my employers, and verified that I was, in fact, a professional press photographer. Then he left, leaving me in the hands of the Minneapolis police department. Taken to jail, I again identified myself as credentialed press photographer, but all jail officials did was show me to a cell.

Two days later I was released, on $300 bail, and given a summons charging me with unlawful assembly and interfering with legal process. When I left the jail I met two other press photographers who had been arrested in the parking lot with me. One of them was Matt Rourke, of the Associated Press, the other was Nathan Weber, a freelancer for the Chicago Tribune. Rourke had been near me when I was being arrested, and had been released without charge later than night. Weber had run when he saw when was happening, only to be chased down and beaten by a group of plain-clothed cops.

That night, Republican Vice-Presidential nominee Sarah Palin gave a speech in part attacking the media. I couldn’t help but recall my treatment and think that, as Republicans were rhetorically bashing the press inside the convention hall, their minions were literally beating the press on the streets outside.

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What is happening in America?  


I hope I am not the only one who is shocked and outraged at the state of our Union. Below is a video report about the unconstitutional activity of the painfully obvious police state/martial law situation that exists in this country.

This video features some friends from the NYC Glass Bead Collective. I was supposed to travel to St. Paul after burning man to lend another layer of video support to the documentation of police activity during the RNC protests. It is very likely that I would have been with Vlad and the rest of the Glass Bead on the night they were illegally arrested and had their belongings taken from them.

Click below to expand to see the video.

Please wake up to this situation, turn off your TV, and research and be aware of the destruction of the U.S.A. We can restore the republic only if enough of us open our eyes and speak up. Tell your family, friends and neighbors to stop watching American Idol. It's time to take our country back by peaceful means, which means educating each and every American.

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Previously On iLiveInMyTruck  


From my youtube channel

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Update from Wondervu, CO  


Sitting in the cabin of my friend's mountainside getaway, listening to music and watching the sun stream thru the skylights, I reflect....

It's been over a week since I left Black Rock City. I miss it terribly. I emptied my truck out so I can begin to clean out as much of the playa dust as I can manage. It never really goes away, but I like to at least get out the larger piles of the soft, silty sand.

The elements are harsh; a scorching hot sun, blinding dust storms and chilly nights. But the beauty is beyond belief. See the star filled sky in every direction, glowing sunrises, a sliver of new moon. Magical.

The people at burning man are also amazing, giving, hard working, creative, crazy and cool. Big hearts abound and open doors around every corner. You always feel welcome, if you so choose to be. Saying "yes" to experiences are the only way to engulf yourself in participation.

Burning Man is hard to explain to anyone who hasn't been. Even when I see some of the videos, it's scale and tribal nature seems slightly foreign on screen. Yet, when I am there on the playa I feel like I am Home.

Here's a little sample video I found to give a taste:

And another about the Temple that they burn each year....

I am honored to have participated again this year and will bring the spirit of burning man to each person I meet across this land.

Talk to you later...


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Back from Burning Man  


Still processing everything... what an amazing adventure!

Just wanted to say that I am still alive. I'll write more later, but for now... just decompressing in Reno and re-entering the default world.

I can't wait for next year already.

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